Recently the fanfic floodgates really opened, and that’s great! But I can’t for the life of me bring myself to really write anything, and that’s… less great.
Story ideas that have been fluttering around for either a few weeks now, OR a few years and I just re-thought of them:
#1 Lord of the Rings: Eowyn dealing with impending motherhood. Based on some of the things she says in the book that story sounds so fascinating (since we know she had at least one child) how she reconciles her past with becoming a parent. Plus I always loved how she and Faramir named their son after Boromir, Elboron. How’d they come to that decision (since Eowyn wasn’t exactly short of dead people she could name a kid after either?) I just, aaaah, there’s even actually one whole paragraph from this story that I wrote ages ago, no more than one, lurking back in the archives somewhere. So at least there’s that.
#2 Another LOTR one. Boromir only manages to tell Aragorn that he tried to take the One Ring from Frodo, but did Merry and Pippin ever find that out? Did it change their perceptions of him? (It’s occurred to me I might be able to combine this story idea with the previous one. Ya never know I guess.)
#3 Now we’re in Star Wars territory. I so badly want to write about That One Moment from Rise of Skywalker where all the Jedi call out to Rey. I loved that so, so much. Unfortunately, how to do it is more of a question. I have like, one page so far.
Over the past few days I’ve been archiving lots of older stuff (from the bits of my old tumblr/twitter/facebook that the Internet Wayback Machine caught.) After all, the clue’s in the OVERLY DEVOTED Archivist name. So I thought I might post links to some choice older nonsense here, meticulously labelled, for your viewing pleasure.
So you probably know that I had a couple of issues with Endgame, especially what happened to Gamora, and this is my attempt to fix them. (Pay attention, James Gunn.)
Title: A Scar on the World Fandom: MCU/Guardians of the Galaxy Characters: Gamora, Natasha Summary: Gamora is trying to come to terms with being alone and displaced in time. Luckily, the universe isn’t done with either her or Natasha Romanoff.
If you’ve been around my fanfiction for long enough, you might remember Faith In Humanity, my 30-odd chapter ode to the Spider-Man verse and the original trilogy in particular. Among the main characters was Emily, Harry’s late mother. Back then (this was the ’00s) she didn’t have a surname or much characterisation at all really. She was essentially the founding member of my Dead Fictional Mothers Club. I was fascinated by how heroes and protagonists never had mothers. Why were they always the ones to die?
So imagine how gleeful I was to realise that in the comics she is now not dead! It happened ages ago, but I only heard about it now. It’s funny, she looks exactly how I imagined her.
And the dyamic between her and Norman (he’s red now, whattya know) is pretty much how I always thought it would be. I love this panel here:
She’s finally got a last name, Lyman. Harry has it too now! And all the Osborn-Lymans (Norman 100% does not count) have gotten to be together:
And I don’t know what happens after this particular story. I know Harry, rather understandably, refuses to call her ‘mom’. But hey! She’s alive!
I’ll always love Harry and the Osborn story. This new (uh, new-ish) development is so pleasing to me, you have no idea. (Emily also features quite a lot in the new Spider-Man game, which is also very pleasing to me, although she’s definitely dead in that one.)
Adventure Time ended the other day. (Yeah, I was pretty behind when it came to watching the finale. I didn’t want it to go.)
My favourite character was always Simon. His mental health struggles (that was basically what they were, even if they were dressed up fantasy-style) seemed to help me with my own. One day I sat down and wrote a fanfic about it, and it’s probably one of the best things I ever wrote, fanfiction-wise. Maybe it’s that just to myself, but I guess that works too.
There was one line near the end, from Death, which I still repeat to myself as a mantra. My husband even drew it for me once:
A couple of weeks ago @royalarmyofoz made a Gail/Erica gifset with the tag
#fun fact: if erica drew the short straw there is no way in hell gail would have let her do it either
and I had to write that scenario!
It has an unnecessarily pretentious title but I hope you enjoy it.
Persephone in the Underworld
Erica looked at her straw, and then she looked at Gail, and
then she turned and ran out of the room without saying a thing.
Gail observed the faces of the other people in the room.
They all looked sympathetic, but each and every one of them was clearly thinking
“Thank god it wasn’t me.”
“Thank god it wasn’t you,” Todd said to Melissa.
“C’mon. I would’ve been fine,” Melissa said, utterly
unconvincingly. “I got my meds now to stop me losing my mind. Also, Karl’s not
exactly an innocent bystander, is he?”
“You volunteering, Melissa?” Gail asked.
Melissa said nothing.
“Erica’s not doing it,” Gail said. “You hear me? She’s not
“She did draw the
short straw, mom.” Carol said nervously.
“I don’t care. She is one of the very few good things left
in this world, y’hear? She is innocent and she is not a killer!”
“None of us wanna be killers, mom!”
“But we all are,” Gail said. “I know in most cases it wasn’t
on purpose but we are. Me and Todd killed
Phil while trying to save him and I feel shitty about that every day.” Todd
give a little nod of acquiescence. “Carol, you killed Gordon by accident and
I’m pretty sure you feel shitty about that too. Melissa, you… let’s not get
“Yeah, good call,” Melissa said darkly.
“Tandy, you’ve tried to kill a whole bunch of people cos
you’re an asshole.”
“Was an asshole,”
Tandy said. “Wait, not important, go on.”
“So we’re fucked. In a big sense, we’re fucked. But she
isn’t. She’s the last damn innocent person on earth who isn’t a literal child,
and she’s good and she’s mine and I’m
not about to let her become a executioner.”
It was a very good speech and everyone fell silent.
“Right, who’s got a weapon?” Gail asked, her voice cracking.
No-one moved except Carol, who swallowed and said “Go talk
to her first.”
“I just want to get it over and done with.”
“No, talk to her,” Carol said. Then she added “If it was me
who’d drawn the short straw, I’d want Tandy to come and talk to me.”
Gail found her wife out in the garden, sitting on a wall.
There were a ton of dead flowers in the flowerbed behind her but some living
ones at her feet, which Gail thought was very poetic, but somehow that
depressed her even more.
“This’ll be a fun thing to explain to Dawn when she’s a bit
older, won’t it?” Erica said in the old Australian question-not-a-question way.
Gail had always found that terribly endearing.
“Nope. Nothing to explain,” she said. “Karl’s a serial
killer and he’s actually surprisingly chill with dying, so I gather. Them kinda
assholes usually are.”
“Right,” said Erica. “Don’t suppose he stated a preference
for where he wants to be shot, does he? Chest? Head? Stomach? Balls? You never
“Doesn’t matter,” Gail said. “You’re not doing it, I am.”
“See, I knew you would say that,” Erica said. Her hands were
quivering a little. “Give me one good reason why.”
“All righty then. You remember your little bank incident?
Not the one you were arrested for, the first one. Where you basically just
overdid it and wore a dumb mask the whole time?”
“It wasn’t my best moment, okay?” Erica said after a second.
“Actually, hon, I’d argue it was. Cos you told me, it was
the first time you ever pointed a loaded gun at someone. Some random clerk,
right? And you…”
“Oh god, I know where this is going.”
“And you were so terrified you pissed yourself. Kinda funny
in hindsight, you know?” Erica did not look remotely amused. “Except not.
Because to you the thought of actually killing someone in cold blood was the
worst damn thing in the world. And obviously several years an’ a whole
apocalypse has passed since then, but I don’t think things have changed much.”
“Well,” Erica said, in a tone somewhere on the crossroads
between sad, angry, frustrated and fearful, “I’m not gonna piss myself this
“Damn right you won’t,” Gail said, and she took a pistol out
of her pocket. “Cos I’ve got a gun, and you haven’t, and I’m not giving it to
Erica looked at the gun as though she’d never really seen
one before, which was an odd move in a way, because she’d had even more
experience with guns than Gail herself had. Then she said, “I do get it, yeah? You
think that cos you… cos you didn’t save Phil on the operating table, you’ve
like already got blood on your hands or whatever. Well,” and suddenly her voice
rose in a way it very rarely did, “that is bullshit,
Gail! You did everything you could, you did more than anyone else could have
done. You haven’t ever killed or even hurt anyone, so you’re being absolutely
bloody fucking stupid right now.”
“Is that right,” Gail said.
“Yeah!” Erica snapped. “When it comes to dead people,
there’s literally no difference between you and me-!” She trailed off halfway
through the sentence.
“Sorry,” she started to say, but Gail talked over her.
“You know this and I know this, babe, I’ve lost a child and
you thank god never will. And I lost him because of my own stupid fault, I as
good as killed him, I’ll never not be convinced of that.”
Erica had opened her mouth, but she reluctantly shut it
“My world was shitty even before the virus and then you came
along and you were the only good thing…
you know?” Gail said. “When I found you in the Oval Office all passed out and
spread-eagled I thought you were an angel. A tiny, drunken angel.”
Erica almost smiled.
“And now we’re wife and wife and nothing’s changed. Based on
my previous marriages I thought things would get weird between us at some point,
you know, but they didn’t? You kept on being this… this amazing person. A good
mom and a good friend and a good human in a world where there’s barely anything
to measure against.”
“God, it’s like I married fucking Persephone sometimes.”
Erica almost certainly knew more about Greek mythology than
Gail, she knew details of all kinds of things, but she kept quiet.
“Anyway,” Gail said, aiming the gun into the dead flowers
and cocking it, “that cannibal ain’t gonna shoot himself.”
“That’s a shame,” Erica said quietly.
Gail pulled her close and kissed her, and Erica kissed back.
“Persephone might not be the best metaphor to use,” she said
hesitantly after pulling away. “Whole can of worms there.”
“Well, don’t ask me to understand ‘em. She married the god
of the underworld, right? Was she happy with him? Or her? You never know, gods
don’t have genders, could’ve been a her.”
“Let’s say her. And yeah, she was very happy, apparently.”
That was a strange place to leave things, but it was never a
good idea to procrastinate on things like executing a murderer, so-
“Gail, what happened to Danny really wasn’t your fault,”
Erica said gently.
“He was three years old. Kids who’re three years old need
looking after. And I failed and he wandered off and he fell down a hole and he
died. Who else’s fault could it be?”
“Well,” Erica said, as if she’d anticipated a response like
that, “I think you’re a great mother, and Dawn thinks you’re a great mother,
and that’ll never change. No matter what happens.”
“Thanks, honey,” Gail said. Then, with only one quick look
back, she headed off to kill somebody.
I’ve had this little snippet of a GOTG fic in my head for ages now, but I don’t know what to do with it. Originally it was gonna be the opening for a missing-moment type fic provisionally almost titled “Wait, What Happened To Yondu Inbetween Him Waving Goodbye To Rocket And Picking Up Peter, Oh God I Bet Ego Was Physically And Mentally Beating The Shit Out Of Him Wasn’t He.” But I don’t know if that will see the light of day for a while. I really hope it does though:
The snow was falling so thick and heavily that it had cast the whole world in a sort of white resin. Contraxia was like that: it was bleak, and it was dangerous.
Two figures, a man and a boy, were making their way upwards through the blizzard. One of them was struggling, but the other one didn’t stop to help him. In fact, he walked faster.
Eventually, they reached their destination. It was a tree, once green and lush and now withered and dying and covered in snow.
“S’the last living tree on Contraxia,” said Yondu, “fer now.”
“So?” said Peter. The long walk in the cold had frozen his body, but it hadn’t killed his spirit.
“Hey! Don’t give me sass, boy. You wanna be a Ravager, you learn our traditions! Y’hear? This’s the only bitta real life left on this planet from before the Kree invaded and enslaved its people and killed the rest. You pay it yer damn respects!”
Peter had no idea how to pay respects to a tree, or what Yondu would even qualify as “respect”. He eventually settled for a slight nod and a slumped position.
“Some of ‘em were my people,” Yondu said. He wasn’t actually paying all that much attention to Peter’s posture. “The ones who said hell no, you ain’t getting our kids, and died or got taken anyway. Thass where parenty affection gets ya, kid. A slave collar.”
Something uncomfortable was making its way into Peter’s brain, and he didn’t want to say it. But ultimately he figured he had nothing to lose. For all he knew he could die of the cold halfway down the mountain.
“That’s me then, right? You gonna slap a collar on me?”
Yondu’s face changed completely. It was like his whole being temporarily just collapsed in on itself.
“You think you a slave, boy?”
When Peter had been a child he had had nightmares about monsters with red eyes watching him from the shadows. It was those fearful things he thought of as Yondu grabbed his shoulders and glared at him.
“Thass what you think?” the man yelled.
What Peter wanted to say was, well you’re clearly not my parent, and there’s precious few other damn options for this relationship. But he didn’t say that. He was nine years old and his mother was dead. “No,” he whispered. “I just – I just wondered.”
“You wonder some fucking stupid things, boy!”
Yondu let go of him and turned his back on the tree. He started walking away.
“All that work you do on the ship? You get paid at the end of the month same’as everyone else,” he said, his voice a snarl. “Hell, I told you that when you came aboard, but I guess you were too busy cryin’ like a whelp to realise.” A pause. “And you free to leave anytime you like. You remember that. Ain’t you lucky?”
A few seconds later he was just a shadow in the snow. A few seconds after that, Peter followed him.
The last living tree on Contraxia lasted a few more years, and then it died and sank into the mountain.
Title: Falling Quickly Fandom: The Last Man on Earth Rating: M I think Characters: Phil Tandy Miller, Erica Dundee, Mike Miller (most of the others also show up, but they’re the main ones) Pairings: Erica/Gail, Erica/Mike, Erica/OFC, Tandy/Brent Junkins, Tandy/Carol Warnings: Unsupportive families, homophobic language, homophobia/biphobia in general Notes: I love Mike to pieces, but honestly this drags the hell out of him I think
Tandy, Erica, a conversation, and everything that got them to that point.