there's not a man alive who can tell me what to do
@ameliajessica
MELANIE, 20's, 🇧🇷/🇬🇧. more of a lark than a dove. here ye find television shows, movies, books, musicals, social justice, anime/manga & the occasional football.
7 ⧽. is there a fic you wish you received feedback on, but didn’t get any/much? this ask game is asking someone else to then give feedback on said fic, pretty pretty please!!!
this is a hard one and not to sound fake-humble but i really do take any interaction or feedback i can get bc fsr i am cursed with only being compelled to write for the niche fandoms at mostly their least active time... like spitting out 30k of kendallstewy fanfiction months after the series finale... shout out to anyone who still cared, we r kindred spirits! not to mention queliot in the year of our lord 2025 (almost 26!) so i guess the cop-out answer is all of them :)
9 ⧽. tell us about a wip/idea that you’re excited about!
OH MAN SOOOOOOOO MANY and i have things to SHARE!!!
thanksgiving AU that has now taken several years to finish oops but i still pick at it all the time... the broad strokes are sketched out but the in-between parts... they've eluded me :( but i've loved the stuff i've discovered in giving myself an insane amount of time to finish, namely the margoalice of it all, which at first was ofc for the premise but i knew i'd had to Resolve it and i landed on something that for me was like whoa... MALICE!!! (i was always a margofen girl at heart... and pennyalice in my deepest, deepest truest heart (shout out @hmgfanfic for also seeing the vision btw)). so that was really fun!!! here's a little excerpt bc why not...
He does get the full story eventually. Like he’d said to Quentin— after much wine, much weed, and much safe-to-eat cookie dough, in that order, Margo huffily sits up from where she’d been lounging across from him by the fire, and declares, “You know what Alice’s fucking problem is?”
The girl who fucked Quentin and then turned him down? Who somehow had enough sway with Margo to convince her to go to the suburbs, only tokick her to the curb, literally? Oh yeah, Eliot has some ideas, none of them charitable.
“I’ve thought about this topic at length,” Eliot admits, “but I’m much more interested in your recent observations.”
Margo clumsily crosses her legs into a seated position. “She,” she says, stabbing a finger into Eliot’s thigh, “is so fucking proud.”
“Ow,” Eliot says mildly. It goes unnoticed. That, or she prods him again for his insolence.
“And stubborn,” she says. “Like, to the point of stupidity. What’s the point of having that big brain, carrying around talent and genius, if you’re not going to use it to face facts? If you’re going to stick to the same old truths you’ve told yourself your whole fucking life? If you’re going to all but beg your girlfriend to come see your parents, for moral support, and freak out at, like, being fucking supported, morally, and tell her you can’t do this anymore?”
A lot to unpack. Weirdly — annoyingly — sticking out to Eliot is how he hadn’t known that Alice had begged for Margo to come. From Margo’s whole attitude, prior to their talk hashing it out all, all fierce righteousness, about ditching her and Eliot’s non-plans to go with Alice, he thought Margo had been blazing through and telling Alice she was going to be there for her. He could imagine it so clearly— so quintessentially Margo.
He can’t imagine Alice begging for anything. He tells Margo as much.
Margo scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, imagine it. But I don’t— blame her for that, actually. Like, Jesus. Her mom? Might make my dad look like Mickey Mouse.”
“Fuck me.” That Margo would never say lightly.
again i am really delighted and grateful for all of the ppl still here and still writing fic (especially you! tbh!), particularly in this recent... surge of activity it feels like we've had? like... i'm not crazy right it did suddenly get really queliot up in here...
but anyway, i'm a big fic re-reader and somehere in my specific re-reads of this year a new idea was born... so while the main commitment will always be to the current wips, it was so exciting to think of something new... it's very early stages i think but can mostly be summed up as a roommate AU -- margo & eliot as the set roommates, margo then gets a gig overseas and needs someone to fill her space for rent reasons but also bc she is worried about leaving el alone. at this time she reconnects with quentin, someone she and eliot did not know at brakebills super well but who she has seen here and there due to working in same industry of magic book publishing, and quentin has just been dumped by alice, whom he was engaged to... i imagine them at some event and quentin just dumping all of this onto her and she is like oh this is perfect, move in with my roommate and he's like um? slkdfklsjf but anyway!! the fic is set a few years into this, with queliot as the gross sweet besties they are and doing a bad job of ignoring how much they wanna fuck... so they do and are like well hey we can be normal about this surely... and you'll never guess ho the rest of the fic goes (you will!). excerpt!
"You sure you're cool with this?"
"What?" Quentin says, and when he turns to Eliot he looks almost… exasperated. OK, weird. He's the one who asked a question that didn't make sense?
"The bed, Quentin. Sharing."
"What," Quentin says again, this time with a laugh. "Yeah, El. I mean, we live together. What am I gonna do— catch extra… cooties or whatever?"
Eliot smiles, a small — naturally — mocking thing. "Cooties," he says softly. Coos.
"Yeah," Quentin huffs, deciding on doubling down. "Pretty sure I'd be, uh, immune or whatever. At this point."
"You're not sick of me?"
Quentin scoffs. "Yeah, like that could ever happen," he says, throwing himself on the bed face-first with an oof. When he turns his head, Eliot is watching him, quiet and a little wide-eyed.
"What?"
"Nothing. You're… sweet," he murmurs. His hands are tucked between his cheek and the pillow. Looking, himself, pretty unbearably sweet.
"You say that a lot…" Quentin mutters, for lack of anything else to hold onto for dignity, knowing his hot face is just… fucking laid bare for Eliot to see, probably feel radiating warmth across the stretch of bed between them.
Eliot's grin is wicked in the dark. "You're sweet a lot."
"Whatever that means."
"Means exactly what it sounds like it means."
"Which is?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, cutie Q."
OK, he's just being weird again, then. "Uh, sure. I guess — thanks, then?"
Eliot hums. "You're welcome." Quentin shouldn't be smiling; it makes no sense for him to be smiling. The conversation they're having is insane… and nonsensical. But Quentin is smiling anyway. At least Eliot still is, too.
finally, the fic i wrote for @coldbam's birthday... nicole, one of our best fic minds, came up with a actor/personal assistant AU but where q is margo's assistant instead of eliot which is... SUCH a delicious tension, and perfect for them. the fic idea is honestly too good for me, who feels too lowly to ever bring it to its full potential, which is one of the reasons i have procrastinated on it so much lskdfjklsd but hey! again, this year... something was in the air... here's some of ch. 2...
The magazine falls to the table with a thwack.
“I left you guys alone,” Margo says, hands on her hips, “for two days. Two days. And now.”
She gestures at the Us Weekly she’d thrown in front of them.
Quentin, to his left, looks a little green.
“A magazine?” Quentin whispers, almost to himself. “Who— who is even taking pictures for magazines?”
“Um? Lots of people, sweetie?" She, apparently, decides on a brief pause on being furious at both of them to look at Eliot like, this fucking guy? Heart still pounding, Eliot manages a shrug in response. She's the one who hired him.
“I mean of— of me! Of normal people.”
“Ouch,” Eliot says, before he can help himself. He is, after all, the other one in the picture. The most visible one too, naturally. Quentin’s striking profile is indeed in view, next to a bright yellow Who is Eliot Waugh’s new mystery guy? Apparently on page 7, there’s a list of educated guesses, for those most ardently curious.
“You know what I mean!” Quentin snaps, turning to him. “I—I’m just me: a boring, unremarkable dude! Why the fuck did they take my picture?”
Eliot thinks some… very inappropriate things, about Quentin’s measure of boringness and remarkability. He clears his throat. Margo looks at him, eyes narrowing, as if she knows.
“That’s what happens when you’re snuggling with a celebrity in public.” She jabs her finger at the second picture, captured conveniently when they’d had their stumble inside the bar, looking indeed like they were engaging in some passionate PDA.
“It’s not the main story,” Eliot offers weakly, and in turn Margo looks ready to kill him.
“What the fuck happened,” she says sweetly.
“This is crazy,” Quentin says. It’s the most animated Eliot’s seen him. It is unfortunately for the PR crisis of the present moment, quite distracting. “I—how did they even make it look like that?”
“What,” Margo smiles, “the fuck. Happened? I’m only asking twice, because you dickholes made me have to get out of bed and handle this before I could get any caffeine. So: one of you tell me before I go apeshit.”
“It was me,” Eliot says — at the exact same time as Quentin. They turn to the other, bewildered.
“Oh Jesus Christ.” Margo throws her hands up and pinches her nose. Then, looking up sharply, she points at Quentin. “You. You answer. What the fuck is happening?”
“Nothing!” Quentin says. “Nothing happened! Or is happening! It was my fault. I— accosted Eliot at a bar and—”
“I was shitfaced,” Eliot says, “and lost track of time, and Quentin got worried. What you’re seeing is me trying to save him from falling on his ass after I shoved him. Because I was shitfaced.”
“That’s not—”
Margo’s elected to listen to Eliot after all. “And this?” She points to the other, larger photograph. Eliot, opening the door with exaggerated chivalry, bent at the waist.
Trying to make him laugh. And I did.
Despite this, in doing his bit he’d missed Quentin’s nakedly delighted expression entirely, glancing down at it only now, kind of shocked and awed himself.
He doesn’t know how he can explain that.
“Just being silly,” Eliot says, with as innocent a smile as he can muster, heart pounding in his chest. Margo opens her mouth, eyes aflame, when Quentin lets out a groan, startling them both.
1 ⧽. if you could sit down and finish any one of your wips without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), which fic would you choose? tell us about it if you want!
2 ⧽. if you could sit down and finish any completely new fic without anything stopping you (time, tiredness, etc), what would you write? tell us about it if you want!
3 ⧽. what's something you like about your writing?
4 ⧽. is there an au or trope that you haven't written before, but would want to try?
5 ⧽. is there a certain kind of fic that feels the most satisfying to finish? any reason why?
6 ⧽. if you were to write a part two/sequel to a fic, what fic would you want to write it for?
7 ⧽. is there a fic you wish you received feedback on, but didn't get any/much? this ask game is asking someone else to then give feedback on said fic, pretty pretty please!!!
8 ⧽. what part of [insert fic] is your favorite?
9 ⧽. tell us about a wip/idea that you're excited about!
10 ⧽. what genre is generally the easiest or most enjoyable for you to write? which is the hardest?
11 ⧽. if you were to rewrite [insert fic] with [insert different character/ship] how do you think it might change?
12 ⧽. what's a song or two you associate with [insert fic]?
13 ⧽. do you have any writing projects/goals/plans you're working on/want to work on?
14 ⧽. is there anything outside of your normal content that you want to write?
15 ⧽. if you wrote a fic called [insert title] with [insert character/ship] what do you think it might be about?
16 ⧽. if you wrote a fic called [insert title] what character/ship would you want to write it for?
17 ⧽. are there any songs you want to write a songfic for?
18 ⧽. how do you want your writing to feel to your readers?
19 ⧽. give a hint/teaser about something you're writing without any context or explanation! tease us haha
20 ⧽. answer any one of the other questions that you want to!
In my recent Magicians internet wanderings with my wife I somehow clicked thru to an ep reaction post on Reddit from when Life in the Day originally aired a billion years ago now. The guy who thought Quentin and Eliot were just close good friends for 50 years 1. is real 2. came to Reddit to tell their truth:
And it’s like well this is who the season four finale was for actually. I get it now. I understand.
Know only this, mon cher. You are the only being I trust. And whom I love, above and beyond myself.
Sam Reid and Jacob Anderson as Lestat de Lioncourt & Louis de Pointe du Lac
INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE 2.02: DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO BE LOVED BY DEATH.
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