sits in quiet corner of fandom

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Once social media kicked into high gear, it felt like a lot of us lost the patience to sit down and write out posts the way that we used to. It was easier to chat with friends on Twitter, share photos on Instagram, and sites like Tumblr really nurtured the fandom corners of our souls. Or, at least, that’s what happened with me. Slowly but surely (real talk: as my deadlines grew tighter and while I still had a day job) my updates trickled down to just giving news on books and events.

Lately I’ve been missing having a quiet corner of the web to call my own. Maybe it’s because there are so many voices online, and more and more it feels like everyone is shouting at each other on social (with good reason, but still–I don’t know about you guys, but stress is contagious for me, and I have a hard time shaking it once it worms its way into my head). I don’t really want to retreat from the online world, especially since the stakes are so high and it’s more important than ever to stand up for others and for what you believe in. But, to be honest, I’m struggling a bit with that balance between staying engaged and with keeping my creativity up.

The strain of spending 24/7 worrying about the future really saps the well dry, so to speak, so while I’ll never back down from amplifying voices and joining the political and social conversations online, I’ve also been feeling like I need another outlet to help decompress and get me back into the routine of regular writing. You might remember from one of my recent newsletters that I’ve realized it’s easier for me to keep up my pace if I don’t take long breaks between projects and drafts. That’s still very much true. But I also think it helps to engage in more writing outside of stories, so here we are. 

I’m thinking that maybe, without any real fanfare or regularly directing people here, I could use this blog as a way to connect with some of you in a slightly more meaningful way. I am very easily overwhelmed, I’ll admit that. I struggle to keep up with Instagram comments and Twitter messages, and, to my deep, deep shame, I have hundreds of emails from readers I haven’t tackled or given a response to. I’m hoping it’s easier to stay in touch with you guys here, and actually chat via comments.

The plan is to keep you up to date on my books and writing, but also to dive into other things I really love. For instance, I just moved into a new house and I’m having the best time nesting and getting everything in order. I’m trying to figure out landscaping, too, even though I have whatever is the opposite of a green thumb and Arizona tends to roast everything I try to grow. Movies, books I’ve read, true crime (bless you @ everyone on the Prosper tour who let me go on and on about true crime and Dateline), history… let’s just see how this all shakes out. My only real goal is to try to post at least three times a week, but we’ll see! I might have to work up to that again. Build that blogging muscle!

Anyway, thanks for reading. Talk soon! ❤️

so here’s why i’ve been quiet about potentially shippy stuff in the S8 trailer

We all have our jobs in this fandom. @ikkleosu‘s is to be relentlessly positive and point out all the reasons the ship is absolutely gonna sail (and she does a brilliant job of it – ily Dawn!). Mine is to sit in the corner, sipping wine and grumpily side-eyeing the fuck out of TPTB every minute of every day. Anyway, behind the read more are random thoughts that include plenty of spoilers both about filming and the S8 trailer. If you’re looking for the glass half full approach, you’re definitely in the wrong place. At this point, I’m like Melissa in that interview about who got Lucilled. What glass?

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Hate Shall Not Win

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Summary: Hate is a serpent, wearing a dazzling, self-righteous smile and Patton’s the only one who can defeat her. 

Word Count: 336

Fic Type: Drabble

Warnings: None

Pairings: Gen

Tag List: @wilsonprs @abstractedthinking @future-watcher @milk-withtwosugars @vladimeme @the-sanders-sides

Notes: :)

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A Girl Is No One

Warnings: Alcohol, I think that’s about it

Word Count: About 2900

Request: “Can you please write a Simcoe x reader where the reader is working in Townsend’s bar and Simcoe has been watching her but barely knows anything because she keeps quiet and out of trouble and then one night he decides to start talking to her.”

A/N: Kinda dialogue heavy and a slow burner. Sorry about the name, it’s Game of Thrones season. Plus, I feel like the name sorta fits.

Tags: @im-way-too-many-fandoms @beautifulfound

Table of Contents


This had become a part of John’s nightly routine, sitting alone at a table tucked into a quiet corner of the Townsend’s tavern while slowly sipping his ale. John would sit there for a few hours watching the British officers interact, sometimes he would learn of ongoing missions or on especially lucky nights he would overhear someone scheming or learn a very useful piece of information. But there were nights he wouldn’t even pay attention to what was going on around him and just sit there and take in the scene, the ambient noise of the tavern relaxed him for some reason. Maybe it was because the atmosphere reminded him of the quiet days back in Setauket, before he was truly involved in all this fighting.

Maybe that was part of the reason he was drawn to you, the quiet and seemingly shy girl serving drinks to the patrons. He would watch you night after night as you tried to become part of the background. On most nights you were successful in going unnoticed, sometimes even John barely noticed you. On the nights where you were less successful at becoming invisible, there were always a few officers that would try their hand at flirting with you, but John never witnessed any man or officer win your affections.

Soon he was spending more time at the tavern trying to figure you out than anything else. He stopped listening to the officers gossip and stopped watching their comings and goings, there was just something about you he felt like he needed to figure out. He would constantly watch as you moved through the room like a ghost, invisible to most people, except for the few who were gifted enough to see the world and all of its mysteries.

As much as he didn’t completely trust or particularly like the man, he soon forced himself to ask Mr. Rivington about you in an attempt to find out any information about you. He waited for a night where he didn’t see you floating about the tavern to approach the older man.

“Oh, you mean our dear sweet [Y/N]? She is quite the enigma, isn’t she? I suppose I can see why you and the other officers enjoy her company, bit too timid for my taste. Although I must admit that even I don’t know much about her, you would think a man in my business would know all her dirty little secrets, but alas she is a tough nut to crack. Perhaps, maybe..oh yes, Robert! Join us for a moment.” The older man calls out to his business partner, Robert Townsend, beckoning him to John’s table. Mr. Rivington leans over and pulls a chair from nearby table and motions for Robert to sit with them.

“What can I help you gentlemen with?” The unamused Quaker asks as he sits down in between John and Mr. Rivington.

“It seems that Col. Simcoe is curious about our dear girl, [Y/N], and frankly I was must admit that I was a bit embarrassed to admit that I do not know anything about her.” Mr. Rivington states as he tries his best to get Robert to divulge any information he may have.

“She does a fine job with her duties and the patrons seems to like her. I’m not sure that I know much more than you do, Mr. Rivington. I’m sure she has her reasons to keep to herself. Perhaps, Col. Simcoe, instead of asking us for potential gossip about our employees, you could try talking to her yourself. Now, if that was all you gentlemen required, I have more important duties to see to.” Robert takes his leave and returns to his post behind the bar.

“I am sorry that we couldn’t be more helpful, Col. Simcoe. But I fear that our pious Quaker friend might be correct, you could just speak to her. From my limited interactions with her, she seems like a pleasant enough girl to speak with.” Rivington shrugs as he gets up from the table and returns to his usual routine of floating between the tables of the high ranking officers.

John is once again left to quietly sit alone at his table trying to figure out the best way to approach you. “Why should I approach her?” He thought to himself.  Maybe his tried and true method of having his most trusted Queen’s Rangers follow you would work. He wasn’t looking for your entire life’s story, at least not yet, he just wanted to learn enough information that would help him figure out why he couldn’t stop thinking about you. “That’s what I’ll do,” He decided. John finished his ale and left the comfort of the tavern for the dark streets of the city as he headed back to his barracks to put  together his plan.

The following morning, he pulled two of his most discreet Rangers aside and explained their mission. He watched their confused faces as he explained to them that they were going to follow you and report back with their findings.

“I’m sorry, sir. You want us to follow a barmaid?” One of them asked.

“She’s more than that. I just haven’t figured out what exactly.” John curtly replied, he knew having his men follow around a civilian woman seemed like a waste of time and resources, but he wanted to know as much as possible about her before he decided his next course of action. “So, will the two of you take this assignment? Or is following around a simple tavern girl too difficult for you?”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, if I’ve learned her routine correctly, she should be at Townsend’s tavern now.” John watches as his men leave, heading towards the tavern. He tries to go about his day, trying his best to push thoughts of you to the back of his mind.

John decided to abandon his nightly visit to Townsend’s for now, deciding it was better to give his men time to gather what, more than likely boring, information they were likely to get on someone like you. The instant he had the thought a voice popped into his mind, chastising him for ever thinking you could possibly be boring, because if it was as simple as being boring then John wouldn’t feel the need to have you followed and the persistent need to want to know everything about you. He spent his newly free nights trying to plan his next move while walking through the dark city streets.  

Each night for the next two weeks, his men would report back to John with their findings, or in this case, lack of findings. Every morning’s brief was a variation of the same thing, they always said you did nothing out of the ordinary, never talked to anyone who they would consider suspicious, and every morning their report was always the same. “She’s just a normal girl, there’s literally nothing there, sir.”

Finally, after hearing the same report each night, John decided it was time to return to the tavern, still unsure on what his next move would be. That night, he was greeted with the familiar scene of his usual table in the back corner sitting empty, Townsend standing behind the small bar pouring drinks and you floating around. He sat at his table slowly sipping drink after drink, watching you throughout the night, he felt the urge to ask you to sit with him each time you came over to his table and poured him another drink. But each time you were near him, he couldn’t find the words, he would simply nod in appreciation for the refill while he still tried to figure out why he seemed to be drawn to you. John had become lost in his thoughts that he never realized how late it had become until he looked around and noticed how empty the room had become.

He picked up his mug to chug the last bit of ale before leaving, when he finally set the cup on the table he was surprised to find you sitting across from him. John was taken back seeing you sitting at his table with your hands folded on the table in front of you. You locked eyes with John, your face giving him no hints of what kind of encounter he was in for. The two of you sat in silence for a moment before you finally spoke.

“Am I to pretend as if you did not have two of your men following me for the past fortnight?” There was no polite greetings or the shy flirting you occasionally did with the other officers,you cut right to the heart of the matter. Right to the one topic that John was not in anyway prepared to discuss with you.

John never would have imagined you would have been able to spot his men. He stares at you for a moment while he tries to regain his composure. “You have my sincerest apologies, Ms. [Y/N].”

“Is there a reason you had me followed?”

He thought for a moment, trying to put together an answer that wouldn’t scare you off, he had learned back in Setauket that his intensity could scare most people off. “I wanted to make sure you were safe. A young woman such as yourself should not be walking alone in the city at night.”

You smiled at him briefly, part of him hoping that you would believe him. “If you truly believed that, why didn’t you offer to walk me home? Who better to escort me home than the head of the Queen’s Rangers.”

“It would have been inappropriate. What would your parents think of you being alone with unmarried man, such as myself, at night?” John realized that not only had his men underestimated you, but as it turns out, so did he. This entire time, he thought you were this shy barmaid, but here you were, sitting in front of him and calmly cutting through his deceptions.

“I believe that if you had explained to them that you were only concerned about my safety, I doubt they would have had a problem with it, in fact I believe they would have been thrilled to see a man of your rank taking an interest in someone like me.” You reply as he sees you relax your posture just enough to make him feel a little more comfortable with this encounter.

“May I ask why you question my motives?”

“Because, Col. Simcoe, your men didn’t just make sure I made it home safely. They followed me as I went about my life. They followed me to the market, while I visited with friends. I would like to know why. Do you think me guilty of something?”

“Of course not.” John quickly responds

“Then why?”

“Before I answer, may I ask you a question?”

“I suppose it is only fair.”

“How did you know that my men were following you?”

“Your men are not as clever as they think they are.” You softly laugh and smile at John. “I have answered your question, now mine. Why did you have me followed?”

“I find you intriguing. I watch you every night, floating about, trying to make yourself invisible. But a woman such as yourself deserves to be noticed, you should be the center of attention. I asked Mr. Rivington and Mr. Townsend about you, but neither man truly knew anything about you. I believe that a part of me questioned whether or not you were real. I had my men follow you to find out anything they could about you.”

“And were you satisfied with their findings?” You ask as you leave forward, resting your chin on the heel of your left hand.

“No. Every night I received the same report ‘she’s a normal girl.’ I doubt a normal girl would have been able to figure out they were being followed or have the courage to confront me about it. I believe I now have more questions than answers.”

Before John is able to continue his thought, out of the corner of his eye John sees Townsend appear from a back room walking towards you. “[Y/N], Col. Simcoe? It is very late, why are you still here?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Townsend, we were just talking and must have lost track of time. All of my work is done, if you’d like I can lock up when I leave.” Your soft spoken demeanor quickly reappears when you speak to Townsend. John watches as Robert looks suspiciously at the two of you.

“I think it would be best if you head home, [Y/N]. It is late and I am sure your father is probably wondering where you are.” Robert nudged into your side. John saw the quiet man’s gaze turn ever so slightly into a veil of panic, but you kept your game face on.

“Of course, Mr. Townsend.” You stand up from your seat, you lock eyes with John “Col. Simcoe, would you care to escort me home? It much too late for me to walk home by myself. That is of course unless other arrangements were made.” You smile at him, and a slight chuckle passed his lips.

“It would be my honor, [Y/N].” John stood up and walked over to you, offering his arm to you, which you linked with yours.

“[Y/N]? Are you sure you want Col. Simcoe to escort you? I would be more than happy to escort you home.” Robert questioned you, ignoring John and his gaze on Robert.

You briefly look at John before turning your attention back to Robert, “I am confident that I will be in safe hands, Mr. Townsend, but thank you for your concern.” With your arm still linked with John’s, the three of you walk towards the door, you slightly curtsy as Robert bows his head to you and John as Robert holds the door open the two of you.

As the two of you make your way through the dark city streets, John looks down at you with a puzzled expression as he feels you hold onto his arm a little tighter than before. You were talking, but he wasn’t able to focus on what you were saying, he was lost deep in his thoughts. John wasn’t used to having someone, other than his family, react so warmly towards him. Considering how this encounter had started, this was the last thing John had expected. John thought once you had your answers you would run off, just like everyone else, but here you were.

He thought he was in love with Anna Strong back when he was in Setauket, but what he was currently feeling in this moment with you walking beside him, this felt stronger than whatever it was he felt for Anna. A part of him was hesitant to call it love, but the longer he was in your company the more he knew that’s what this was. All he could hope for was that you felt the same way and not reject him like Anna did.

The two of you stood in front of a fairly plain looking building. “Here we are.” You stated while sliding your arm away from John’s, the sudden lack of contact brought him crashing back down to earth. The soft light of the nearby lanterns allowed John to faintly see the small soft smile on your face as you took his hand in yours. “I hope this won’t be the last time you escort me home.”

“I will gladly walk you home as much as I possible can.” John lifts your hand up to his lips and softly kissed the back of your hand. As he let you go, he watched you walk through the front door of your house and give him a small wave goodbye before closing the door. He walked away from your house filled with the promise of tomorrow night and all the other nights he would be able to spend with you.


You walked into your home with a smile on your face. It had been a long time since a man made the butterflies in your stomach take flight, and you never thought that it would be John Graves Simcoe to make you feel like this.

“[Y/N]?” You heard your father calls out to you from the small family room. “Do you have any idea what time it is? You know you shouldn’t out by yourself at night. Lord only knows what could happen to you.”

“I’m sorry, father. I lost track of time at work, and I wasn’t alone. I was escorted home by a very kind gentleman.” You walk into the family room to see your father sitting in his armchair by the fire and your mother standing at the front window, clearly she had been watching you and John, but said nothing which was very unusual. Normally the sight of you with a man resulted in her either starting to plan for a wedding or giving you a list of reasons why he wasn’t a right match for you, but tonight she just stood at the window as if she was keeping watch.

“There’s someone here to see you.” She stated, still looking out the window. You felt your heart stop as out of the darkness of the hallway appeared the one person you thought you would never see again.

“Caleb?”