Late nights in the newsroom, coffee runs turning into stolen moments of goofing around in the face of deadlines, crashing together out of sheer exhaustion – this wasn’t supposed to happen. Neither of them expected catching a moment together amid the chaos to become the highlight of their whole day.
the only thing better than being a rockstar goddess is getting to share the spotlight with a singer who can reach the highest octaves and knows how to keep up with her rhythm — that’s what lucy always said, wrapping an arm around jo’s shoulder and squeezing them together. jo always blushed, and tried to cover it up with a dismissive hand, followed by a snort.
she didn’t fool anyone, though.
» in which lucy is the guitarrist and occasionally sings, jo is the lead singer, they have the greatest band of all time, and, most importantly, they’re head over hells in love with each other.
Cho and Ginny never got along at school, so it surprises everyone, including themselves, when they team up to take care of an orphaned seal pup that Ginny insists on calling Sedna (which Cho thinks is entirely ridiculous and not at all cute). However, as the weeks turn into months, they become friends…. or something like that.
This week I realized that one of my favorite fanfic author’s
tumblr and AO3 accounts disappeared. I don’t really know them and we interacted
on tumblr twice, so I have no idea what happened, but I hope they are OK.
Somehow this made think quite a bit.
I have seen websites with fanfic go away, I have seen
stories being deleted from AO3, and I have clicked on broken links to fics that
no longer existed, but somehow this was different. This was someone I had
interacted with, someone whose work I had actively followed.
I am really thankful that they had not deleted their
wonderful work from AO3 but orphaned the fics instead (that means the stories
are still there but the author’s account is gone).
As you can see from my username, I really like to preserve
things, I like for stories to be there for a long time, long after the author
lost any interest in them, long after the shows they were based on got
Here are a few things that I came up with.
If you are an author…
Think about using a pen name / pseudonym instead of your
real name or your usual nickname. Something removed enough from your real name
that is not possible to guess who you really are. This has many advantages and
one of them is that it gives you more options when you move on from a fandom (if
you ever decide to).
If you want to leave a fandom or go offline … for whatever
reason: Don’t delete your work, maybe orphan them on AO3, or just
leave your account behind and move on… Your work might have touched many or only a few readers, they might come back
to it, it might be discovered by new readers.
As a reader…
Don’t take for granted that your favorite fic or your
favorite author will be here tomorrow/in a month/ in a year.
Be nice to the authors, leave kudos and comments.
Download you favorite fics (to your PC, iPhone, OneDrive,
Google Drive, Dropbox, etc.)
Download the long fic you are currently reading.
Download any fic you might want to read again.
And in particular, download any fic that you want to read
later, if it has a controversial pairing or a possibly controversial theme…
(I have seen a lot of them go away within a few hours or days after I saw them
on the tumbler AO3 feed)
Thanks to anybody who ever wrote and published a fic and
thanks to anybody who operated or contributed to a fanfic mailing list, website
If you want to learn more about how to
download fanfics from AO3, ff.net and other fanfiction sites, look here.
wow, nonny, way to be an asshat. YOU SHOULD WRITE MORE MERRILL/ISABELA. THAT’S AS UN-CULLEN AS POSSIBLE, RIGHT? Something with rain.
I first read this as ‘as far away from Cullen as possible’ and so, fic resulted:
Merrill/Isabela - in the rain - as far away from Cullen as possible
They run along the shore of the Wounded
Coast, shadows streaking at their back clouds low overhead.
Isabela’s boots press hard divots in the
grey, fine sand. Merrill is unused to the stuff, shifting from glass-hard to
sticky and tricky and easy to fall through, her calves aching from the suck and
pull of it. She trips over her friend’s footsteps. There is rain in her mouth.
Merrill stops. The ground is lovely and still
when you’re not running all over it. She lets her hand press into the sand.
Lifts it away and examines the pattern, swallowing cooler air. “Much better.”
Isabela’s laugh is softer than usual. It
might be waterlogged. She crouches low, easy with her boots and her balance,
and Merrill watches water drip over the spill of gold at her throat, heavier
than the shirt that clings to her breasts and stomach in a way that makes
Merrill want to reach out and touch, even though sand does get rather
awfully in the way. Still, the sight makes Merrill smile, teeth pressing into
her own lower lip.
“We lost him in the Rose, of course,” Isabela
says, sigh almost lost. “Templars are so predictable.”
“Except when they’re not.”
Isabela’s eyes grow wide, just for half a
breath. Wide and bright as beach glass. Her hair tangles over her face,
water-dark and water-long, scarf lost halfway down her back. She watches
Merrill and Merrill watches back.
“Except when they’re not, kitten,” she says.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“You have other things to worry about,”
Merrill says. “You carry so many knives—”
Isabela leans in and licks a raindrop off the
tip of her nose. Merrill breaks off in a squeak.
“—do you forgive me?”
“—but there isn’t anything to—”
“—yes there is,” Isabela says, cupping
Merrill’s cheek, fingers playing with the beads in her hair until she’s
smiling, and teasing the edge of Merrill’s ear until she shivers. “Why were we
running away from the the Knight Captain, by the way?”
Merrill blinks. “I was shopping for…um… mirror
things,” she manages, mouth twisting on half a lie. “But he had so many
questions, and I wasn’t—” she holds out one palm, the skin shiny and new and
still a little sore at over a small cut at the centre. It’s harder than she
thought, doing it. She watches her friend’s face. Waits for a hiss of sympathy
she doesn’t need or disapproval she could not bear. But Isabela’s face is as
smooth as the sand beneath their bodies.
“I didn’t feel like I could lie well,”
Merrill said. “Not right then.”
“So you ran.”
“And you ran with me!”
“Of course I did.”
Isabela’s fingers dance from her ear to her
lips, and Merrill is grinning, delighted at the small noise the pirate makes as
she sucks one fingertip into her mouth. Bites down just enough for
“But—” Merrill says, breathless, mouth full
of warmth. “If you didn’t even know what—”
Her lips are stopped. Two fingertips this
time. A sharp tap. Something bright and sweet in Isabela’s eyes.
“—That doesn’t matter a bit, kitten,” she
says. “Do that again.”
tbh im getting kind of sick of the story where the relationship between two men (usually white, almost always cis) is portrayed as being more pure and transcendental than the love between one of the men and his female love interest
stories where a girl is in love with a boy, but he fucks off to bone another boy and the audience is meant to laugh at her misfortune
stories where the female love interest is vilified as tainting the pure masculine affection of the two men the narrative focuses on
stories that are only queer because they’re too misogynistic to respect their female characters
i don’t really want to laugh at jokes where gay white boys are the setup and girls are the eternal punchline anymore
give me more girlfriends kicking their remora fish boys to the curb, boys ardently adoring girls only to be sadly stymied by lesbianism, boys who have to come to the understanding that their wives’ relationship with other women will take precedence over their marriage, girls being the focus of a story, girls, girls, girls and no boys