#fic questions meme

[eleadore]

Not a Sugar-Quill, Harry thinks, annoyed. Tap, goes the quill against Malfoy's mouth. Tap, tap, tap. 

here's the colour palette meme if you want to leave me a prompt

[mika-you-nerd]

Duality of man

Trust me I am super normal about this guy

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Between Hawke and Buzzard (dp x dc)

"So why do you need me again?" Connor asked Damian as they stood on the rooftops overlooking the darkened street.

Damian tsked and did not elaborate, and Connor had to resist the urge to push him off the roof.

Look, Connor would be the first person to tell you that the bonds forged through fighting each other in a death tournament to determine who would be sacrificed to a demon were unbreakable. But being woken up at 3 am to then be asked to do some kind of reconnaissance mission he was told next to nothing about was getting awfully close all the same.

"Here," Damian said, tearing Connor from his thoughts.

Immediately, the archer nocked an arrow, keeping it facing the ground.

"Put that away," Damian hissed and Connor wanted to hiss back in annoyance. How was he supposed to know what Damian wanted, he didn't even know what they were doing!

Then, he stilled as he caught sight of a red-clad figure sneaking around the side of the building they'd been stalking for at least twenty minutes.

Connor flexed, but Damian held out a hand discreetly. The figure looked around before turning towards the building, and with a few running steps, managed to scale up the brick wall all the way to the small window a few meters off the ground, and disappeared inside.

Damian waited a few breath before grappling over to the building and landing softly on the roof. Connor followed with a sigh. Carefully, Damian lowered himself to the window and after a quick check to insure the coast was clear, he slipped inside, and Connor followed suit.

They found themselves in a darkened passageway, bordered by metallic handrail, that bordered the four walls, leaving the middle part open, with a full view of the wide space left in the middle. From up there, they caught sight of the suspicious person again. In the slightly better lightning, Connor could determine the figure was probably a woman, but most importantly he could see she had unclipped what Connor now recognized as a modified huge gun of some kind and was now holding it in front of her.

Silently, Connor nocked an arrow once again, and this time, Damian didn't stop him.

There was a sound like something falling and the red-clad figure swivelled towards the sound, raising their gun. Connor tensed in anticipation and then-

"Dan-" the red-clad figure started just as Damian yelled, "put the gun down!"

The woman whipped around and threw herself to the side, Connor's arrow whizzing just past her shoulder. She was still in the air as Connor's went back to his quiver. He nocked another arrow, but unfortunately, the woman had fall-hidden behind one of the crates, and Connor couldn't get a good line of sight. Damian had jumped down, his sword drawn, ready to take the fight to her when-

"Time out!" yelled some random-looking civilian who had just popped up with his arms raised. All three of the fighters froze. "Time out, people!"

"Danny, get down!" Connor heard the woman hiss.

"I think we're all on the same side here," the newly-dubbed-Danny continued, as if this was completely normal, "so why don't we put our weapons down and just talk it out."

"Move," Damian grunted, his sword still raised.

The kid ignored Damian, and turned towards the red-clad vigilante. "Now, Red Huntress, what are you doing here?"

There was sigh from behind the crates and Connor could really relate, but there was barely any time before she answered the guy. "I was following Phantom, I got a tipoff he would be here."

Danny nodded sagely "Thank you for telling us." He turned towards Damian. "Now, who are you and why are you here?"

Damian just glared at the kid, who just looked back steadily, patiently awaiting an answer. After a few seconds, Connor lowered his bow with a sigh.

"This is Robin, he was following Red over there," Connor said as the kid nodded again. "And I'm following him."

"Great!" the kid chirped.

Red slowly rose from behind her crate-cover to address Damian directly.

"This doesn't make sense," she said. "I didn't know I was going to be here until an hour ago, how did you follow me?"

The civilian turned expecting eyes on Damian, and Connor couldn't help but follow suit. Damian straightened under the attention before he seemed to decide to share.

"I also got a tipoff."

"Wow, what a coincidence," the kid said brightly. His tone reminded Connor of a camp councillor he had met as Green Arrow, bright and peppy. "Maybe it was even from the same person!"

Damian tilted his head as his eyes narrowed on Red. "Was yours written on a green sticky note?"

The kid's smile went stiff.

"A green sticky what now?"

[groovyfrog420]

you guys liked my little doodle, so I've felt compelled to redraw this iconic meme (original bellow)

[ambrosiagourmet]

going to the Marcille & Laios unspoken mutual understanding and casual physical intimacy store. does anyone want anything.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey, you remember all those vague asks about someone angrily writing a Sans x Barnaby fanfic?

Yeah, well, I did it.

I'm working on the rest of the fic, gonna have at least 10 chapters with a bunch of lore sprinkled in between, but here, have this snippet for now:

All was peaceful in Home, as it always was. That's what Barnaby loved most about it. Everyone was friendly, playful, always willing to listen to his jokes (even if some of them were bad, and he got a tomato or two thrown at him in response.) He especially enjoyed spending time with Wally and Howdy, always willing to teach Wally a new joke or two, before using those new jokes in Howdy's Bugdega.

This particular afternoon, however, Barnaby was lazily lounging under a shady tree. Howdy was busy with some new stock in the shop, and Wally was playing a new complex game with an excitable Julie and a reluctant Frank. As for the others, Eddie was busy delivering mail, and Poppy was helping Sally with a new playscript. So, here Barnaby was, alone and letting out a loud yawn while coming up with some new comedy acts.

“Hm… maybe an airplane joke? Nah, nah, I've already made plenty of those. Something about bones? That could work, but how would I include the topic into an act…?” He mumbled to himself, putting a paw up to his chin in thought.

Then he felt the ground under him… shift.

Sink.

Slowly sinking deeper beneath him.

“What the..?” Barnaby looked down, confused as to why the grass seemed to be growing higher around him.

The sinking began to grow faster now, panicking the big beagle.

“W-Woah, woah, what's going on?!” Barnaby tried to scramble off the ground, but before he could, the grassy ground fell under him all at once. He yelped as he fell beneath the tree's roots, falling down a tight twisted tunnel. Barnaby reached his arms out, in the hopes of latching onto a stray root to climb his way out, but to no avail. He let out a grunt as his head harshly hit a rock on the way down, and his vision went black.

Barnaby didn’t know how long he was out for. However, he did know that, instead of waking up at the bottom of a dirt tunnel like he expected, he woke up in… a snowy forest?

“Ugh…” Barnaby groaned, wincing as he slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head. With another wounded groan, he looked around in his new environment. The sky seemed to be replaced with a rocky roof, indicating that he was still underground, but… that doesn't explain the evergreen trees or the snow that seemingly fell from nowhere.

“… the hell..?” He mumbled, confused and unsure what to do.

“Hey, buddy.”

Barnaby stiffened at the sudden voice, turning around slowly. There stood a… a skeleton?

“I think you dropped this.” The skeleton spoke in a lazy voice, wearing a blue hooded jacket and a seemingly-permanent toothy smile on his face. In his left hand, he held Barnaby's hat, tilting it out to the beagle. Barnaby must have dropped it when he fell down here.

“Uh… thanks.” Barnaby hesitantly took the hat from the strange skeleton, trying to offer a friendly smile in response, before putting his hat back on.

“No problem,” the skeleton replied simply, putting his hands back in his pockets. “The name's Sans. Sans the Skeleton. What's yours?”

“… Barnaby. Barnaby B Beagle.”

“Nice to meet ya, Beagle. So, what were you doing on the ground? Didn’t look like you were making snow-dogs or anything.”

[throughdarkeningskies]

looking at all these moonpaw posts. they need to go the early yu gi oh zexal route with it. have moonpaw and mystery cat be like yuma and astral. yeah moonpaw talks to thin air and has entire arguments with someone we can't see but we love her anyway. and her imaginary friend. depending on the day we like the imaginary friend more actually

[firstelevens]

sambucky + “clue”, perhaps?

further adventures in the mr. and mr. smith au. i know i said there wasn't more. i lied. content warning for a mention of canon-typical medical experiments relating to an infant

None of the movies ever talk about the boring part of spywork. For every infiltration mission and black tie gala, Sam has learned, there's days of poring over data, digging through transcripts and ancient records and trying to find the one little clue that makes the whole search worthwhile.

With all five of them digging through files and case notes, it still takes until late afternoon for one of them to find an answer, buried in a twenty-three page report of the results from a six-month checkup. Sam really only clocks it because he was there for Cass's six-month checkup, driving Sarah into town on a rare visit home. There are all the usual details in the report, but there's also a section labeled 'reflexes' that far outstrips any checkup that Sam has ever heard of.

A little decoding by Nat and Bucky reveals that they were testing the extents of Jack's sensory perception, along with his speed and reaction times. There's a section at the bottom of the page that makes Bucky's jaw go tight when he sees it, and no one stops him when he tells them that he's going to go check on Jack. It's only when Bucky puts the report down that Sam sees a section under the reflex tests labeled 'healing factor.' There are no results in the section, just a reminder to test at a later date, but Sam still feels like he's going to be sick.

Bucky still isn't back downstairs by the time Steve and Nat and Yelena leave for the evening. Sam doesn't know Yelena particularly well, but she hangs back for a moment as the others leave and points to a floral arrangement on the coffee table.

"They had this at the florist by your apartment," she says. "Someone ordered and did not pick it up. I thought maybe I should bring a housewarming present, so..."

"It's beautiful," says Sam, and means it. It has peonies and gardenias, white and pink like the ones that grew in his mother's garden his whole childhood.

"I thought you would like it," Yelena says. Then, after a moment, casting her gaze up to where Bucky disappeared an hour ago: "I don't think he should be alone."

"I know," Sam says. "But I don't know how good he is at letting himself not be alone."

"Probably as good as you are," says Yelena, turning for the door. "What is the proper thing to say here? Thank you for not kicking me out even though I'm your husband's partner and he lied to you for so long?"

"That'll do," he says, around the hysterical urge to laugh. "Thanks for helping, Yelena. And for the flowers."

She nods at him before slipping out the door, and in spite of the rain outside, the house is much too quiet in her absence.

Sam should tidy up, probably, or at least figure out what to do for dinner, but instead his feet carry him up the stairs and towards his bedroom, where he hears the quiet sound of Bucky's voice, and below it the whimpering cry of a baby.

"I know, buddy," Bucky is saying, his voice gentle. "I know it's loud and rumbly. It hurts in your teeth, right? Or your tooth, I guess."

There's a quiet little sob, and a flurry of murmured nonsense from Bucky.

"I know," he says again. "It came out of nowhere, huh? I'm sorry. I know it's bad, but you're safe here, okay? You're safe with us, I promise."

Sam's whole entire heart is lodged in his throat as he peers around the doorframe to see...an empty room? He looks over his shoulder confusedly, like maybe Bucky and Jack will materialize in the darkened room across the hall, but then he hears another hiccuping sob from his own bedroom.

He steps in, looking left and right before he realizes the door to the walk-in closet is ajar, the light turned on. He rounds the door and finds Bucky, sitting on the floor in a nest of blankets with Jack settled against his chest.

"The thunder woke him up," Bucky says, something defensive in his posture as soon as Sam appears. "It was worse by the windows, so I thought..."

"No, it was a good call," says Sam. "Is it easier for h- for both of you in here? Quieter?"

"A little, yeah," says Bucky. "I have practice filtering things out, but it'll still be new for him. Too much stimuli is bad for anyone."

Sam glances up at the bright fluorescent light in the closet. "I'll be right back," he says, and ducks out again.

He finds what he's looking for in the nursery and plugs it in just out of Bucky's line of sight, reaching up to flick off the light switch as he does and filling the space with soft, orange-y light from the small nightlight that Sam had put in the other room.

Jack makes a quiet noise that could be anything, but Bucky's quiet sigh of relief is audible. "Thank you," he says, his voice soft.

"Wait, is this why you hate the recessed lighting in the apartment so much?" asks Sam, before he realizes what he's saying. "I mean--"

"Kind of, yeah," says Bucky. "The lamps are better."

They're both quiet for a moment, thinking of the home that they share and the stupid, precious debates that have colored the last four years of their lives. From his spot on Bucky's chest, Jack makes a soft noise.

"I'm looking for new apartments," Bucky tells Sam, when he finally speaks again. "You can leave my name on the lease as long as you need, but I just figured I should- I figured it made sense, is all."

"You don't have to leave," Sam says, instead of please don't go. "That's not- I wasn't even thinking about that. You don't have to."

"Yeah," says Bucky, sounding tired all of a sudden. "I do."

Sam wants to protest, wants to tell Bucky that he has to stay, actually, because how will they find their way out of this if Bucky just up and leaves? But then he thinks about the file, about how part of HYDRA's attempts to break Bucky involved lying to him every day, about every detail they could think of, just to leave him unmoored. He thinks about the four years where he was so desperate to keep Bucky safe from what he did at work that he lied to his husband day in and day out.

"If that's what you want," he says. "Who am I to stop you?"

Bucky doesn't acknowledge his words with more than a nod. "The storm's getting closer," he says instead. "We'll probably have to close that door, so if you want to step out..."

But something stubborn kicks up in Sam's chest, quiet and determined. He turns to the door, but closes it instead of stepping through, then crosses over to the stretch of wall where Bucky sits with Jack and squeezes in beside him. It's not the most comfortable position. He has to brace his arm on his knee, because he's wedged between Bucky's solid frame and a wall, and Bucky has always run hot, so Sam is immediately over-warm in the pullover that had seemed so sensible an hour ago.

There's an exasperated sigh from Bucky, but Sam refuses to acknowledge it, turning his attention instead to Jack, who's turned his head to face Sam, his brown eyes wide and attentive.

Sam holds out a finger, sweeps it gently over Jack's chubby cheek.

"You're okay, baby," he murmurs, as Jack reaches out and grips his sleeve in a tiny fist. He hears a soft exhale, watches Jack move with the rise and fall of Bucky's chest. "You're safe here, I promise."

Beside him, Bucky lets out another shuddering breath. Sam keeps his eyes on Jack.

"I'm sorry no one was there before," he says, bowing his head to kiss Jack's hand. "But you're not alone anymore, and now you're safe."

Jack coos again, blinking sleepily at Sam. If there's a spot or two where a tear has fallen, just above where Jack's head rests on Bucky's shirt, Sam pretends he doesn't see it.

[loki-cees-all]

Dramatized re-enactment of actual events.

[mizuski-pirat]

This is a cry for help

[clairegregoryau]

AO3 Fic Meme

I was tagged by @denizbevan!

What ratings do you write most of your fics under?

Explicit (50) Mature (17) General Audiences (3) Teen And Up Audiences (2)

What can I say? I've always been intrigued about the ways people relate to each other through sex, so it's most often a part of the stories I tell. What are your top three fandoms?

Our Flag Means Death - 71 Jurassic Park/ Jurassic World pirate crossover - 1 Deadloch - 1

What is the top character you write about?

Edward Teach (67) pips Stede Bonnet (65) for the most-written-about.

What are your top three pairings?

Edward Teach/ Stede Bonnet- 65 Oluwande Boodhari/ Jim Jimenez- 5 Lucius Spriggs/ Black Pete/ Fang - 3

What are your top three additional tags? I'm gonna do my top ten actually 😂 I am nothing if not consistent.

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting (37) Anal Sex (29) Blow Jobs (22) Happy Ending (17) Hand Jobs (10) Complete (9) Post-Canon (9) Mutual Pining (9) First Time (8) Voyeurism (8)

Does any of this surprise you?

Nope! I'm a strongly Ed/Stede, mostly explicit writer, though I also have a lot of stories that focus more on the mystery or historical plot, which accounts for a lot of the M ratings. The one thing I'm kinda impressed with is that voyeurism made it into the top ten tags- it's a trope I enjoy but I've now clearly used it a lot (we're gonna blame the Olympic diving boys and the Tree Change boys and the Lucky One Hundred camboys for being hopeless exhibitionists, and maybe a little bit the chaos spies and the current future sex club boys, because all of them angle that way).

Tagging in @ghostalservice, @petrichorca, @veeagainsttheday, @fakestgeekboy, @adhduck, @xoxoemynn, @bizarrelittlemew, and anyone else who'd like to answer!

[ussjellyfish]

fic author q & a

Thank you, @fiadorable for tagging me!!

The questions:

Why do you write fanfic?

Which of your posted stories do you think about the most, even though the story is "finished"?

If you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

What's your relationship to fic stats?

Is there a pairing or scenario or friendship you miss writing? If so, why? If not, why not?

Why do you write for the fandom(s) that you write for?

If you're stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

What do you wish people knew about comments?

Maybe there's a question you wish had been on here. What's that questions (and answer)?

Why do you write fanfic?

I enjoy, so much. I love dialogue, I love trying to write something that's feels true to the characters in the moment I'm writing. Some of it is writing things that are simply not feasible/wouldn't film well/aren't things shows would bother making.

The worlds fiction creates are interesting to me and I like expanding them. I'm particularly into little hurts and comforts, and I have a specialty in the long epic that takes place around a pregnancy. I also really love f/f pairings and those are not usually offered in the canons I enjoy. (Maybe there's one...).

I like writing the things I would like to read. I love the community around it, exchanges are fun because you get to make something and someone makes something for you. Existing with people who also find writing fun is a neat and creative way to connect.

It's the freest creative outlet I get in my life, and I really love that.

2. Which of your posted stories do you think about the most, even though the story is "finished"?

Right now, Quantum Variations on a Love Theme, because I love that story, I invested so much of my life into writing it, and it stopped in a good place, so it's done, but it's a world I made that I am fond of. There are fun little friendships in there, and I built their relationship well. I had fun. I don't know if I have anything to add. It feels done, but I love it.

Two ficlets I really liked and feel like they could have more to them in a "proof of concept" kind of way are "legends of the space lanes" which is where Laira has amnesia and thinks she's space pilot much younger Laira (which was fun) because I really think space pilot Laira could go somewhere. So I think about that one because I write to write a more complicated fic vaguely in that direction.

I also think about Federation Labor Code Section 51A-11, subparagraph 2, because it's adorable, and I have such a soft spot for Laira doing her job, and feeling terrible while she does it, and only Michael knowing. This idea makes my heart mush in my chest. There are so many more labor codes to make up and fun ways to break them and it's cute, they're cute together.

3. If you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

Worry less about what other people think about it. Comments are fun, they're wonderful, but the writing itself is a journey. You get better the more you write, and the process is what you enjoy. Write things that make you happy, enjoy writing them, don't be ashamed for liking what you like. I do the same thing over and over, but I enjoy it. Other people do this too, and enjoy themselves, I would feel better if I let myself write without shame.

4. What's your relationship to fic stats?

They're fun! I like that ao3 has been tracking things for me for 15 years. There's little fun things in there. In a good year, I write around 200,000 words. I'm almost to 3 million words on ao3. I'm almost to 1 million hits. These are fun things. I like knowing they are out there. It's little ways to motivate myself.

5. Is there a pairing or scenario or friendship you miss writing? If so, why? If not, why not?

I can't think of one at the moment. I miss the people who talked to me while I wrote some of my previously pairings. I seem to swap friend groups as I swap fandoms/pairings and I miss people when I don't talk to them any more. Lately they get too busy, move on before I finish something, and then I finish it on my own, and it's rather lonely. The last two long fics I've been really into (Michael Burnham/Laira Rillak) and ( gen Philippa Georgiou) have gotten me through since 2020. I definitely have a candle for all the pairings I've been really into. (Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard - Stargate Atlantis, Beverly Crusher/Jean-Luc Picard - Star Trek: TNG, Kathryn Janeway/Chakotay - Star Trek Voyager, Beverly Crusher/Kathryn Janeway - TNG/VOY, Melinda May/Phil Coulson - Agents of SHIELD, Maleficent/Regina Mills - Once Upon a Time, Regina Mills/Emma Swan - Once Upon a Time.)

I feel contentedly done with most of them though.

Beverly/Kathryn is probably the one I'm most likely to go back to. Elizabeth and John get a little nod every October. Mostly my heart moves on, and I write my specialty for a new pairing, and I see how long I hang out there.

It seems like I will write Una/La'an babyfic at some point. They're adorable. It'll be fun.

5. What motivates you to write?

It may honestly be that femslash babyfic doesn't write itself. It's an unpopular corner of an unpopular corner and usually my favorite pairing is tiny. Some of them haven't been, and it's really fun to be part of a big ship. It's also fun to be part of a tiny little ship when people sail near you in their ship and wave. That's kind of where I am at the moment, and it's nice.

I don't remember a time where I didn't write fanfic. I wrote Addams Family fanfic when I was nine. I have ancient self insert TNG fic from when I was thirteen. I love support and friendship and feelings and vulnerability and little things that aren't important enough to be a whole episode that are important enough to me. I love building relationships and figuring out how to make something sound like it's from the show, and keep it vaguely close enough to the characters that it makes sense.

It's fun. I get a creative outlet and a challenge and friends and something I like reading at the end

6. Why do you write for the fandom(s) that you write for?

I like women with power and underlying vulnerabilities, often when they're terrible at dealing with their own feelings. I lead towards scifi or fantasy, lots of Star Trek. (probably two thirds of my works are Star Trek of some kind). I like being able to make things up, I love casts with lots of women.

I love the freedom of science fiction and fantasy. I love weird stuff. I'm not that intrigued by things too close to reality.

Usually I find a character I like and fixate on her and then decide whom I ship her with. (Often it's the person who would fuss over her if she had a headache). Sometimes they have scenes together, sometimes they don't. I've shipped several f/m pairings in the past, lately it's all femslash.

I care more about the mutual looking after each other when it's a f/f [pairing, I am kind of biased towards the female character in most of my f/m fics. She's Barbie, he's just Ken. Barbie/Barbie is much more fun for me.

I love it when the characters have people who love them around them, and I like building the friendships that go with the relationship. I like to make this place where they look after each other, or expand it. It brings me joy.

7. If you're stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

Start another one! (i wish I was joking). Take a walk, paint, play video games, go do a chore. I rarely have enough time and energy free to be stuck. It's either going well or I'm too tired to write. Usually now my problems are not, I have time to write and I don't know what to write. It's I don't have time or energy to write. I have to work, I have chores and I…

I am filling this out instead of writing but this is fun and I've been meaning to do it for ages.

I talk about my WIP with anyone who will listen or write another fic, if I am stuck but have time to write. Rarely does this occur. Usually I have no time / energy, which is different than stuck.

8. What do you wish people knew about comments?

They're a fabulous way to make friends, if you want. I would love to hear the little things you didn't put into a fic when I comment on yours. If you're reading something for the 10th time, I'd love to know. I mean to reply to them, I try, and sometimes I forget or they get buried. I treasure them. Thank you for taking the time. It means worlds to me.

9. Maybe there's a question you wish had been on here. What's that questions (and answer)?

@fiadorable chose How are you feeling about writing today? and that's a good question. So I'll go with that.

I feel good about writing today. I'm finishing up my Discovery Big Bang, and that's going well, it's been fleshed out where it needed to be and I know what happens in the end I just need to drag all the threads together.

It's been a few weeks since I had the time and energy to write anything and it's nice to be on the upswing where things feel hopeful and fun.

It's genuinely been fun to add on little things and pull the big bang fic together. I'm excited about it.

Tagging @onmytallesttiptoesspinning @astrotrek86 @pilcrowtudinous @mylittleredgirl @moomkin77 @concentfortea @an-inky-fingered-lass @lenfaz @havocthecat @bessemerprocess @elephant-in-the-pride-parade @divinemissem13 @lorcaswhisky

if you feel inclined.

[eeblouissant]

that one meme going around where one person’s singing & the other is in the corner losing their shit but it’s Dorothy & Blanche (respectively)

“You light up the room, you do..” INSTANT SHOT TO THE HEART. OH THAT IS YOUR WIFE OH OH OH OUCH STOP EVERYTHING

[nevaroonie]

can I just say that I did not expect a piece of fanfiction I wrote based off of a meme in the redacted fandom to blow up on Tumblr and Ao3 like it did. I'm glad everyone liked it as much as they did- but it's surprising to me- so please continue to enjoy the fanfic! while I work on the highly requested part 2

[elvisqueso]

oh We Had It Good in Ba Sing Se !!!????? !?

sdkghjkadjg wELL this is actually inspired by another fic I read on Ao3 called It Must Follow, As Night the Day by catie_writes_things. The basic premise is that Zuko and Katara have been living as a family in Ba Sing Se for years, having been brainwashed by the Dai Li to believe they are just two refugees named Li and Kara.

That fic hasn't been updated in a few years, but its premise has been sitting in my brain so hard that I have a bunch of highly self-indulgent "sketches" for myself just floating in my computer. I'm not really active in the ATLA fandom (I mostly just lurk) so I have a small hoard of various personal WIPs/ficlets this way.

Below the cut's a snip of We Had It Good in Ba Sing Se:

Neither of them remember much of their lives before Ba Sing Se. Few refugees do, in fact. And if you went to the government doctors they would assure you that the loss of such traumatic memories as whatever came before Ba Sing Se was normal. Expected. "Your mind is protecting itself from the horrors that came before," they'd say. Most everyone accepted this explanation. Li, however, felt the aching gap in his memory like a death knell, like something in his past was warning him, trying to prepare him for something he couldn't imagine. Kara's memories, too, were fractured down to impressions of a lost family and great expanses of snow and ice.

But their instincts couldn't be forgotten, and Li often reminded Kara that they should trust these hunches and primal alarms because they must have developed for a REASON. It was instinct that brought them together, and it was instinct that told them the bender registry was a dangerous, dangerous system.

To use any bending other than earth within the walls, one must have the proper paperwork. And then, to move between the walls, one must have their resident papers as well. And then, to maintain a residence or a job or their right to ration tickets they must have their bending and residence and ration-status papers and all manner of papers that say 'yes, I am allowed by the grace of the Dai Li to do anything at all.'

And sometimes, the papers aren't enough, if the enforcer or higher-caste member decides they don't like you.

Li finds a lot of these people don't like him.

He knows, from seeing his neighbors and hearing from gossip in the markets, that the Dai Li will arrest you for anything. Perhaps even only as a reminder that they can. Oh, you may return home after a day or a week. You may not return for months, having been left in one of their underground prisons until you've wept and plead innocent to their satisfaction. But there seemed to be little rhyme or reason: sometimes they would round up people in droves by occupation or even seemingly by the color of the hair or eyes. Firebenders (of which there were a few) were often snatched up. Whispers which could be taken as discontent with the regime were also grounds for detention. The people walked the streets carefully and with fear, but oh they had nothing to fear from the OUTSIDE.

And it's as he's leaving the registry office, having been made to register his 5 year old daughter as a firebender for her protection and, ultimately, her oppression, he begins to think about how he will get his family out of Ba Sing Se.

[tsukimefuku]

I’d like to poll something about love “triangles” (more like a V) in fiction. No hidden agenda whatsoever promise

What do you think about the way authors solve them?