#bc the fic itself is so unserious

[riacte]

Dear CCs: if you really want a fanfic to react to, the only correct response is the modern masterpiece mangobaII

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Hii! I'm literally obsessed with your Boothill x Mechanic!reader fics, so please can I request one where someone, maybe from the IPC, attacks the Reader, and Boothill comes just in time to save her🥰

a/n: i am SO sorry this took literally forever. sometimes things just sit in the inbox for months bc i dont have the capacity to roll out the content in a way that im content with *sobsob* anyway- IPC Goon Squad shoot down anyone? warning(s)!!: uhhh, y/n gets shot... whoopies

w.count: 2.4k

"this is so you're fault!"

"aw, come on, sugar! have some adventure!"

boothill's words wouldn't sound so shallow and unserious if you weren't in the middle of running for your life while he runs for his own entertainment. ore who is already buckled into the carabiner clasp on your shoulder goes the extra mile and clutches its metal hands into the collar of your shirt as it jostles with your movements.

the cyborg cowboy running just a step behind you hoots and hollers as you focus solely on running forward towards any exit you could come across. the sound of IPC goons hot on your heels.

-SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER-

part of you wonders how boothill managed to get you out of your shop for any extended amount of time to make a short trip off planet. boothill came to you with outsider info that contained the whereabouts of outer world tech that has been long outdated and apparently abandoned. a small dwarf planet that had once been an industrial planet of metal, oil, gas and more metal- was all but in abandoned ruin. the planet itself was safe to traverse and didn't have any unknown or dangerous gasses on the surface; and with all the potential of finding something to bring back to our shop?

...yeah okay so maybe it wasn't that hard getting you to close up shop for a few days to scavenge a junkyard planet.

loading into boothill's ship he uses to get to and from bounties and your shop intermittently, you immediately start tickering around with things he's allowed you to. unfortunately he's pretty set on not letting you fuss around with this control board in the cockpit, but everything else was fair game.

"hell, if you can fix a thing up or two- i ain't gonna stop yah." he tells you.

it was nice having you around like this. sitting on the floor of where he spends most of his time out in the nothingness of space just doing your thing. fixing and fumbling around with metal panels and wires as ore runs around on its own to explore all the little nooks and crannies. the galaxy ranger could lean against the wall with his ankles crossed watching you all day long.

when you both finally land, despite the planet being so long abandoned and overrun with rust, ruin and the occasional critter that whatever catastrophe happened here didn't die from, there was still smog hanging high in the atmosphere with smoke billowing out of tall towers of concrete. you wonder if the power source was just going to run until it burnt out- not like it would ruin anything anyway.

slipping on your gas mask, you adjust it around your head- it was one of boothill's conditions on taking you here.

"i don't need you contracting any weird forkin' diseases. take it or i'm going on my own," he had warned you. you didn't argue since you also didn't want to bring something nasty back from your little trip- be it airborne or otherwise.

the plastic shield over your eyes had already been fog proofed and the seal around the mask fit snugly onto your face so nothing could slip under it. your breathing and words were muffled through the filters by your mouth. you take a few deep breaths to make sure the valve at your chin works properly. additionally slipping on a pair of highly durable gloves so you could rummage around freely.

glancing at boothill, you watch with jealously as he just stands plain as day with crossed arms. as a cyborg, you guess personal protection gear was the least of his concerns. instead of sickness, he was more worried about failing axels or corrupting internal processing.

"jealous?" boothill, catching your glances, shifts his weight. leaning forward just to mock his height over you with his hands on his hips. cocky bastard.

"no," you lie before marching forward. you hear his mechanical toned chuckling behind you and have half a mind to try and lose him in the debris but think better of it. you don't need to be getting lost or losing track of him.

over the course of your exploring, ore would run a scan on any small materials you didn't know and if they were worth something, you'd shove your spoils into the pouch you have attached to your hip. boothill did little to contribute to your searching, but he did offer good company. chatting and cracking jokes all the while looking after you and making sure you didn't fall into any hidden traps or have some metal fall on you.

its when you venture into one of the many abandoned factories that things start feeling weird. the planet was supposed to be abandoned a long time ago. the general lack of life and regrowth of fungi and durable (and probably contamnated) plant life made that fact pretty clear. however, there was still things that didn't make sense.

you already thought it strange when the pillar of smoke funneled out like a running chimney. and while at first you thought it was just a power source yet to snuff itself out, you start to think otherwise.

what if people were here?

walking into a room that was clear of debris and almost clean gave you less hope that you two were the only bipedal, sentient beings on planet.

boothill's metal boots clank in the hallway beside you as you venture further inside. ore who hangs onto your shoulder can feel your tension- it's getting better at reading people and situations. if ore were a person, you wonder if this situation and your behavior would have it sweating. boothill also picks up on your demeanor's shift but isn't as worried. if someone- or something- is here, then he can deal with it no sweat. he wasn't just some rusty ole cowboy after all.

his ipc bounty made that pretty clear.

you aren't sure if boothill clues in on the fact that you all might not be alone or if he's deliberately not saying anything. the stupid grin on his face was leaning towards the latter.

not too much time later, you both enter a room with a still intact and activated door system. the door hisses open from the center and inside are those people you were suspicious of finding. a squad of IPC lackey it looks like from the dark armor and idle weapons.

both parties just stare at each other for a moment before boothill opens his mouth.

"well now, ain't this just a treat." as if shooting off a gun at a starting line, the IPC enforcers spring into action. you do as well, twisting on your heel, snatching boothills arm in one of your hands and using the other to urge ore into its carabiner. you take off down the hall.

"this is so you're fault!"

"aw, come on, sugar! have some adventure!"

boothill's words wouldn't sound so shallow and unserious if you weren't in the middle of running for your life while he runs for his own entertainment. ore who is already buckled into the carabiner clasp on your shoulder goes the extra mile and clutches its metal hands into the collar of your shirt as it jostles with your movements.

the cyborg cowboy running just a step behind you hoots and hollers as you focus solely on running forward towards any exit you could come across. the sound of IPC goons hot on your heels.

"you totally knew that this planet wasn't abandoned!" you accuse.

"I had a hunch," boothill brushes off.

listening to the cacophony of boot's hitting the hard floors of the halls behind you, boothill shoves your shoulder when you come to a cross road, pushing you in a direction without giving you time to hesitate. glancing back, you see the figures of two ipc field personnel armed with their guns and another security personnel with a long axe that would surely hurt if swung with even the smallest amount of force.

damn those supporters of qlipoth.

boothill's merry time of entertainment by indulging in an adrenaline chase by the cocky ipc followers is cut short when one of the those very same ipc goons takes a knee. halting his running, he steady's his gun and shoots.

boothill skids to a stop. ore flies off your shoulder as his carabiner breaks. and you- you hit the ground with a cry of pain as you gas mask you had been wearing all this time is knocked off. landing awkwardly and painfully on your side, you reach around your body to cradle your shoulder that the ipc had just shot through.

ore, recovered from its tumble, rushes back to you and grabs onto your wrist with an expression of shock. [｡ꏿ﹏ꏿ｡] it was just a small assistant robot- it didn't know how to help. and it couldn't cry- digital tears is all it could give you. if you were lucid enough, maybe you'd pat its head and say that was enough. but right now? you're too focused on your bleeding shoulder.

"aight," the galaxy ranger hisses, "no more playin around!" boothill, no longer in a goofing mood, draws his nine-millimeter and fires off expert rounds. taking out the scumbag who hit you first as his body gained three new holes. two bullets fly into the figure of the other field personnel while the security goon lucks out with only one.

with the newfound window of time, boothill opens his chamber and discards the empty shells onto the ground. snatching six new rounds, he reloads, clicks his barrel back into place and replaces the gun into its hostler. who knows when or if other ipc lackies will show up.

"come on, y/n," it has been so long since boothill called you by your actual name and he doesn't like that now has to be that time. "up you go." ore clutches its little hands onto you as boothill lifts you. he apologizes each time you hiss as he takes off into a sprint back towards his ship. towards safety.

once he's inside, he's quick to activate the auto-launch and subsequently auto-pilot while he takes you further inside to treat you. you've stayed awake and he's thankful for that, but now he's faced with just how clueless he is. when was the last time he ever had to treat an injury?

boothill doesn't get hurt. he breaks or malfunctions. he doesn't bleed unless you manage to get his head. he's pretty much 99% robot with the remaining 1% being his skull. the last time he ever treated an injury was probably on himself before all his modifications were done. when he only had one shoulder and one arm replaced with metal and axels.

ore is his wake up call. the little robot lets out a loud sound almost like it was trying to scream at him. ['(◣_◢)']

boothill blinks down at it while its digital face changes into a pixeled picture. a piece of cloth. stop the bleeding.

"got it," boothill relinquishes to ore seeing as the little guy had probably seen you dress small wounds all the time. it was better than he could do.

after a series of frustated beeping from ore, some censored cursing from boothill, and hissing from you, boothill finally has your shoulder bandaged and managed to stop the bleeding. you fell asleep a while ago and he almost thought you died if your chest wasn't still heaving.

plopping himself on the floor at the foot of the cot he's placed you in, boothill lets out a deep sigh, raspberrying through his lips. his hat has long been discarded, tossing it off when he had something a bit more important to worry about. he runs a hand through his hair, snagging the strands between his knuckles and curses at himself.

ore sits on boothill's shoulder offering him small beeps of encouragement and gives him a gleeful expression for his successful treatment.

"thanks lil buddy," boothill humors him. "hope your fixer ain't too mad when they wake up though." its a half truth. he doesn't like being on the receiving end of your ire. but in this case, he can't help but feel like he's got it coming. "it's my fault you got thrown around too, huh?"

ore responds with a giant x over it's digital face. [! X !]

"oh, it ain't, huh?" the cowboy chuckles as his robot pal displays three letters- [IPC]. "yeah, i hear you," boothill pokes ore playfully. it's the ipc's fault is what ore is trying to convey. no doubt you'd agree with him when you wake up and he explains it all when you were less foggy headed.

"it's the ipc's fault," you goad him with a frown and offensive stare that would have him sweating if he still had the glands for it. you woke up a bit ago and with some painkiller in your system, you were lucid and more or less managing fine. ore buried itself under your shirt collar and has been there ever since.

"look," boothill sighs, "i can admit when i did somethin' wrong, sugar."

"but you didn't." aeons, your stubborn.

"you got shot."

"and you," you jab a finger into his metal shoulder, "got us out of there alive."

"can ya just let me apologize!" he argues and feels his circuits whirling as you offer him an eyeroll. after a back and forth that goes no where, boothill relents and offers no apology because you don't want one and won't accept one even if he gives it.

when he manages to get you back home, he sticks around for a couple days. forcing you to go into town- which you dislike doing- and go see a proper doctor for your shoulder. just until he's sure you can manage without straining yourself too hard.

watching you rummage around in your shop with what spoils you did manage to bring back felt almost worth the trip until he remembers you got shot. he wonders if it'll scar- probably. he'll never feel like it wasn't his fault you got so hurt, but he knows he can't just expect you to stay on this planet forever either.

one day he'll want to take you somewhere else and you'll want to go along with him again. he can't confine you- so he'll just have to be a bit more careful next time.

and maybe get you some bullet proof gear while he's at it.

a/n pt.2- feels kinda rushed, ngl, but we ball

[mer-acle]

Hello again.

So I have been having more ideas to add more Athena angst generally and

May I suggest. A Halloween oneshot story featuring Feral Winged! Athena.

Because it is screaming classic werewolf story. Of fighting an inner or opposing beast within. Paranoia plaguing your mind.

But first general angst. Does Athena feel any guilt or shame for being particularly to blame for starting the Trojan War? Does she think of moments where maybe if she didn't fight for the apple ECT.

Now Birb Athena >:>

I imagine the way how she is perceiving the world is that unlike normal instances she can only find herself think in one track thoughts unable to go more than "must find Odysseus" or "there is a threat" but she is aware that she can only think in these simple tracks and her interal dialogue grows more and more frustrated at "Why can't I plan things out like I use too" "why are my thoughts so one note" but she is unable to do anything aside from the options presented.

Also when she tries to project thoughts to communicate it simple pictures or image instead of words and or just garbled mess on unintelligible hissing.

Anyway have a lovely time of day

*flies off*

Hi there :3

(so first of all, I'm really sorry I can't really work on a full separate fic rn, Fighting to be loved is kinda a full-time job atm but maybe someone on tumblr will help us out here (c'mon chat, make this happen))

Now thoughts

I think Athena wouldn't really feel bad for the war itself (she is a war goddess after all) BUT I think she would feel guilty for not helping Odysseus escape the war, cos I mean he tried to get out of his war contract himself but maybe if she had helped him it would have worked and he could have stayed with his family. (I very much doubt she helped him with that plan but I wanna address that whole situation in Fighting to be Loved at some point for sure)

I really like the "birb backseat driver" idea. I think it would be angsty mainly but like also a little funny bc Athena would be like "why am I so dumb is this how ares feels like normally?" (Athena you're a little asshole you know that?)

Also Ody would look at bird behavior books and the bird in question is just sitting there grumpily, bc she is not just a bird! (Bird mind is possible to appease with food tho methinks she would still like olives (stole this from the baby Owlthena au admittedly)

Sry that was a little unserious here's some angst:

If you make it fluctuate where she sometimes is more like herself and she can tell if it gets worse that must be so scary for her (werewolf indeed) like it's like the classic whump trope of being drugged when the character really doesn't want to, and she never knows how long it'll be like this this time and what if she's needed?

[ronanceautistic]

One piece of bullshit advice I feel the need to give to writers, mostly new ones, is pleaseeee actually try with your fic summaries. Like, think about it - would you pick up a book in a bookstore that had some shitty clip art with the recommendation quote something like “idk i did my best”. We don’t have covers!! This is your one way to capture the readers attention before they commit to clicking on it omd you have to try.

I’m gonna use my own fics as examples because i’m not hear to harp on some poor unsuspecting authors lol.

So, these are the ones that I tend to gravitate towards at least. The snippet of the fic itself is short but also sums up both the plot and the style of writing, I’d say. And the summary at the bottom is also short and sweet. They should be two sentences at most, imo.

Okay this one was genuinely done by accident at the time bc I was tryna put it in the beginning notes lol - but no unnecessary info like a) fic title song credits and b) the fact i was in a depressive episode. that shits for the notes, not the summary. I am always for yapping about yourself in the notes, but if it isn’t summarising the fic itself, it ain’t for the summary.

I know exactly why I wrote this one like this, and this is the exact thing this post is tryna get people not to do. I was scared that people wouldn’t like the way I wrote Nancy in this fic, because she makes a lot of dumb decisions lol, so to combat that fear I deflected with humour in the summary and kinda made the fic out to be a lot more unserious than it actually was. I’m always razzin and joshin in the end notes but that’s because people have read the fic/chapter already and a lil jokey joke at the end is kinda an incentive to get them to comment lol. Don’t do this. It’s not a summary, it’s literally just me defending myself from an imaginary hater. \/

However, this jokey one I do support because of the tone of the fic. It was a light hearted kinda silly one, and this kinda summary lets the reader know it ain’t deep going into it! I’m being contradictory, I know, but my point is the fic from above was a lot more serious and angsty, and that wasn’t reflected by the humour in the summary. This one is not serious at all, and neither is the summary, Simples.

Lastly (no image this time) i tend to write the “aka” summaries in no caps when it’s a short one-shot, and with proper capitalisation when it’s multi-chap. My brain just likes that, but maybe that’s actual psychology in that somewhere - like the multi-chaps tend to be planned out and a bit more meticulous and that would reflect in the proper grammar? Whereas no caps just means ur in for a wild ride from a mentally ill 20-something who wrote it on their phone at 3am. And both are just as good! But different flavours. To Me.

[itsnobodysproblem]

The sign of four p2

(live reactions)

Oh it wasn't a date?

Somebody get an ice cream with him??!

Ohhh drug dog TOBYYY TOBYTOBYTOBY

"He looks like you" Excuse me

[Sherlock babytalking to Toby]

Aw????

"There’s a podgy little bloke present that can hear you fawning over someone else."

"You’re admitting you’ve gained weight then."

Was that a couply joke again

"Not being rude here. How do I know

Forrester?"

It's ok John we were wondering that too

Yes John [say] precisely that

"It forked off"

It did fork off didn't it

(All the fork off exchange is hilarious)

JONK

WE LOVE YOU

YES fate decided you should be together with Sher- (gunshots)

Ohh John is an emoji user of course

Hmmm Mary's voice is a bit weird. I think the actress's mic is wonky(?)

Mazz????????????? ..john

Ohh the guy with the legg!!

"He touched my top"😰😰?

Oh so the dad isn't missing, just dead

"Like making out with my hand"

ewwwwwwwwww

"I'm not saying it's racist, it's a cultural stereotype isn't it"

hello lampshading

I am choosing to believe Sherlock is also in his pjs (i know he's not)

*

What kinda bikes do you people have there???? How would he fit in a front basket???

He said "WEEEEEEE"

That's so funny because i have this relative who's very very serious and all that and one of the first times i saw him be unserious is when he was driving down a hill and the car was yk going by itself and he went "weeeeee"

Is there any one place he wouldn't follow Sherlock to? Honestly

Sherlock looking at John's ass. Great

(I actually didn't get the joke)

OHHH THEY SAID THE THINGG (the sign of four)

"[...] they just split in the back it's not a weird sex thing."

".......I think it might be a weird sex thing"

...John couldn't you shut up.

---

*The way i got excited when it was confirmed that they have one of those automatically closing outside doors.

Bc a fic I'm writing has a pretty important part that hinges (ha!) on a character getting locked out. I mean it would be a very different scene if he didn't.

[gontagokuhara]

WAIT WAIT WAIT BEFORE THE UPDATE HITS CAN YOU EXPLAIN THE MAKOTO AND JUNKO "LORE" BECAUSEEE💀💀 EVAN CAPTORVATING MADE THE JOKE(?) TOO AND I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT THE IMPLICATIONS 💀💀💀 LIKE WYDMM

OKAY ISTG THIS IS MY LAST "LORE ME UP" ASK BC I CANNOT KEEP CONSUMING YOUR CONTENT W/O GIVING YOU MY MONEY FOR IT I LITERALLY NEED YOUR COMMISSIONS TO OPEN BUT IM WAITUNG UNTIL THE END OF POINTY OBJECTS💀🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 (there's not a flag to wave for the pointy objects nation so I'm just waving the gay flag it's basically the same thing)

THIS MADE ME GIGGLE SO BAD IN THE MIDDLE OF WORK HELP 😭😭😭 oh i’m so excited for this chapter to go up EXPLANATIONS BELOW ‼️

ok. so. generally i’ve had the finer plot details of pointy objects nailed down and mostly unchanging though i Will add or go into more detail on certain things if i get the inspiration. so like pointy objects is Locked In. but sometimes the opportunity for shenanigans presents itself (and evan beckons me successfully to the dark side)

he is my Kokichi Correspondent but as the previously posted chapter makes abundantly clear. there’s another character that evan is a Knower Of that i humbly request his massive brain’s opinions on. enter junko enoshima. i will have very much more to say AFTER chapter twenty-seven goes up but for the sake of addressing the messy ex naejunko allegations:

…it started as a joke. still Mostly is one. but i have spent HOURS in recent months watching and listening and playing junko’s voice lines over the course of the series to get a Feel for her and her preoccupation with makoto intrigued me. evan’s art of the two of them cosplaying as their rival ocs also tipped me in this direction. they’re just so sillayyyyy makoto wants to fix her and junko wants to make her worse and they kiss about it until they start slap-fighting. it’s deeply unserious to me and i love it

so in terms of pointy objects: this is of the more Open-ended things, and i’m thinking the next couple chapters will allow people to come to their own conclusions. i, personally, think it’s very funny and silly to imagine po!naejunko are very, VERY distant exes who still have some major tension. i also think joking about all of the big five being messy whores and passing makoto around like a blunt (<- creds to evan for this one) is SUPER funny. it is equally acceptable to me to 1) consider this canon thousands of years in the past or 2) ignore this entirely and think of them how you see them presented in the text of pointy objects itself. MUCH more can be said on this next time <3

which i DO ENCOURAGE (though do not pressure) ALWAYS AND FOREVER i am obsessed with this fic. these characters this lore the story Etc Etc. its my baby in the same (if not more intense) way that my first big hitter fic ‘jump’ is. and if given the chance i will talk about it forever so comments/asks/questions/theories about pointy objects always make my day i love people being invested in something i am really proud of and love very deeply

so cider SNIFFS!!!!! i’ve told u over and over how grateful i am for you and your support and your engagement and all around loveliness and you are not even the first person to bring up paying for pointy objects and it makes me WEEP EVERY TIME!!!!! I’VE BEEN SOOOOO NEGLIGENT OF COMMISSIONS I WANT TO SO BAD I’VE JUST BEEN BUSY AND KEPT PUTTING IT OFF 💔💔💔 i snuck this into my faq a little while ago but to Anyone interested commission-wise in the meantime while i get my shit together. dm me 😏 i do need to get commission info finalized and OUT it’s not even funny. inshallah it will happen eventually

[scionshtola]

enw/6.0 spoilers below the cut

i’m trying to get back into the island fic frame of mind which necessitates thinking about z*nos bc half the things cori is struggling with post enw are related to him. they can’t cast bc of his whole body switcheroo, and when they try to cast it takes them back to that day, trapped in another’s body, desperately dragging themself across the snow to save their friends. and his death weighs on them too, not bc they feel guilty but bc after everything he did to them—hurting shtola back in sb, stalking them throughout enw, projecting onto them and failing to see them as their own person or anything more than a mirror (literally not their own person but a reflection of him), the body swapping!—they only feel relief that he’s dead.

cori is generally a kind and empathetic person and i do a lot of hand waving wrt the amount of killing the wol does—first bc i do think the game is a bit unserious about it frequently except when it suddenly decides to be and secondly bc it just fits her character. she is “the shot that never misses but never kills.” she is not baha blasting two nameless cult members in rak’tika, etc. so any time she does really kill is i think a big deal for her.

but with his death…they have just been so tired and terrified and not wanting anything to do with him but to be left alone. they didn’t want his help at all with endsinger but didn’t feel in a position to turn him down. they didn’t want to fight him in the end but again didn’t feel in a position to reject him—what would he really do if they said no? what would he do to them or to their friends or to anyone else if they let him go? especially if they stayed behind and were not there to stop him.

maybe he’s changed and just wanted to help but they don’t believe that. they don’t trust him, and why would they? but there’s a part of them, later, that wonders if that should matter. if it should matter whether or not his intentions were just or pure or true when he did the right thing anyway. and they wonder what it says about them that they were so quick to disregard that and to feel such relief—almost happiness—at his death.

there’s a quote from the second book in the masquerade series that i think about a lot when i’m thinking about this situation cori is in.

Was goodness still good if you hewed to it out of tactical necessity? Was there, Baru wondered, any difference between being good and pretending to be good for your own gain, if you took the same actions in the end? Was there any difference between telling the truth unconditionally, and deploying the truth in service of your agenda, if you told the same truth? Maybe the Oriati thought so. Maybe the difference between truth-for-itself and tactical truth was the only difference that mattered. Maybe the most crucial and subtle distinction in life was the difference between someone who was truly good and someone playing at goodness to gain power.

ultimately i think cori comes to the same conclusion as the last sentence—it does matter why he did it. now they just have to figure out how to live with the judgment they made, and a decision they made when they thought they were going to die.