I'm CRYING over your submission to the anthology zine, literally screamed as I read it it hit me in the feels that hard. Good job! great style and color use as well!
Yoooooo, I'm so glad you liked it! I wish I could take credit for the writing, but that was all @oumaheroes coming in HAWT with the aches and the feels
You can read the actual fic Famous Last Words and have even more feels abuse. It was fun getting to focus solely on layout and the drawing aspect of the submission. And interesting to see how the medium changes the vibe of a work!
So today is the birthday of one of my favorite persons in this fandom and this life:
✨✨@oumaheroes / @rainbowfruitpastilles✨✨
(lovingly nicknamed Rains by yours truly back when we first starting talking because of eurovision, but who also goes by Ouma, Heroes and Fandom Grandma✨)
And to honor her and her incredible work I wanted to do something a little different this year! I've selected some of my favorite passages from her beautiful beautiful fics and I hope this makes you go insane and absolutely feral the way I know you like it 😌😚
From Earthbound, chapter 4:
Peter dreams that his legs reach down deep into the ocean, right to the sea bottom, and he watches the years pass silently by. Cast in metal and garbed in rust he falls, piece by piece, into an unforgiving sea. He dreams of rain, of smoking guns and angry curses, of abandonment and loneliness as he's left behind. He tosses and turns, unable to get comfortable, as wisps of memory lap gently against his consciousness.
He dreams of a gruff voice mumbling soothing words after a nightmare, handmade toys and a warm calloused hand carding through his hair. Hot tea and biscuits in front of a fire. Bedtime stories and scratchy kisses.
Of a man who loves him but who just doesn't know how to do it the way Peter needs.
He wakes with dried tear tracks on his face and the ghost of a name on the tip of his tongue.
This fic is so incredibly beautiful, every character, every story. It brings you to this new and remade world that is fatally flawed, and as the characters slowly go back to their original Earth, their memories of their past lives and past selves come back like a punch, and the force of it just leaves us gasping. It's so powerful, so beautiful!! I absolutely adore it!!
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From Lavender's Blue:
New officers are the worst, in Arthur’s personal opinion. They have this hopeful gleam about them that Arthur, world-weary as he is, cannot stand. Butter and milk fed children chasing honour and glory into hell itself, so blinded by it that they cannot see the dangers that litter the ground around them.
They’re terribly young: nineteen, twenty, twenty-two. This and this alone causes Arthur to soften enough to answer them and he shakes himself back to the present where he doesn’t want to be, ‘Yes?’
‘Come and play cards with us. We’ll deal you in.’ One of them breaks the deck expertly, a flick of his wrist and fingers sending the cards from one hand to another. Arthur can’t help but think of Gilbert doing the same thing sprawled across a sofa in Arthur’s parlour merely a few years ago, sleeve damp with rum where he’d spilt it. Too drunk to bloody well hold a glass of Arthur’s finest alcohol but hands always sharp enough for pretty tricks. Eyes clear despite it all, watching Arthur mischievously over Francis draped loose limbed in his lap.
‘No, thank you.’ Arthur straightens up and rolls his shoulders, feeling the knots and tension there under his coat. He’d been sitting too long. He’s due out on patrol soon and he checks his watch to assess the time.
I don't think I've told you enough how much I love this fic, the grittiness of it, the desperation, the idleness. You can almost see the men in the trenches, see the young officers playing cards to pass the time while they wait and Arthur's restlessness and anxiety. Absolutely flawless!
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From Gold Filigree and Chainmail:
‘I’m not entirely vain.’
‘We could have been doing many things today but instead we are here, admiring you.’
‘We are not admiring me,’ France told him, coming up alongside, ‘Just my people and history. Which you can argue is me, but it is not really.’
England gestured at the painting with his head, ‘That’s you.’
The diner in question was in profile but it was easy enough to tell, from those who knew him well, that it was France himself. A habitual way of draping himself on a chair and the same loose, wavy hair as today. Half grin unchanged, a connection through time via the almost direct look at the painter through the fourth wall.
He looked so much younger.
France smiled fondly, ‘Ah, so it is.’
No one writes such delicious Fruk like you do!! You have such a hand handling these two together, you can take them from having a fight to talking about philosophy and love and it'll always be absolutely delicious and banter-y and iconic, and I'll always want to jump into the page and grab France by the hair and give him a good shake and kick England in the shin for good measure (but also lock them in a closet and throw away the key).
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From Seen From The Other Side, chapter 1:
Their captain died last year.
He died at their feet and now he turns and grins. Sees them staring, sees them know. Watches as they take him in, the horrifying, unholy miracle of it. Strong arms and broad shoulders, sharp white teeth in tanned skin. Blood in his heart and no hole near his neck.
Ancient eyes that hold them there.
This entire series just makes me want to go ballistic!! I want to eat a hole in the concrete every time I read it because it's so good!! LOOK AT IT THAT'S SO GOOD!!!!!
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From It's All About The Delivery, chapter 8:
‘Mr Williams, I did not and you are stepping way outta line here.’
‘If you just look-‘
‘No!’ his voice was far too loud- it rang out clear across the marble floors but the PM couldn’t help himself, an uncomfortable churning feeling inside his chest clouding all reason and logic, ‘I will not, Mr Williams. I’m doing so much already; I’m here in a manor in the middle of nowhere with a posh boy Lord who believes he’s the embodiment of dirt and I’m quite willing to go along with that to keep things smooth, but please, for the love of God, stop pushing me.’
‘I do beg your pardon.’
The embodiment of dirt!!!!!!!! I laugh so hard every time I read that!! This entire fic makes me both want to give Matt little kisses and tuck him in at night and throw my laptop into the sun because Stephen is so STUBBORN (I adore Leigh though, we can keep her). It's the perfect mix of politics, family affairs, work relationships, interpersonal relationships, PMs that are too dumb to be alive, glorious jokes and little genuine heartfelt moments that just make me weep with joy!! Absolutely perfect!!!
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From Reset, chapter 8:
They fell silent, remaining pressed together tightly until England had stopped shaking. 'I was supposed to have Reset.' He said, voice distant and quiet as if he were speaking more to himself than to anyone in particular.
France was almost about to fall back asleep again, but became alert instantly, 'What?'
'I'm due one, it seems.'
France racked his brain, struggling to try and think of the last time England had had his stint at being human. 1800s? No wait, before that... it couldn't have been anywhere around the 1600s, he'd been too busy starting to pillage and conquer to allow himself to enjoy a mortal existence. Late in the 1700s then, perhaps?
'We're all probably due one,' England continued, 'so much has changed even in the last hundred years that we're all a bit out of touch- Francis' lifespan being one example.'
'How could you tell that you...' France floundered, 'why do you think that?'
France felt England give a small shrug, 'I know it was time; it was very hard to stay, I guess. You're dead but still there, but this time I had to actually think about staying.' He ran out of words, language not really enough to describe what he intrinsically knew. 'I knew it wouldn't be a good idea though, not right now.'
France huffed. 'Well no. I, for one, would have to deal with your government and also reintroducing myself to mine, whilst at the same time being embroiled in a murder inquiry.'
'Don't forget that someone is still trying to kill you.'
'Oh yes, that too. How could I have let that slip my mind.'
England chuckled and then coughed, lungs not quite ready.
France helped him sit up a bit higher and rubbed his back, 'This isn't something we need right now. One more hit on you and it'll be even harder to fix this mess if you actually stay dead.'
England continued to cough and try to wrangle his breathing back under control, but shook his head.
France tutted in annoyance. 'I doubt that you'll be able to put it off for long, it's not something that you can simply avoid.' He sighed and leant back against the tree. The gap between them had filled very quickly with cold air, and once he stopped struggling to breathe France pulled England back down again and covered them both back up. 'This is going to make things a whole lot more difficult, you know.'
'Dreadfully sorry.' England did not sound in any way sorry. 'Next time I'll just die better, shall I?'
France gave him a smiling kiss to the temple, 'You could always learn to die better, you are never very pretty when you do.'
England elbowed him in the gut and leant hard against him on purpose. 'I cannot wait to not have to see your face again after this.'
France huffed at him. 'You would miss my shining example of poise, culture and beauty before too long.'
'Would not.'
'Oh! Think of how boring your life would be without me to enhance it, for example, consider that nice long holiday we'll go on after all of this blows over. Southern France, by the beach and in the sun...'
'You can sod off, I'm going home.'
'Back to your rainy lump in the sea, of course my dear. I shall not join you.'
'Thank fuck for that.'
DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY YOU ARE A MASTERMIND WRITING WITH THEM??? I love to see it!!!! I read this with the biggest grin because every dialogue just jumps out of the page and they are both so alive!!! I absolutely love it!! I love the plot, I love the idea of Reset for them, I love the execution, the humor, the romance, the love!!!! I love it!!!!!!!
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And to close this humble offering on this very special day, I hope you have the most wonderful day today, my dear, and that we can share many many birthdays and eurovisions and stories together for many many years to come!! I love you and I hope you all the best in this entire world!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖
Birthday fic for the lovely, the amazing, the show-stopping @oumaheroes!!
Fruk | G | 1.4k
He woke up in the middle of the night with a scratchy throat. Careful not to wake his husband, Arthur pushed back the covers, sat up slowly. He had an important meeting that morning, a presentation on new budget cuts they would have to implement in the company, he had been working on it for months, there was no way he could call in sick.
⬛have ya'll ever gotten to the point where you're working on so much, and finishing absolutely none of it so you just have all this... stuff.
that's where i am
✨hot, fresh cardverse au content brought to you from myself and the stupidly talented mind of @oumaheroes ✨
Another question for ya: what's your favourite thing that you've written and why?
THIS IS SUCH A HARD ASK RAINBOW WHY
I have one unfinished Naruto fic that is ancient from when I was 17 (it was NaruHina bc I'm a basic bitch (◕‿◕)) haha I used to have it up on ffnet but I purged my accounts a few years ago so it now only resides in my hard drive. Even though it's old and probably now very good anymore, it will always have a special place in my heart for being what I wanted to write at the time and for all the positive feedback I got from it from my friends (someone even stole it to post it on orkut! *gasp*), it was a story about them being older and feeling out of place in a world they didn't think they fit anymore, which in retrospect was very telling of my 17-year-old self haha
But within Hetalia, I have not one, but a few favorites haha
The first one is an entry to the Kink Meme, the whole anonymous aspect of km to me was great because I wasn't very confident with my English yet and it allowed me opportunity to try new things without exposing myself too much if it turned out to be awful haha
It's a RusCan fill, a simple drunk pwp that I wanted to try a different drabble format of doing 100 words in the first paragraph, 90 in the second and so on until I reached 10 in the last. I'm pretty proud of how it turned out.
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The second one is one that used to be up on lj, but now only lives in my hard drive as well haha It would have to go through a massive rewrite because there are SO many things wrong with it, from disconnected verb tenses to poor choice of words, but it also has a special place in my heart.
It was a character study for Belarus, and I spent a lot of time trying to make it concise and a little bit poetic because I wanted the segments of her history to flow like a memory.
Here's a part of it from the 90's and the fall of the Soviet Union (I had to clean it up a little before posting haha):
There was a crisis at the Kremlin, but she didn’t think much of it because there was always a crisis at the Kremlin. Except this time they entered their house during the night, took her brother to a psychiatric hospital, and said things would be different in the morning.
When she finally realized what was happening, her sister, Lithuania and everyone else had already gone away. Only Kazakhstan remained, sitting by the window of their shattered house.
He watched as she pulled on her coat and scarf and gloves. There wasn’t judgment in his eyes, no matter how much Belarus wished there were. It would be easier if he blamed her for not staying with her brother, but he didn’t, so it wasn’t.
Truth was, she didn’t want to be there when her brother came back.
She didn’t want another king or a tsar or a tyrant.
“Happy new year,” was the last thing she heard before the end of their Union.
It was also my first try at Kazakhstan who turned out to be one of my favorites from the Soviet block, and it made me enjoy Belarus as a character so much more. (I have A TON of problems with her canon version, Hima why do you hate women?)
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I have a few Cold War RusAme drabbles that make me very proud of my younger 20 something self, which I reposted here.
I'm particularly proud of Winter of our discontent and Missiles on parade.
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Of the new stuff I'm still riding the high of novelty, so I'd have to give them a few years to see what stands out, but I'm very proud of We meet in the middle and the drabble Cherish, I thought they came out nicely.
This was PAINFUL hahaha but thank you for the ask!
Right back atcha- favourite fanfic tropes! But also, what are your least favourite?
<3
My absolute favorite trope is slow burn. Give me any kind, either 2 chapters or 54, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, slow burn with sex, without sex, darkfic, fluff, but any story that takes the time to develop that juicy mutual admiration and emotional pinning is gold to me. It’s all about the oh in italics 😌
I also really really like it when one character will not break no matter what is thrown at him, you know? That stubborn strong will even when they’re hurt? That surface level of nobility and self-sacrifice that hides a deeper, more complex layer of feral and self-destruction? I’m ridiculously weak for that.
My least liked? Hmmm… idk because I’m pretty easy to please.
I guess a bdsm scene that’s just dubcon with a bdsm hat on? I’m picky with that :|
Other than that I can’t really say from that cup thou shalt not drink because what if thou wants to 👀
@oumaheroes you put an idea into my head: when they were very young, Wales would tell England stories about everything from King Arthur to Coel Hen and Leir of Britain and mythical Brittonic kings and saints to stories of Celtic mythology and giants. it’s what gave England such a love of storytelling.
mostly Wales did it because he liked telling stories and England liked listening to them, but he also passed on these stories to give England at least some sense of tradition and identity amidst the whole, you know, constant roulette wheel of various invading peoples that England endured. whether he succeeded or not is up for debate, but hey, we got some real neat literature out of it?
