#senseofenterprise

This one might be one of these fics:

Now Cracks a Noble Heart by senseofenterprise (the_boleyn_treatment) (M)

As a second son, Prince Aziraphale was worse than useless. Every idea he has to benefit his kingdom has been shot down by his brother Gabriel, the king, and his only value is in his ability to make a marriage of alliance. On the night before he is set to marry Prince Newton at his brother's command, he sends off a note and a bag of coins.

Captain Crowley has made his living sailing the seas in his ship the Bentley with his pirate band consisting of misfits and lost children. His name strikes fear into the hearts of all who hear it. When he receives anonymous orders to kidnap the Prince on the night before the royal wedding, well, how could he refuse the opportunity for madness and bringing down the nobility he hates so very much?

The story of a stuffy Prince and a Pirate Captain with a heart of gold.

better creatures by john1513 (E)

Navigator Aziraphale gets captured on a pirate ship run by the notorious Captain Crowley, known for his cruelty and malice across the seas. He wasn't ready, though, for the softness that lay dormant underneath those copper curls and long, thin, calloused fingers. But a pirate could never fall in love with a Royal soldier, especially not one like Aziraphale...could he? // idiots in love, but make it pirates ;)

*also, a STRONG emphasis on the 'idiots' part, you have been warned.*

See, this is where being a Fandom Old and Fandom Mom come in handy.

Solution: Don’t feel guilty.

Overly simple, right? Hard to do? Yeah, I know.

I live in a constant state of existential dread and guilt. There’s a thing going around on Twitter about ‘month left in the decade! What have you accomplished this decade?’ And people are posting about college and multiple degrees, about having published numerous books and becoming a full-time writer, traveling the world, and buying/building their dream home.

And I’m sitting there going, “Wow. Yeah. Thanks for that crippling sense of failure and mediocrity. Did I mention the overwhelming sense of having failed?”

Feelings? Suck.

Being creative is like living with bi-polar disorder a lot of times. You can go from high to low like the crashing of an expensive sports car. Also, little things like comments make you stupid happy and blushing-grinning all day. Because creating is a very personal endeavor.

I got out my stuff to study this morning and saw I have not studied since the 4th. 10 days ago. I am hyperly aware of every day that passes without my writing/posting fic, and yet they keep passing. Why? Illness and depression, and depression so bad I don’t know if I feel this way because I’m sick or depressed. Guess what? Total jab-jab-hook to my sense of self, self-worth, and confidence. It sucks. No one expects more from me than I do.

Add to that the feeling that others are waiting and relying on you in some way????

Writer’s angst is a real thing and a total bitch to deal with.

But, here’s the thing: this fandom stuff? It’s a hobby. We do it for love and for fun.

But it isn’t our jobs.

We aren’t paid for it. It’s something we squeeze in between classes (or patients in my case) or on commutes or by sacrificing sleep after our paying jobs and 40-hr work weeks, making dinner, doing laundry, and other Adulting™ and RL things that have to get done. It’s something we try to do while battling illness and depression.

And as much as it matters to us and to others-- killing ourselves to put out content is a disservice to ourselves. You have to take care of you first. If it’s legit reasons? Don’t feel bad. Life happens-- and when it does, Fandom hits the absolute bottom of the list of priorities because the time, energy, and stress put into that are the only optional things you’re dealing with.

Don’t feel bad for that.

Now, if you’re waiting around for an inspiration fairy to strike? I got bad news, kid. No such fairy or unicorn or rainbow pot of gold exists. You set appointments with yourself, and you keep them like you would a doctor’s office visit or meeting. Will you necessarily feel like it? Probably not. Do you have a choice? No, because you made an appointment, therefore you don’t have to wait to feel motivated. You get in there and do it anyway.

And if I can get through all these damn patient charts I keep getting today, then I will also be getting to that appointment I set for myself. Do I feel like it? Fuck no. I’m sick. I’m tired. My depression is drowning me. Existential crisis and overwhelming sense of failure due to zero accomplishments in the past decade. Am I in a good frame of mind? Not in the fucking least. But, I also know me. I’m frustrated and overwhelmed and disappointed, and the crappy part is that there is no way out but through. So: head down, keep swinging.

But I don’t answer to fandom because I don’t work for them. I have a 40-hr a week job and a marriage and dogs and illness and depression. I answer to all that plus me.

YES I AM HERE FOR TUDOR MEMES! Recently I’ve gotten into this kick ass musical :3

Requested by @senseofenterprise​, some DVD style commentary on this passage from HAICG.

Request one here.

*

This is a passage from chapter thirty-eight of Home Also I Cannot Go, which I wrote a very long time ago, but I’ll try my best to provide some interesting info about it.

First, this is the sort of scene that I had to write: I knew I couldn’t get away with not having Jim and Sarek meet, once the whole truth about Sevin’s origins was out there. These are the sort of confrontations I love, or at least love to think about and work through in my head, where the previously unsaid or unsay-able comes out.

But it was intimidating to write, too, precisely because there’s so much history among these three characters, and because the two who are at the forefront here, Sarek and Jim, barely even know each other for all that they have this central connection, their family member in common. The scene is mostly about Sarek’s history with the idea of Jim, but it’s informed by his history with Spock, and of course Spock is present too, though in the background, so his feelings are at play as well. And it’s all from Jim’s point of view.

Sarek stares at him as if he were speaking an unintelligible language.  After a moment, he says, “I see.”  He clears his throat, a subtle, almost imperceptible sound, then continues, “Sevin was telling me about you last night.  He seems to enjoy your company, but he speaks of you as one would speak of a friend.  He sees you as an adult with whom he enjoys spending time, but he does not see you as a parent.”

“I would hardly expect him to,” Jim answers calmly.  “The adjustment will take time, I know that.  He has only known me as a parent for a few weeks.”

“Precisely,” Sarek agrees, his voice cold, and Jim notices Spock’s gaze snap up to glare at him again.  “Sevin does not know how to see you as his dad because you were not there when he was born, when he was first starting to grow and learn.”

“With all due respect, Ambassador, I wasn’t told that Spock—”

“With all due respect, Mr. Kirk,” Sarek interrupts, his calm and steady tone a harsh contrast to the heat of Jim’s voice, “you were not informed because you did not want to be found.  You made it clear to my son at your first encounter with him that you did not intend there to be any future contact between you.”

He can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and neck, embarrassing and hot.  What is the point of this conversation, he wonders—only to taunt him?  To bring out all of his unseemly human emotions?  He clenches his hands into fists, under the table where Sarek can’t see.  “I hardly expected that he would end up having my baby—”

“Neither did he.”

“Father,” Spock says sharply, his word cutting in over Sarek’s so smoothly that Jim would almost consider the whole confrontation staged, if he did not hear that deep undercurrent of true anger and shame in Spock’s voice.  “You have made your point more than adequately.  Captain Kirk is not to blame.  He is doing what he can in a situation that is difficult, and it gives us no honor to live in the past and continue to condemn old mistakes.”

In the silence that follows, Jim looks between father and son and can’t help thinking that he has intruded on an argument that is not truly about him.  That would be a lie, though.  Sarek has been speaking to him as if Spock were not even in the room; this is no act for Spock’s benefit.  It only hits, inevitably, upon their history, a time in Spock’s life that Jim cannot even begin to imagine.  What must it have been like for him, to come home to this man and have to tell him that his son was about to become a teenage father?  Jim cannot help feeling shamed after only a few minutes in his presence, and with the full knowledge that his life and his decisions are not Sarek’s concern.  To face him as a son, and at the age of fifteen, would be a terrifying feat.

*