#an ao3 is great but it's literally just an archive it is *not* meant to be a gathering place

[surrexi]

kids these days are so weird, in my day we got into fandom specifically to make friends with people by sharing and interacting with the fanworks we made

Basically, I realized that when people recommend fics, they are often tagging the author's Tumblr as well.

I haven't been doing this (I do tag the author in the actual tags, though) because frankly it's often hard to track down what the Tumblr handle is if it's not identical to the ao3 username (and they might not be active or take it as spamming). So I was wondering whether authors have a preference. (Based on my blog, I am primarily interested in writers who publish codywan fics, but anyone can vote!)

Please feel free to elaborate on your answers in the replies/reblogs!

[scriggle-scraggle]

Due South Fic Recs

Academic Punk by TheHoyden (RayK/Fraser): The quintessential college professor AU

Busted & its sequel Tapestry by JiM: A year after CoTW, and a life-changing experience, Ray goes back to Canada

Like a House on Fire by @bethbethbeth01 & kelliem (RayK/Fraser): “In the immortal words of Yogi Berra, ‘It’s deja vu all over again.’”

With Six You Get Eggroll by @cesperanza (RayK/Fraser): The story of how Ray & Fraser ended up with six kids.

Ray Is Not Actually Graphing The History Of His Relationship With Fraser–That Would Be Pathetic, And Ray Is Not Pathetic–But If He Was Graphing It, Even Just In His Own Stressed-Out, Messed-Up Brain, It Might Look Something Like This by sprat (RayK/Fraser): The sex has never not been good. That is not the confusing part of Ray-and-Fraser. They are naturals at the sex; the sex is their friend. If there was some kind of sexathalon, the two of them would be All-State, trophy-winning champs.

Like a House on Fire by Beth H (bethbethbeth): "In the immortal words of Yogi Berra, 'It's deja vu all over again.'"

Ping by Speranza: I am not the only person here who wants a do-over.

Tip, Slide, Tumble by j_s_cavalcante: Ray knew when he found the body in the alley it was going to change someone's life. He just didn't expect that life would be his.

All the Comforts of Home by rattlecatcher: post-CotW

Family Portrait by Journey [archived by dsa_archivist]: A slightly AU Ray Kowalski meets Constable Benton Fraser.

This Is Us Series by AuKestrel: how was the decision reached between Kowalski and Fraser to embark on the quest for the Hand of Franklin?

Near Wild Heaven Series by AuKestrel: This was, almost literally, the first thing I wrote, and certainly the first long thing I ever wrote. (Coming to Terms was the first "short" story I wrote and posted.) I worked on this off and on for over a year and did not write it in any kind of linear fashion. The first part was actually finished last, in part because I was stuck in getting them to a plausible misunderstanding that was necessary for the plot (such as it was). It's rough, and could have done with more work, although I did fix a lot of the (popular at the time, I swear!) dialect.

I'm posting it in part because I had SUCH a great time writing it (in fact, there are still parts of it that make me laugh), because I learned so much by/while writing it, and also because it's sort of "historical": a lot of the tropes in dS fandom did not exist when this was written (hard to believe, but there were only 27 F/K stories on Hexwood when I came into the fandom, and only about 5 of those had any kind of M/M sex!), and I thought it would be fun for other people to see how we earlier writers managed such things as tropes before they were tropes. But, in essence, you are about to read a "first novel," with all the alarm bells that ought to ring in your head.

Hawks and Hands by Dira Sudis (dsudis): Eighteen sex scenes strung together with angst and hockey.

Finding the Words by Berty: When luck finally runs out, who's there to pick up the pieces?

Wildly Courteous Ways by Starfish [archived by dsa_archivist]: A new assignment has Ray worried until Fraser steps in to help.

When the Ice Goes Out by Kellie Matthews [archived by dsa_archivist]: Long past CotW, Fraser and Ray K. discover that life both it and isn't as simple as it seems.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Wolves by Penelope Whistle [archived by dsa_archivist]: From stake-out to make-out.

Unguarded Protectorate by Bone [archived by dsa_archivist], Mairead Triste [archived by dsa_archivist]: Smut and angst. This story was previously published in the zine SERGE PROTECTOR.

Somewhere Else to Be by Kellie Matthews [archived by dsa_archivist]: This is an AU. Fraser's not a Mountie, Ray's not a cop, but as someone once said, things once linked remain that way. In any universe, they are meant to be partners.

The Reaching Out One by Alex51324: (AO3 account required) It's ten years after the events of CoTW (in other words, the present day). After the Quest, Fraser and Ray went back to their regular lives--

The Course by Bone [archived by dsa_archivist], Aristide [archived by dsa_archivist]: Randomness. Inevitability. Smut.

If It Walks Like A Duck . . . by Beth H (bethbethbeth): When an old friend of Ray Kowalksi's returns to Chicago, it takes almost no time at all for her to draw the obvious - and erroneous - conclusion about Ray and his "partner."

Genesis by kalena: In the beginning, Ray Kowalski meets Benton Fraser, geologist and volcano cowboy, in Hawaii. AU.

[olderthannetfic]

I used to think books with "bestseller" labels must be great and that they're the books I should try reading but now that people are getting popular through social media first before their books even release made me think otherwise. People seem to be buying the book like it's celebrity merch. The books could still be good but I now read multiple reviews especially negative ones which has lists of what they think is not good about the books. When I see "bestseller" now I just think "A lot of people bought this." but also ask "Did they like it though?".

Question though: you think "bestseller" label in published books is equivalent to kudos or hits on fics? I mean there's a filter to see items listed that way and there are people who base their fic reading list to it.

--

*snickering*

Okay, the thing you have to understand about 'bestseller' as a term is that it's time-dependent.

It's not just kudos: it's kudos in the first 24 hours. It's movie profits on opening weekend.

This shit means literally nothing if you're consuming the art even six months later, never mind after a decade.

--

I think it's stupid as fuck to sort AO3 by kudos unless you're just researching what gets a lot of kudos. I think having this as a default behavior encourages bullies to force targets into archive-locking (which almost invariably reduces kudos and hits) and penalizes authors who don't waste a lot of time trying to game the system. I also don't think it's actually effective for finding good fic.

But buying books based on bestseller status is even dumber because all it means is that a book was marketed correctly to have all its sales in the same week.

Here's someone's attempt to explain. He estimates that you need to sell only 5,000-10,000 copies in a single week to make it on one of the NYT lists.

There are a few other quirks to it, but... yeah... 5k copies in a slow week. Nationwide in the US. For something released by a big publisher with reach. Counting pre-orders if it's the very first week.

And then you get to put "NYT Bestseller" on the cover forever even if it never sold more than those 5k preorders.

Forget booktok promoting garbage: if the numbers are really this low, then "bestseller" meant absolutely nothing for years and years before modern social media.

It's not even cumulative like kudos are. If they mean that, they label it with "Over blahdy-blah million copies sold", not "bestseller".

Like with kudos, the only time this is really useful is if you're chasing buzz. If you want to know what other people are making noise about this week, then yes, you should check out the current bestseller.

It is okay to chase buzz, especially if you are a book blogger and trying to keep your audience up to date on what's going on in publishing! Just be aware that that's what you're doing.

If you want a book that will be culturally relevant for longer than five minutes or a book that is well-written or a book that is to your taste, you should look for some other method of book discovery.

And hey, you might end up with that very same bestseller! It might be a great book, actually. It's just that the "bestseller" status isn't what tells you that.

[redmelawashere]

Alright I got woken up at like 3 AM with FORBIDDEN MEMORIES™️ and remember that MelloNear literally had a fandom video game. What other fucking fandom has SHIPPING VIDEO GAMES.

I think it just hit me since recently I've been thinking a lot about how fandom spaces shift over time (especially as we have re-boots, live-actions, or other media that helps reinvigorate fandoms like currently with A:TLA) and honestly, MelloNear has had so many ups and downs and like…as someone who was in this fandom WAY too young and grew up with it I want to see how many people on tumblr, who were there in ye olden wild west days, remember the stuff I do and also for those of you who weren’t around back then but are big now, here’s the insane history that I remember:

1 - LiveJournal (LJ) and the LOST FICS LJ was initially one of the better places to find fics – but a lot of authors jumped ship when FF.NET started to take over and for other reasons that were before my time. Finding fics on LJ that haven’t been deleted was/is hard and their UI is trash I never could get a grasp on it. (The irony of FF.NET now being dead and people jumping ship to AO3 and Tumblr lol.) Astyzia_ii used to write really fucking good MelloNear stuff there. She was one of the first people I ever read that had insanely good Near characterization. Unfortunately, her account no longer exists. But some of the things she wrote were things like:

Near being a total brat (at the time, no one else was really writing Near like that. Including Near lying to Mello about being assaulted by other children at Whammy's, just generally putting him in his place, etc.)

Mello painting Near’s nails black (then this trope just went off on FF.NET and everyone was writing fics like that - I really like when stuff like this comes out of fandom)

Mello finding out that Near, despite being in love with him, thought Mello was so unapproachable he had sex with someone else (implied Giovanni) and Mello is basically confronting Near about it at a time when Near was treated as a prudish virgin in fandom

Finding each other in the apocalypse AU

Mello and Near being like high school sweethearts (salthearts?) and Mello wanting to go to a University in the BIG CITY but would ignore the offer if it meant staying with Near (and super tragic fic too. They pull over on a freeway after an argument about it and then Near just straight up gets hit by a car after pushing Mello out of the way 💀 and you don't know if Near survived)

And obviously, many more really creative AUs

2 - KurosakiAkane and VIDEO GAMES Akane, as Spanish artist and the original “cursed moons” drew some of the most viral and prolific MelloXNear doujinshis and EVEN MADE FANDOM VIDEO GAMES. Like I can’t believe I forgot about this. Akane literally made fandom yaoi video games and they were SO GOOD. What other fandom has shipping video games you’d think it’d be the norm I can barley wrap my head around it

Pretty sure her website (www.cursedmoons.com) is down so you can’t download them directly from there or see her full doujinshis anymore

Her DeviantArt account is still live so you can see some stills and teasers from her doujinshis.

Her LJ account is also still live but more so as an archive.

Her first game “D.nD Poisoned” can be downloaded here if you scroll to the bottom (but I haven’t checked the link so be wary…) but it was basically taking place during Whammy’s days, and yes, Mello has a knife cause he’s unhinged since those were just the times ig.

“D.nD Infection” was her second, unfinished game, which would have been when they were mid-Kira investigation post Mello blowing up the base. I found a website that hosts the short demo she released.

Her games literally inspired a new wave of AUs for the fandom in the fic department and she was just a titan who kept everyone together on all corners of the internet. When she decided to leave the fandom in like 2011 after 2010’s great FF.NET purge of M rated fics it kind of felt like the beginning of the end.  

3 - Doujinshis (fandom comics) Most doujinshi artists had their own websites and MANY were Japanese / Chinese translated into English (pretty sure Akane was the first one to create them exclusively in English...). There are so many archived on YouTube that I used to watch all the time. You can even still find some of Akane’s doujinshi’s on Youtube like:

January

Lost Innocence

The Last Birthday

Game Over

Chocolate Kiss

One of the ones that was most impactful on me was this one that I cannot remember the name of, and it wasn't by Akane, but basically Mello, freshly 16 trying to stay alive, resorts to prostitution, and the big revealer at the end is he’s just kind of left there, alone, opens up his hand and there’s a little white puzzle piece he stole from Near and pretty sure the last line was something along the lines of “no one else” and I just 😭

4 - Lost Art and the Famous Water Colours

A lot of that water-colour MN art you see floating around was from, if I'm not mistaken, a Chinese MelloNear artist and their website I think was just "w" or something and she had created 100s of MN art.

5 - ForbiddenSoul562 and FF.NET Beef and Fan Fic Rap Battles

Soul was one of the BIGGEST creators on FF.NET (and luckily, she’s still active both on FF.Net and here on tumblr!) I remember when she had like a fic battle with another creator FragilePuzzle (who is also on tumblr and active – but they post M-ll-M-tt stuff now and pretty sure they deleted all their MelloNear fics... Their active handle on tumblr is mizzmellos I think? Anyways, they’ve also switched from writing to art and its really good!) And there was like a whole “vote who you think wrote the better fic” and it was like Clash of the Titans. Shame that Fragile, as they used to go by, doesn’t like MN anymore since they also wrote a lot of really good stuff. When Fragile stopped posting and Soul went on an extended hiatus that also felt like another beginning of the end loooooool (pretty sure Soul and Mzz had an interaction here on tumblr reminding each other of each other and I had so much social anxiety I was like headbanging watching this interaction go down and if I'm remembering correctly it started cordial but didn't really end well but I could be 100% misremembering the tone of the interaction but if you dig through Soul's tumblr you can probably find it or mzzs for that matter.) 6 - Kids Writing Dark Tropes

I feel like I should make another post and just…describe how Mello and Near were portrayed individually and in a relationship during that time since it was honestly insane. Very toxic, very star-crossed lovers who revolve around each other but are devastating together and are healthier a part, and so much more. I’m much happier with where their characterization and how the fandom has evolved currently from those times lol. But I think over the years I’ve also realized how fucking young all of us were (I was literally like…13 consuming all this media which retroactively, I’m like YIKES 18+ is 18+ for a reason and I even realized some of my favourite authors / creators who I thought were way older than me or like “cool teenagers” were also close to my age and not that much older so no wonder we were all writing crazy unstable relationship shit like that - which can be fun! - but this was literally all. the. time.).

Honestly that’s all I can remember for now but what a wild ride. I know FF.NET is like, a super hard platform to use now (and just gets worse every day 🙃) but if anyone wants some MN fic recs from the vault lmk and I’ll make a post about it.

-Redmela

[britcision]

Eeeeh it was WIP Wednesday… and I’m thirsty for attention, so have a snippet from chapter two of Danny Fenton, Dead and Loving it!

(And I had to check I could paste obscene amounts of words from my notes into tumblr, since I’m not writing this in drafts for now - I lost too many sections to not hitting ‘save’ before putting my phone down)

Prompt and First chapter! (I guess I cannot make neat links on mobile, woe is me)

And the fic on AO3

@welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith

@someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones

@starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost

@akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159

@littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife

@serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf

————————

“Hang on a second, does that mean your ghost writer friend is also an actual ghost?” Because yeah, he had googled book collectors around Gotham and came up blank.

Danny took a moment to work out what he meant, then perked up and nodded.

“Oh, yeah! That’s his actual name too, I’m not sure he was ever a living person, and I wasn’t kidding when I said he had every book ever written. A lotta first editions too. I think he’s a spirit of literature?”

Jason took a quick peek around to see if any giant and possibly book shaped palaces had appeared.

Place was covered in floating islands and purple doors, there was a chance.

“Could we… could you introduce me?” Cuz he wasn’t gonna actually ask if Jane Austen was a ghost, not on his first day.

He had some damn self control. Even if the pit was fucking purring in the back of his head and this whole weird place felt more like home than anywhere he’d been before.

Flying beside him, Danny nodded cheerfully and shot him a thumbs up.

“Oh hell yeah, he needs more friends. Probably not today though, he’s not really around this part of the Zone, and we wanna make it to the Far Frozen and back before New Years. Next time,” he added before Jason could even begin to feel disappointed.

He’d known the odds of heading right there weren’t great. Fuck, he wouldn’t have wanted to; it was just hard to remember they were here to get the pit out when it was filling him with a buzzing, humming contentment down to his toes.

Part of him wanted to be a whole lot more suspicious. Did not like how easy it was to trust Danny, to relax into this undead realm.

But it was usually the pit that nagged at him not to trust anyone. And the pit was in heaven, and Jason had spent so long fighting that constant suspicion.

If things went as well as he hoped… well, he wasn’t gonna be going easy on any of the assholes fucking with his turf.

But being able to talk to the bats without the pit’s constant paranoia… yeah, he did a little hope he’d be a bit tighter lipped.

Feelings just kept spilling out of him around Danny, apparently literally if what the kid told him about his core was to be believed.

Jason could feel enough of Danny’s emotions in return to know the kid wasn’t lying. Hopefully that was what made him trust him.

Today, he nodded and looked around.

“So, the Far Frozen. Called that because it’s far?” He asked casually, definitely not letting on any concerns.

Flying hadn’t been hard so far, but he had no idea how long this was going to work. He couldn’t even tell if it was using a muscle, but it was sure as shit one he hadn’t used before.

Danny snickered and shrugged, clearly not even a little concerned.

“Well, I opened the portal pretty close in this case, but yeah, it’s far from the more populated areas of the zone. The yetis like it, it means they can keep to themselves.”

This was kind of the problem with Danny, Jason was coming to realise.

He’d told Jason where in the zone they were going, and why. They needed to see a guy called Frostbite, because he knew the most about ghost biology.

He’d probably know what to do about Jason’s pit problem, and what Danny and Jason could do to deal with the pits themselves. Fun, exciting, Jason was 1000% up for that.

Fucking yetis had not come up.

“The what?” He asked, striving for nonchalance and wondering again if he shouldn’t have shot someone a text before leaving.

And potentially never being seen again.

Danny hesitated for a moment, brows furrowing.

There was definitely more snow ahead than there had been behind.

“I totally mentioned the yetis?” Danny said carefully, like that would somehow make it true.

Jason stifled a snicker.

“You did not mention yetis. You mentioned ghosts.”

“Yeah, they’re ghost yetis.”

“That doesn’t actually make it any better, y’know? The yeti part is still kinda important.”

Not that Jason would be hugely surprised to find an alive yeti at some point. The world had a habit of saving up its weirdest bullshit to dish out onto him.

At least he wasn’t Constantine.

Danny pulled a face and shrugged, turning so he was flying backwards.

“Well, I mentioned it now? They’re yetis. So is Frostbite, but he’s like, bigger. And their leader. I mentioned that part, right?” Danny asked hopefully.

It was pretty clearly a fair question.

Jason nodded, scanning through what he’d been told so far.

“Yeah, and that they had the ghost hospital? I guess it’s a good thing as ghosts we’re not gonna feel the cold,” Jason added idly, glancing at their increasingly frosty surroundings.

He could feel the temperature dipping, sure, but nothing serious. They hadn’t even grabbed coats.

Danny stopped flying so quickly that Jason actually overshot him and had to turn, coming back to rejoin his guide. Who looked guilty.

Jason pulled on his best deadpan face.

“Let me guess. You definitely mentioned it?” He asked dryly.

Danny groaned and slapped himself in the face, then dragged his hand slowly free.

“Okay this one’s totally not my fault? I mean. I don’t need a coat there? And usually if anyone else comes with me, we have the Spectre Speeder, and it always has coats, so it’s not like we pack?”

He gave Jason a sheepish smile, half wincing like he expected a punch.

Jason did consider it, but not seriously.

“Okay, focus up Danny. What do we need to do? How cold am I gonna get?” Cuz the longer they were sitting still, the more the chill was creeping in.

Danny let out another lingering groan then closed his eyes, calculating.

“Okay… so I can call Frostbite when we get a bit closer, and he can come meet us, and he’ll have some spare coats? And I don’t think you can technically freeze to death anymore, but you don’t have a core? So I dunno.”

Jason took a deep breath of his own, fighting a half smile. Good to know he wasn’t the only one with a bad habit of rushing in.

But even he tried to be ready for everything.

“Great. Love this plan. Especially the part where I probably can’t freeze to death,” Jason snarked.

Danny squinted at him.

“Look, it’s better than my other plan, which is I freeze you solid in my ghost ice and tow you the rest of the way. You wanna show up walking and talking or in an iceberg?”

The fact that he seemed to be serious probably should have concerned Jason more, but he was having fun.

Just imagine, Jason Todd as the responsible one in a superhero team up. Dickie would be so proud.

It’d be just like his old Robin days, except that suit was thermally regulated out the ass.

“Ooh, frozen wastes or frozen in iceberg, I’m definitely seeing the difference. Let’s just get moving so you can call your buddy before I turn into a popsicle.”

Danny stuck his tongue out at Jason, but did indeed get moving again.

“Hey, both of those are still better than our last option,” he snarked back, and maybe Jason was imagining it but they were kinda going faster.

Lucky for Jason, apparently it was willpower that made you fly in the Ghost Zone, and being a stubborn bitch had always been his stock in trade.

“Oh gee, what’s the last option? Shoot ourselves from a catapult? Build a snowman and have it carry us? Or do we close our eyes real tight and wish ourselves there?” Jason asked as sweetly as he could.

Made Danny laugh anyway, before his expression became deadly serious.

“You’re literally wishing your way there right now, smartass, but no. The last option is we call my regent and he stops time and you spend the next eighty relative years of your life listening to lectures about why I need to be fully crowned.”

Which did sound pretty last-resort-y, in Jason’s opinion. And raised an important question.

“Why are you so against being fully crowned? You seem pretty in touch with all the king shit.” Certainly willing enough to talk about it, although now that Jason thought about it, mostly to complain.

Danny pulled another reluctant face.

“Just cuz I know I can’t get out of it doesn’t mean I gotta give myself up right away. The last king was a bloodthirsty tyrant, in an enchanted sleep for thousands of years. Do you have any idea how much paperwork that stacked up?”

Danny let out a shudder that had nothing to do with the increasing cold. Thinking to the amount of report forms he’d be facing if B found out about this particular jaunt, Jason joined him.

“Yeah, okay, that sounds like it sucks,” he agreed, and Danny shot him a relieved grin.

“Right? Like, I want to live my actual life first. Do something more than struggle through college and fight ghosts. Everything worked just fine while the other guy was in prison, so what’s the rush?”

They flew in silence for a moment, Jason struggling with an entirely unexpected lump in his throat.

Danny broke it, drifting closer until their shoulders bumped.

“Sorry man. Didn’t think.”

There was a perfect snappy comeback in there about it not being the first time, but Jason didn’t have it in him. He managed a nod and gentle bump back.

It was getting cold enough now that the moisture on his cheeks stung.

From condensation. Or air resistance or something.

The Ghost Zone had high humidity, explained all of the snow.

They continued in silence for a while, then Danny sighed and slowed to a stop once more. Jason copied a little more reluctantly, brushing trails of ice from his face.

“Okay so this is gonna be just, stupid loud?” Danny said with a slightly strained cheerfulness, like they’d never stopped bantering. “You’ll probably wanna put your hands over your ears.”

Jason complied, wondering just how literal the “call” part of Danny calling ahead was gonna be. Stupid loud implied it wouldn’t be on a cellphone.

He’d not had any messages since leaving Gotham actually, and it had been a couple of hours. He should probably check…

He clapped his hands back over his ears just in time as Danny sucked in a huge breath and bellowed like a thunderstorm.

“HEY FROSTY! PHANTOM INCOMING, BROUGHT A FRIEND. HE NEEDS A COAT!”

And then Danny gave Jason a cheery grin and nodded in the direction they’d been travelling as he cautiously removed his hands.

“He can’t get quite that loud, so we’ll have to get closer before we can hear him. Might as well keep going, right?”

Jason took another moment just to stare at the ghost. It was beginning to actually kick in that… yeah. Danny wasn’t human.

And Jason knew plenty of metahumans, people with powers. He knew Black Canary, so what the line should be is a bit fuzzy.

But.

Danny’s not fully human, not anymore. So what the hell was Jason?

The exact same asshole he was yesterday, obviously. Just with… well, his baggage compartment had already been overstuffed.

Even the thought of getting to dump the pit baggage meant that even if he was now a zombie or a ghost or whatever that was still a net loss unless he had to eat people.

Which, again, what the fuck was his life?

He almost laughed, but didn’t want to try explaining that thought process to anyone else, even if the odds were pretty good Danny’s life… existence was at least a little fucked.

He gave a smile instead, nodding and following Danny’s lead off into the frost.

Doing absolutely nothing to reassure him, Jason was no longer sure it was reflections off the ice now catching the corner of his eye.

The longer they were in the Ghost Zone, the more he kept thinking he saw stars passing across the black of Danny’s suit.

***

Frostbite did in fact come to meet them, and did in fact bring Jason a coat. The fact that said coat REALLY looked like it came from a yeti…

Well, Danny had long decided never to ask, and Jason was following his lead today. His new friend was all wrapped up again, and wasn’t even shivering anymore!

Yeah. Danny fucked up.

And he also felt a little bad even after Jason told him it was fine, a damnably cocky smirk on his lips. It felt like he’d been holding onto that “Not the first thing you’ve conveniently forgotten” line for a while.

Which, to be fair, they’d met twice ever, so how the fuck would Jason know?

Just because it was accurate didn’t mean he had to say it.

They’d had to make quite a trek back to the depths of the Far Frozen along with Frostbite since the yeti had come to meet them, but they’d made good use of the time.

Frostbite still understood more about ghost biology and even specifically halfa biology than Danny himself did, and he’d immediately seen something was up with Jason.

Reassuring him that Jason wasn’t actually fading and that his core just hadn’t formed yet hadn’t taken long; apparently, yetis could smell core formation.

Delightful fucked up information Danny wished he’d never learned, but at least he’d been right.

Surrounded by the ambient ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone, Jason’s core was already coming along in fits and bounds. Something which had alarmed Jason to hear too, but hey.

About half of his ghost problems were probably related to that slow forming core, and the other half…

Yeah. Frostbite had a Lot of questions about the Lazarus Pits. And Jason had basically nothing by way of answers beyond what he’d already told Danny.

Which, aww, he’d really been putting everything he had on the table, which was nice. The longer they spent together, the more Danny figured Jason hadn’t been honest with anyone in a while.

He kept getting this surprised look on his face, these moments where he stopped like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Like he thought he should be more careful.

Danny could relate. Frostbite was weirdly easy to share things with, even if Danny couldn’t get him to stop calling him Great One.

The second Danny had protested, Jason got a real sneaky grin on his face that Danny wasn’t sure he liked. He knew a Bastard Little Brother face from his mirror.

Jason being older than him? Meant nothing.

For now though, they’d made it to the medical center and Jason was looking at the scanning pods with a sceptical but weirdly unsurprised eye.

Danny still hadn’t stopped making Star Trek jokes when he saw them, but. Robin. What the fuck did Batman have access to?

Frostbite gave them both a very proud smile, patting the tube fondly.

“With this, we shall determine how much corrupted ectoplasm is within you, and how best to separate your mind from its affects. Already some of it is being purged by contact with our Saviour, but for it not to be gone already shows there is a deeper problem,” the yeti explained happily.

Jason shot Danny another shit eating grin at “saviour” and Danny bit back a groan, making himself smile at Frostbite instead.

Insistent and slightly patronising hero worship aside, he really did like the guy. He always wanted to help, and usually could, which was a nice change.

“Yeah, about that? Do we know what I’m doing that’d change his corruption?” Because it’s not that he didn’t want to help too, but it might be easier if he knew how.

Frostbite gave Danny a cheerful pat next, sending the smaller ghost stumbling a little.

“Oh, some of it will happen merely from your presence, Great One. As the King of the realm, you have far more ectoplasm and it is far stronger, which will help Jason’s ectoplasm to heal on its own. But we must find the root for the problem to be solved.”

Jason chuckled and shook his head, stripping back out of the thick yeti coat.

“There’s always a catch, right? Is this gonna hurt?” It sounded like he expected the answer to be yes, and even Frostbite looked suddenly concerned.

“You should not feel anything at all, young Jason. Perhaps the feelings from your contaminated source will become stronger, but they are not negative at present?” It came out as a question, mostly tied to that concern.

And Danny could kinda see why; from everything Jason told them, he was usually only swamped by rage. Neither of his auras felt angry now, but the pit’s had jumped to betrayal pretty consistently every time it spiked.

Needing to be told that something wasn’t going to hurt him sort of pointed where those feelings might have come from.

Danny nudged closer on impulse, letting his own trust-reassurance-done this before wash gently over Jason’s aura.

[gentil-minou]

AO3 has gotten hit with AI data scraping programs already, it’s possible that any fic you’ve posted that isn’t locked has already been trained on, it’s why there’s been several people who would’ve never done it otherwise archive locking their stuff recently

Oh yeah I know that I still have to lock my fics but this last reblog about a reader putting a story in chatgpt themselves to generate a fake ending is waaaaaaay worse in my opinion.

Like look, I know when I put anything out on the internet that someone somewhere is gonna take it and pretend its theres or share it without my permission. It's already happened to me with my analyses in the past. When I heard about the software being scrubbed I was sad but not surprised, it really was only a matter of time but there was little I or any other writer could do to stop that (whether AO3 could have is an entirely different matter)

But to me a person reading my unfinished fic and going "wow this is great but I want more I'll put this in chatgpt to get more instantly!" is actually SOOOOOOOO fucking insulting. That person is bascially saying they don't view me as another being but as a person meant to entertain. They're saying that the hours and tears and all that time spent writing was not actually that valuable because look a machine can do it just as well and faster!

That person is so egregiously wrong and selfish. They are no better than the dudebros who scrubbed the internet in the first place. They're worse because they KNOW it's not okay and yet choose to ignore that. They're worse because they're taking something that is very obviously very personal to the author and then saying "nah i want a machine to finish it cause im too impatient or don't care what the author thinks'

Writing is so goddamn hard but writers write for a reason. We write for you and for us and for the fandom and fic writers do it for FREE and yet that isnt enough? How are people who use chatgpt to write fic any different from people who steal art and feed artificial art generators? What's the point of me writing any more or ever why should anyone write if a machine is more valuable than me, a human being.

There's no excuse that makes this okay. NONE. If you do this unfollow me and do yourself and literally everyone else in the world a favor and DO LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE. GOD.

[nildespirandum]

Thank you to everyone who has been patient during dry spell, and who has continued to send well wishes and kind thoughts. I cannot tell what it has meant to me.

Story is 18+ only

Tags found on AO3.

The cold hallways of Skadi’s great fortress, where it stood as guardian between the realms of the living and the dead, were predictably stark and massive, all hewn from meteoric rock by a combination of the crude strength of giants and draugr and the magicks of Hel. While nothing to the splendor of Asgard’s palace, or outhouses if it came to that, Loki silently admitted that there was a rough grandeur to both its scale and the gleaming texture of the stone which, along with a few floating orbs of glowing ice to give light, were as close as there came to anything hinting at decor.

No doubt Skadi considered interior design beneath contempt, which was just as well for Loki was certain her taste would leave everything to be desired.

Leaving his cell had been insultingly easy. No guards stood outside of it nor was any elaborate spell or clever cantrip used to keep him within. Loki had touched the blank side of the lock’s hasp on the interior with the tip of a black claw, scraping it in circles to cause the lock to pick itself. The spell was one that he had created in his youth when he and Thor were oft times sent to their rooms to ruminate on their misbehaviors.

As if Loki were ever inclined to guilt or Thor to thought.

Loki peeked out, as did Nora. She no longer even came to his shoulder, so she stood under his arm.  They each looked up the hall and back, and then at each other.  With her head tipped back, Nora’s throat was rather appealingly displayed to him, making him wonder how hard he could bite the side of it with his fangs before it would cause her the unpleasant sort of pain…  And could he make her enjoy even that….? 

And could he…?

Closing his eyes to take a moment to gather his thoughts from where they had sunk, Loki realized that not only had the transformation to this primitive Frost Giant form done wonders for his poor, wounded cock, additionally it had woken in him the Jotun enthusiasm for mortal flesh.  Combined with his own - and here he beat back the word that wanted to come to the forefront of his mind - fascination with Nora, it would make for a dangerous distraction.

“Are we going to go for it or…?”  Nora was still looking at him, brows raised, soft mouth wet and ever so slightly open.

“I don’t know that this is the time or the place,” Loki said, trying to sound unwilling though he knew his tone was more smarmy than disinterested.

“I mean, should we go, you big weirdo.  I know some people are turned on by dungeons but they probably aren’t literal dungeons.”  She frowned slightly.  “Though it wouldn’t be an option for most people back home, even if they were into literal, actual dungeons.  In which case I’m not sure-”

He could tell that her nerves were getting to her and that she would go on like that indefinitely if not stopped.  Carefully, he did not quite touch her lips with one of his newly grown black talons, since he was unsure how sharp they were, and nodded.  

“Right, yes.  We should get on with it, then.” 

Also, wrong. For in his case, literal dungeons seemed to be a turn-on, presuming Loki was interpreting that human expression correctly.  He’d certainly spent enough time in them to develop not a fetish or rather, at least a lack of squeamishness about what was appropriate or even enticing to do within one.  

He held the cell door open, allowing Nora to slip under his arm, and then carefully shut it.  Despite that care, the metal on metal on wood of it seemed to ring out like a carillon in the still and silence. 

Peering within each cell as they passed proved that they all were as empty as the hallway.  At its end nearest to the metal gate that separated them from the stairway up and out there was a massive lock-up that looked as if it were designed to hold dozens.  

Within was the only other prisoner they had seen, who seemed to be asleep or unconscious beneath a pile of furs in a back corner.

Nora pointed towards the pile, then made a gesture towards the lock on the cell door.  

Absolutely not, Loki thought, walking on.

Her now so tiny hand hooked around his wrist, as her fingers could no longer come close to closing on it, and pulled.  Where before her touch had been warm now it burned.  Burned through tough, blue skin, through muscle, to bone, where it seemed to ignite his marrow, lashing him with fire on the deepest level possible.  

He was wonderstruck how much he craved the pain, the ache.  Wanted to know how if her cold little hand caused that much fire what might her mouth do?  Or Bor help him, the sure venomous wet between her lips, between her legs. 

Turn him into a pile of tumescent ash, Loki rather suspected.  

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?” Nora whispered.  

“As someone with far more enemies than is the average, I can assure you otherwise,” he whispered back, leaning down close to her ear, trying not to sniff her skin.  Even when blue and bedecked with horns a prince should keep a little of his dignity.  

“Still, Skadi is… her people are…” Nora stopped and looked down at her dress and frowned.  “They aren’t very respectful of their prisoner’s persons.  It would feel shitty to leave someone here.”

Her voice was less than steady, less than Nora.

Not liking to consider what that might mean, Loki tucked her tone away for later questions when they were free. “That may be so, but she wards the borderlands between the living and the dead and trust me, there are plenty of true criminals, necromancers, graverobbers, and multiple fashions of the ambulatory dead that she has good reason to hold imprisoned.  Also,” he added, “this is not a prison break, it is more in line of espionage, which means the fewer involved the safer.”

“If someone is being held here at least it would be more of a distraction for the guards to be chasing them and us,” she countered, sounding more like herself.

“That never really works the way one thinks it will.  Besides which, don’t think I don’t know that you simply want to release whoever it is for a bit of revenge on Skadi and her hamfisted chambermaids.”

“And you, of all people, have a problem with that?”

“On the contrary, in more typical circumstances I would be all for it, but we are on a mission, as you might recall.”

“Normal circumstances?  What normal circumstances would… never mind, I just remembered who I am talking to, which considering the current state of both of us doesn’t say good things about my sense of reality.”

That was, Loki thought, feeling the weight of his horned brow and again noting her sartorially created cleavage, an understatement.

“Plus, I’m not sure I wish to be rescued by such noisy people,” came a voice that most kindly might be described as sepulchral from the pile of furs, which shifted about and then fell off the figure that rose from beneath them, stretching tall enough that skeletal fingers scraped the ceiling. “What good would come of it, if I were to then be talked to incessantly?”  Dark, blue-skinned, and of a size of an Asgardian, with glowing green eyes, and a decidedly undead thinness draped in a shroud rather than a shift, it took Loki a moment to recognise the woman for what she was.  

“Disir…” he let the word trail away, sliding his foot to the right and shifting his shoulders so his vast body was between her and Nora, though he trusted Skadi would not hold such a creature in her fortress were she not sure of being able to keep it contained.

“One of,” she nodded, “Hlökk.”  She moved towards the front of the cell, her motions quick yet stiff, as if from the cold.  Rather, he knew, it was from her muscles being desiccated, her sinews dust, her entire self animated by will and spite rather than life.  With a final, swift jerking motion she stood all but resting against the cold iron bars.  Close enough that her papery blue flesh began to wither from its influence.  Standing effortlessly on the tips of her toes, she peered into his face, a smile of cracked teeth and parched lips flashed, and then retreated.  

“I have not seen a Jotun of your type since I was a young girl newly in the service of Bor, and they were ancient and few then.  Those last died upon my sister’s spears, or so was thought.  But you,” she, without Loki’s scruples, took a deep, sniffing breath, leaning her head back and opening the corrupt cavern of her mouth like a cat to taste the smell of them upon the air.  

“You look of Jotunheim yet smell of Asgard, giant.  Or is that her?”  Quicker than he could see Hlökk stepped twice to the right so she could aim her nose towards Nora.  “No,” the Disir dismissed.  “Mortal. Full of death and decay. But you, you are-”

The Aesir had few enemies that they feared, for to die in battle against a worthy foe was their greatest good.  The cannibalistic, ever-dying, never-dead Disir, cursed by Bor to crave the flesh of those they formerly served, were at the top of a very short list.  Though only a handful in number, stories of their enormities and disgusting habits had been used to keep naughty Asgardian children from creeping from bed late at night for eons.

Naughty Asgardian children other than himself, of course.  The boogeyman or haint had not been born that could have kept young Loki from wandering the halls and secret rooms of the palace under cover of friendly dark.    

“Keep your nose to yourself, Disir, this is one god you will not gorge upon.  Come along,” he then said to Nora, gesturing towards the stairwell.  She frowned and seemed inclined to argue when the Disir ran her long, dehydrated tongue over her lips.

A sound like dried leaves being blown across stone.

“Aesir and Jotun flesh as one.  A delicacy untried by me or any sister of mine….”

“Right,” Loki knew there were bars and his magic between the Disir and his becoming her supper and he did not care.  Lifting Nora’s little self into his arms, he ignored her protests and took three long strides when behind them the Cursed One whispered.

“The Bók Lífs og Dauða .”

“Wait,” Nora said.

Loki took another step.

“What else might Odin’s Trickster changeling want in the hall of his most implacable enemy?”  The words were spoke soft and thoughtful as were, “How helpful might it be for one to know just where the Giantess kept such a treasure.”

Loki whirled about, stalked back to the cell, realized he was still holding Nora who was now within reach of the Disir should it choose to reach its spindly, iron-muscled arm through the bars, and quickly put her down and placed himself back between them.  He realized it was a false gallantry since he was what the nasty thing was interested in getting her teeth into.

“Let me guess, you know where the Book is, and in return for your freedom you will tell me where to find it?”

Nodding, glowing green eyes managing to look amused, the Disir said, “And you give me one of your toes.  I am well past starved.”

“Absolutely not!”

“What the fuck?”

Loki and Nora’s protests tangled together.

The Disir leaned against the bars of the cell, picking at her gray and broken nails, “Ragnarok is coming early season.  I would think one little piggy would be small enough payment to put the Twilight of the Gods off by a few hundred millennia or more, Odinson.  Your father’s favor would be the least of your rewards for such an act.”

He looked down at Nora, who spoke in a quick whisper.  “Do you know who she is?  What is she talking about?  Why does she want one of your toes?  What the hell is wrong with everyone in space?”

It was a good question.

He had a better one, for the Disir, “Why should I trust you?”

The Disir spoke, this time in Ancient Asgardian rather than the All-tongue, so Nora could not understand.

“Trust is for naifs and babes, I shall give you my Word of Bond upon mine and my sister's unlives.  Take it, Trickster, or walk your little mortal through the endless halls of Elvidner until she freezes or you are caught and she is dragged to Skadi’s bed to die serving there, and you back to the witless brutality of this pit, that shall end in your skinned body being hung from the battlements.”

With a sigh, Loki answered back in the same language, “Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I’ll still have nine more.”  He reached towards the lock and then halted, “I choose which one I give up.”

The Disir inclined her head.  Graciously.

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[scrypticmetal]

Rebuilt

Chapter 1

Synopsis: You are the current owner of Fazbear Entertainment and founder of Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex. After finally striking gold and basking in your success, a new location, Fredbear’s Frights, pops up. As more rumors spread of your affiliation with the sorry excuse for a horror attraction, you set off to sabotage the buisness before it can even open its doors.

(Warning: Alternate Universe, the timeline is ALL OVER THE PLACE.)

Reader is a 43 year old trans man but the gender is left relatively open for the most part

Also posted on ao3!:

You jammed the crowbar into the window, cramming it open. The window creaked in defiance, giving you a damn hard time. You had to kick the thing open. Finally, you opened it enough to squeeze yourself into the building.

This stupid horror attraction has done nothing but cause you trouble since it opened. You promised the public since day one you weren’t here to make fun of the lives lost and this fucker was screwing it up for you COMPLETELY. News reporters somehow mistaking this as one of your projects even though this place wasn’t even affiliated with Fazbear Entertainment!

TWO MONTHS AGO

You sat at your long desk, cluttered with notepads and sticky notes reminding you of everything that’s due. You procrastinated paying most of the buisness expenses and now you were paying the price… Literally and figuratively. All the tiny numbers on the computer screen were practically making you go crosseyed.

A knock at the door disturbs you from your work. One more minor inconvenience and you’re going to go ballistic, you groan internally.

“Come in!” you yell.

In steps Brandon. He’s a college student who’s been interning down at the workshop, watching the work that gets done on the animatronics. However, he doesn’t do any of the real repairs. All maintenance employees go through very strict training before being allowed to handle the animatronics.

You wheel your desk chair away from the monitor, “Brandon, what a surprise! What’s up?”

“I don’t mean to bother you Mr. Bossman, but I’ve got a wicked idea. What you got goin on here is great, but the people itch for more! I think we can make a totally wicked haunted house type thing. It’ll have all the old relics and-”

“No.” You cut him off before he keeps going.

“Whaatt? I thought you were all about innovation and new ideas man?”

“Fazbear Entertainment™️ is not going to capitalize on the death of others.”

“That’s not- that’s not what I’m trying to do man” he holds his hands up in protest.

You cross your arms on the table, rolling your eyes. “It’s not what you MEANT to do, but that is what you’re doing. Treating REAL deaths like a cheap horror thrill.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth, man!”

“I’m not going to entertain this conversation any longer, Brandon. Get back to work.” You sigh, sliding your chair back behind the monitor.

“I’m not going back to work because-” You hear a click noise and Brandon’s name tag smacks onto the middle of your keyboard. “I QUIT!!”

You look up at Brandon unamused. Is this supposed to be a threat? As if you’ll actually care that his mediocre ass is headed elsewhere. You had engineering students from just about every state begging for a position at the pizzaplex.

Brandon goes to storm out but then it hits you. You stand up out of your chair, peeking over the monitor, “WAIT!”

Brandon crosses his arms and stops, turning around with a smug look.

“If you use Fazbear Entertainment’s name for anything related to that attraction, I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth.” You glare at him.

Brandon’s face falls and he leaves without another word. The door clicks shut behind him and you sink back into your chair.

“He’s going to get a rude awakening” you laugh quietly to yourself.

From the day you got your hands on this company, everyone was trying to paint you out to be the bad guy. You saw the vision for what Fazbear’s could be! You had nothing to do with murder! But you were only let off the hook for one reason only: you yourself were a victim. You were able to get the news on your side as someone who could understand where the people were coming from. But Brandon doesn’t have any honorable ties to vouch for his cause. They’ll cancel his ass before he can even open for business. Maybe you’ll have to keep your eyes peeled on Twitter for news about this.

CURRENT TIME

"It felt depraved; busting into this sad excuse for a haunted house. You slipped through he window, dropping to the floor with a hard thud.

Groaning, you push yourself up off the dusty ground.

"I'm getting too old for this shit."

You hear your own whining bounce and reverberate off the dusty, cold concrete lining the inside of the complex.

You try to dust off the grime from your face but it sticks to your sweat. You get back up on your feet and wander around. This place is so gross. The first thing you notice about this place is the smell. It’s wet and muggy and smells like pure rot. Everything has this weird greenwash. Sure, the vibes are creepy, but what’s scarier is how much of a health violation this place is. “Aaandd that’s mold” you shine your flashlight at the wall. Black vines of mold reach from the floor up to the ceiling.

You put the flashlight in your back pocket and fish out the latex gloves you brought with you. You are NOT touching anything in here with your bare hands.

Wandering from room to room, you can’t help but stop to check out every artifact Brandon had managed to scrounge up. He had some legit stuff buried among a sea of fakes. You were honestly surprised at the dedication to find this stuff. (And the balls. You tried you very best to stay FAR away from the previous locations)

Something shifts behind you and you whip around to see what the noise was from. You’re greeted with an empty hallway. “Tch, this place probably has rats too.” You mumble, turning back around.

A foxy mask at the opposite end of the hallway stops you in your tracks. You walk up, taking the mask off the light fixture and examining the inside of the head. Yeah, damn it’s official too. “Long time no see bud” you chuckle, twisting the mask to face you.

“I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now, Captain.”

You wobble on your tippy toes trying to put the foxy head back on the light.

You continue wandering around, the place is pretty lack luster. Actually this place is really boring; the scare factor wore off pretty quickly. Maybe you have nothing to worry about. If Twitter doesn’t get this place shut down, the health department will surely get his ass.

A long ear-piercing clang of metal scraping metal reverberates down the hall. You nearly hurt your neck from how quickly you turn around. A hunched over rabbit animatronic grabs onto the wall, head hung low. Its neck cranes up with a loud creak. He looks like a mangled Bonnie…of sorts? Its shoulder cocks sideways unnaturally as it shifts its weight on the hand grasping at the wall. Before you can react, it dashes towards you at a terrifying speed. You screech, attempting to run from the beast.

His hand yanks you by your arm, crashing you into his metal frame. Everything goes in a blur as you’re whipped around to face him and slammed against the wall. His rough jagged hands contract around your neck, lifting you off the ground. You flail hour legs, trying to kick at his shoulders.

“Wait- WAIT” you plead. You want to say more but you can’t choke another word out.

To your surprise his hands relented their iron grip, but stayed firmly around your neck. He’s cognizant! Maybe you can reason with this thing!

Your cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath. His putrid stench was overwhelming your senses, suffocating every jagged breath you take. “I can get you out of here” you say in between coughs. God… you can taste the coppery rot in your mouth. Your shoulders shake as you fight back from dry heaving.

He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at you.

“It’s cruel keeping you here like this. They’re treating you like an animal in a zoo! I can get you away from this trashheap!” He stares at you blankly. No response. Think of something else! “Better yet, I can fix this” you thud your knuckle against his tattered arm.

“New suit, new life, sounds like a steal to me” you feel like you’re in the investment room again, bumbling like an idiot to try to sell your idea.

His left hand lets go of your neck, clanking his knuckles against his torso, “There’s no fixing this” his gravely voice seethes.

“Oh god no!” you laugh nervously. “It’ll be a new suit entirely. New endo, new casing, it’ll have all the bells and whistles you could possibly desire!” Of course, everything comes with a catch, “But you have to promise not to kill me” you claw your nails against the hand still squeezing against your neck. It ain’t much of a catch; he’s getting all the benefits here!What more could he want?!!

His hand still stays firmly planted, scraping against your skin, “Who the fuck are you supposed to be exactly?”

Tough crowd…

“(Y/n) (L/n), Fazbear Entertainment’s current owner and overseeing repairman for the California branch” you slide your hand into your back pocket, slipping your buisness card out of your wallet. You wave the colorful card in front of him. He snatches the paper with his free hand, examining it closely with squinted eyes. You watch the lights of his eyes glide from side to side.

He looks back at you quizzically. “You? You’re the owner?” His face is unreadable but you could hear him holding back laughter.

“Yes” the corner of your mouth twitches in annoyance.

A loud gargled wheeze emits from him, making you jump. He chokes out a booming laugh, losing his composure making his hand slide you down the wall, finally letting you plant your feet back on the ground.

He covers his mouth with his hand, still choking out short laughs. He looks at you again and booms with laughter again. It’s a deep throaty laugh that rattles his shoulders. You sit there watching him in irritation.

“Ok, ok,” he wheezes through stifled laughs, attempting to… catch his breath?… he straightens back up, meeting your eyes again.

“If you’re the owner…” he stops and thinks, “Then why am I here?” He gestures at the building. His hand closes in on your neck again.

“Fredbear’s Frights isn’t affiliated with Fazbear entertainment!” You speak in a panic, trying to reason with him again before he chokes you out again.

“I have nothing to do with this place. This place is barely legal to begin with! He got this place through stupid fucking loopholes in copyright laws!” you blabber.

“If you’re not affiliated, then why are you here?”

Christ, he’s is just like everyone else: painting you out to be the bad guy. HE’S the bad guy here!! He’s fucking psycho!!!!

“Everyone’s trying to blame me for this stupid sorry fucking excuse of a haunted house! Copy-write laws be damned, I need this place GONE.” you wrangle against his grip like a fish out of water. Your patience is running thin. Can’t he just take your offer?!

“If you’re lying to me. Know that I will find you.” He flicks your buisness card in your face before releasing his grip on your neck. Your knees buckle under the sudden weight. Rubbing your sore neck, you take in a deep breath, savoring the feeling of being able to breathe normally again.

You straighten out your button-up shirt,

“Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?”

He hums and walks toward the direction he crawled out of earlier. You follow carefully behind him.

“I never got a name for you.” You speed up, getting in front of him, walking backwards as you keep talking. “I can’t say I recognize this suit’s model. It looks antique.”

he rolls his eyes, putting on a mocking tone, “Shouldn’t you already know. Since you’re the owner and all”

“Well you’re obviously not Bonnie. He’s purple. And you’re not springbonnie. He’s yellow. Not really sure what other bunny animatronics there are to compare you to.”

“Firstly, Bonnie is not purple. He’s blue.” He corrects. You go to open your mouth but puts his index over your mouth to shush you. Ew ew ewww, his finger touched your tongue. The fur was crusty but damp at the same time.

“But you were almost there. Springbonnie would be correct.” He huffs.

“See, I know what I’m talking abou-“ you trip over stray boxes in the hallway, falling flat on your back with your arms sprawled out.

The animatronic steps into your view. His ear flops as he looks down to face you. That permanent jagged smile on his maw suddenly feels so smug. “Yeah, you seem to know exaaactly what you’re doing” he mocks.

You have to fight yourself from telling him to fuck off. You’re quick to get back up on your feet. All this falling and being thrown around is going to kill you tomorrow…

Finally, you reach the storage room. It’s a bit of a stuffy room. Most of the space is taken up by the metal table in the middle. And on the top left, there’s a squatty window just wide enough that you could squeeze through.

“So,” you sit down on the stool by the table, “Springbonnie —can I call you Springs?”

“Springtrap” he sits down across from you.

“What?”

“I go by springtrap”

“……..caaan I call you Springs?”

“No.” he deadpans.

“Okay, Springtrap. So, I’d like to lay a couple ground rules down first before we begin. I’d like to remind you of our deal that while you get a new body and a life outside of here, you cannot kill me or hurt me in any way.“

“I know”

“Just confirming” you shrug. Better safe than sorry, especially when it’s your own life on the line here.

“So we have a standard endoskeleton model that-”

Springtrap waves his hand to get your attention, “let me stop you there. This isn’t going to be any standard procedure.” He circles his hand around his chest.

“In case you haven’t noticed, hotshot, I’m not a robot. My corpse is part OF the suit.” He continues to talk to you like you’re stupid.

“Well, you sure as hell smell like a dead body, so I already figured.” You grimace.

“Actually, I would like to see what I’m working with, if you don’t mind?”

“Take me out to dinner before you ask to poke around my insides, freak.” He jests.

You bite back a laugh. He’s pissed you off way too many times for you to laugh at his joke.

He’s still chuckling to himself when you get to his side of the table. “Can I?” You point your flashlight down at his chest cavity.

Springtrap hesitantly nods. You flash the light inside the large gash in his chest.

It doesn’t help that your vision here is limited, but you can barely tell where his corpse stops and the endoskeleton begins. You knew the basics about the springlocks but you’d never actually encountered on of these suits in person before. This was total foreign territory to you. In a morbid way, you were intrigued. How fascinating that his body was still somewhat in tact. His chest still rises and falls taking ragged breaths. He breathes.

Your brain starts to pile with questions. How does he function? What all is still in tact? His intestines billow around his hips, hanging loosely. Can he eat? You can’t help but squish one of the intestines lightly. Suddenly, Springtrap grabs at your wrist, yanking it as far up as he can without popping your shoulder out of place. “Did I say you could touch me?” He seethes in your face; his nasty breath clouding up in your nostrils.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to overstep” you yelp.

He drops your wrist. Your body is really taking a beating today huh? It’ll be a miracle if you aren’t bedbound tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow…

“I do have to inform you that unfortunately my time today is limited. I have work tomorrow and it’s quite a drive from here to the Pizzaplex. I hate to cut things so short but I do have a couple more questions before I leave!”

“Pizzaplex?”

“I can explain that tomorrow.” You wave him off. “But, I do need to know what exactly you’re looking for in a remodel. As I was saying before, we have a standard endoskeleton that can fit a variety of body types. You can choose whichever casing you like best. The color choice is of course up to you, and you can even change your animal if you wanna really switch things up!”

“I’ll stick with the yellow rabbit.”

“Suit yourself” you shrug.

“What do you mean by different body types? Do you have examples?” He crosses his legs and leans in closer.

You take out your phone, scrolling through your gallery for a good picture of the fazgang. Finally, you land on a picture from not too long ago. It was one of the work parties held for your assistant repair overseer, Ryan. He’d worked for the company back in the 80s but retired back in early June. You and Ryan are posed in front of the main four. Freddy is hugging both you and Ryan, Monty is throwing up the rock and roll hands with his tongue out, Roxy was slaying, and chica was being her bubbly self.

You show him the phone, watching his reaction. He freezes for a minute but then takes the phone, putting it super close to his face.

“Did you make them?” He asks bewildered.

“Yeah- well. I’ve had some help here and there but yeah, the designs are mine. Pretty cool right?” You give a smile. A genuine smile this time. They were your proudest work.

“where’s the fox?” He quizzes.

“Long story.”

“Where’s Bonnie?”

You cringe, “Even longer story”

“I’m not seeing anything I want personally. Do you have anything a little less…” he motions a very exaggerated version of the glamrock’s dorito shape.

“You’re asking for something custom?”

“Yes.”

You sigh, “you drive a very hard bargain, you know that?”

“I know what I want.” He shrugs.

“What is this thing anyways?” He waves your phone that he still held in his hand.

“That would be my phone.”

“THIS? This is a phone?? You can take pictures on this?”

“It can do a lot more than that.” You laugh.

His absence of technical knowledge was somewhat refreshing actually. Usually, you’re forced into rooms with insufferable tech bros most of the time.

“When did they start making these? What….” He goes quiet for a moment, “What year is it exactly?” He looks at you with genuine concern.

You raise your eyebrows. He’s really never seen anything remotely close to this, huh? You hold your hand out, gesture for him to hand your phone back. He plops it back into your palm. Glancing at the time, 5:25. It’s getting way too late…

“What year do you think it is?”

Springtrap sits, thinking, “I’d guess maybe… 1999?”

“Ohhh you’ve got a lot to catch up on… it’s 2024”

Springtrap’s eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack, revealing what’s left of his skull behind the mask. This is the first time you’ve seen him express an emotion beyond anger and entitlement.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions. Think of all you wanna ask and I’ll have all your answers tomorrow. I do apologize but it really is getting late.” You almost feel bad for leaving him to sit in shell shock like this. Almost…. Actually, he deserves it after how he’s treated you all night.

Before leaving the room, you realize you never asked what time would be best to meet again, “How does 11:00 pm sound for tomorrow?”

“I can only free roam from 12 am to 6 am” he mumbles.

“Damn, that sucks. 12 it is then!” You turn around and leave, waving without looking back at him.

12 works better for you, one less hour you have to spend looking at his ugly mug.

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] Also on AO3 and my personal website.

Chapter 3: For once I dreamed of you

The old bat had left her office door unlocked. And more importantly, she’d left her papers out.

Well. Okay. That was a bit of a stretch. The door wasn’t so much unlocked as it was shockingly easy to pick, and the papers hadn’t so much been out as easily eventually located under several empty folders in a drawer that came open with only a little bit of jiggling and finagling. But, come on. For Gertrude Robinson, that was practically leaving the doors wide open with a big sign that said FREE TO A GOOD HOME pointing directly at the papers.

Well…maybe not. Not when nobody came down to the Archives when she wasn’t in except for Gerard, and he’d said he wouldn’t be back until Tuesday.

Not his fault he’d been too keyed up to wait and taken an earlier train back.

Maybe a little his fault.

Gerard hummed to himself as he turned the pages over. They seemed to relate to a statement of some kind; while the actual statement didn’t seem to be anywhere in them, he could kind of piece together the gist of it just based on the research. It was something to do with an eighteenth-century automaton that turned out to be a hoax, and something to do with a Hungarian theater, and something to do with an unremarkable man, probably the statement-giver. All taken together, it suggested something of the Stranger, maybe a previous attempt at the Unknowing. Gertrude had obviously been making notes, highlighting, underlining, scribbling in the margins, but what was unusual—at least as far as he could see—was that she had crossed most of her notes out. The crosses started out neat and precise, but he started to notice that more and more of them were stricken hastily in a vicious, almost excited slash. He had trouble with her handwriting at the best of times, and the edits made it harder.

Nevertheless, he persisted.

One note he could read delighted him. MEM: If he survives, bonus/raise? Gerard didn’t exactly draw a paycheck from the Institute, and Gertrude rarely favored him with more than he paid for any books he acquired for her, and it didn’t feel great to know she had such a low opinion of him that she thought he’d get killed by the idiot that had previously owned this one. But the idea of a bonus was promising. He put a big, cheeky check mark next to the note and went on.

“Excuse me, this part of the Institute isn’t open to the public.”

Gerard did not yelp in surprise. He did not toss the papers in his hand like they were electrified. He did not shove back from Gertrude’s desk so quickly that the chair toppled over backwards, taking him with it to the floor. He did not crack his head so hard on the floor that he saw stars and temporarily lost the ability to breathe.

He couldn’t have done any of those things, because that would have meant that he looked not only highly suspicious but deeply uncool in front of the objectively hot man looking down at him with a combination of bafflement and concern, and surely the universe didn’t hate him that much.

“Then what are you doing here?” he asked as soon as he had enough air to speak, as if he was in any position—literally or metaphorically—to make that kind of challenge.

“I work here.” The man held out a hand to assist him off the floor.

Gerard ignored it, as much as he wanted to take it, and rolled to his feet with as much dignity as he could manage. “Did you need something from Ms. Robinson?”

“Did you?” the man countered. “I don’t think she’s in right now—I’m not entirely sure where she is, actually, just that she’s out—but maybe I can help you with whatever it is?”

“Uh.” Gerard thought fast. Whoever this man was, assuming he did actually work for the Institute, he shouldn’t be down here. Unless this was Elias Bouchard, whom Gerard had never met—with good reason—but he looked awfully young for that. Also, if Gerard had managed to get himself caught by Elias Bouchard, Gertrude would…actually, he didn’t know what she would do to him, but it definitely wouldn’t be pleasant. She didn’t suffer fools gladly and had a low tolerance for failure, and she’d been emphatic about him keeping well away from Elias when he came to the Archives. Still, whoever this was, Gerard would have to have a reason to be here, and a reason to get him out of the Archivist’s office.

He gestured at the papers still scattered over the desk, hoping the man wouldn’t look at them too closely. “I, uh—statement.”

The man glanced briefly at the papers, then up at Gerard with a single raised eyebrow. “You don’t look much like an expert in eighteenth-century Hungarian theater. Or eighteenth-century Hungarian, for that matter. So I’m not sure why you’re helping with this one.”

Shit. Well, time for another lie, one that could probably pass muster. Gerard gave the man what he hoped was a disarming grin. “Look, cards on the table, eh, mate? I’m her grandson. Just back from a trip to the continent, so I thought I’d pop in and see her, say hello, you know? I wasn’t supposed to be back until next week, so I reckoned I’d surprise her. Didn’t expect to find anyone down here.”

The man relaxed, but only marginally. “Been gone a while, have you?”

“Couple months,” Gerard hazarded. It had actually only been about a week and a half he’d been off on this trip, but something told him that wouldn’t be long enough.

“That explains it. I only started working for her in September.” The man held out his hand again. “Tim Stoker. Archival Assistant.”

He smiled. He really did have a nice smile—white teeth and a mischievous dimple and lines around his eyes that suggested he laughed more than frowned. Gerard’s own smile relaxed in response as he accepted the hand and shook it. “Gerard Keay. Rare book dealer.”

“Nice to meet you, Gerard.” Tim ran a hand through his hair and stifled a yawn. “Sorry. Just woke up from a nap…where were you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Germany. Black Forest region. Gentleman there had a collection of rare maps and atlases.” Gerard shrugged. “I got a few, but…not sure what they’re worth. They’re not the kind of rare books I usually deal with.”

“May I see?” Tim asked. “If you don’t mind showing me.”

That…was probably a bad idea. Gerard tried to look skeptical rather than nervous. “Know a lot about German geography?”

“No, but I know books.” Tim gave him a crooked grin. “First in Anthropology. And I worked in publishing before I came to the Institute.”

Curiosity overcame caution. Not completely—Gerard was smart enough not to pull out the book with Leitner’s bookplate carefully affixed to the inside, the title of which he couldn’t interpret—but he did extract the other three and hand them over. Tim took them with the reverence of a bibliophile and handled them with the respect of a historian. He examined the bindings and conditions of the covers, murmuring to himself as he did so. If he was telling the truth about working for Gertrude, and the jury was still out on that, she’d managed to get a good one.

He set the books gently on the desk, then picked up one and opened it carefully. The familiar scent of an old book wafted up from its pages, with none of the stale malice Gerard was accustomed to smelling in Leitners—it might have been his imagination, but he’d smelled it a time or two in books that didn’t have the label and they’d wound up being evil too. Tim studied the inside page for a moment. He frowned slightly, then gave Gerard a sharp look. “How much did you pay for this?”

“About eight thousand pounds for all four. I think.” Gerard was keenly literate but reluctantly numerate, and he’d never been able to hold exchange rates in his head for as long as it took him to turn away from the posted signs at the airport or bank counter.

“You could get twice that for just this one, at a conservative guess. Look.” Tim angled the book towards him. “See this printer’s mark here? This was an experimental printing press that made movable print blocks with geographic features and shorelines and such, then tried to put them together into coherent maps. They weren’t quite as helpful as a hand-drawn one, or a custom-drawn one, but they were pretty damn close, especially for the time. There aren’t a lot of these still surviving.”

Despite himself, Gerard was impressed. “Out of curiosity, how lost would you be if you tried to follow them?”

“Today? Extremely. Even back then, you’d probably be better off staying inland. The coastline wouldn’t look right. But not any worse off than most other common maps of the time.” Tim gingerly turned a page. “Your guy didn’t know what he had. Or you’re an amazingly shrewd bargainer.”

“I dress up when I’m dealing with clients.” Fudging the truth a bit. Gerard could clean up well enough, and every once in a while would dust off a nice suit if he needed to, but it was mostly for charity events or the like. Charming old ladies was surprisingly easier the rattier he looked.

Tim tossed him a grin. “Yeah, you look like the tails and opera cloak type.”

“Hey,” Gerard said, starting to be offended. Then he spotted the sincerity—and appreciation—in Tim’s eyes and realized he meant it.

Oh, hell. He was too old to blush like a schoolgirl just because a cute boy paid him a compliment.

Not that he could ever remember a cute boy paying him a compliment. Tim was actually probably the youngest person he’d ever had a sustained conversation with. Gerard mostly lusted after hot men, women, and people of indeterminate gender from a distance, even more so since he’d got out of prison, and satisfied his needs and desires with nameless, faceless partners at clubs that catered to such things. Low lights, loud music, and the kind of silent communication that was really, really easy to willfully misinterpret. He’d been hurt badly a time or two, but at least he never needed to see who did the hurting.

Tim set the rare tome aside and picked up another, and Gerard took the opportunity to study him more closely. He looked like a pretty typical academic, understandable if he’d been in publishing before stepping into the ivory tower of the Institute, but there was something…fun about him. Something that spoke of farmers’ markets and swap meets and bazaars, but also of forest tracks and river paths and mountain trails. He was an explorer, but not an adventurer—not usually a risk-taker—which made it all the odder he was in the Archives. If he’d come down here thinking it was safe…Gerard got a bit of a sinking feeling. He probably didn’t know about the Fourteen.

Which didn’t make sense. Surely Gertrude wouldn’t have kept him in the dark. Surely she wasn’t that cruel.

And—no, there it was, so faint he’d almost missed it. It wasn’t the mark of something following him, necessarily, more of a shadow, but Tim had racked up at least one encounter with the Stranger, maybe more. But a contract from the Institute, while it didn’t guarantee safety, at least afforded him a measure of the Eye’s protection. If nothing else, it would keep him under observation and let Gertrude, or someone, know if the Stranger came for him again. That was good.

Beyond that, his observations confirmed his initial assessment. Tall, or at least close to Gerard’s height, good-looking in a way that wasn’t at all self-conscious, with a ready smile and very sharp eyes. Gerard had never been good at any kind of casual conversation, let alone making actual friends, but something about Tim made him want to try.

“These are both late nineteenth century,” Tim said, bringing Gerard back to reality. “At least I can confidently say you didn’t overpay for them if you bought them with this other one, but honestly, they’re the Edwardian equivalent of pulp. They’re in good enough condition, but you’d have to find a pretty specialized collector to get more than a couple hundred pounds for both.” He set them down. “You said you bought four?”

“I did?” Gerard panicked slightly. Oh, there was no way he’d let a pair of sapphire eyes and a dimple he could lose his finger in charm him into tipping his hand, was there? If there was a God, a supreme head of the universe, He was definitely laughing at Gerard right about then.

On the other hand…well, he was Gertrude’s assistant. He had to know what Leitners were, right? He’d be careful. Gerard reached for his bag again.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Gerard?”

For the second time that day, Gerard almost leaped out of his skin. At least this voice was one he was expecting…kind of…but that didn’t mean it didn’t startle him. He managed to keep the guilty look off his face as he blinked up at Gertrude Robinson’s unimpressed expression.

Before he could come up with a glib answer, though, Tim gave her a wry smile. “Lying through his teeth, and badly at that. But if you do actually know him, I won’t go looking for security unless you want me to.”

“No need for that. Yet.” Gertrude shot Gerard a warning glance before turning back to Tim. “Are you rested?”

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me use the cot.” Tim moved towards the door. “If you don’t need me, I’m going to go pack that up before I get started for the day.”

“It’s Saturday, but the library should be open. Diana usually has someone helping her with cataloging on Saturday mornings. Find out what they have on the Circus of the Other,” Gertrude instructed, then, uncharacteristically, tacked on, “Please.”

Tim looked momentarily disorientated, but nodded. “Do you need them in English?”

“Unless you read Russian.”

“Only the basics, really.”

“Well, that’s better than I can. If there are any in Russian, do see what you can do with them.”

“I will. Thanks.” Tim gave Gerard a wink and a cheeky grin. “Nice to meet you, Gerard. Try not to scream too loud.” He rapped twice on the frame of the door and was gone.

Gertrude waited a few minutes, arms crossed over her chest, then raised an eyebrow disapprovingly at Gerard. “What did you tell him?”

“Told him I was your grandson.” Gerard suppressed a smirk at the small harrumph she made at that. “And that I’m a book dealer who was meeting a client with rare atlases. I did try at first to say I was doing a statement, before I knew who he was, but—”

“He’s far more perceptive than he appears,” Gertrude said. “And he has a talent for this kind of work.”

“How long’s he been with you?” Gerard, despite himself, was curious.

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Since the beginning of September. Ordinarily when I know you are coming, I come up with a reason to get him out of the Archives.”

The censure in her voice was palpable. Gerard shifted slightly uneasily. “I got what I went for. Waiting around another three days didn’t make much sense to me, so I grabbed an express train early. I didn’t expect anyone to be here on a Saturday.”

“Then why come here? Why not wait until Monday?”

“Well, you’re not anyone. You’re always here, I just thought—”

“And my office?” Gertrude interrupted. She scowled at the papers scattered on the desk. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“Yeah. I found your assistant,” Gerard said pointedly. “Or he found me, anyway. I figured it would be better than waiting in the middle of the Archives.”

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed further. “He’s right. You are a terrible liar.”

“I am a fantastic liar,” Gerard said, offended. “You just know too much.”

“Gerard.” Gertrude pinched the bridge of her nose briefly.

“Why’s he here, anyway?” Gerard asked, trying to redirect her from blessing him out and distract her into revealing her nefarious plan. “Thought you didn’t have anyone officially helping you anymore.” He was a little vague on what had happened to her previous assistants, but they’d all been gone well before she took care of his annoying little problem and he started helping her. She’d been adamant about not putting him on the payroll, and he’d assumed it was so she had more leeway about what to do with him, but…

“He works here,” Gertrude said pointedly.

“Yeah, but it’s Saturday,” Gerard shot back. “Like I said, nobody works on Saturdays but you. And more to the point, why does he work here? I thought you didn’t have the budget for an assistant.”

“No, I didn’t have the budget for two, which is why I couldn’t hire internally. Elias instituted a policy that any department accepting a transfer from another department must also take Martin Blackwood. And I had no interest in posting an external advertisement and risking the sorts of people who might apply.” Gertrude strode over to her desk and began gathering the paperwork. “Tim came to the Institute for a job interview. I ran into him at the door and assumed he had come to give a statement. After I had taken it…well, it seemed safer to have him where I could keep an eye on him.”

“Because of his encounter with the Stranger?”

“Yes.” Gertrude looked troubled for just a moment. “Not just the Stranger. His brother was taken by the Circus.”

Gerard’s stomach clenched. “This would be the Circus of the Other that you just sent him to do research on?”

“Indeed. A way for the Stranger to collect its victims. For the most part, it no longer exists, but in its day it traveled over much of Europe, especially Russia.”

“So why’s it here? What does it want him for?” Gerard didn’t know why he was suddenly so worried about a guy he’d only just met. Sure, he was hot, but he was still a complete, well, stranger. It would suck if anything happened to him, in the same way it would suck if anything happened to anybody, but there was no reason to be that particular. “Has it been following him since he was a kid?”

Gertrude raised an eyebrow, but said only, “Unlikely. His brother’s encounter was only a few days before I met him.”

“Then I ask again. Why is a circus—excuse me, the Circus—so important? And what does it want with Tim?”

“What it wants with everyone else,” Gertrude said calmly. “To use him to remake the world in its own image. To bring about the apotheosis of the Stranger.”

Gerard hadn’t realized he had sat down, but the fact that he stood up fast enough to knock over Gertrude’s chair again told him otherwise. “To bring about the what?”

“Apotheosis. The emergence of—”

“I know what apotheosis is, dammit. What the fuck do you mean the Circus is trying to bring forth the Stranger?”

Gertrude sighed heavily. She came around her desk, righted her chair firmly, and sat in it. “Take a seat, Gerard.”

Gerard wanted to argue, wanted to demand that she stop with the cryptic bullshit and just tell him already, but the part of him that had grown up with Mary Keay and knew the price of disappointing her bent his knees without his consent. Fortunately there was a chair behind him. He clenched his hands tightly in his lap to keep them from shaking and waited.

Gertrude folded her hands on her desktop and peered at him over the rims of her glasses. “Please understand that my reasons for keeping this from you have nothing to do with trust. I have full confidence in you. It’s simply that, once you have this knowledge, you will not be able to walk away. You’ve dealt with quite enough in your life. Leave now, and you can leave this life behind.”

Gerard doubted that. For one thing, he didn’t believe for a second that Gertrude had kept it from him to give him the choice of walking away, otherwise she wouldn’t have answered his question about Tim. Whatever her reasoning, it wasn’t that. For another thing, he’d been marked by too many Fears; his mother may not have wanted to bind herself to one in particular, or so she had always claimed, but she’d skewed too close to Terminus not to scar him with it, and he’d literally etched the Eye into his skin. Between that and the Leitners, he might walk away from the Institute, but something would kill him or claim him before he got too far.

Besides. He thought he might have just made his first actual friend, or at least be on the way to making one. If he walked away now, he’d lose that chance.

“Yeah, right,” he said. “Like I’m going to leave you to deal with whatever this is on your own. Tell me what’s going on.”

Gertrude nodded. “Right. Let’s start at the beginning, then.”

[overheadforecast]

"pulling me every which way"

rating: teen and up audiences

archive warnings: graphic depictions of violence

category: gen

fandoms: honkai star rail, honkai impact 3rd

relationships: welt yang & march 7th & boothill

characters that speak: welt yang, march 7th, boothill, caelus

characters mentioned: otto apocalypse, stelle, welt joyce

wc: 1.8k

link to the ao3 post of this

! not beta read !

Welt let out a yell of pain as he slammed into a wall, having been thrown by a mechanical dinosaur. Distantly, he searched his brain for the creature's name and classification, but the pain in his ribs made it nearly impossible to focus. For fuck's sake, the thing had targeted him, of course. Even though there were other people in the memory zone, it'd chosen to attack him specifically. And as Welt sunk down against the wall, he noted with great dismay that the monster had summoned companions, the dreamjolt troupe dog creations.

He hadn't meant to get into a fight, really. He was trying to follow Caelus' directions to the bar he'd ranted and raved about. The drinks were apparently top quality, and by using memoria techniques, they could quite literally make a drink of your dreams. Ever since the day he'd crossed into this world, he'd been missing the tea his wife used to make him. So, when he heard about the technique, he had practically begged Caelus to tell him where it was. Sue him, he was a man of wordly desires!

But he'd gotten lost in a memory zone. A memory zone infested with monsters. Hence, fighting.

Welt held up the Star of Eden to create a barrier of Honkai particles, catching a blow one of the hounds had aimed at him. He couldn't do shit, he was stuck where he was. He was 80% sure he had broken multiple ribs, not to mention his shattered glasses. He couldn't see. He was at such a great disadvantage that he mused in grim humour that the last time he'd been this challenged was Otto, who'd damn near killed him. Maybe the creature would finish the job?

Welt tugged his phone from his pocket, opening the messenger app, and entering the "Astral Express Family (+ BS&BH)" chat.

[Mr.Yang] 22:07:13

> Need help. In the dreamscape Reverie, got lost, can't fight enemies. In the foyer room memory zone. Help.

[Trash Panda Male Edition] 22:07:26

> fufkc stelland i are on herrtas space station

> marhc & bh should be at tbe bar, theyll be closest

[cold capture] 22:08:03

> on my way!

> i'll bring hilly with me

> hang on, mr yang!

With that, Welt turned his phone off and tucked it into his pocket, focusing all his strength and attention onto the Honkai shield he was maintaining. The telltale purple had begun to creep up his arm - he wouldn't be able to keep this up for long without dipping into his Herrscher Core. Well, half of it. The Bronya he'd once known still held the other half, as she was the active Herrscher of Reason.

Welt gripped the Star of Eden tighter, ignoring the pain shooting up his arm. Just a few moments more, and March and Boothill would be here to help. Those two were reliable, March could shield them all and taunt the enemies, and he and Boothill could chip away at the enemies' toughness to defeat them. He thought, at least. The pain through his body made it tough to remember what these damn things were weak to.

Welt's eyes shot up as he saw an arrow shoot through the air, sticking itself into the main robot's hat. He followed the path, and layed his eyes on both March and Boothill standing on the railing of the stairs. His fatherly instinct screamed at him to get them down, but he had other things to think about.

Boothill jumped off the railing and aimed his gun between his legs, propelling himself forward with the blast to stand next to the barrier Welt had made. The man's stance as Welt looked up at his back reminded him of that man that had saved him all those years ago, his Hero. And, well, he was playing the role of Welt's hero in this situation.

March slid down the railing, surrounding the three with a wall of six-phased ice as a shield. Welt let out an audible sigh of relief, sealing the Honkai power within his cane and smiling up at her. "Thanks, you two."

Boothill made a noncommital noise of acknowledgement, keeping his eyes on the enemies he could still see through the ice. "What's the plan, strategizer?"

Welt was silent for a moment, before he realised March was looking at him. "Am I the strategizer?"

March scoffed and raised an eyebrow at him, tilting her head. "Who else would be?"

At that, Welt paused and thought for a moment. Usually, he did come up with battle plans... "Fair point. March, do you think you could alter your shield to give RES-PEN? It would play to both mine and Boothill's strength."

March's eyes lit up as she nodded, pointing her finger at Boothill then Welt. Six-phased ice crept across their bodies as the shield took effect, acting as armor. "Yeah! Stelle's been teaching me some of her tricks from when she picked up the Harmony path!"

Boothill turned his head around to look at them, and nodded. "Good. These overcooked fudgers aren't weak to any of our types, so I'll need as much respen as I can get to put them down like the dogs they are."

March looked between the two, narrowing her eyes. "This doesn't play to any of our strengths... Mr. Yang, I think we need a new plan."

With a nod, he looked wistfully at the Star of Eden, closing his mouth as he thought. "...Explosions?"

Both March and Boothill tilted their heads at him, Boothill raising an eyebrow. "And how the heck are we meant to do that?"

Welt paused, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. "The dogs. Their armor is coated in potassium to allow them to self-destruct as needed. Potassium is highly explosive when it comes into contact with water and air, the water part including ice."

As she listened, March's eyes lit up. "That's brilliant, Mr. Yang!"

Boothill blinked a couple of times, looking between them. "What the heck is the plan? I don't know any of that nerd shirt."

Welt stood, grimacing as he braced himself against the wall. "My cane allows me to make miniature black holes that can group the dogs together and put them in a sort of stasis-bubble, that's weak to physical attacks. March coats them in ice, and then you shoot the static field to break it. Potassium comes into contact with water molecules and air molecules, and..."

March giggled, a strange giddy joy in her eyes. "Boom."

Boothill looked between the two, a mix of confusion and concern gracing his features. "You two are scary as shirt."

In return, both of the Nameless grinned at him.

"Okay, so I take the walls down now? It is taking a lot of energy to continuously keep this barrier up, the monsters are still attacking it." March looked to Welt for guidance, and when he gave her a thumbsup, she let the wall drop. Instantly, the dogs lunged forward, and Welt caught them in a black hole forcefield just an inch away from colliding with Boothill.

Thank fuck he did it, because Boothill's reaction speed was mediocre. He jumped back a breath after the enemies were trapped, yelping as he did so. "Son of a nice lady- fork these motherforkers!"

March brought her hand to her head, frowning. "You- can you two hold them off? Coating the hounds is going to take a bit longer because I'm drained from the wall."

"Course, sugarpie. Old man, got it in you?"

Welt nodded, and thrust the Star of Eden forward. The force of the imaginary tree encircled the large dinosaur mech, trapping and slowing it momentarily. Boothill grinned and pointed up, giving a command; "Black hole up there, pops."

With another movement of his cane, Welt summoned a black hole 2 meters above Boothill's head, to which Boothill jumped and let the gravitational pull elevate him. "Drop!"

The black hole vanished, and Boothill brought the heel of his foot down on the Beyond Overcooked's head. The creature let out a yell and tried to throw him off, but when it did, Welt just summoned another black hole above it. The force pulled Boothill up again, and subsequently dropped him onto the monster again. This time, Boothill brought his foot down on the creatures back, straddling it. He clamped his thighs down around the mech's neck, leaning forward to hook his hands under its chin. He snapped its neck back, and pointed to the floor behind him. At the command, Welt summoned another black hole at the location, and the monster fell backwards. Boothill rolled away at just the right time, barely avoiding being crushed by the enemy. He knelt next to it, pressing his knee onto the place where its sternum would be if it were an actual dinosaur.

March finally spoke, pointing at Boothill. "Shoot."

So, he did. He shot the sphere in the middle of the battlefield, the ball that contained the explosive force of 4 lbs of TNT, and shattered it. A moment of absolute silence passed, then an explosion threw everyone back (except Welt, who was still against the wall). The energy released vaporized the houndlike creatures, leaving only one enemy on the field.

Welt looked at March, frowning deeply. "No more bow, summon your blades."

March complied, closing her eyes for a moment to align herself with the Hunt, before she opened them again and caught the twin blades that had materialized from the ether. Welt pointed to the creature, and summoned a black hole above its thrashing body. March lept forward at the command, and when Welt dropped her onto the creature, she sliced its head clean off. Boothill slid around to shoot inside the thing's neck, activating the self-destruct module.

The force threw both Boothill and March in the air, and Welt sighed heavily as he conjured a black hole to catch each of them and prevent them from slamming into any walls. He'd already done so, and it was rather unpleasant.

Once the impacts were prevented, Welt waved away the summons, dropping both March and Boothill to the ground. Both of them rushed forward towards him, March hugging him. "Ow- March, no, I broke a rib, letgo-"

Boothill grabbed March's hair and yanked, pulling her from the man. "He needs medical attention, not sunshine and glitter and friendship, little plum."

March yelped and nodded, letting herself be pulled from Welt. "Sorry Mr. Yang!"

Welt waved his hand and smiled apologetically at the two. "Sorry for pulling you two away from your drinks."

SMACK!

With a screech, Welt looked at Boothill confusedly. "The fuck was that for?"

"You're much more important than any goshdarn drink, old man. Don't apologize." March nodded along as Boothill spoke, frowning at Welt.

"Plus, that was like, super fun. It was like I was fighting on a trampoline with the black holes pulling us every which way!" Just as March had done when he spoke, Boothill nodded while listening.

"I'm gonna bother you to do that with me again, by the way. It was forking awesome."

Welt looked between the two, then sighed, sliding back down against the wall. "Well fuck."

[ungodly-amounts-of-godly-trauma]

wotw round 1

propaganda under the cut!

leliana:

shes a companion in the first game and a major character in the third. between these games she becomes the spymaster for the girlpope and actively aids in and supports its various atrocities. this is NEVER EVER AKNOWLEDGED BY THE FANDOM. this isnt a bit! i go through her tag on ao3 and tumblr regularly and NO ONE TALKS ABOUT THIS??? all her content about her romance is fluffy and nice (which. Um. Yeah im sure thats not due to lesbophobia at all. (shes bi, but the majority of people who romance her do so as a woman)) EVEN DURING THE TIME PERIOD WHERE SHE IS APART OF THE ORGANIZATION THAT IS DOING LIKE SIX SEPARATE GENOCIDES AT ONCE AND IS ACTIVELY DISENFRANCHISING THE PEOPLES THAT HER LOVER CAN BELONG TO???? HUH??? just because she Says she supports certain things (and to her credit she does later. just way after the helping with genocide) does not erase her active role in furthering the oppression of various peoples in thedas. this isnt even getting into all of her other more minor flaws people erase all the time(i am very tired but otherwise i WOULD) if only because this is enough. Can people please please like women without pretending they dont have flaws come the fuck on

martin blackwood:

listen my memory of this podcast is so loose BUT in canon he's a cunning and competent person, he actively works to sabotage the evil organization he's forced to work for, he gets trapped in a sort of limbo-state version of reality meant to isolate him from the world and decides on his own to try to get out instead of submitting to it, he was literally theorized to be working for the Web by some people and YET everyone just sort of takes the way he was in s1 (in love with the main character, very timid, etc) and ignores all of his character development 👍 there are some major martin soldiers who could explain this better

he's great actually he's committed minor arson. he killed his boyfriend (necessary). he's got incredible mommy issues. he's manipulative. he's angry and wonderful and kind and the fandom has dumbed him down to this uwu chubby tea lover softboi and i HATE IT

Hated by his sick single mother, but still cared for her till she died. Spent two weeks trapped in his apartment by a worm lady and didn't lose his head. Always tries to be kind and give people tea, but beware the nice ones. He will murder you once the apocalypse comes around. Especially if you hurt him or his boyfriend. The fandom may sometimes only remember the tea and the meekness but don't be fooled!

so many things. mainly a shitty mom and Spooky Depression though

[no-psi-nan]

🥺🥺🥺 not 2 be sappy on main but omg I actually started off in Deviantart ages ago, that was the closest thing to social media for me until the tumblr migration lol. But I never really interacted with people on there, and even upon moving to tumblr, never really interacted with people here too often either. At first I had my main blog which was meant to be more professional since I was selling art to get a little college income, so I didn't really make too many irrelevant posts. Then I decided that I wanted to be able to reblog art and support other artists, so I made a side blog where I carefully curated and tagged the posts I reblogged. I made a few original posts but no one ever interacted, and eventually I realized that people only ever sent me asks there if I tagged anything wrong. Also I found out that adding stuff like series and character tags to a reblog on tumblr is basically useless because the op will pretty much always tag those things which makes it searchable on your own blog even if you don't tag it yourself. And if op DIDN'T tag it those things, your tags will make the post searchable on your blog but NOT in the general search, so it doesn't give op any more of a boost than just reblogging it tagless. So I made another sideblog, which I still have today, and I just rapidfire reblog literally anything I find shareworthy lol. Not any interaction there but at least I'm not wasting my time meticulously tagging strangers posts hsfjdlshfks. Since I was best friends with a big name fan in my main fandom (we became friends when I left a long emotional comment on their fanfic btw <3), I helped run some small fandom events and met more people as well. When I switched fandoms, it was a fandom event that gave me a new friend too, my posts never got any traction. Large fandom discords didn't really work for me either. But on this blog I was lucky, and for the first time people started like actually responding to my comments and posts, and get conversations going! And genuinely that's what's kept my brain rot so powerful I think, because bouncing ideas off each other and joking around and shitposting is genuinely the most fun I've ever had online!! I have to thank desta and oatmeal for the fun times especially, and hillbilly---man left really nice comments on my first few fics that really encouraged me, and I always have fun trading ideas with alienn, saikikthoughts, and crookedlyinnernightmare, plus everyone else who's on here, that's too many people to type out. AND I TYPED UP A BUNCH MORE STUFF BUT TUMBLR FUCKING DELETED IT!! Are you shitting me.... Well I think I remember saying that even if it's been getting kinda quiet and boring lately so my attention is starting to wander (I've pretty much posted all of the meta that's not deep fanfic hc at this point and my drawings take me a long time to make), I'll never delete this blog and I'll still be putzing around online until the day I die probably. And I'll always remember these days fondly and hope to find another great community like this one. And also I highly encourage everyone to post, reply, interact, and play with fellow fans! I've made lifelong friendships over blorbos and even if we don't have the same blorbos any more, we're still friends. Obviously stay safe online, never send money to strangers, probably wait like a year to start shipping each other stuff but still, reach out because you never know who you might meet! I've been lonely irl for most of my life for various reasons, and my online friends have been a lifeline honestly, they're all really important to me. Two of my best friends today come from fanfic comment sections!! Also I need to get around to archiving my meta on AO3 lol (yup, it's for meta too!) but that's gonna be a lot of work so -_-U).

[faux-fires]

tagged by @ranilla-bean for the 20 questions meme!

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 35

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 466,309. Hey, that's not too shabby!

3. what fandoms do you write for? Currently NONE. previously: dragon age, tsubasa chronicle, supernatural, fullmetal alchemist, legend of zelda...

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Your Princess is in Another Castle ("Dragons kidnap princesses, everyone knows this… except sometimes, they get it wrong. Or do they? A story about mistakes, misunderstandings, and flower crowns. Also Kurogane's non-stop never-ending suck of a life, and the idiot that causes all that chaos to begin with.")

For Better or for Worse ("A 'five things' fic, featuring five different times Hawke proposed to Anders.")

The Centre of All Things ("Hawke gave Anders a ring, after their first night together, and never quite told him what it meant. As Kirkwall begins to crumble around them, Anders struggles to strike a balance between love and the needs of the mages.")

Adjustment ("A year after the end of Act 2, Anders comes home late, and Hawke missed him.")

Bound ("Anders receives many gifts from Aggressive!Hawke across the years. He's charmed by most of them, surprised by others.")

most of my fics predate ao3 and while i backloaded the TRC ones on, I can't be bothered doing the same for the FMA fic i wrote 20 years ago. and the SPN stuff, uh, well, AO3 kind of did it for me! i woke up one day and an old archive i forgot my fic was on had been ported to the archive, all my spn fics helpfully attached to my account in the process. when i tell you i orphaned them at something like the speed of light -

5. do you respond to comments? Um.... I MEAN to, but.... i'm not great at remembering...? i really cherish every one i receive and i KNOW it's bad of me, i can only offer apologies.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? i literally just write happy endings i can't answer this

7. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? how are defining happy??? look mikke takes the piss out of me ALL THE TIME for my definition of fluff, ever since i entered a fluff vs angst competition on the side of team fluff with a story in which one half of the otp was tortured and murdered (he got better)! *i* define a happy ending as one in which, during the course of the story, a character grows and develops. by that metric, an ending where the character loses everything and everyone they love but gains a mindset enabling them to find peace with the loss is a happy ending, TO ME. a sad ending, by contrast, is one in the character does not grow or change, and stays in the same state (or worse!) than they started the story.

so with that in mind, probably through a forest wilderness. people die! anders and hawke are rejected as monstrous by the people they tried to save! but they gained one (1) feral orphan and solved their relationship issues, d'awwww. <3

8. do you get hate on fics? nope

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? yes, but not in EVERY story. i find smut to require a lot of effort to write! there's complex choreography and emotions to handle... the only thing harder (HEHEHE) is fight scenes for the exact same reason

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i'm not interested in crossovers (blorbos from series a meet blorbos from series b) but i love a good fusion fic, where blorbos from series a have always lived in the world of series b. craziest... probs the trc/wow fusion fic i wrote for an audience of three people? idk i've written a lot! i dreamed of a zukka howl's moving castle fusion a few days ago (probably inspired by chiptrillino's gorgeous illustrations she's been sharing recently) so that was pretty fun, as someone who very, very rarely remembers my dreams.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? nope!

12. have you ever had a fic translated? yeah, to russian!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? yeah, @mikkeneko and i wrote a whole SPACE OPERA. well. half of one, i guess (oops).

14. what’s your all-time favourite ship? whatever i'm shipping at the moment

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i plead the fifth

16. what are your writing strengths? EMOTIONS. also i think i write humour well?

17. what are your writing weaknesses? starting, continuing and finishing. /sob

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? even if you're fluent in that language, it alienates more people than it impresses, i think. i love using other languages as an easter egg (like rana has a character named with a cantonese pun in the iconoclast) but whole dialogue is like... very hard to pull off, and outright mortifying if you don't actually speak the language and just google translate it.

19. first fandom you wrote for? the legend of zelda! my irl friends and i (aged 13) had a massive shared self-insert 'verse going on. my first steps into fandom PROPER tho was with fullmetal alchemist.

20. favourite fic you’ve written? this is a complex question because how do you define favourite? swift illuminations was probably the most fun to write (anders vs hawke arm wrestling) and i always enjoy getting to write comedy - your princess is in another castle has my favourite lines i've ever written, for example:

"Can I go?" Yuui asked Ashura. Despairing it was, then. At least he wasn't naked. It was a low bar to meet in terms of presentation, but so far two of the six people in this room weren't making it.

these skies are breaking i've always been fond of because it's 35k and i wrote it in two days but the plot is uhhhhhh. missing. ash on the windowsill same sitch, 50k in 36 hours and my first completed multi-chapter fic but i wince at how clumsy it is when i reread it. i'm proud of a lot of my later dragon age fics because they contain better exploration of ideas and characterisation, so... idk. toss up!

but in terms of stuff i'm most satisfied with, probs 'how to love a god' this short character exploration piece i wrote for the anderszine. first time writing second person and because of the zine space limit i had a hard maximum word count too so i agonized over every word choice. i don't really edit my own stuff - i post it pretty much hot off the hoop - but i did actually enjoy doing it that time.

uhhhh so that's me. but i'm tagging.... anyone who wants to do this!

[charleswaterloo]

AGREED DO THE ULTIMATE FIC REC

Thank you so much for asking!! Okay, here we go!

DC fics that I got a few paragraphs into and already KNEW were going to be AMAZING:

1. The Jason Project by loosingletters

Warnings: Major Character Death

Jason had just wanted to see his autopsy report, he had only wanted to know what information Bruce had about his death. And when Bruce hadn't given it to him, he had stolen it. He hadn’t meant to stumble upon the bucket list of a dead child and the footage of a grieving father crossing one item after another off the list.

My thoughts: I don't often cry (which isn't healthy lmao) but this fic made me cry (happy tears!). It is absolutely wonderful and while angsty it has such a beautiful ending. I can't recommend it enough!

2. Little bird by Ididloveyou_once

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tim knew he was fucked if only for the way that his brain was chanting Jason, like a litany. So he definitely didn’t need to hear the cold, mechanical chuckle or the chillingly delighted 'lucky me' to know that this was not good.

He took a second to look down at his coffee mournfully.

Then, he threw it at Hood’s helmet and bolted down the Tower corridor.

Or: Tim is supposed to be at Gotham Academy for a parent-teacher conference. Hood has other plans (Titans Tower AU).

My thoughts: One of the best Titans Tower AU fics I have ever had the pleasure of reading. The ending is to die for and so fluffy - it never fails to warm my heart <3

3. Straight to Voicemail by cabbagetop

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

“Red Hood. I need you to incapacitate Timothy Drake-Wayne.” “Aw, man,” Jason sighs, shouldering through the old wooden doors and out into the street with his books under his arm. “You and half the northern hemisphere. What’d he do this time?”

Jason's phone is blowing up about one Timothy Drake-Wayne (who is Jason's responsibility since when, exactly?). Jason comfort-eats. Jason suffers long. Jason reluctantly tries to keep this Raphus cucullatus of a human being alive, and maybe finds himself sidling back into the family while he's at it.

My thoughts: I was crying with laughter by the third sentence. If you want free serotonin, you will find it here folks, I guarantee it. Brilliantly written and hilarious and such a fantastic interpretation of Jason's character. Please read this lmao <3

4. miss me? by envysparkler

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Jason’s plan to observe his family’s reactions to his resurrection…does not go as intended.

My thoughts: I think I've recommended this one at least once before, but I will do so again because it is one of the best stories I have ever had the honour of reading on AO3. It has a happy ending, but was another fic which actually made me tear up. It is just beautiful and I'm sure some of you have read it before. Read it again even if you have - it's that good.

5. No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?”

Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

My thoughts: I know of only about 3 or 4 fics featuring Tim absolutely high out of his mind on some drug or another and this has got to be one of the absolute best of them. Whenever I feel the Depression(TM) crawling in and I need to laugh INSTANTLY I read this. It has not failed me yet. I can't recommend it enough it's so funny and a great read <3 The line below from the fic makes me scream laugh EVERY TIME:

“He’s not in his right mind.” “So? Neither are you half the time but you’re still in charge of everything.”

6. The Ouija Boy by SunnyBlue

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Timothy Drake was a stillborn baby. He was born dead, stayed that way for a solid five minutes, and was then resuscitated in the delivery room. He was a child who grew up alone, but for his imaginary friends. He had so many imaginary friends, in fact, that his parents sent him to get evaluated several times over the course of his childhood, which was spent with Tim as the only heartbeat in that house.

But that didn’t mean he was alone.

---

Tim sees dead people. When a Batboys murder investigation is going nowhere, he realizes his only chance at solving the case is to speak to the ghost of one of the victims. He has to reveal his secret to his brothers -- or risk the killer getting away.

My thoughts: STAND BACK FOR POSSIBLY ONE OF MY TOP TEN FAVOURITE FICS OF ALL TIME. I'm pretty sure I've recommended this one before but I will do so again. The story is impeccable, the mystery is ELITE and everything about it is literally perfect. I re-read this at least once a month so I can bask in its greatness and become a better person for having read it.

7. there but for the grace of god by TheResurrectionist

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

From a tumblr prompt.

AKA, "A Justice League fic where everyone argues about who's the most beautiful and intimidating sexy from the Big Three and everyone has valid points."

My thoughts: I'm going to let the note I added to the bookmark I made of this fic speak for itself. Here's what I wrote: "This was so funny - shoutout Jason for undeniable lad vibes plus the fact he felt he needed to neatly organise and write down the big three's sexiest traits."

8. American Ninja Worrier by DangerBeckett

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

It's just like Tim to give a poor college student a start in the business world. Kid's a bleeding heart, and usually, that's the sort of thing Jason avoids at all costs. He prefers his bleeding hearts on the literal side, and despite Bruce's best efforts, he's never had a head for business.

Unfortunately, though, this time the business is ninjas, and that's the sort of thing that makes Jason take notice. Because Bruce is useless, and someone's gotta make sure Tim's new internship program doesn't take down all of Gotham.

That's Jason's job, after all.

My thoughts: Please GOD just read the first few paragraphs. You'll know exactly what I mean when I say that this fic is it. Hilarious, badass and adorable. I mean, see the title of this fic rec. I just knew this fic was going to be amazing from the first line.

I have many, many more of course, but I'll leave this here for now as it's getting to be a pretty long post. Anyway, these are all fics - short and long! - that I knew were going to be absolutely perfect within the first few moments of reading. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

[dodo-begone]

The Mistake has Arrived

Pairing: Yan!DSMP!Techno, Yan!Ranbob!, Yan!Ranbutler x Reader

Request: Do you do continuations? If so could you make a part 2 with for the "mistakes were made" (aka the pregnancy one)? Like how they would act when the child is like actually born and causing mischief?? Please and thank you!

Summary: It seems that, after the baby arrives, things seem to change. It's hard to describe because things didn't change much yet at the same time managed to be the complete opposite of what they were before. Or maybe you hadn't noticed these things before. Who knows.

Word count: 2.1k

Warning: yandere, nsfw joke at the end of Ranbob’s section

Part 1 | Mistakes were Made

If this ever looks wonky/glitched, I have this properly archived on Ao3

A/n: the first part was implied AFAB reader because of pregnancy- and it probably still is but pregnancy is barely mentioned in this.

Techno

So remember when this man was absolutely terrified for you and the baby? Yeah that doesn’t get alleviated. If anything, that fear gets worse.

You holding the child, the perfect combination of you two, makes him truly realize how fragile the baby is. Like hello? This thing is his? And so tiny? Like a potato, a large one at that but still a potato?

Potatoes are fragile. Babies are fragile. Baby is like a potato, which makes them ultra fragile- oh NO.

Let’s get this straight; Techno is the infamous blood god. This huge hulking piglin hybrid who can easily kill anyone in arm’s reach. And then you got this tiny defenceless baby that is related to him? Like he knows how this thing works but it just feels surreal.

This anxiety feeds his distaste for holding his own child. He’s a monster and that’s a sweet innocent baby. He is going to severely harm the baby by even holding it. You never know what could happen- plus you need some mother-child bonding. It’s very important. Yes you may have been carrying that baby for 9 months but some more physical touch goes a long way. It grounds it more into reality for you. Yeah, that’s totally the reason.

The behavior can only last so long though. Eventually Techno would have to bond with his kid, hold his kid. You were getting fed up with how long he was taking. His anxiety over the situation was obvious and you were giving him space. So you did, but it’s been months and he still refuses to even touch them. His avoidance is annoying and it has to come to an end. And you will make sure it will.

One day, while he was relaxing and reading, you gently plop the baby onto Techno and go do some household chores that are usually hard when you have to keep an eye and ear out for the kid at every second.

Techno and the kid have a shared moment of “wtf” because the baby saw this thing before but he never touched it before. And they were left on it? By mother? Techno is internally freaking out while this baby tries to crawl on him. Really they’re just pulling at his hair and clothing. Anything they can get their grubby little hands onto. And gum on whatever they can get into their mouth. Oh god, this is going to be a long… period of time. He doesn’t really know when you’ll come back for them but he hopes it’s soon.

It’s safe to say that you did not come to Techno’s rescue in a swift manner. You made sure to take your time doing everything that couldn’t be properly done. Like cleaning or cooking a proper meal. Cooking had been left up to Techno mostly, and you really appreciated that he took that up and made good food but someone can only handle potato based dishes for so long. It was about time that something else was made. The potatoes needed a break.

When you come back to Techno and the baby, you’re so pleased to see that they’re having a little bonding moment. The baby was calm and Techno was finally relaxed in what felt like a century. Everything was perfect.

Techno was reading Sun Tzu’s The Art of War and your sweet baby child had long dozed off in his arms. Techno either didn’t notice or didn’t care and kept reading aloud, though it was mostly likely that he wanted to start education young. Even in their sleep. He started the education process already, in a way, by reading The Art of War to your pregnant stomach for months on end. You’d long grown tired of it, but the sight and sound of Techno reading still warmed your heart.

Ranbob

Nothing changes on his knowledge of babies. Not much, anyways. Some of the information he knows on babies came directly from you. The rest came from books found around Mizu.

In theory, he knows what to do. He read up on everything he’d need to know, after all. But in practice, it’s a whole different story. Anxiety occasionally comes to haunt him but he easily waves it off. He knows what he’s doing.

When Mizu was still populated, he observed the lives of others. There wasn’t much to do besides that. Children weren’t an uncommon sight. But babies? Now that wasn’t a common sight. Not many people brought their babies out. Nor were there many.

It’s understandable for him to not know exactly how to raise a baby. Unless you raised or helped to raise a baby, you aren’t exactly well versed in baby and are therefore slightly unprepared for said baby.

Though compared to children, he’s actually more prepared to care for the baby since there were so many books about baby care and stuff they’d need. Children are a whole different beast.

With children, it’s a more individual case-to-case deal. There aren’t any parenting guides on children. Well, there are. Though they all differ from each other. Each book has its own descriptions on why a behavior is happening and how to handle or fix it. So many differing opinions that overlapped were overwhelming. Ranbob soon came to the conclusion that childcare is more interpretive. Based on the child’s personality.

That’s way in the future though. Now he has to deal with a baby. A fragile little thing. It’s perfect in every way.

Now his anxiety starts to get the better of him. He’s so much bigger than it, much stronger. The baby is completely at his mercy and he is anxious that something bad may happen to it. Realistically, though, nothing bad is going to happen to his little family.

Once he holds the baby for the first time, all previous anxiety is taken by the wind. All that remains is absolute adoration. This leads to him caring for the baby almost entirely. Or when it’s least convenient for you, that is.

Like when your babe cries late into the night. Witching hour cries. Everytime without fail, he’d awaken and swiftly make his way to the nursery. All in an attempt to allow you to sleep. You’ve already done so much work to make the child. The least he could do was wake up and care for them. Plus you still looked so tired.

Although Ranbob was tired when morning came, it didn’t matter when you came out well rested. Or much better than the day before. Each day was a slight victory in his books. He only wanted the best for you, anyways. If sacrificing a few hours of sleep meant that you’d sleep better, then so be it.

He views your child as a blessing from Dream himself. A symbol of the union between you two. Just absolute perfection. Oh how lucky he is to have you and especially fortunate to have a child with you. His god has seen his hard work and has gifted him with so much more than he deserved. But he’d take it all the same.

If you two “accidently” had another kid, he’d be more than happy. Yes, he’s content and happy with the child you two already have. His life is perfect now. But if another addition just happened to come along? Well who is he to deny his god’s will?

aka he wants to weaken his pullout game to have another kid with you. One kid is enough but two? Oh that’d be swell!

Ranbutler

Compared to the previous two, Ranbutler’s reaction to the baby’s arrival would be labeled as “different”. Techno feared for his child, Ranbob was anxious, but Ranbutler? This man is ecstatic! Oh my gosh you two finally have a kid. Isn’t this just great?

His excitement level is astronomical. Come on, this man literally acts like this baby is going to achieve world wide peace or something. Like Jesus Christ incarnated. That’s the level of excitement he’s at.

Right from the get-go, Ranbutler is almost desperate in his attempts to hold the baby. Please? Pretty please? Why can’t he hold your baby? Our baby? Though as… desperate as he is to hold his child, he doesn’t want to disturb important mother-child bonding. Even if you carried them for around nine months, it’s still vital that you actually bond to your baby. Skin-to-skin early on is important.

At the next available time, most likely when you’re asleep or on the verge of sleeping, he’ll gently remove the child from atop your chest. Of course he’d go to the next comfiest and secure place he can and allow for some skin-to-skin between him and the baby.

According to some studies, skin contact with a baby supposedly “awakens” maternal or paternal and he was more than happy to test that out. If it worked? Then that’s great! If it didn’t work? What was the harm? It’s all good in the end.

Because of the nature of his job, you often don’t see him during the day. Both a blessing and a curse. This leaves you alone to care for the baby until he comes back. Even then, it wasn’t a guarantee that he’d help. That’s what you thought, at least.

No matter how exhausted he was or how irate he was from Billiam, the sight of your and the baby always made everything right in the world. All problems just dissolved away, becoming unimportant whispers of responsibilities.

Responsibilities that seemed to come from a whole different reality. Here, at home, the mess that’s Billiam doesn’t exist. Won’t ever affect his lovely little world.

Sometimes he comes home extremely late. So late that you already went to sleep, along with the baby. Occasionally you would try to stay up for him to come home. You were laying on the couch with the baby on your chest, what else was he to presume? That was obviously what you were doing, right?

On those nights, he would sit by you and just watch. Basking in the calm energy you exude. Even without talking to him, you always had a way of calming him down. Of making him feel loved and appreciated.

He would also take care of the baby's needs at night. With his occupation as Billiam’s servant, it really wasn’t the best idea, but he assured you that he would be fine. After all, he couldn’t bond with the baby during the day, so that only left the night. Even if it was menial tasks, he found solace in the presence of the family he was creating,

A question that kept reappearing was how he managed to get such a wonderful partner. One so willing to have a child with him. Deep down, he knew the actual answer, but it was hidden under so many layers of delusions that it’d be better and easier not to deal with that mess.

Now that you had the baby to care for, he was much more willing to leave you alone while he went to work. Yes, sometimes he still brought you into the room with The Egg. But that was only because you seemed stressed the day, night, or morning before he left.

How could he just leave his precious to flounder around so helplessly? A baby can easily be overwhelming. The Egg was more than willing to help you.

The kid, although a beautiful culmination of the love between the two of you, also symbolized another thing. They were a shackle, keeping you tethered to him.

There was no way you’d be able or wish to escape in such a fragile condition. Especially with the baby. How could you risk the life of something so innocent? Of something that did absolutely nothing wrong besides existing. You wouldn’t be such a horrible monster, would you? No, he knows you. Knows that you wouldn’t do that.

Once he has a taste for parenthood, he’s practically addicted. He absolutely loves it. Loves you. Why not have another? And another? And another?

Let’s be honest, he might just want a small herd of kids. Not many, like four or five. A few more wouldn’t do too much harm, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. After all, you’d be around them the most, being the primary caretaker for them all.

The desire for a large family comes into direct conflict with his desire to not make you overwhelmed and overworked. It was a hard battle, but he convinced himself that maybe just one more wouldn’t hurt. Just one more, and that’ll be the last he’ll want.

He’ll say that for the next three he plans to have with you. Can men get baby fever? If they can, then this man definitely would have it, just saying.

[ambitioncunningpridemieczyslaw]

25 fun and cute questions to brighten the spirits and get us through the holidays!

I was tagged by @halevetica who is literally such an angel and one of the best fanfic writers of all time!!!!!!!

Check them out on Ao3 cuz again they are one of the best and has never written a bad fic 💕

Hiya all! I’ve created this list as a reminder of happy memories and great times with our loved ones since I think we’re all feeling a tad blue this holiday season. Tagging my favourite blogs but all are welcome to answer :)

Best gift you’ve ever gotten: I would have to say the best gift I ever got came from my old high school ap lit teacher/theater director I was in the plays every year from 7th-12th grade and she got me a necklace with the drama faces on it along with a jewelry box that played at the beginning from Anastasia, which was the first song I ever sang with her on stage, when I graduated so yeah she gets the win everytime cuz she had me bawling like a baby at the final cast party we did

Nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you: I have 4 different friends who on 4 different occasions just bought me gifts not because of anything special or because they felt sorry over us fighting or something just they saw something and genuinely thought I would like it. I honestly just love receiving gifts that someone gets you out of the blue just because they simply think of you after seeing something and get it for you like it definitely means a lot to me that I'm the first person they thought of when getting those things

Your favourite holiday memory: Um... I honestly don't know if I have one, but something that I look back and think fondly of is when the one year my mom and I caroled with our church choir like I remember all the baking we did the day before in the church kitchen and it was a lot of us singing to Christmas songs that probably shouldn't be played in church lol and the caroling itself went well we gave out plates of cookies and caroled for any person who was on our prayer list at the time and seeing some of those people's faces like them seeing that people did care and that they weren't alone meant everything to me

Where you want to go first once we can travel again: New Zealand it's always looked so beautiful plus I mean that's where Lucy Lawless is from so it has to be amazing

Your spirit animal: I'm going to say a wolf just because I've always had this obsession with them since I was a kid

Your OTP: See I wanna say Sterek just because they're my favorite ship but I also like them in different pairings... I'm going to do a throwback shout out to Tyrus from Andi Mack cuz I can't handle seeing Tj and Cyrus with anyone but each other.

Tumblr pals you want to meet in real life: Literally anyone and everyone so I have more people to cuddle and binge shows with lol

Soulmates: real or fake: Imma say real like I do believe they're are souls who are cosmically linked together whether it be romantically or platonically I do think we all have that one person who we want to spend forever with

Favourite holiday food: those sugar cookies with the Reese Cups or Hershey Kisses in the center those are the shit tbh

What you wish you were doing right now: it's only 9:30 am so it's my chill in bed and contemplate life time lol but ig if there was something I wish I was doing rn it would be finishing the Sterek fic I'm reading rn

Your safe space/where or who you feel most at home with: My safe space would be while I was in school it was either the library or auditorium but now that I have an apartment that I share with my sister like I finally feel like I have a home to go to and genuinely want to be at so yeah my place is definitely my space but as for people I would say my sister and our two best friends

Favourite hobbies: Reading brings me joy lol which here are pictures I finally finished putting together my other book shelf the other day so if ya'll want to see here are some pictures. Definitely want more books though lol

Cooking or baking: Oh cooking for sure cuz I can't bake for shit 😅

Reading or writing: Reading

Gifsets or mood boards:

Coffee or tea: Coffee!!!!

City or suburbs: To visit city to stay suburbs

Someone who can always make you laugh: I would say my sister and our two friends we're always making each other laugh

Someone who always brightens your day: @crazyassmurdererwall just because anytime I'm having a bad day the fic I go to for comfort is Stuck In Reverse because it is literal perfection

Favourite day of the week: Whatever my day or days off are that week like how today is a glorious Tuesday cuz it's my only day off this week

Favourite animal: Wolves

Dream vacation spot: I mean I've been to the beach nearly every summer since I was a kid so I feel like renting out a nice cabin in the mountains somewhere would be dope af

Writer, artist, or creator(s) you want to see more of: @crazyassmurdererwall & @isthatbloodonhisshirt & @halevetica always 💕

Favourite movie, television show, and song: A Star Is Born (2018), Sex and the City, & You Don't Own Me by Lesley Gore

I tag @justkimberley @acercrea @charming-fan-girl @cinematicnomad only if ya'll want to of course & if I mentioned you and you see this and want to do this go for it!!!! Please tag me if you do and that goes for anyone who sees this I give you full permission to tag me so I can see all of your responses. Love you all!!! 💕💕💕