Hey if you're reading this you clicked the read more thingy
Let me know (in ask box on THIS BLOG! ZIMISNOTDRIFTING! THIS ONE! NOT ANY OF MY OTHER BLOGS!) if you want more of them bc any excuse to draw more of this ship is a good one
The kind where the basic premise is mostly the same but one element has changed. Like, in Life on Mars I would class "Gene in the future" as that, because there's still time travel/madness/limbo/coma shenanigans it's just that the character experiencing that has flipped. Or in MCU if the serum had worked differently and Steve was still tiny as well as being superpowered.
I'm just like... I fall in love with the canons I do because of the vast majority of what they contain and I'm not really that into radically shifting that. Some characters can work well in multiple AUs, but I often like the original reality they were shaped in slightly more.
For the art-block anon (and you <3): I heard that when nothing you draw looks good to you anymore, it means your brain has learned a lot more than your hands are currently able to translate onto paper! So don't worry, you just need to give your hands time to learn what the brain already knows. It'll be ok. <3
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THIS HONESTLY MAKES ME SO HAPPY ;;;;/////////////////;;; /grips heart Thank you very much ;;;;;;;;;; <33333333
Hey Steve! Did you hear of the staging of Aida in Salzburg last month? With Anna Netrebko as Aida? Where they went and painted her skin dark? Because, you know, """historic accuracy""" or some such shit? 8))) (also can you tell I'm still bitter about this and the fact my dad didn't understand why I was upset?)
I can’t believe that in the year of our Lord two thousand and seventeen it is still necessary to tell people that blackface is Not A Good Thing
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: there are almost no other canonically black women roles in opera, and certainly not any others with the recognition of Aida. If you can’t find a black soprano, don’t do Aida. Verdi has 35 operas where blackness is not inherent to the plot (36 other operas total, but Otello is plagued with the same issue as Aida). If you’re not hiring a black woman, do one of the others where blackness isn’t inherent to the plot.
But also just hire more black sopranos in general, even if their blackness isn’t inherent to the plot, because there are so many talented ones who are getting overlooked because some old white impresario wants to see Anna Netrebko AGAIN doing Verdi something something AGAIN like don’t get me wrong I like her but does she have to be everywhere so badly that you have to paint her skin brown for it to make sense for her to exist there in the first place
First impression: It’s so long ago, but I remember really liking her and thinking she was super sweet. I also had a huge crush on Liz but didn’t know it at the time.
Impression now: I love her, but it always made me a bit uncomfortable how she never believed Sam.
Favorite moment: All of her moments of ingenuity: like when she was able to use her psychology degree, and when she used the spiked chain to stop the car from mowing Sam down.
Idea for a story: An Annie solo mission where she picks up a cold-case and works out what happened, with some added Phyllis assistance.
Unpopular opinion: Annie deserved more than to be ultimately viewed as Sam’s love interest. In this essay, I will...
Favorite relationship: Annie & Sam, though I also really liked Annie & Gene.
Favorite headcanon: Annie rises through the ranks and becomes the Big Boss: parallel worlds or bust.
Prison AU (HEHE) + Anger Born of Worry + Sam/Gene, I await your magic <3
(Cello, I fudged the rules a little and this is not 100% aPrison AU, but it involves gaol!)
Sam hadn’t liked the idea one little bit. For one thing,there were a lot of crims that Gene had put inside who might fancy revenge. Foranother, he’d always felt that Gene could go either way when it came to being acopper or criminal. And he had Gene’s own admission that at one stage he wasboth. Sam could definitely see Gene as a belligerent Robin Hood type who stolefrom the rich and gave to the poor whilst heckling them about their terriblelife choices.
But even though Gene listened to Sam 85% of the time thesedays, there was that pesky 15% where nothing could budge him and he insisted atthe top of his lungs on doing everything his way.
So Gene was in gaol trying to get a lead on where threeexpensive jewellery sets were stashed, and Sam could only contact him whenabsolutely necessary. Sam hadn’t realised he’d miss Gene as keenly as he does. Genehas become an anchor-point for him, a beacon, and Sam feels adrift without him.He misses his voice, his tactile nature, his way of getting Sam out of hishead. He misses the jokes that don’t offend him, and even sometimes the onesthat do.
The station’s running okay with Sam acting in Gene’s place,but it’s lost some of its vitality, and he’s well-aware that the others in CIDapart from Annie and Chris merely tolerate him.
Sam is working Gene’s case from outside and on day twenty-eight,he decides to risk it and share his meagre amount of info by way of pretendingto interrogate Gene about the corruption he and Gene made up.
When Gene’s lead into the interview room, Sam gasps. Hishair’s been shorn short, he has a jagged scab above his left eye, and there’s bruisingon his jaw. He takes a seat opposite Sam and as he does so, a small painedsound escapes, even though he’d clamped his lips shut.
“Jesus Christ, Gene, what’ve they been doing to you?”
“You should see the other bloke,” Gene says, eyesglittering, ever the walking cliché. Or the sitting one, in this case.
Sam feels rage bubbling up inside, stinging his gut, his oesophagus.“You should’ve called.”
“I can handle a bit of rough and tumble, Sammy-boy. What is ityou’re here for? Got something new forme to delve my greasy mitts into?”
“No,” Sam says, flat. “I’m pulling you out of thisoperation. This is ridiculous. I can’t have you getting shivved just so we canrecover some sparkly bits of metal. This is moronic.”
Gene rocks back in the chair, rolls his eyes. “Don’t be sucha pansy.”
Sam stands and leans over the desk between them, relies onhis temporary height advantage and the fact Gene’s clearly worse-for-wear. Hedoesn’t get to impose much on Gene and he’s going to work with it for as longas he can. “I’m the DCI. I say what goes. And this entire idea is gettingthrown out the window, where it belongs.”
Gene rises from his seat and gets up into Sam’s space,stepping around the table with surprising grace. Sam has to swivel to meet hisgaze and as he does so he’s keenly aware he’s missed this too, taking Genehead-on, staring at these features that have become familiar and dear to him.There’s three inches between them and they’re fraught with tension.
“You will do no such thing,” Gene intones, quietly, which isalways more menacing than when he shouts.
Sam reaches up and taps Gene’s bruise, his eyes narrowing asGene winces. Then he slides his fingers into more of a caress, watches as Gene’seyes turn stormy. He rubs up into the nape of Gene’s neck, then, tightens hisgrip and gives him a little shake.
“You think you’re invincible, but I know you’re not and I’mnot gonna let you sacrifice yourself for this, understand?”
“I’m close to getting the answers, you nerk. Stop thinkingthat just because you’ve had to step into my place you can step into my shoes.”
“I know I couldn’t do that. You’re a bloody clown.”
Sam’s aware that Gene hasn’t thrown him off, that they’relocked together in something that’s half-embrace, half-boxing-clinch. They’re sharingthe same air, transferring heat, occupying a small space in a large room, andSam doesn’t want to let go.
“Gene,” Sam says, plaintive now. Anger still simmers, but it’sturned inward. He should have pushed harder from the very beginning. “Answersaren’t worth the price we’d pay if something worse was to happen to you, don’tyou get that?”
“Anyone’d think you care what happens to me,” Gene says,sardonic.
“I do, you berk. I’m worried sick. And I’m not a pansy forfeeling that way or telling you about it, so you can shut your trap right now. You’recoming home with me. I won’t accept no as a response.”
Gene leans in, and Sam braces himself for what he’s prettysure is a headbutt. He doesn’t expect soft lips against his, chaste butconfident. The kiss is unhurried and shockingly sweet, has his whole bodythrumming with energy and want. He’s aware he must look foolish as Gene pullsaway, his eyes feel like they’re about to fall out of his head and his mouthdrops open. Gene doesn’t look surprised, but he does look contemplative,considering.
“I’ll come home when I’m good and ready, Sam,” Gene says,his tone brooking no argument.
Sam throws his hands up in disgust, is about to wageabsolute war.
“But I will come home. I promise,” Gene adds. “Now untwistyour knick-knocks and tell me what you came here to say before you saw I’d donea round or two with a meat-grinder. Maybe your intel can speed this whole thingup.”
Sam knows, deep down, that he could drag Gene out of here bythe ears if necessary, but he also knows that Gene won’t forgive him if that’sthe choice he makes. When Gene gets a bull-headed notion of what has to bedone, he won’t be swayed.
Sam tells Gene what he found out, and finds himself prayingto a god he doesn’t believe in that nothing else will happen to Gene, that he’llbe alright. At home that night and presses his fingers to his lips, hoping thatGene wasn’t kissing him in case he never gets another chance. The idea that hemight never feel that again makes him ache. He’d never even known it could be apossibility until that morning and now it’s all he wants.
Sam hadn’t liked the idea one little bit. But when Gene gotout having secured all the information they’d needed and then some. When he’dregaled the station with stories about how he’d managed to become top dogwithin a month, spinning his tales with gusto, machismo and no small amount offlourish. When Gene had gazed at him across the room, tipped his head, andtapped his finger against his lower lip like a vow, Sam guessed it’d turned outin the end.
And when, that night, Gene had turned up at his door, Samlet him in and kissed him before Gene could catch him unaware. He poured all ofhis concern, all of his care, all of his desire into the kiss and held Genefast.
Re: what type of fanfic writer you are; I’d say a mix of “so in character” and “porn” - although I feel like really your works cover most of these, because sometimes there’s angst and sometimes fluff. (Ok, look tbh you’re just amazing and I feel this is just an excuse to tell you but I also think you would like to know where you sit on these things from us as you asked, so it’s an answer and a bit of fangirling combined.)
Anonymous said:Of recently I've read from you it's "more in character than canon" because it's true!!!!
littlecello said:re: types of fic writers, in my opinion it's "more in character than canon" \o/
Thank you so much. That really means a lot to me. I’ve always wanted to be someone who does the characters justice, and knowing that you think I sometimes do so better than their official writers gives me heart-eyes.
