bisexual genderqueer libertine (they/them) | multi-fandom | writer/artist | here be fan fiction | 21+ | not white | savage garden resident & 1239 First Street house guest | MDNI 🔞
You'll find pain is like the shame, you feel it only once.
❝Our intentions make blackguards of us all; our weakness in carrying them out we call probity.❞
Follows back from: meerawrites. They/them. Bisexual (regardless of gender, 1970). Genderqueer. South Asian and European. (asexual spectrum, sapphic-polyam). Neurodivergent. C-PTSD. secular humanist. Harm reductionist. Capital R Romantic. gender diversity enabler, evil women kisser, fan of men crying. Unwilling philosopher. post-secondary humanities (sociology and anthropology). Archivist, historian and historiographer by proxy and necessity.
❝None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are. ❞
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PFP credit.
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The Lizzie Borden House Anthology (buy my book!)
The Bisexual Manifesto (1990). Anything that moves (1990-2001). Journal of bisexuality. The bisexual history archive.
TLDR rules:
Civility, I'll keep anon on the condition that you all keep the same level-headed response I do. I reserve the right not to respond, respond selectively, or take my time.
TERFS/SWERFs are unwelcome, and I loathe 'radfems.' We encourage bisexuality and butch lesbianism here.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 21/?
Fandom: Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Armand/Daniel Molloy, Armand/Daniel Molloy/Other(s), Armand/Daniel Molloy & Marius de Romanus
Characters: Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Daniel Molloy, Vampire Chronicles Ensemble
Additional Tags: Post-Canon, BDSM, Total Power Exchange, 24/7 Lifestyle Kink, Fluff and Smut, Processing Trauma Through Kink, Armand’s Past (Vampire Chronicles), Book: Blood Communion (Vampire Chronicles), Fareed Bhansali’s Vampire Sex Serum, canon-typical trigger warnings, Armand’s Canonical Complicated Feelings About Marius de Romanus, Size Kink, Daniel Molloy Has a Big Dick, Bottom Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Sub Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Dom Daniel Molloy, Top Daniel Molloy, freak4freak Devil’s Minion, actually Switch Daniel/Switch Armand but this is what the current vibes are in practice, Virginity Roleplay, Dubcon/Noncon Fantasy, Knifeplay, Exhibitionism
Series: Part 2 of Make Clear the Way, Shepherd, or Lay Down Your Staff
(Sequel to “Daniel Molloy’s Incredible Showstopping World Famous Model Train Extravaganza for Children and Easily-Awed Vampires (Please Knock)”. Updates weekly on Fridays)
***
This week’s chapter features the Molloys terrorizing a fledgling who made his own bad life choices as a date night activity, fucking in the forest, and also Lestat Is There.
For anyone who hasn't seen them before, Hidden Search Operators are handy tricks you can use when you're either searching or filtering AO3.
summary: string is a generic way of explaining that you can search AO3 for a specific word that appears in a summary. You can do this from the search bar in the header, from the Any Field box at the top of the Advanced Search form, or from the Search Within Results box at the bottom of the filter menu.
Examples:
summary: Bruce
summary: "Bruce Banner"
summary: Bruce OR summary: Banner OR summary: Hulk
You need to put quotation marks around your search term if it is more than one word. The quotes make sure that the site searches for those two words together.
The other two operators listed work best in the Search Within Results box.
expected_number_of_chapters: 1 will return results where every fic has only 1 chapter currently posted.
You can use expected_number_of_chapters: -1 if you want results where every fic has more than 1 chapter currently posted.
otp:true will return results where there is only 1 relationship tag on the fic. If you want results where there are 2+ relationship tags (and no fics with only 1 relationship tag) then you can use otp:false
This page is so beautiful and honestly I hope it reaches and helps any new people that are just starting out on Ao3 because it's helping me and I’ve been using the site for 5+ years now
I saw your tags @jackdaw-sprite and I figured I could offer you some help? You've got a few options to find fics that are actually about your fave who is often sidelined.
My own personal go-to is to use the Search Within Results filter. You can find the filters by clicking/tapping on any tag. If you're on a wide screen like a laptop, they'll be on the right hand side of the screen. If you're on a narrow screen like a phone, you'll need to press the Filters button at the top of the page to open up the menu.
In that menu, scroll down until you're near the bottom. That's where you can find the box labelled Search Within Results. In that box, you can type
summary: Renhardt OR summary: Rendog
When you filter for that result, you'll get 19 fics with that name mentioned in the summary, and if the name is in the summary you've got MUCH higher chances of them being central to the fic.
There's also a way to find fics with a tag in the X position. Fan coders have had this same issue, and so they've created userscripts that you can add to your web browser (like an extension). Here are a few that might be helpful for you to try:
AO3 Actually Relevant Characters - Sorts and highlights works based on how relevant the tagged character seems in the work's tags and summary.
AO3: Prioritise my Faves - Hide work if chosen tags are late in sequence, or if blacklisted tags are early
AO3 Secondary Character & Pairing Filter - Replaces works with placeholder if the tags you want aren't the first few tags, with option to show work.
Editing to add: this version of the post has a syntax error in it. To remove oneshots with a filter, use
*thinks about OCs* *Thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks About OCs* *thinks about OCs* *Thinks About OCs* *thinks about OCs* *THINKS ABOUT OCS* *thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCS* *thinks about OCs* *THINKS about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks ABOUT OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *Thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks About OCs* *thinks about OCs* *Thinks About OCs* *thinks about OCs* *THINKS ABOUT OCS* *thinks about OCs* *thinks about OCS* *thinks about OCs* *THINKS about OCs* *thinks about OCs* *thinks ABOUT OCs* *thinks about OCs*
"...The real way of vanquishing scruples is to leave those who have them nothing to lose." — Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, Les Liaisons dangereuses (1782)
Fanfic is a great way to practice self-indulgence while writing. It doesn’t even have to be good, it just exists purely for your pleasure, be a little freak about it. Worry about quality and what other people think when it comes to works you intend to publish in a formal setting
i love fanfiction because unlike original work the plot and characters are all plotted and characterised for you to use so its a really good solution for those “i want to write but i dont know what to write” moods it lets you focus soley on the craft and its wonderful
Wolfkiller (what if Louis was there)
C/W: explicit | Words: 1953 | Tags: loustat, human Lestat, human Louis, hurt/comfort
His mother screams at him to, “Be a man!” Lestat’s breath hitches. The sound isn’t AT him, it’s at the grubby dining hall, his decaying brothers, his yellowing father: but the words spear him. Her fingers have slapped down the flintlock pistol he was aiming at Augustin. He stands, chair shrieks on stone.
The Marquise doesn’t look at him when she says, worrying her lip, “And take our guest. Hmm?”
Lestat stumbles, his mastiff head-butting at his thighs. “Mother?”
The cabbages are screeching, Father banging the table with a fist. Mother’s eyes like ice: “Our Parisian guest. Take him with you… he will enjoy tramping around our land, while his honoured family eats our hospitality.”
The Pointe du Lacs are his father’s guests. Business? Marriage prospects for one of his brothers? Lestat’s not… sure. But his mother’s hatred has seeped from his father to the Pointe du Lacs as well. She has found only faults with them, especially the eldest with his stylishness, his ease.
“A- American guest,” Lestat corrects. He’s been betraying her all week, laughing with Louis and Paul. Polite nods at Grace. He likes them. He likes all of them. He does.
Waving her hand, “Money, and yet they eat our food.”
(Louis has a sly sense of humour; and he’s patient. Always patiently waiting for Lestat to finish his sentences). Lestat glares at his mother; presses his lips tightly together, trying to hum the words, a little musicality helping him get past the cotton in his mouth, “I will- go.” He knows she understands he also means he’s not bringing Louis, or Paul, or Grace. Ridiculous. Of course not.
The Marquise’s blue eyes pierce him. He stares back, one hand on his mastiff; letting her lick his knuckles.
He won’t put the Pointe du Lac family in danger. Tugging his shoulders tight as he leaves, he closes and opens his fists. He’s going to be a man, surely that’s enough for Mother.
Trudging into the bright afternoon before he can think. The thoughts snake in anyway.
He’s saddling his mare when Louis finds him; the American leaning against the doorframe of the desiccated stables. Crossed arms, mock-frowning, “Looks serious.”
“S-serious?” Bites at his lip. He’s muscling past the elegant man, out of the barn: if only it was Paul to find him. He and the younger boy have a bit of an understanding. They’re both the runts, the outcasts, of their families: Paul saying too much, and Lestat too little.
Bending to pat his hound, Lestat rubs at her ears.
Louis follows him at a bit of a distance.
Looking back: Louis has snapped off a strand of grass and is chewing on the end, for all the world carefree, moneyed, beautiful; the sun playing over the gap in his shirt where he’s loosened his cravat.
“Do not- follow me,” Lestat shouts.
“I got nothing better to do.” Louis jogs to catch up, so they’re walking abreast. “Besides, you look,” Louis squints, exaggerated, “You look… uncomfortable.”
Lestat smiles to prove he’s fine.
“Ah!” Louis clutches his chest. “What is that?” A finger on Lestat’s bottom lip. “What face are you making?”
“Smiling,” he grits.
“Don’t think so. Never seen a smile do that.” Spitting out his sliver of grass, “What happened? Did somebody… hurt you?”
Rolling his shoulders, Lestat grunts. This is going to take so many words, it feels like an allowance he has to parcel out.
Louis seems to notice his hesitation, “Take your time.”
Exhaling through his nose: the afternoon is so gorgeous, it paints Louis gold and bronze in the moving shadows of the clouds; deepening the molten darkness of his eyes. Lestat says, “Wolves. Here.”
Louis slows his pace to count the weapons strapped to Lestat’s horse. “What’s this one?” Tapping at the spiked ball and chain.
“Flail.”
“You really going to use that?”
Lestat imagines his expression is worsening. If Louis didn’t believe his smile, he sure isn’t going to like what’s happening on his face now. “I- I- I- y-yes I- I- fuck!” Kicks at the ground.
The American at his shoulder, one hand on his back, rubbing up and his thumb hard into his shoulder blade. “Lestat-?”
“There are wolves!” He gestures empathically. “I will kill them.”
“Or what?” Louis squints.
“Or they will- kill-” rolling his eyes. Me. Or they will kill me. A simple equation. He doesn’t know why Louis is making him spell it out. “Go. Home.” Points towards the shitty castle. “Go.”
But Louis is sliding the flail from where Lestat’s stashed it on his mare’s saddle. “I can use this.”
He’s not thinking for once, and Lestat’s words have come unhitched, clipping out of him, “Like hell you can. Return to the castle, please.”
“Nah, don’t think so,” hefting the medieval weapon.
“You will die! The wolves will eat you, and they will enjoy it! I would! I would enjoy it! Yum! Delicious!”
Louis is trying to mount Lestat’s horse. He’s ridden before, but he’s a city boy; and it’s clearly not natural to him. Swinging himself up at last, flail dragging nearly to the ground.
Lestat clicks his tongue. “Put the weapon a- away. You will hurt my horse. She does not deserve that, Louis.”
“But I’m coming too?” He’s posing, ball and chain over one shoulder (impressive, because it is heavy), and part of Lestat is worried Louis thinks this is a game, or the kind of crazy afternoon that will give him one of his delightful stories.
Dragging his fingers over his face, “Jesus Christ.” Legging up behind Louis on the mare. Whispering into the other man’s neck, “Not my fault. If you die.”
Smiling over his shoulder, cheek dimpling, Louis says, “But can it be my fault if you live?”
“That makes no sense,” mutters, heels into his horse. “You make no sense.”
———————————————————————
Louis’ been toying with the youngest Lioncourt, and he doesn’t think the man has even noticed the rub of his attention. Louis’ tipping his head back, he’s pressing himself against Lestat as they ride on the mare together; bouncing together.
Louis has seen Lestat looking at him, looking, for sure looking, but maybe he’s misjudged. Maybe the man isn’t interested. Or shy?
At first he thought the stuttering was because of him, because Lioncourt blushed a little too: but no. Lestat de Lioncourt has a magnificent mane of blonde hair he keeps carefully tied back (how Louis wants to tug that ribbon out), large capable hands; a stutter, and a horrible family that bludgeons him for it.
It boils Louis’ blood. Because in some ways, every time he sees Augustin say some shitty-ass thing: he’s imagining someone treating Paul like that. It’s awful.
Louis isn’t sure if the wolves are real.
Lestat spends hours hunting down a doe (Louis making too much noise, Lestat reprimanding, Louis making apologetic grimaces). Cuts out her entrails, and sets them in a field (Louis scrunching up his nose at the blood, Lestat laughing at him. Calling him “city boy.” It’s a little sweet).
Then they’re waiting, Lestat’s rifle propped in the Y of a tree. It’s at this point Louis sobers. This isn’t one of Paul’s visions, not that he thought… Lestat’s so serious now. Hunching up his big shoulders. He’s asked Louis to get back on top of the horse, just in case.
There aren’t any howls. He thinks wolves should howl. But it’s just long grass moving, and the human-sized mastiff running out and suddenly her pain-sounds. Then Lestat’s firing his rifle, throwing it down, because it takes even an experienced marksman 15 seconds to reload (Lestat’s told him he can reload in 14 if he’s trying), yanking his pistol from his pants.
The wolf’s on Lioncourt. There’s less noise than Louis expects and it freezes him.
Wake up! Fingers numb, Louis pulls his flintlock; jumping off the mare, stumbles at the fall, doesn’t trust his aim. Fires the gun into the wolf’s skull point-blank. Lestat’s sprayed with blood. The frenchman’s stumbled back and gets the flail. Fuck. Lestat’s screaming, chesty and violent. He crushes another wolf’s skull with a whipped overhand arc.
“Run,” Lioncourt’s yelling, full-voice. “Louis! Horse! Run!” There’s red all over his face.
Louis’ fumbling with the gunpowder, the lead ball, ramming down the rod, packing it down. Jesus, god, why are there so many steps. Once he’s loaded, he keeps it to his chest, not wanting to waste the musket ball.
Lestat’s reloaded his pistol with red-slicked fingers, shaking: fires into the obscured field of long grass. What’s he doing? But Louis hears a yelp, he must have seen something? Lioncourt, he’s limping now, head low, dragging the flail behind him, stalking into the grasses.
“Wait-!” Louis yells. Swinging up on the mare, riding into the meadow. The weeds have grown up so tall, he’s somehow lost the other man, paddling the horse in a circle. Then, there’s snapping and the mare rears. He’s thrown.
He blacks out? He’s still got the pistol cradled to his chest. Lestat? Lestat? Crawling through the grass, there are noises. Whimpering. Something comes at him fast, gun out, he fires. The wolf is skittering back, but it’s bleeding, blood out of its mouth, dying, collapsing.
Louis keeps crawling. “Lestat!”
His stomach drops at the silence.
Then, bellowed, “Louis!” The man pushes through the grasses, he’s carrying a wolf. Carrying it.
It’s a carcass. The wolf is dead. He flops it on the ground.
Lestat falls loose to his knees in front of Louis. Gathers him in his arms, he’s sobbing, “Louis,” the rest of whatever he’s saying garbled into Louis’ shoulder.
“You- you’re bleeding?” Louis asks into the wet knap of Lioncourt’s jacket.
No answer.
“Why- why’re you carrying-?” Why are you carrying a wolf carcass, Lestat, what the fuck.
Lioncourt seems to know what he means. “To eat. To eat. We need- the food, sell- the fur.” Lestat’s grip on him loosening as the man sags back. There’s gore all down his front.
“You’re not carrying nothing, you’re in a state,” Louis is crouching beside him, fingers hovering over Lestat’s chest: careful, trying to see what blood is from the animals and what’s from the man. “What the fuck. What- how-?”
Lestat’s laughing. Jaw jutting up, laughing; his long limbs splayed out on the ground, exhausted. Pressing his own palm over his mouth, plugging in the hysterics, Louis can see the whiteness and lines of pressure as he pushes one, then two hands over his lips, “Sorry!” mumbled, the Frenchman’s still laughing. “Shit!”
“What’s… funny?” Louis smiling a little too, all of it, all of it crazy and contagious.
Lestat rolls his head towards him. They’re lying next to each other. “You,” he breathes. “I’m going to tell everyone you killed seven wolves.”
“No, you’re not. Seven! Seven wolves?”
“Yes,” Lestat’s hand is drifting towards Louis’ cheek, as if he wants to cup it. His eyes are soft, but Louis sees the panic return as he tries to say something else.
“Take your time.”
“M- mmmm- may I?”
“Kiss me?”
Lestat nods, vigourous.
Louis slides over him, pressing his mouth against the other man’s. Softening as Lestat moans. Licks into the slit of his lips. Pulling back, “You killed seven wolves?” Settling on his hips.
Lestat looks blissed out. “Mmm? Yes? Yes.”
“When you’re feeling well enough, I’m going to let you fuck me. Got it?”
Lestat moans again. “You- you,” he drops his voice, and it resonates deep in his chest, a little wetness in the sound (which makes Louis concerned), “You- k-keep t-t- toying with me.”
“I’m not!”
Lestat’s chin tipped back at the sky, eyelashes flickering, “Since you got here, mon cher, since y- you got here.”
The final bit on ao3 (I wanted to leave the explicit stuff for ao3, 18+)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/87019456
every once in a while I remember that there are people who came to AO3 from video game fandoms, where they were set up to think "rated E for everyone" - except on AO3 it's
Whew, we’ve been busy! Hot on the heels of list view for everyone, we’ve added four new Writing Insights for Ellipsus Plus!
Take a closer look at your docs with:
Repeated phrases: Find the multi-word phrases that recur throughout your draft. (For phrases containing up to six words.)
Dialogue balance: Calculate how much of your writing is dialogue vs. narration (and see the difference via the dialogue highlight toggle).
Point of view: See how many sentences are written from each perspective (and make extra-sure you didn’t accidentally switch halfway through!). First, second or third - you can highlight them all in your text.
Punctuation habits: See how often you use ✨expressive✨ punctuation marks per 1,000 words?!!!?!! (Yes!)
(And all without AI, of course!)
Get down ‘n’ dirty with your style (and the choices that make your voice yours, all yours). We wish you luck wrangling those phrases that jumpscare you when you discover you’ve used them 13 times in the same draft!
“if you love this character then you must make him happy in your fics, right?” wrong. the horror. suffering. internal hemorrhage. hospital. immediately
