Since I'm active on tumblr again, let me introduce myself properly.
You can call me Elena or Elfo (pronouns she/her). 23 yo. I'm a writer; I mostly focus on original novels but occasionally write fanfics too. I'm queer and so is my content.
This is basically a multifandom blog because my interests change a lot, so if you're here for something specific and don't want to see anything else this probably isn't the place for you.
Either way, if you want to talk about fandoms and hear my opinions on things, my inbox is open. I'm not super good at making headcanons, but I do love to ramble about scenes and characters if given the chance.
Here's the link to my Ao3
And a list of my fics (the ones I'm still working on and that I like):
Unbreakable:
Fandom: Dragon Quest XI
Pairing: Luminary/Erik
Tags: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, First Kiss, mentions of amnesia, spoilers for Act II of the game.
Status: One Shot, complete.
Words: 1,132
Bury My Love For You:
Fandom: Mo Dao Zu Shi, The Untamed
Pairing: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji
Tags: Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Introspective.
Status: Ongoing.
Words: Currently 7,700
My Immortal:
Fandom: Tian Guan Ci Fu
Pairing: Hua Cheng/Xie Lian
Tags: Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, possible tags to be added
Tags: Alternate Universe - Daiya no Ace, Alternate Universe - Baseball, based on canon Aftg
Status: Currently one shot, might write more.
Words: 2,165
This World Overrun By Monsters:
Fandom: All for the Game
Pairing: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten
Tags: Alternate Universe - The Maze Runner, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, based on The Fever Code, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Child Abuse and Torture, Angst, Pain, Hurt/Comfort
Status: part 1 of a series, ongoing
Words: Currently 4,276
Learn To Take What's Already Yours:
Fandom: All for the Game
Pairing: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten
Tags: Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Red String of Fate, Andrew meets Neil before Palmetto, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, nothing explicit, Slow Burn, Feelings Realization, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Status: Part 1 of a series, Complete 13/13
Words: 30,027
Then Fight To Keep It:
Fandom: All for the Game
Pairing: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten
Tags: Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Red String of Fate, Established Relationship, Soft Andreil, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Angst, possible more tags to be added
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In the predawn light, Edgar Allan wasn’t much to look at.
On paper it wasn’t far behind Palmetto State in terms of enrollment and campus size, but whereas Palmetto State was built on sprawling land with low buildings and open lawns, Edgar Allan had taken a compact, vertical approach. That wasn’t to say the architecture wasn’t to be admired; even Renee, who had no eye for such things, could see the meticulous and ostentatious care put into the school’s appearance. A pretentious coffin, Jean had called it a month ago, when Renee asked after it. Fanciful and grim, she’d thought then, but now she understood.
Her phone hummed in her hand, but Renee finished her slow sweep of the area before looking down at it. At this hour it would only be one person: she’d kept Stephanie up all night, needing another pair of eyes to guide her and lay the groundwork for this reckless stunt. Their call lasted most of the five-hour drive here from the cabin. Later Renee would apologize for the hours of lost sleep, and Stephanie would brush away her guilt and concern with the same easy care she always did. Now was too soon for any such kindness.
“It’s sent,” Stephanie’s text said.
Renee held down until a heart appeared and slid off the car to her feet. Gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she went for the front door. There was an actual knocker on the door, but it wasn’t likely to get her far. Renee put her thumb to the doorbell instead. The carved wood muffled most of the noise, but she heard the distant tones echoing down the hall. Renee let them fade, then pressed again. Two seconds later, again. And again. And again.
It took a few minutes, but at long last there was a sharp clack of the locks snapping out of place. Louis Andritch yanked open the door in a half-undone bathrobe, looking more like a harried professor than a campus president.
“Yes?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Jean Moreau is dying,” Renee said.
Andritch stared at her like she was speaking a foreign language, mouth still half-open on an abandoned tirade. She kept her stance neutral and her hands loosely folded in front of her as she waited for him to finally clue in on what she’d said.
“Excuse me?” he finally managed. “What did you say to me?”
“Jean Moreau is dying,” Renee said again, with an unhurried calm that ate away at her heart. Lashing out at Andritch prematurely would tilt this entire fiasco against her, she knew, but without Stephanie’s steady voice in her ear she had nothing to keep her fear at bay. Everything hinged on getting to Jean. If she could just do that, nothing and no one could stop her. This was the only part that Renee couldn’t control.
Renee held Andritch’s gaze as she said, “Exy team, your perfect Court backliner. He is dead or dying as we speak, and I need you to take me to him.”
“Listen,” Andritch said, putting a hand out like he could ward off anything else Renee had to say. “I thank you for your concern, Miss…?” She held out her student ID and driver’s license, but he only gave them a quick glance. “If there was a problem with one of my teams, my staff would have already informed me. I assure you I will look into it, but—”
Renee saw the door start to close and moved into the doorway to catch it. “Mr. Andritch,” she said, in as pleasant a tone as she could manage, “I drove through the night for the slim chance of saving his life. I would prefer you escort me to Castle Evermore now, but if you would rather wait until your school makes the morning news that is your choice.” He frowned at her, not following, but Renee didn’t wait to be asked. “An article is queued to send to a half-dozen sites, and the author is prepared to give Kathy Ferdinand the scoop for her morning show.”
“Where are you even getting this information?” Andritch demanded, and Renee tapped through her phone with her free hand to send a short X out. “These are some serious accusations you are leveling at me, young lady, and I do not appreciate being strongarmed.”
“I would rather not do this,” Renee said. “We both know how much money is riding on championships this year regardless of the outcome. Our schools have too much to gain by seeing this through to the end. But I will not sacrifice Jean. Help me save him, and we can both forget this conversation ever happened. Please.”
Andritch’s phone started ringing before she was finished. He ignored her in favor of answering it with a harried, “Yes?” He tried again to close the door, but Renee braced it with a hand and foot. He fixed her a warning look she wasn’t cowed by. “Yes, hello? Can you give me just a—”
Andritch went still and calm as he listened, and Renee stared him down as Stephanie went up one side of him and down the other. She counted seconds between his “This is highly irregular” and “What proof do I have that this is not some cockamamie prank” protests, and they added up to so many minutes of wasted time Renee was tempted to leave him here.
The first plan had been to bypass Andritch entirely and go straight to Evermore. Stephanie had talked her down from that, careful not to ask how Renee would circumvent the security system there. They needed Andritch on their side. They needed a credible witness. Without him they had nothing. Even if she could get to Jean on her own—they cannot stop me, Mom—how would she keep him? Renee knew Stephanie was right, just as she knew the nearest hardware store wouldn’t open for another hour. She was not above breaking into it, but the consequences would hurt them all in the long run.
At last Andritch hung up. There was a sour look on his face that didn’t match the fear in his eyes, and Renee saw the tension in his imperious gesture to enter his front hall. The what if had taken hold; whether Andritch was more worried about his student or his school’s reputation she did not know or care so long as she got the desired results. Renee stepped in with a polite “Thank you” and stood off to one side so he could close and lock the door again.
Andritch ignored her in favor of making another call. “Coach Moriyama, this is Louis. I need to have a meeting with one of your Ravens this morning, Jean Moreau.” He listened for a moment, and his eyebrows went up in surprise. “New York? Oh, I am sorry to hear that. Of course, family must come first. You have my condolences for your loss. Yes, of course. Yes, I can reschedule, it’s not that pressing. We can discuss it when you are back in town.”
Force, then, Renee thought wearily, but then Andritch hung up and pointed at her. “Do not leave this spot. I am going to get dressed and call security.”
And check his email, most likely, because Stephanie would have sent him a preview of her page-long exposé. Abby had reluctantly loaned them photographs from Kevin’s first night with the Foxes, leery of betraying Kevin’s trust by releasing them but trusting Renee and Stephanie to win Andritch over before they were forced to go public.
Andritch’s phone rang again before he was halfway up the stairwell. “Hello? Coach Wymack, you said?”
The rest of the conversation was muffled by distance. Renee hummed quietly to herself so she wouldn’t ask him to perhaps be a bit more urgent about the situation, and then her phone buzzed against her fingers. She opened it to a query from Stephanie and tapped out a quick update. She didn’t mean to click over to Jean’s message next, but a second later it was staring up at her.
Kengo is dead, first. And then: Thank you.
Two words that meant nothing, that meant everything, when just a few days prior Neil had offered Andrew a threadbare smile and Thank you, you were amazing. before getting ripped out of their lives with violent force. Thank you, goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.
Renee closed her phone and squeezed it until her knuckles ached. She looked toward the stairs again. She wasn’t sure if a “Hurry” or “I will meet you at the stadium” would make it out of her first, but then Andritch came down the stairs so fast it was a wonder he didn’t tilt forward and fall flat on his face. Renee made a note to gift Abby a spa day as soon as this was over.
“You will follow my car,” Andritch said, snatching his keys off their hook with such force he nearly pulled the rack off the wall as well. He got the door and shooed her out, and Renee went for Andrew’s car with long strides. Andritch needed another moment to field another call, but he pulled his car door closed so hard Renee heard it over the Maserati’s engine. Finally, finally Andritch got on the road, and Renee pulled out behind him.
Because Castle Evermore doubled as the home court for the national team, it was set a short drive from the rest of campus. Renee had never seen it before, but it was hard to miss the imposing building with its spired corners. There was no color on it; from the foundation to the towers it was painted a forbidding solid black.
Pretentious coffin, she silently agreed, and then, But not yours.
The entire thing was surrounded by a tall fence lined with barbed wire. Andritch passed a half-dozen gates before slowing to a stop at one, and he leaned out his window to tap away at a keypad. The gate remained closed, and Andritch tried again. After a few attempts he got out of his car, like somehow the angle of his arm was to blame for this. Renee assumed he had few reasons to come out this way, but that he hadn’t secured the codes on the drive over was frustrating.
Movement in her rearview mirror had her glancing back as an unfamiliar car pulled up behind her. The driver’s door opened, and she saw enough lettering to guess it was campus security. Perhaps Andritch’s incompetence was just show, then, a means of stalling her until he could eject her from campus. She relaxed her grip on the steering wheel and waited for the guard to try her door, but he went past her without slowing. Andritch got out of his way to let him have a go at it, but he had no more luck than Andritch had. After two attempts, the guard had no choice but to phone his superiors.
Renee glanced past them at the fence. She gauged the height and tugged idly at her jacket, wondering if it was thick enough to protect her from the barbed wire along the top. Likely not, but before she could commit to trying it out the gate finally rattled open. The guard went jogging past again so he could get back in his car, and the three drove into the Ravens’ guarded lot at last.
The spots closest to the stadium were all taken by a line of identical black cars, so they double-parked behind them. The security guard sent a curious look at Renee as she joined him and Andritch at the door, but he was too busy trying to get them into the Nest to ask questions. Unsurprisingly he needed to call in for this access code as well, and he held the door open for both of them when he managed to get it unlocked.
Renee expected to find a hallway; what she saw was a dark stairwell leading down. Red lighting on the ceiling did nothing to chase away the shadows. Renee was tempted to ask Andritch if he had honestly signed off on this thinking it was a good idea, but he looked just young enough she assumed he’d inherited this madness. Andritch led them down without comment or hesitation, so Renee trailed after him. One more door awaited them at the bottom, but the guard hadn’t bothered to hang up his call and he called out a code to Andritch from the rear.
If Renee had expected the Nest to be an improvement, she was immediately and sorely disappointed. The rooms they passed through in search of a stray Raven were spacious, but the ceilings were too low and the entire thing was done in Raven black and red. It was a minor blessing that these ceiling lights were normal, but whoever installed the bulbs had chosen a weaker wattage that let shadows collect in all the corners.
Renee keenly understood why the Ravens spent so much time on the court, if this was their only other option. She had been here for only twenty seconds, and she was ready to never come here again. Jean had told her the Ravens only left the Nest for away games and classes, and she wasn’t sure if that made this better or worse: she couldn’t imagine coming back to this pit willingly, but the thought of being trapped here almost every hour of the day turned her heart cold.
Raucous laughter led them to a kitchen at last, and the conversation died when Andritch stepped inside. Renee looked past him to the four Ravens gathered around a square table. She had one moment to note their identical black clothes and another to take in their stunned expressions before one got up from the table with lethal intent.
“Who the fuck—”
“Your campus president,” Andritch cut him off. “I am here to see Moreau. Where is he?”
The four exchanged baffled looks before volunteering, “He’s in Red Hall.”
“Show me,” Andritch said.
No one seemed in a hurry to obey, but after a pointed, “You’re already up,” from one of the Ravens at the table, the first man scowled and crossed the room. He put a finger in Renee’s face as soon as he reached them.
“You’re a Fox,” he said. “You don’t belong here.”
She was idly impressed he recognized her so easily, but considering how sour things were between the teams now perhaps it was to be expected. “Neither do any of you.”
“Right now,” Andritch said before the Raven could respond.
He settled for giving her an ugly look and pushing her roughly out of his way. Andritch snapped at him for his aggression as he followed, but Renee let it go in one ear and out the other. Signage on the wall pointed out the directions to Red and Black Halls, and they went down the one that would lead them to Jean. Despite the name, there was no more abundance of color here than there had been anywhere else. Most of the doors they passed were open, but Renee only spared a couple glances at the dark bedrooms.
Finally their unwilling guide stopped in a doorway and hit the side of his fist against the frame. “Andritch is your problem now,” he said to whoever was inside, and he flicked a last annoyed look at the president in question. “Zane is Jean’s roommate. He’ll find him for you. I’ve only got ten minutes left of lunch before I’m due on the court, so I’m leaving.”
“Your name first,” Andritch said.
“Williams,” the man said. “Brayden. Striker, number nineteen. Done here?”
“For the moment,” Andritch said, with a tone that said this attitude was going to dearly cost Brayden when Andritch could spare enough time for him. Renee was expecting his shove as he went back down the hall the way they’d come, and she kept her feet planted so he couldn’t knock her over. She didn’t spare him another thought but followed Andritch to the doorway.
Identical beds were set against opposite walls, with two nightstands and tiny desks between them. Only one man was inside, and he wasn’t Jean. Renee glanced toward the empty half of the room and was surprised to see Jean had decorations up. Postcards were pinned to the walls, and the top of his nightstand was littered with either stickers or magnets. The urge to study his precious possessions was as fleeting as it was inappropriate, and Renee forcibly returned her attention to the greater problem: Jean wasn’t there.
“—he is?” Andritch was asking.
Zane didn’t answer immediately, but the look that crossed his face told Renee everything she needed to know. The Ravens they’d met in the kitchen seemed more annoyed and bewildered by this intrusion than anything; Zane’s hesitation now was a deeper understanding. He knew exactly why they’d come. Renee assumed he had a better vantage point for Jean’s ongoing trauma as his roommate.
“He’ll be with Riko,” Zane said at last. “They’re partners.”
“I don’t care whose partner he is,” Andritch said. “Someone is going to find him for me.”
Zane got up from his desk but sent a long look at Renee. “She shouldn’t be here.”
Andritch snapped his fingers to get Zane’s attention. “That is not your call. Move it.”
Zane led them to Black Hall. Another dormitory, Renee realized, with only one door closed at the far end. Zane knocked, listened, and knocked again. He checked his watch, tipped his head back to think, and said, “First shift, but what day is it? They might be finishing up on the court right now. Come on.”
As soon as he stepped past her, Renee went to the door. The knob turned easily under her hand. For one moment she was surprised at Riko’s boldness, that he genuinely trusted people to stay out of his space out of some semblance of respect. Then she had the door open, and the sight waiting for her erased every thought from her mind.
Zane caught her arm to haul her back. Renee didn’t even feel his skin under her knuckles when she put everything behind her fist. Zane wasn’t expecting it and wasn’t at all braced for it, and he nearly took Andritch down with him as he was thrown back.
The guard moved to intervene, but Renee was in the room and out of reach before he could get his hands on her. She let their outraged demands wash over her and was only distantly aware of how abruptly the shouting stopped when they followed her into Riko’s room. The only thing that mattered was the body on Riko’s floor.
Not a body, Renee thought fiercely, and willed it to be true, but how could it be true when Jean looked like this? That Riko had just left him here like this was almost as horrifying as the state he was in, and she was trembling as she knelt on the ground by his head. She took five seconds to calm herself to stillness before reaching for him, and she pressed her fingers to his bruised throat in search of a pulse. The relief it sent through her was almost sharp enough to bite away her grief, and Renee sent up a quick and desperate prayer of thanks.
“Jean,” she said softly, then louder: “Jean. Can you hear me?”
“Good god above,” the security guard finally said. “Is he—”
“Alive,” Renee said, and was just mad enough to add, “For now.” She looked toward the men standing across from her: the horrified guard who hadn’t signed up for this before he had his morning coffee, the Raven who looked uncomfortable but not surprised or upset, and Andritch, whose blank-faced horror could have been for his mangled student but was just as likely for his crashing career.
“What happened here?” Andritch demanded.
Zane lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Rough scrimmage, maybe?” At the foul look Andritch sent him, he scowled and looked away. “I don’t know, man. He hasn’t been my partner in a year now.”
“I am taking him home,” Renee said. “Help me get him to my car.”
Andritch didn’t move. “We need to call a doctor.”
“Josiah lives on campus,” Zane volunteered. “I’ve got his number saved.”
“He is coming with me,” Renee said.
“You can’t have him.” Zane flicked her a venomous look. “He belongs here.”
That he was angrier over her intrusion than had what happened to his own teammate shook Renee to the core, and for one frightening moment she felt all the years of anger management and therapy start to coil undone. Maybe Zane saw something change on her face, because he took a half-step back from her and tensed for a fight.
“You cannot stop me,” Renee said, in a tone far steadier than she felt. “If you try, I promise you will regret it. Mr. Andritch, you know the terms for my discretion.”
“Now listen,” Andritch started, but there was more uncertainty than bluster in his voice. If he actually had a coherent thought to follow that, he couldn’t seem to get it out. When Renee flicked him a hard look he was staring down at Jean’s broken, bloody form. “I don’t know if we can even safely move him. It would be best to get someone here first to make sure he’s stable. Josiah, you said?” he asked Zane.
“Head nurse,” Zane said, digging his phone out of his pocket.
“I left my team nurse at the hotel before coming over here,” Renee lied as she pulled out her own phone. She hated making Jean a spectacle, but she knew she needed evidence. She took a few pictures of his bloodied, broken face. “I can send these to Kathy Ferdinand for her morning show, or I can delete these in the parking lot. Give me one Raven, or I will take them all.”
“I don’t appreciate your tone, young lady,” Andritch said. She half-expected him to try intimidating her to silence, but perhaps he knew it was useless. He could try to confiscate her phone and throw her off-campus, but she’d set too many pieces in motion already. She didn’t technically need Jean or these photos to destroy his school and he knew it. The best he managed was, “Let’s not jump to any rash action.”
Jean’s fingers twitched against the carpet as their voices finally started to rouse him. Renee carefully peeled his hair out of the caked blood on his face and smoothed careful knuckles over his temple.
“Hey,” she said, softening her tone immediately. “Jean, can you hear me? We’re going to move you just in a moment. I’m sorry, but it’s going to hurt. It’s going to really hurt, and I can’t stop that. I need you to bear it a little longer, okay?”
At long last Andritch chose his side with a tense, “Let’s get him out of here.”
The guard dragged Zane with him as he approached, and Renee moved out of their way. It took them a moment to figure out how they were supposed to get Jean off the floor. He didn’t stir at the feel of their hands on him, but as soon as they hoisted him off the carpet, he made a wretched noise in the back of his throat that had Renee’s eyes stinging.
“It’s okay,” she promised him, unsure if he could even hear her. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“—ry,” Jean mumbled, so faint Renee could barely hear him. “Sorry, I’m—” the rest got swallowed up by another pained noise as the guard shifted his grip, and Renee locked her fingers together before she could reach for him.
Andritch sent Renee ahead of him so he could take the rear and focus on his phone. From the sound of it he was rounding up the Ravens’ other coaches and calling them back to Evermore for an emergency meeting. Renee kept moving, trying to ignore the agonized sounds Jean was choking on as he was carried after her. She wanted to ask them to be more careful; she knew just from looking at Jean that they couldn’t be careful enough.
Getting him up the steep stairs was the worst part, and Renee’s cheeks were damp with silent tears when she finally pushed open the last door. As soon as the men were clear of the door she hurried over to Andrew’s car. It took only a bit of jostling to slide the passenger seat back on its rails, and she tugged the latch until she could lay it as flat as it would go.
Jean was boneless when they finally got him settled. Renee saw the unnatural way his head lolled to one side and feared the worst, but when she squeezed past Zane to check on him, she could still find a pulse. Unconscious from the pain, then, which was only a half-step better. It was six hours and change from West Virginia to South Carolina. Abby had offered to meet her here, and Renee should have agreed, but she was desperate to get Jean out of the state before Riko and his uncle figured out how to respond.
“You’ll keep us updated?” Andritch said. He sounded calm, but she saw the nervous way he turned his class ring on his little finger as he studied her.
“Hourly reports,” Renee agreed as she pushed the passenger door shut. He was standing close to her, so she obediently tilted her phone screen his way and deleted her photographs in front of him. It wouldn’t stop her from taking more once she got somewhere safe, but it was a token of good faith and the best he could hope for. “We appreciate your cooperation. Please feel free to delete the email you received this morning and contact Coach Wymack if you have any additional concerns.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Zane warned her. “You will regret this.”
Renee met his cold stare with a cool look of her own. “Your captain is free to take his grievances up with me if he has something to say about it. I’m sure he knows where to find me.” She didn’t wait for a response but looked at Andritch. “If we’re finished here, I will take the code for the outer gate.”
The guard had to call his office again to get it for her, and Renee committed it to memory as she got in the car and pulled away. She had six numbers tapped into the keypad when the stadium door crashed open, and Renee glanced at her rearview mirror to see Riko in the doorway. He was dressed in full court gear minus his helmet, and the distance between them couldn’t hide the absolute rage on his face when he followed Zane’s pointing finger to her car. He took a couple steps in her direction like he wanted to chase her down, and Renee quickly put in the last two numbers.
The gate rattled open, and Renee flashed Riko a peace sign out the window as she put the pedal to the floor. Unnecessary, she knew, but she could worry about her attitude later. All that mattered now was getting Jean to South Carolina. She had the window closed before they reached the interstate and called Stephanie on speaker.
“I’ve got him,” she said. “We’re on our way south.”
“How is he?” Stephanie asked. “How are you?”
“Oh, Mom,” Renee said, and risked a glance over at Jean’s battered form. With the windows closed the smell of blood was thick enough to choke on. “I don’t know how he’s still alive.”
“God’s not done with that boy yet,” Stephanie said. “Drive safe, you hear me? I know you were up all night. If you start getting tired, you call me to keep you awake or you make sure you pull over and rest a bit. You can’t help him if you go off the road.”
“I know,” Renee said. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“I’m proud of you, honeybug,” Stephanie said. “I love you. Be safe.”
“Love you.” Renee clicked her phone closed and dropped it into the cup holder between the seats. She reached out blindly for Jean, needing to check his pulse one last time, and thought she felt a hum against her fingertips as Jean tried to stir. “Sleep, Jean,” she urged him, thinking of the lone packet of painkillers in the bottom of her purse. “Sleep, and I’ll get us home.”
“—ome,” was the slurred agreement, and Renee turned her attention back to the endless drive ahead of them.
You know what? When you were away, I was so damn happy. I didn’t have to compete against you. I wasn’t paranoid. I didn’t need to know what your GPA was. I didn’t need to know which sports you were involved in. But guess what? It was so depressingly lonely for me. What we have now… what should we call it?
BAD BUDDY 1.05
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To any fic writers who worry they are wasting their time... I read a fic for a relatively small and inactive fandom about three years ago. And there was one specific scene where a character watched another dancing like an idiot to a beyonce song and it was so sweet and loving that even now years later I have that song on one of my spotify playlist so every once in a while it will play and remind me of that fic, and every time it does I smile and feel a little happier.
The stats on a fic will never really tell you if your writing touched someone. There's no numerical way to show you what impact you made. Maybe you are wasting time, or maybe you are writing something that someone will remember for a long time, something that will never fail to make them smile.
Apologies. I have not updated my fics in a while when I promised I would at least prioritize 'Then Fight to Keep It'. It's been a hectic few months, I've been desperately looking for a job and finally found it so I barely had time to write even a few sentences. I hope y'all don't mind waiting a little bit more, I still need to get used to my schedule and not fall asleep as soon as I get home ahah I'm not abandoning my works, I swear.
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if you ever think about sending me an ask and decide not to cause “oh she doesn’t care” or “oh I don’t want to bother her” literally I’m the loneliest piece of shit you can find and would still love you if you sent me the word nuzzle over and over again
It means that Andrew won't take advantage of Neil the way past abusers took advantage of Andrew - because Andrew knows that Neil would let him, in that moment.
Andrew can see Neil is having an emotional meltdown at that point, over everything - everything that's happened, everything that's still to happen, everything he's confused about, everything - but he still decides to kiss him. To Andrew, that's a red flag over his own behaviour. Neil is vulnerable and scared and hurt and confused - if Andrew pushed for something more to happen, Neil would let him, because he's not in a mindset to be able to give or remove consent.
Andrew knows this.
He also knows exactly how it feels to be in Neil's position right then. He's been vulnerable, scared, alone, lost and hurt, but people took advantage of that state. He knows how much that would break Neil.
So "I won't be like them" means "I won't be like the people who hurt me, I won't be a monster, I won't hurt you the way they hurt me".
"I won't let you let me be" means "I won't give you the opportunity to let me hurt you that way because you don't know any better right now".
That's why later on in the dorm before they make out, Andrew tells Neil to give him "a yes I can believe", or something to that same effect - he wants to believe Neil is fully aware and consenting before he does anything with him. If he doesn't have that informed consent, Andrew will see himself as a real monster, like those who hurt him.
for the love of god, write all the self-indulgent scenes you want. be utterly shameless about including every last fantasy. i know everyone likes to share quotes and quips about how miserably hard writing is, but please please try thinking of it as a joyful act where you get to be a messy human who makes art rather than some pain filled quest for icy perfection.
Fandom: God there’s like NO content anymore. I wish we could get more art and fanfics :(((
Someone: Hey, I can’t draw anything digitally, because I can’t afford a tablet, but here’s a pen on paper drawing that I spent a lot of time and hard work on. Also, I took a shot at my first fanfic and I’d really like some feedback or at least some kudos if you enjoyed it :)
Fandom: Oh... yeah sorry no... not you. We actually meant writers that are already well known and popular to produce MORE content... I mean, if a popular blog shares your work then maybe. And we don’t really like pen to paper art. We just don’t think it’s professional or even looks good :/
This is why I try to reblog things that have little notes - the fandom NEEDS new people, or it dies, but the OLD people are there to support the new creators! New creators will leave and forget if the fandom doesn't welcome them, because they feel left out. We should remember that all great artists and writers, even the famous ones in big name fandoms, they all started from nothing.
If you don't want a fandom to die feed the sparks that come anew, don't blow on the old burnt ashes hoping they'll start again.
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I really don't understand why people feel the need to insult authors for how they write. Not everyone is, like, Shakespeare or something. Some writers write because they simply find peace in it. Maybe they didn't get to study creative writing, maybe they're just self-taught and improving with each sentence they write. If the story's compelling and the characters interesting, what does it matter if it lacks vivid descriptions and realism or is sometimes confusing? The purpose of books is to be entertaining and provide a moment of respite from the real world. Not all of them have to be masterpieces. If you enjoyed yourself, that means the author was good enough to catch your interest, and that's all that matters at the end of the day. Of course everyone has different tastes and what appeals to some may not be the same for others, but if you don't like something then you're free to never pick it up again. Let's say you're a fanfic author and someone comes into your inbox saying: "You suck at writing but I still enjoyed your story." How would you feel? Like, what kind of backhanded compliment is that? That's not constructive criticism, it's just an insult. It doesn't provide advice on how to improve, what they did wrong, what didn't work. If you think saying this to fanfic writers is stupid and bad, why are you doing it to published authors?
Because people think it's ok to be nasty to successful or famous people lol. I think they're just frustrated heh. She writes BL and is immensely successful considering the genre and its supposed niche audience. All her works are translated in multiple languages and adapted to other medium. People in the fandom, some of them, feel their fanfics are the same thing, gay erotica written by women, why does mxtx get to be so successful when she writes the same thing as fic writers.
Judging from mxtx's interview, she's very confident, she doesn't care about people's comments and advice on her writing unless they're writers themselves. I don't know a single cnovel writer who's studied creative writing, some studied engineering/science/finance. God bless them for being so good at their hobby.
That's so freaking stupid and hypocritical, honestly. They're like: "oh, yeah. I like the story and characters but the way she writes is so bad lol", apparently it's not that bad if she managed to get you hooked, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Writing is hard. Coming up with characters with different personalities, the plot, the setting, from scratch... It's hell. I've been world building a fantasy novel myself for 6 months now, and felt like banging my head on something multiple times. I dare these people try to write a 245 chapters long novel and not have inconsistencies/mishaps. It's not like writing fanfics where everything is already there for you to just pick up and adjust to your liking. Ugh.
I really do have so much respect for cnovelists, but also authors in general.
It’s not his fault that you can’t hunt the prey! Capability talks in the hunt. Although Wuxian took a different method, he studied it with effort. You can’t make the judgment that he practiced dirty malign tricks just because you can’t hunt enough prey. Besides, let’s focus on the hunt, not our family education. Wuxian is a disciple of the Jiang Clan of Yunmeng who grew up with me and my brother. We’re like real siblings.
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