#none of these were from a fanficiton

[buck-up-buck]

Canon Events that have happened over the three episodes that have me going INSANE (like, these actually happened and are not Fanon.)

Buck asked Tommy for a tour of Harbour, not because he wanted to consider learning to fly, or leave the 118, but soley because he wanted to hang out with Tommy.

Buck used Christopher for information on Tommy.

Buck pretended to suddenly be into Basketball so that he could go to the game, just because he knew Eddie and Tommy would be there.

MADDIE MOCKED BUCK ABOUT OPENLY HAVING A CRUSH ON EDDIE.

Buck body slammed Eddie while playing Basketball (honestly, I still cannot get over the fact that he YEETED THIS BOII).

Tommy got Buck's address from Eddie and chose to come around to apologise to Buck even though, TECHNICALLY, Buck was the one acting like a spoilt brat all episode.

BUCK WAS KISSED BY A MAN. SPECIFICALLY, BUCK WAS KISSED BY TOMMY. And then proceeded to be swept off his feet by this man and was left starstruck in his apartment, after Tommy openly communicated that he had to go to work and wasn't just kissing and bailing.

"I'm an Ally."... Need I say no more.

Buck acted like a totally fucking idiot on his first date with Tommy, and proceeded to have Tommy cut the date short because of how unready he seemed. WHICH BY THE WAY, TOMMY AGAIN COMMUNICATED SO BEAUTIFULLY WITH BUCK AND PROCEEDED TO STILL CALL THIS MAN ADORABLE. HE CALLED HIM ADORABLE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

Buck accidently outed himself to Maddie because he was doing a ramble ramble about his lil buck'ed up date.

Buck told Eddie he was on a date with Tommy, and Eddie proceeded to be the bestie of besties to Buck and told him, they all loved him anyways. HE USED THE WORDS. Bucks face in that scene will forever make my lil gay heart WEEP.

Buck told Eddie he couldn't stop thinking about the hot pilot that kissed him. CRYING.

Buck proceeded to grow the fuck up and apologised to Tommy, face to face, out in a public space, knowing full well that Tommy could have dropped his ass there and then, but still wanted to show him how sorry he was, and that he was, in fact, ready.

BUCK INVITED TOMMY TO BE HIS DATE TO THE MADNEY WEDDING DESPITE ONLY technically GOING ON TWO DATES. AND THEN TOMMY. SAID. YES. HE SAID YES. YES.

Buck also then invited Tommy to Chim's bachelor party, HELD HIS ARMS OPEN ACROSS THE ROOM READY FOR A HUG, told Tommy off for his outfit, showing off true Clipboard Buck form, AND THEN TOUCHED HIS PECK.

Eddie, the bestie of besties, got all sappya and jokey when he saw Tommy and Buck together.

Buck got all pouty when Tommy had to go to work, BUT TOLD HIM TO BE SAFE. HE SAID BE SAFE DAMNIT.

Buck got all goofy and smiley when he saw that Tommy had arrived at the hospital, MEANING, that he was most likely texting Tommy all day updating him on everything that was going on, even if Tommy couldn't respond while attending to the fire.

BUCK. CALLED. TOMMY. A. BEAST. HE SAID THIS CANONICALLY. ARE YOU JOKING. HE FULLY ATTACKED MY MAN, WHILE HE WAS COVERED IN SOOT AND SHIT, SNOGGED HIS FACE OFF IN A HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM, AND CALLED HIM A BEAST. I AM DECEASED.

Buck, the idiot that he is, proceeded to out himself, to his entire family, by coming back into the room, most likely 15 to 20 minutes after leaving, covered in soot because he had been uncontrollably making out with his hot pilot boyfriend.

Eddie, the bestie of besties, GOT SO FUCKING SMUG WHEN HE SAW BUCK AND TOMMY WALK BACK IN THAT ROOM. HE PULLED THE SAME FACE I PULL WHEN MY FRIENDS HAVE COME BACK FROM MAKING OUT WITH PEOPLE AND I AM HERE FOR IT. EDDIE YOU BESTIE SLAY SLAY SLAY.

Hen, the queen that she is, has most likely spoken to Karen about her suspicons of Buck's sexuality, and procceed to say ABOUT DAMN TIME. SHE KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME. HER GAYDAR IS ON FIRE. I LOVE HER.

Again, all of these events happened IN ACTUAL EPISODES, not in a fanfiction. I am FERAL over this. Bi!Buck is the best thing to ever happen to me.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk and if you don't ship BuckTommy, leave.

[kevindavidday]

AFTG Ask Game: 2, 6, and 17 please?

2. Favourite Fanficiton(s)?

the bachelor of baltimore by likearecord

other works i love by this author: quicksand, in a manner of speaking, in my defense i have none, you might get it, echo

this is the way the world ends by maisy_daisy (by god reading this was the most wonderful experience)

IN FLANDERS FIELDS BY DHILLAREAREN (i cannot stress this enough absolutely beautiful from start to end)

have to say lessons in cartography and the cartographer and the world because i am always rereading them

6. already answered <3

17. Canon divergence time! What would your fresh take on an aftg character be (i.e Raven Neil, Vixen Allison?)

the full perfect court, specifically raven andrew.

in the artist au i'm writing (lol) the only reason andrew left aaron & nicky so he could become a raven was because aaron asked him to. aaron knew the ravens were the best and he didn't want andrew to stick around at palmetto when his potential could reach the stars. little did they know :(

always wonder about how it would be if it was actually a perfect court and how long it would remain that way. jean and neil together. would riko be afraid of the butcher's son? i think raven neil would have potential to inspire fear in the strongest souls

[kassymalone]

Your plots and characters are so engaging, how do you do it? Where there any books or book series that may have helped shape your style of writing, or did you just keep writing fanfics until your writing kept improving and you developed your own style?

Hello, quiet one! Thanks for the compliment, and the question!

I wouldn't say there's one particular book or series that inspired me. Last time I moved house, over 20 of the boxes were just my books! Not even kidding... I've got horror, I've got romance, I've got sci-fi, dragons, LGBT+, bildungsroman, thrillers, manga, high fantasy, reference books... it's a lot. Variety is the spice of life!

I think understanding why you do or don't like what you're reading is very important to engagement. The last book I remember absolutely hating was something I thought I would enjoy (haunted castle in Japan? Yes please!), but the writing was so verbose and the characters so flat, their actions made no sense in reality and there was a subplot about suicidal depression that seemed to disappear after the first chapter...? It was frustrating to finish, and I've always thought that a bad example can be an excellent teacher.

I was always called a daydreamer as a kid, not paying attention and 'away with the fairies' (which was completely true), but I was always thinking of stories. Even to this day, on the bus to and from work I'm thinking of the next chapters, playing it out twelve different ways before picking the one I like the most to actually write down. The second I don't need to be paying attention to the real world, I'm off with my characters seeing what would happen if things went this way this time...

God, this sounds pretentious. Sorry.

As for characters... what makes a character engaging is very difficult and highly subjective. My personal rule is 'it has to make sense'. For example, using Sun and Moon in the fic I'm currently writing, if I randomly put in that they enjoyed making bread, that would make no sense. They're robots, they can't eat, they hate mess, they don't like any humans enough to make the effort anyway, Sun doesn't have the patience for baking and Moon would just point out that there's sliced bread in the kitchen l already. Could there be another story where them baking bread does make sense? Sure, but the way I've written this one!

And finally, you've kind of hit the nail on the head - I have A LOT of experience in this. The first story I finished writing was 80 pages long, and I was very proud of it, but I was 11 so it was probably pretty bad XD I seem to recall there was a dragon involved? I've been writing ever since, both fanficiton and original stuff. I put it aside for a few years in my early twenties during those horrible years I was trying to be 'normal' (because none of the adults I knew at the time had any hobbies, so I thought it was something I had to grow out of, but that's another story...), and the second I picked it up again my mental health improved so much, I can't even tell you.

While my life-long dream of actually being published may never come true (turns out it's really fucking hard, who knew?), just being able to write makes me incredibly happy. I think wanting to do something really shines through in the end result, and if you're really engaged with what you're writing then the reader will be able to tell.

Plus, y'know... practice, practice, practice.

[fanficspringboard]

Magical Me

Status: Incomplete

Wordcount: 90k

Rating: Mature, I would rate it Teen

The author, an American graduate suddenly wakes up in the body of Gilderoy Lockhart retaining both sets of his memories. Conveniently, the self insert is a huge Harry Potter fan with encyclopedic knowledge of the canon and devilishly intelligent to boot. Gilderoy over the course of summer before his teaching assignment at Hogwarts starts to unravel the mysteries of wizarding world, preempts threats and does what none of the adult wizards were ]capable of doing.

With such plot armor there aren't many challenges left - exonerating Sirius check, drawing attention to Harry's abusive home situation check, dealing with Horcruxes check, gaining favor with the goblins check - the list goes on and on and on. As if the knowledge of future events was not enough, the author piles other plot conveniences and puts powerful magical artifacts on Gilderoy's path, It all makes for a boring read, where challenges are there to be slayed by Lockhart without breaking the sweat. I wish Lockhart was portrayed with at least one significant weakness or limitation like his canon memories fading or very low power level otherwise the level of self-indulgence becomes intolerable very fast.

The only saving grace of this fanficiton is exquisite worldbuilding expanding on the canon. I was positively surprised to see some completely novel elements and explanations like the structure of Ministry or the origins of Mungo's longterm care ward.

Give it a try if you are not put off by Gary Stu protagonist and enjoy intricate worldbuilding. The writing quality is solid, it's a pity the author did not create a better balanced MC

6.5/10

Link to FFN: click

Image from Unsplash by Ricardo Frantz

[iamnmbr3]

I'm just ??? at what they're trying to do with Sylvie because she has all the hallmarks of enchantress but she's a Loki? Why??? Is she supposed to be Lady Loki?? If she is then she doesn't even look right. Why can't enchantress and lady loki be separate characters??

I think they want to have their cake and eat it too. They want her to be replacement Loki but also want her to be a different person so they can shove the Loki/Sylvie romance down our throats. (Except then their justification for the romance is “Self love” even tho they are very different and Loki over the course of the show doesn’t come to love himself but rather to hate himself more and agree with other’s poor assessments of him. And the show runners claim that they understand each other bc they are the same person and that’s why they fell in love in 5 minutes...but they have nothing in common and none of the same life experience so it doesn’t work). I also think originally she was the assassin Lady in Mike Waldron’s time travel rom com. So again. He just did search and replace. 

Unlike with Larry (as I call the TV character Tom plays bc he has nothing in common with Loki) Mike actually wants audiences to like her character. Unfortunately he lacks the skill to make her actually good and interesting. So she just comes across as unbearably annoying. She’s written exactly the way a very irritating OC is written in a beginning piece of fan fiction. There’s a reason OCs got infamous for being annoying. Many fanfic writers wrote horrible cringey OCs like that when they were just children starting out with their first fics. But then they grew up and grew out of it. 

Mike seemingly never progressed beyond that point. This show really does have the hallmarks of stereotypical extremely bad fanficiton. I actually haven’t even come across much fic this bad. I’ve come cross plenty of bad fics that I exited out of in a hurry, but this is far worse than pretty much everything I’ve actually started reading and then realized wasn’t good. Mike definitely is intentionally making a mockery of Loki, but we can see from how he handles the characters he wants us to like that he also genuinely lacks talent. I don’t know why he was hired. (Or why Kate who has no experience and doesn’t seem to have much talent either was also brought it. A really good director could’ve had the vision to fix this mess and deviate from the script and also make a visually interesting show. She just worsened the issues).

[professorsnape394]

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Prologue

A/N: This is the first part to my fanficiton ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-16 can be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write!

Pairing: Seveurs Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape. 

Word Count: 550

Warnings: Light mentions of violence, blood and torture. 

Credits to Gif Creator

A flash of green light and a sickeningly agonising screech filled the room as witch, an auror, and a mother drew her final breath. Her body crumbled in on herself, dropping with a thud right next to her daughter's immobilised body. The young woman's eyes were fixed on her mothers lifeless body, unable to look away. The masked men crowded around the two, a feeling of victory developing among them. A sigh of relief left each of their bodies individually, before one by one disappearing into a cloud of black smoke.

The girls heart felt as though it had been ripped from her body, she wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to go after the monsters who had killed her mother. Yet, all she could manage was a single tear escaping from one eye, as she felt a rush of rage build in her body. She was in extreme physical pain from the beatings and the torture, however none of that mattered now and it paled in comparison to the pain she felt in her chest and the huge ball she felt in the back of her throat, blocking her breathing, stopping any sound from escaping her lips.

She had no idea why they had left her alive; did they just completely forget about me? or were they satisfied enough by my mother's death? She'd never know, She'd thought, but in this moment She didn't even care. She was not thankful they had spared her life, She had nothing now. I wished they killed me. I wished they killed me and not my mother.

Another tear escaped her eyes as she thought of her mother. Her warm blood circling around her body, draining from her mother just as her life had moments before. Finally the girl closed her eyes, sobbing inwardly and uncontrollably.

She could have lay there for hours like that, she probably had. She didn't even bother to check if she was able to move again, if their spell had worn off her. She guessed that maybe if she didn't move then she wouldn't have to face the reality that all of this was real. Or maybe she had hoped that if she lay there long enough eventually the life would disappear from her too and she would once again be reunited with her mother. However this did not happen and she was forced to face reality when she felt her body being ripped from the ground, her mother's blood dripping from her, as she was forced to stand up right. Her eyes were unfocused and hazed, her head was not thinking straight, and her body was simply going through the motions without actually showing any signs of life. She had dissociated; mind and body.

*

It wasn't until the next day that she fully returned to her body and she became aware of her surroundings. An ancient, greying wizard stood at her bedside, softly stroking her head as she awoke. The light from outside reflected off his half moon spectacles, momentarily blinding the girl. Regaining her vision and sense she recognised the figure watching over her.

"Dumbledore." She gasped, once again breaking down in tears, thrusting herself at the old man, embracing him tightly. "Grandfather." She corrected herself, sobbing into his soft purple robes.

[sagemoderocklee]

Writer ask meme - everything divisible by 3

Sorry this took so long to reply to! I was writing out my responses today, but while watching Rosewell New Mexico with my roommate and that show is SO good. anyways this is really, really long so I will put part of it under a read more however if you are reading TAoL and want a sneak peak at an upcoming chapter, my answer to 36 is the entire first scene for that chapter

3. What is your favorite/least favorite part about writing? Other than the obvious writer's block, I think that my least favorite part is feeling insecure/wanting validation via comments and such. Writing is something I really enjoy doing and take great pride in trying to grow as a writer, but it's impossible to completely shake off that feeling of insecurity and sadness over something that doesn't get comments. There's this common thing in fandom where like you can pour a lot of heart and energy into something, be really skilled, only for it to get overlooked. There's obviously a lot of reasons for that, but some of those reasons are kind of annoying—like god forbid something not have sex in it, ya know?

6. Favorite character you’ve written?

So, that's hard.... If we're talking the canon Naruto characters, it can really vary from story to story. I obviously enjoy writing Gaara and Lee, but I was surprised to find that I really enjoy writing Shikamaru, Kankurou, Temari, Neji, and Tenten as well. I think all of them are really interested, have a lot of potential, and are fun in very different ways. Kankurou is definitely just flat out fun to write, and I think Tenten is very similar in the way she's fun to write. I think this like handful of characters are all faves for very different reasons so it's hard to say who my absolute fave is, but I really enjoy writing all of them. Definitely my fave thing is being able to write all of them interacting together, however.

9. Favorite/least favorite tropes?

Least: Soulmates. I hate that shit with a passion—it's boring, it's artificial, it's easy. There was a post I just saw recently that said “soulmates are stupid. I love you on purpose” and that just sums up so much of my issue with soulmates. If something is predetermined by some fucking cosmic power, do you really ever love that person? Do you really ever know that person? Soulmate AUs will always be something that bore me and also insight anger. It's just not for me, and I wish that fandom spaces would just get over it, in all honesty. Fave: uh. I don’t really know about like trope-wise. I just really like anything with good world building and politics.

12. Which story of yours do you like best? Why? Oh gosh.... um. That's really hard to answer because every story I write has a special place in my heart for different reasons. Alliance is my baby; TAoL is a huge emotional investment and has allowed me to grow even more as a writer; Absolution is something I've always wanted to explore; Flyweight Love is super fun and cute; IEYH is a new experiment in writing for me; GoD was also an experiment... and on and on. It's hard to pick like a favorite story because like they're all my faves in different ways. There are certainly things I like more or prefer, like I'm not that into modern Aus as much so it's easier for me to say that like Find Me isn't a one of my best—it isn't, there's a lot of things I want to fix on it, and while it is a decent fic, it's not like groundbreaking imo. But like for all of the things that need fixing with Alliance, that fic is my baby and really grounded me as a writer in a way no other writing project had before it. So like I could never not love it. Anyways, I'm babbling at this point, but basically I love all my fics so I can't choose.

15. How do you deal with self-doubt when writing? Rereading my writing tends to help and hoarding some of my favorite comments I've been left by readers. I know I'm a good writer, self-doubt and insecurities aside, so re-reading stuff is really a good confidence booster—but when that's not enough, it is really helpful to look back at old comments.

18. Tell us about that one book you’ll never let anyone read

Of mine??? Well, obviously by 'book' we're going with fanfiction because none of my original content is at a point where I'd really even consider it for this question. Um. Honestly, I don't think there's much if anything. Maybe some HP fics but not because I'm not like... proud of the writing or premise. Like I'd say my ideas are really good, it's just a matter of like my own time management and shit.

21. What aspect of your writing are you most proud of?

My world building. I'm also generally proud of the premises I come up with, and the themes I explore with my writing. Like I think I'm a good writer in terms of the like technical writing aspect—pros and such—and also characters, but I think I excel at world building and overall plot.

24. Do you remember the moment you decided to become a writer/author? The first time I ever wrote anything I was seven years old. I was at a party for my mom's boss? I think it was a birthday party? Anyway, I was the only kid there—which was fine because I was used to being the only kid in gatherings—but I was sitting alone by like a window and I just like started writing a poem about the night. That was like the first time that writing really became a part of me. When I was thirteen, when my mom got sick, I started writing poetry more. And when I was fourteen, I started writing fanficiton and that's kinda just... never stopped. I've been writing stories ever since.

27. Every writer’s least favorite question - where does your inspiration come from? Do you do certain things to make yourself more inspired? Is it easy for you to come up with story ideas?

My inspiration comes from everywhere, not to like be cliched. But inspiration really is in everything and everyone. I tend to find inspiration really easily in music, but it's also in just like the day-to-day; it's in other writers; it's in washing dishes; it's in a day trip to the ocean; it's in a quote or a touch or a word. Like genuinely, it's in big things and little things and things that shouldn't even be things. I don't feel like I really struggle with inspiration so much as motivation, really. And that is... a much harder thing to find sometimes (especially when you're mentally ill)

30. Do you like to read books similar to your project while you’re drafting or do you stick to non-fiction/un-similar works?

Um. I like to read fantasy mostly, but I don't look for something similar or different from my projects intentionally. I just.... look for things that I like? But I don't really know how to explain that lol

33. What’s your revision/rewriting process like? Since I'm writing mostly fanfiction and the culture of having a beta reader has dwindled significantly, making it hard to find one, I do a lot of self-editing. I'm usually re-reading a lot as I'm writing. So until a chapter is done, I'm always going back and reading/editing before moving on to the next scene. And then once I'm done writing a chapter I'll usually edit it about two or three times in full in the document, then I put it in draft on Ao3 for another edit before posting.

36. Post a snippet All right a snippet..... Let's go with something from: The Art of Love, Chapter 13 (not the next chapter, but the one after). Since I left everyone hanging for so long with that last scene of Gaara and Lee, this is the entire first scene to ch13: It was all his fault. If he hadn't let himself get so carried away in the dream of Gyokukakushin, in the dream of Gaara, in the dream of safety they didn't have this wouldn't be happening. Their belongings had been stuffed haphazardly into their various bags. Despite how many times he'd checked and double checked, Lee felt sure that he'd overlooked something—some wayward item that had rolled beneath the bed or fallen behind the desk that would give them away. Gaara had watched him silently, his thoughts kept to himself as Lee dashed about their room like a mad man.

“I think that is everything,” Lee managed over the mantra of 'My fault, my fault' cycling through his mind. His voice trembled as he spoke. Every inch of him trembled. Every breath he took rattled in his chest. Every beat of his heart was a stutter against his rib cage. Every ounce of blood pumping through his veins burned with the need to run.

“This is useless,” Gaara said, the first words he'd spoken since the beach.

Lee snapped his head up, meeting Gaara's enigmatic gaze. “But—”

“They don't set sail until the end of the month,” he reminded Lee. “What use is being packed? Besides, it will look suspicious if we leave now.”

Tears burned at the corners of Lee's eyes. “But if they are coming—”

“They're coming,” Gaara murmured. “But even if they arrive before we've departed, we have our disguises. You have to trust that we'll be fine.”

Lee's head spun. How could Gaara be so calm? How could he sit there, quiet and unshakable, when Lee felt as though the world were falling apart around them? How could he be so sure that eleven days from now, they'd set sail, free and undiscovered? How was he not furious with Lee for his complacency?

Gaara was at Lee's side before Lee could shake the spinning in his head, a gentle hand at Lee's elbow and a surety in his eyes.

“I know you won't let anything happen to me,” he told Lee, as soft and insistent as the thumb he'd once pressed against the corner of Lee's mouth.

“No. Never.” Lee's stomach twisted, guilt rising like the tide. He'd let his feelings jeopardize everything.

“Then what do you have to fear?”

A trembling laugh escaped Lee, soft and unsteady. He had everything to fear, yet Gaara's gaze implored him to forget those fears. He managed to speak, his tongue heavy with the lie, “I do not know.”

“Then do not know fear. It will make this harder for us, especially if the Daimyo's soldiers arrive before we've left.”

“If they do—”

“If they do, we will be as unknown to them as any other traveler. And if not, I trust your speed to carry us to safety.”

“We would miss our ship.”

“If it comes to that, so be it. We can find other ways of traveling to Tea Country.”

Lee allowed himself to believe all would be well because he couldn't believe anything else when looking into the depths of Gaara's eyes, but there was no escaping his gnawing guilt or the knowledge that his heart had led them to ruin.

39. Do you spend a lot of time analyzing and studying the work of authors you admire? I wouldn't say a lot of time per say, certainly not as much as I should, but I definitely do like to analyze other works and learn new skills, etc.

42. How many drafts do you usually write before you feel satisfied? I don't really write “drafts” per say. Since I'm just writing fanfiction, I'm usually just writing and then heavily editing. Sometimes editing does mean taking out and entirely rewriting entire scenes. And sometimes in writing fics, I do jump ahead—though very rarely—and write a rough draft of a future scene so I don't lose the idea/beats/etc, and then that will be re-written fully when I do get to it. But on average, I'm just doing a lot of editing.

45. First or third person? Third, definitely. I'll never be able to write first person cause it just doesn't really suit me and, overall, I think that it's a very hard point of view to write from. For me, it takes a special

48. Do you prefer to write skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back? So before I write something, depending on what it is I will write an outline that can vary from a few sentences to like pages.

51. Are you a secretive writer or do you talk with your friends about your books? A bit of both really. I love talking about the things I'm working on, but I also love to keep things a surprise so I can see what people's genuine reactions are to like plot twists or whatever. Of course, my problem is that I have to like—talk about my projects to stay motivated. It's a hard balance. I usually end up talking with my roommate since they also write fanfic for Naruto but not GaaLee. We can bounce ideas off each other, when we're stuck, etc.

54. Favorite first line/opening you’ve written? Ugh this is another hard one...  I think im gonna go with the opening from IEYH right now as one of my fave becuase I think I did a decent job of setting the tone of my very first horror project: Too often, ghost stories begin with dark nights or horrible, gruesome death. Real ghosts don't follow the patterns of a novel; there are no beginnings, middles, and ends; no rising action and falling action; no denouement. Ghosts do not achieve resolution; ghost do not experience the climax of their own tale. There are no happy—or even sad—endings. There are no endings at all.

Ghost stories go on and on and on, rambling endlessly towards nothing and no where, only stopping for the finite amount of words one can speak or write in one's lifetime.

That is the true horror of death: ceaseless, unending nothingness.

[simplyscarlet]

You broke me with your loony theories. So here. Have a fic. I believe none of this nonsense.

“Wano?” repeated Buggy, leaning against the doorframe. “Why the hell do you need to go there?”

“I��m have to see my father,” said Alvida, rolling her eyes. “Who said you could come in my room, dumbass?”

She was sitting in front of her boudoir, her expanse of nail polish, jewelry and twenty or so shades of lipstick spread out before her. 

“Your father?” repeated Buggy, a little bit dumbstruck. It was honestly rarer to find a pirate who actually knew their parents than one who didn’t. Knowing one’s parents was an anomaly.

“Yes,” she said dryly, opening one of her many palettes of expensive makeup. “My mother is apparently there too. No idea why. They haven’t seen each other in decades; lord knows they hate each other.” 

She was vigorously applying blush, her expression fixed in the mirror. “I don’t know why they’ve suddenly decided to get along now. If they’re both there then there’s no way I can get out this one.”

“Just who the hell are your parents?” asked Buggy.

Alvida smirked and stood up, stretching, before ducking behind her dressing screens. Buggy watched as her silhouette shed her heavy coat and hat, reaching for something in her closet he couldn’t see.

“Who are your parents?” Buggy repeated. “We oughtta know why we’re taking you to Wano. That’s Kaido’s territory! We’re already on the run from the Marines, we don’t need an emperor on our tail too!”

Alvida laughed, genuinely. It was an unusual sound for her. “You’ve got nothing to worry about there,” she said. “And besides, nothing would delight me more than seeing my parents' expressions when they watch you drop me off in a goddamn circus boat.” 

“Oi, if your folks are in Wano, how the hell did you end up in the East Blue?” asked Buggy. “I thought they were a gated country.”

“Oh Buggy, you spent your youth traversing the Grand Line and you ended up in the East Blue too,” she said, clucking her tongue. “It’s not that unusual. I made a stop in Paradise and then I came to the East Blue.” Her silhouette was shimmying into something lengthy and draped, tying something off at her waist. 

“Why?” asked Buggy.

“To get away from them!” Alvida snorted. “Why do you think a woman of my strength was piddling around the East Blue doing petty crime? I wanted to get as far away from them as possible. Mother wanted me to come run her islands and babysit some twenty odd children, Daddy wanted me to be a warmonger. I just wanted shiny things. Well, that and -”

She stepped out from behind the screen. She was wearing a striking, violet kimono tied at the waist with a pink obi. The silk was adorned with sparkling, embroidered peacocks. Their talons hooked and feathers unfurled against a spiraling blue dragon, its scales lurching away from their fierce claws. 

She didn’t really look like Alvida anymore, Buggy thought, as she lifted her iron mace with ease. He was used to her in gaudy, bright colors and spangles, his flashy circus queen, (as he secretly called her in his head...he would have never said it to her face).

“And what?” he asked.

Alvida ran a hand lovingly down her iron mace, smirking.  

“Daddy never accepted that he had a daughter and not a son.” 

-----

ARE YOU HAPPY? YOU BROKE ME WITH ALL THIS “Alvida is Kaido’s son.” NO. THAT MAKES NO SENSE. NONE at ALL. NOT EVEN FOR ODA.

I believe none of this theory but it wouldn’t leave me alone because its my wife. It’s a shame theorists don’t actually read fanficiton. (I would be down for trans!Alvida I just don’t actually believe this theory).

I’m not even putting this on my A03. I refuse. It’s NONSENSE. 

[itsclydebitches]

I just heard someone I follow say people who write fanficiton are now getting jobs. Essentially in reference to long time franchises being so different from the original visions. Specifically when talking about Doctor Who (Never seen a episode), but it go me thinking. Fans of the original will eventually grow up and be the ones writing the modern versions of that franchise. Taking their childhood dreams of what they wanted the story to be and making it a reality.

I absolutely think it’s possible. It’s just a matter of getting an author who both understands that spirit and actively chooses to prioritize it---while updating it for a modern audience. Which is no easy thing to do, but by no means impossible either. Two of the best examples that I’ve encountered are Elementary and the recent Good Omens adaptation. Both maintain the core of their canon while nevertheless making it more accessible for a new audience. The latter because Gaiman understands his and Pratchett’s characters completely and is able to adapt them for a modern Armageddon rather than one coming out of the Cold War (though this is helped along by how much of what Good Omens tackled 30 years ago---such as climate change---is still relevant today). Still, Gaimen knew how to take the core of his story and ask, “What would this look like in 2019?” Elementary did the same. It didn’t go, “Sherlock Holmes is about two white cis guys who go on crazy adventures together” because that’s actually not what Sherlock Holmes is about. It’s about two outcasts (of different sorts) coming together to solve morally relevant crimes. Usually that looks like them advocating for and protecting others with less power (women, people of color, children, etc.) and sometimes it means putting the powerful in their place (the King of Bohemia being a perfect example). So what does that look like in 21st century story telling? It looks like an explicitly neurodivergent man and a Chinese-American woman becoming friends and solving cases about, say, companies infringing on their client’s privacy. Or someone who was murdered for speaking out on message boards. Or police brutality, drug addiction, etc. Which for me is why BBC Sherlock failed in the worst way possible. For all its shiny stylization that initially captivated us, it missed all the core aspects of the Holmes franchise: Sherlock’s differences are treated as a gag for the audience to laugh at, John’s disability is magically cured, there’s little to persuade us that they’re actually friends, and the messages behind the cases---as well as the deduction itself---is done away with in favor of dramatic action. 

Which I’d argue is the same basic issue with the newer Star Trek films. The show’s emphasis was always on diversity, acceptance, and exploration. Not only did the films largely fail to update the diversity element for the 21st century (we already had one black woman, one Asian man, and one alien on the bridge crew back in the 60s), but, like BBC Sherlock, the focus on crafting stories that seek to teach the audience something fell by the wayside, replaced with blowing up cities and big space chases. None of which is necessary for a modern audience to enjoy a story. Sure, we like our action, but I think fanfic itself demonstrates that most prioritize good storytelling over a mindless display. How often have we heard variations on, “I could just read about these characters talking to each other for 100,000 words”? That’s what Star Trek originally was. What if we talked to this alien species and got to know them? What if we debated the best course of action on the bridge? What if our captain chatted with a woman from the past and grappled with love over duty? The exploration still involves plenty of action---yay Klingon battles and Pon Farrs!---but it was all built around the gripping, ethical questions that drove the action in the first place. All of which can absolutely be translated for 2020 television or film. You just need creators who understand their source material, have something to say about what that source material means to us today, and are willing to prioritize that over the simple assumption of, “Everyone wants a generic, 20min battle.” All my favorite memories of Star Trek---from Kirk speaking to Edith, to Data’s trial, to Odo being stuck in an elevator with Lwaxana---were all scenes where “nothing” happened. “Nothing” in the sense of traditional action. But they’re the scenes that stayed with me, not the ones where Kirk is just mindlessly punching alien grunts. 

(Except for the Gorn. Gorn is classic lol) 

[jflashandclash]

Tales from Mount Othrys

Birth of the Triple A Chimera III

Warning: Violence and disturbing imagery 

***

         If Pax were going to write a fanficiton of the events, [1] they would go something like this:

           The dastardly Romans prepare their attack. This is a thrown-together, last-minute operation, and their Centurion decides on a multi-faceted approach. One unit shall rush the front door and bust it down while two others break into window entrances, allowing them to flank the (incredibly sexy and stylish) villains inside.

         None expect when a scout taps Centurion Ari’s shoulder. “They’re opening the door.”

         Sure enough, the front door opens with a slow, methodical swing. It hangs ajar, seeming to beckon the Romans. There is no one around who could have pushed it. Smoke curls out, expanding and twisting into the tall grass with the steadiness of a field fire. The music cuts.

         “A witch’s nest,” one reminds them, making the others laugh nervously. Trickery. Mistwork. These are the common tools of a witch. Common pitiful plays at deception.

         But, there’s a foreboding rush that they feel in their bones, one that begins as a slight shudder and culminates into an audible, eerie, choked growl. It echoes out of the doors and pounds louder than the soldier’s heartbeats. “We await you, Romans,” it hisses, “Welcome to the gates of Tartarus.”

         One brave Roman stands, maybe to initiate the door rush, maybe to taunt back. Before words can leave his mouth, something thuds into the chinks in his shoulder armor. Instead of tumbling backwards from the force of the hit, he flings forward, screaming into the increasing smoke, until the open jaws of the door engulf him and he is no more.

         His screams muffle.

Then, silence.

         Their internals vibrate with the hum of a malicious laugh, one too powerful to belong to any mortal or demigod.

         That is how Pax hoped it looked, felt, and sounded. He hoped he wasn’t thinking, Shit. Shit. Shit, loud enough for the Romans to hear that too. Backing up a few minutes would help to explain the scene: before they started, he frantically slit holes into dracaena skin, making two serpentine masks. Though, more like the world’s grossest stocking masks.

         “We’re wearing masks,” Pax said, hoping his voice sounded firmer than it felt.[2]

         “No,” Axel growled. He finished putting trip wires around the most strategic windows and doors, and was now unrolling the band’s power cords.

         “They’re gunning for you, but they want to keep me alive. If we all wear masks, they won’t be able to readily identify us and have shoot-to-kill orders,” Pax said. He’d set to work on this idea after setting up the subwoofers with Alabaster’s enhancement charms. “Plus! If we have more than one of the same mask—” He held up the two bits of lizard body. “—then we can switch out which one we’re wearing to confuse them as to who is who and how many of us there are. Plus, plus, masks are cool and everyone should be stylish.” Even in death.

         Those words made Pax shiver.

         Alabaster tugged the camue blanket over himself. He hefted up the loaded antique harpoon. “I’m with Pax on this. Axel, you play sacrificial scapegoat on your own time. If you do so now, you’ll get all three of us killed.”

         Pax appreciated that Alabaster knew Axel’s weakness: logic. And mythological rights, but mostly logic.

         Axel swore and snatched the Numidian lion mask from a crate. He tied it on with some crate hemp.

         Pax could see how painful it was for Alabaster to hold back the words, That’s an antique, you savage! At least Axel was wearing something other than a sign that read Kill Me First.

         They started.

         After a second sweep to check their enemy’s position, Pax hunkered down by the door, Alabaster took preliminary aim with his harpoon gun, and Axel held the microphone up to his throat.

         Fog crept along the borders of the room, making it hard for Pax to see. Alabaster had dumped half his dry ice into shallow bins of water and cast an enhancement charm.

         Little enhancements, Alabaster kept saying. It was much easier to trick someone into seeing more of something than to trick them into seeing something that wasn’t originally there to begin with. “If we’re to be besieged, I want to keep my magical reservoirs high.”

         Pax pressed a wooden dowel rod against the base of the door. He undid the hinge, crawled to the side of the door, and flattened against the wall. Supposedly, Pax had the steadiest hands for this. However, with Pax’s heartbeat quivering more than the first time he saw Alabaster with his shirt off (locker rooms after Alabaster’s private shower mysteriously broke) he hoped the door wouldn’t look like it was having a seizure as it moved.

         Pax pushed the door open, also hoping no Romans had crept alongside the exterior and were waiting to play tag with a spear. He scrambled to prepare for Part II, detaching a line of power cord from his belt.

There were exposed water pipes on the wall beside him (originally for a garden hose, Pax assumed) and ones on the back wall, by Alabaster and Axel (for witchy things, like drowning test subjects). Axel had thread Alabaster’s makeshift-harpoon-attached-power-cord through the pipe in the back and Pax had thread it through the pipe at the front. Though not as good as a crank, this gave them the world most hackjob pulley.

         Alabaster uttered a word.

         Something popped gently. Pax knew it was a rune on Alabaster’s shirt, releasing a pocket of compressed air in a gentle breeze. The fog expanded and rolled outward. This temporarily cleared Alabaster’s line of sight.

         Alabaster had asked Axel to buy him time to aim, maybe ten seconds of intimidating chatter to distract the Romans--something easy for Pax but difficult for his concise brother. Pax had given Axel encouragement, Talk all funny-like. You know—like Prometheus when he gets drunk. Pax thought this had been far more helpful than Alabaster’s remind that humans were unsettled by frequencies too low to hear.

         Pax couldn’t hear his brother at first, but he felt it—the deep throttle from the subwoofers. With the auditorium enhancements set to full blast, the rumble made the building shake.

         Axel’s growl slipped to an audible octave. At home, Lapis had been disappointed Axel couldn’t roar with the power of a lion. Jaguars, and jaguar warriors, had clipped, throaty roars. With the ambiance, the choked noise was creepiness perfected.

         Pax held his breath. Maybe, just maybe, his brother and Alabaster were far more terrifying than fifteen Roman assassins.

“We await you, Romans. Welcome to the gates of Tartarus.”

Alabaster fired.

As soon as Pax felt the quiver in the power cord, he sprinted. This was an imperfect pulley system, but this was the closest they could come to dragging a Roman into the building smoothly. (If they just tugged at the harpoon’s rope directly, the Roman would come in jerky, awkward hops. Cool in a zombie movie. Not cool when Romans might notice and cut the cord.) Pax got two steps before the cord went taut.

Someone screamed.

Pax tried not to think about the other end of this rope protruding someone’s skin. He tried to think of warmer things, like chasing Lou Ellen’s cat Sphi—oh right. Instead, he did think about the other end in a Roman—the one who shot Sphinx.

Axel raced with the other side of the pulley. As the Pax brothers ran with the pulley cord, Pax towards the back wall, Axel towards the front, a Roman skidded, screaming, into the building.[3]

Once the squeal of armor on concrete and shrieking were in the fog, Axel pounced.

The Roman didn’t stand a chance. By the time Pax was close enough to make out their forms, Axel’s bicep and forearm were pinching the Roman’s neck. His legs hooked the Roman’s arms in a wrestler move. The Roman could only thrash.

“I’m sorry.” Alabaster’s voice was wispy with panic. “I couldn’t get a clear line on Ari—”

They wanted Ari. The operation might fall apart without a leader. This was just a soldier, one none of them recognized as his struggles faded and his eyes rolled up into his head. From the glare of orange over his armor, this must have been one of the teenagers that cut the power and phones. Not the guy who shot Sphinx and talked about mounting Axel’s head on a wall.

“Ajax, look away,” Axel growled.

Pax wouldn’t, tilting his head. They needed to move onto the next phase of the plan—

Alabaster’s hands settled over Pax’s face, covering his eyes and making him flinch. If he didn’t recognize the musky spices, Pax might have thought everything was over.

Something cracked.

Neither Alabaster nor Axel appreciated that the sound of someone’s neck breaking was enough for a trauma recipe. No vision necessary.

When Alabaster removed his hands, Axel was already disposing the body into one of the crates.

Pax decided he would confront that sight and sound later, like in his nightmares. For now, he had to focus.

This was the largest part of the gamble. Some Romans may have broken rank to save their comrade. While this would have split the main attack force, the three of them couldn’t handle a charge. With any luck, the Romans may have scattered in fear, buying more time. Reorganization could take awhile. That’s what they wanted: the Romans to pause. They only needed, at this point, twenty to thirty minutes for Jack and Flynn to show up. Hopefully, that would be enough.

Pax knew his surrogate parents. It would be enough. It had to be.

The waiting was eerie.

“Fourteen left,” Axel hissed, “Move.” He shoved Alabaster and Pax into action.

Alabaster disappeared into the fog. Pax knew what he was supposed to be doing—making more fog and securing the northern windows. Keep it creepy with enough dry ice and Mist to distort vision but not enough that they’d run out of supplies.

Pax’s job was to secure the windows in the other, southern room. This should have been done first, but they wanted to make sure the Romans didn’t charge. It wouldn’t matter if they secured some windows if the Romans busted in part-way through their efforts. In a fun and fancy free world where the Romans were dumb enough to all come through one entrance, Alabaster could kill them with explosives, but the Romans would likely come from multiple angles.

Pax worked quickly. He scattered some of his anti-hex jacks under one window. He crouched along the wall until he found the next one. There, he carefully dispersed some marbles, making sure none rolled out to trip the wrong people. The next two were much less playful: broken glass from the trash can and a few crate boards with nails poking upward.

Before leaving this room and blocking the door to the center, Pax crouched under a window and tilted his mirror out.

A Roman crouched on the other side of the wall, her sword drawn.

Pax withdrew his mirror before she could catch any reflected light from the surface.

He swallowed, his heartbeat pounding in his head. He leaned against a crate near the window. Were there soldiers outside every window? If there were, what were they waiting for?    

A voice made Pax jump. If he had to guess, there was someone with a loudspeaker outside the front door. Pax crept back to the central room to hear the girl.

“We have you surrounded. We know there are only three of you in there.” It was the same commanding voice Pax heard earlier: Centurion Ari. Pax feared his guilt-stupid brother would offer himself as an apology for killing her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Is someone automatically an ex in death or are you doomed to be cheating on them in any sequential relationships after? Pax swallowed the thought away, hoping he never found out.

The subwoofers kicked on with a vibrating hum. By the time Pax found his brother in the fog, there was a pile of makeshift weapons at Axel’s feet. Axel lifted the lion mask enough to speak into the mic. “Do you?” He lowered his voice an octave to that stage-gargle. “Why not only one?”

Pax exhaled in relief. Taunting the Romans might not have been wise, but it was better than, I’ll be your shooting practice this week.

         He waited to see the red light turn off on the mic. “They’re under the windows and in position to storm.” Pax reported, “What are they waiting for?” With the lack of music and no response from the Romans, his whisper felt deafening.

“If I were them, reinforcements. A breaching charge. A barricade breaker. They probably already positioned those troops before they realized we knew about them and before they realized we had a ranged weapon.” He nudged the harpoon gun at his feet. Axel must have dug the harpoon out of the dead soldier’s chest to reload it. Through the wisps of fog, Pax thought there might be dark smears on the floor. Pax wanted to be horrified. He just felt numb. His brain hadn’t gotten past the sound of that guy’s neck snapping.

Axel continued with the smoothness of a recording, “They either want to hold position or withdraw to a safe distance. Alabaster heard them tampering with the door in the back, so they know it’s barricaded. They know there are three of us: one to cover either of the side rooms and one to cover the front entrance. No reason for Ari to be reckless or rush when they think they can get reinforcements faster than we can. All they need is one more entrance—blowing out the back door or knocking down a wall—and they can flank us.”

“And they won’t try to smoke us out for now because it would be too easy to catch the fields on fire, and good Romans listen to Smoky the Bear,” Pax grumbled. They should remember that: the Romans were from California after all.

“The Northern windows are all covered.” Alabaster sounded calmer and more calculated than he had earlier. His figure loomed in the fog with massive horns. Alabaster had donned pieces of one of his lab specimen, that way he could put decoy pieces on boards. “If we—”

Axel’s hand shot up in curt gesture of silence.

Alabaster quieted.

Pax strained to listen.

“No…” Axel mumbled. Although Pax could only see the dead stare of the lion mask, he could hear the horror of a plan gone wrong. It was a very specific mood for his brother.

Very subtly, under the hiss of the expanding dry ice and the rustling of grass outside the front door, there was a beautiful hum. The tune followed something from Pax’s childhood, something about going to the circus, something that should have been calming.

Nausea rocked Pax’s stomach. The words were out of his mouth before Axel could verbalize their mistake. “Jack doesn’t know that we’re surrounded!”

Axel’s knuckles went white from clutching the microphone too tight. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This could have been a trap for him all along. If they knew we’d be out here, there’s no reason they wouldn’t know—we need to distract them. Ajax, you said there are Roman soldiers outside the windows.” Axel’s tone altered from panic to determination. “Drag one inside, disable them, retreat to this room, and barricade the Southern door. Alabaster—”

“No,” Alabaster snarled. “Are you trying to make them attack us? Axel—”

“We’ll have reinforcements soon—”

“We’ll only have Jack for sure. Jack is not a reinforce—”

Axel dropped a hand towards Pax, signaling him to head out despite Alabaster’s protests. Jack’s hum was growing louder and there was no way the Romans could miss it.

“Ajax, don’t try to be a hero. One Roman. Then come back her to hide.” Axel said, “If you can’t do it safely, throw something at them. Your safety—”

Comes first. But Pax wasn’t about to let a second surrogate parent die protecting him.

“Cowards for life.” Pax knew Axel couldn’t hear him. The red light came on for the microphone.

Axel dropped his voice to that gargly growl, “Romans, you test my patience—”

“Idiot!” Alabaster hissed. Pax could only hope his insult didn’t pick up on the mic. Something snagged Pax’s collar. He really didn’t want to pressure-point Alabaster’s wrist, but was about to.

“—We know where you are—”

Alabaster shoved a vial into Pax’s hand. “Use this to dart them. Not a single nick on yourself, understand?”

“—We smell you, little Romans. Shall we begin to devour you?”

Alabaster didn’t wait for an affirmation. He vanished into the fog, hopefully to attack Romans from the Northern windows.

Pax understood the importance of timing for this.

Jack must have been close. Maybe close enough that they were too late. Axel wanted to inspire fear, but hopefully evoke enough rage to lure the Romans in. Pax and Alabaster should attack as soon as Axel was done baiting them. Hopefully, Jack had heard and would realize what they were doing.

Pax swallowed at the thought of Romans beating Jack to death, only captured and killed because he wanted to take “his boys” to the circus.

Why is it always the circus? Pax knew he was going to develop an unhealthy phobia of the circus and it would have nothing to do with clowns. He rather liked clowns and their adventurous fashion statements.

In the side room, the afternoon light and fog made the windows into glowing blobs. Pax clutched the PVC pipe from the other room. It should work as a dart gun. He wished he had more time to practice. Knowing how this day was going, he would inhale too deep and suck the dart back into his mouth.

He scurried to the window with a box beside it, careful to avoid the marbles he’d set. If I were Roman, what would scare me? Invading barbarians? Slave rebellions? Bad infrastructure? Spartans having a cooler logo? Pax remembered something his dad had once done to an “unreliable” worker. A lump formed in his throat. Could he do that to someone?

What would they do to Jack if he couldn’t? What would they do to his crush and brother if he couldn’t get their attention?

There was more exposed piping overhead. Thank the gods for lazy contractors. Pax removed a length of power cable from his belt,  yanked off his shoe, and tied it to the end. One shot. If he missed and made a clang, this could alert the Romans to his presence.

Pax threw.

The shoe sailed up and over the pipe before swinging back down. The cable caught on the pipe. The shoe dangled and Pax snatched it out of the air.

He swallowed, untying the shoe and jamming it back on his foot. He tied a loop at one end.

He was ready, right? This is what had to happen. Pax crept onto the box, the loop and loose cord in one hand and the dartgun in the other. Sure enough, the Roman was still under the window, at her post. From a side glance, there were, indeed, Romans under each window.

Still, she must have been terrified.

“I can’t wait to mount a lion’s head on my wall.” Pax focused on that and the way Sphinx’s body crumbled. The sound of his heartbeat was deafening as he stood on the box, keeping his body flat to the wall.

Pax withdrew the vial Alabaster gave him from his pocket. He carefully balanced the cables, the PVC pipe, and vial in one hand to drip one of his darts. Mysterious substances from a witch? Hadn’t led him astray so far. Maybe it would turn the enemy into weasels. But, if Alabaster had some weasel-bombs, he likely would have changed all of them so they could escape.

In the distance, someone shouted. Pax couldn’t tell if Alabaster had attacked from his windows or if the Romans had found and skewered Jack.

The soldiers near him had looked away from Pax’s position, allowing him to lean forward.

Pax aimed his dartgun at the soldier one window down. The line of white piping trembled as he released a puff of air.

The dart feathers seemed to sprout from the Roman’s neck.

Thirteen Romans.

Pax didn’t wait to see if the Roman collapsed or swatted it away like a Jurassic mosquito. While the girl under his window was distracted, he tossed the loop over her head—

—grabbed as high on the other end of the cord—

—and jumped off his crate.

The line of cable went taut. He heard a choked noise and the scrape of metal against concrete: her armor sliding up the side of the building.

No snaps, not like the boy whose neck broke.

Pax’s feet didn’t reach the floor like he’d thought. Instead, he felt the cord wind back towards the Roman. Relief almost made him cry—Pax, with his glorious ninety pounds, was too light to drag this armored girl fully off the ground. He let go. His feet hit the floor at same time her armor clanged down. There was a fit of choking and gasps. Pax laughed hysterically. Her neck must not have broken either. She could breath and might be okay.

He could cross “executioner” off in his Prospective Jobs list. Solid future battle plan: never try to hang someone again. Definitely not something he was a fan of.

The furthest window shattered, crushing his reprieve. Pax must have left that one closed. It was the one with the—

Someone screamed when they stepped onto a nail and—from the followup noise—tripped on a marble while trying to recover. It would have been funny if Pax didn’t realize they now inside with him.

Eleven and a half Romans if we count the dude who can no longer walk.

The Romans were on the offensive.

Pax scrambled for the central room. The fog was thick; they shouldn’t be able to see him.

Another footfall by the windows—this one calculated and calm. There was no accompanied scream. Another Roman must be inside, this one uninjured. So, at least two of them, less than ten feet from Pax. As Pax crept, the blood pounded in his veins. Each ragged breath felt too loud. His makeshift reptilian mask reeked of preservatives and made it hard to gulp down the air.

He was halfway to the door when one of their footfalls quickened to a sprint. “Heat signature. On your right, 25 degrees. Only one.”

They know. They know it’s just me.

Of course they would have their own child of Vulcan with heat sensors. Mercedes would have thought of that. Pax hadn’t.

Pax ran for the door, not caring that his footsteps echoed in line with his pursuers. All he had to do was reach the central room, slam the door, and bar it, assuming Alabaster had done the same on the other side of the building, and that the back door hadn’t been breached, and that the front door—

Pax almost ran into the doorframe; the fog blinded him until the last second. He turned and fumbled for the door, gripping the knob to slam it shu—

The door never latched. Someone ploughed into it, forcing the wood to reverse right into Pax. His feet lost traction. Pax tumbled backwards, slapping his hand behind him to break his fall.

His entrance was breached. He messed up big time. I always told Axel I’d be the death of him. An imperial gold sword glowed in the fog above his head. “But, the information broker!” Pax wanted to say; the words choked in his mouth. There wasn’t enough time to block. All he could do was cower as the blade came down.

 ***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! And thank you for your patience with how long this took to come out. It didn’t get a proper editing, so I hope there aren’t too many mistakes! Stay tuned next week!

[1] And not make Jack write them.

[2] The first rendition of this story was written WAY before COVID started. Now, each time I read this, “And so are we.”

[3] Did anyone come out of this pulley situation not confused? Pax and Axel were confused. The Roman is confused. The author is staring at his diagram of the building going, “Omgs, how am I suppose to convey this with words?!”

[literature-works]

The Oak Tree

Harry Potter Fanficiton

Pairings: none

Characters: Fred Weasley and George Weasley

Themes: Emotional, Greif, Comfort

Summary: Fred and George are sitting underneath an old Oak tree by the Burrow. George recalls a promise he made to his brother. 

The sun was bright and beautiful as the individual rays of sunlight seemed to sparkle down through the trees with warming compassion. George sat underneath the old oak tree outside of the broken down building everyone called the Burrow. The Weasleys called it home. He looked up at the canopy of the tree admiring how the leaves sparkled a light green when the sun hit them just right, changing from their usual dark and rather dull colour. He sighed inhaling the deep summer air. When they were little every one of the redheaded kids would try to tackle each other to get to the top of the tree. There were only so many good climbing branches and so many of them. When it was only the twins, Fred would always beat him to the tree because of his supposedly unlocked the ultimate secret to running. In reality, his brother only beat him because he would always shove him out of the way right before they got to the trunk. George chuckled a bit as he remembered those races they always had. 

 “Hey George!” a voice came out from above him, “Stop staring at the sun! You’ll burn your eyes out! I don’t want a deaf and blind brother!” George turned his head slightly to see Fred hanging upside down from the branches smiling at him. His eyes were the same shade of green as the leaves, just like his. They were exact copies of each other; the only way that someone could tell them apart now was that he was missing an ear. All that was left was a little shriveled hole that was where it used to be. Fred actually found a way to part George’s hair to cover it up a bit. He said that if it wasn’t covered someone might be tempted to see if a pencil could really go in one ear and out the other. 

 “I still have one good one you idiot,” George retorted halfheartedly, crossing his arms comfortably behind his head. He sank down on the grass and stared up to the tree branches where his brother was climbing. Fred nimbly looped around the branch and leaped over to another one right above his head.

 “That good ear of yours will fade with age you know. When we are old and grey, what will I have then? A deaf twin brother who can barely tell the difference between mashed potatoes and Mum’s cooked cabbage,” Fred said to him.

 “Fred, no one can tell the difference between mashed potatoes and Mum’s cooked cabbage,” George stated flatly. Fred let out a little chuckle as he laid down on the thick branch of the oak tree and let his arms dangle helplessly in the wind. George always thought that Fred would fall off of the tree one of these days, but his brother was always a better climber than he was. He actually managed to jump from one branch to the other even though they were ten feet apart. He was like an acrobatic. George could only climb half the height that Fred could if he ever got to the tree before anyone else did. However, sitting below it seemed much more comfortable than in it. The hard branches weren’t as nice as the soft grass, so George never cared so much whether he was a better climber than Fred. He shrugged a bit as he looked up at his goofy brother. 

 “At least when we are old and grey you can point to me and tell your grandkids, ‘This is what happens when you don’t listen to your elders!’” George joked. Fred burst out laughing and almost slid off of the limb. 

 “George, you always were better at making jokes than I was!” Fred laughed. George gave an accepting shrug and stared back up into the canopy past his brother’s head. The sun warmed his face slightly as the beams scattered down to the shadowy grass in broken pieces. It was truly an enjoy able day. The Burrow’s chimney was puffing out smoke and Ginny and Ron could be heard fighting over who was going to be the one to de-gnome the garden. That was another reason why they would always run to the tree. Mum would always forget about them there. Out of sight, out of mind seemed to work even with people. They would never be called for chores if they were hiding in the safe cover of the oak tree. They could climb, rest, and play all day in the tree and not have to worry about petty jobs like de-gnoming the garden. 

 “Hey, George,” Fred said after a long time of silence. He was sitting up on the branch and leaning his rather tired looking body on the trunk of the tree. His head was gazing distantly off towards the direction of the burrow as if it was staring straight past it, not quite seeing, but still looking. “What do you think happens to people when they…. Die?” he asked.

 “What kind of question is that? You aren’t going all emotional on me are you?” George jabbed a bit at him as he stared up at his brother. Fred shook his head pitifully and gave a halfhearted shrug. 

 “No, I just wanted to know your opinion. I mean the world moves so fast and everything. When we are old and grey, what will happen then?” he said softly. George turned his head away and looked off towards the small village away from his house. It was so far away but he could still see the lights turning on for the slowly approaching evening. He let out a tiny inaudible sigh.

 “I don’t know Fred. I think that they get their faces imprinted on history books and then when their old withered bodies are buried deep in the ground, the students in the libraries pick out their books to make the dreaded research papers and reports,” George replied lightly. The wind gave a gentle shove and blew their hair around. It messed up Georges part a bit and he fumbled to get it back together like his brother showed him. It was a hassle on windy days such as this one.

 “George,” Fred said after a moment of silence. George returned his attention up to his brother again where he sat on the tree branch above him.

 “Yes Fred?” he acknowledged quietly. The gust of wind blew his hair again as Fred let out a huge breathe of air.

 “When you are old and grey and I am six feet under, how will you remember me by?” he asked. The sun shone in George’s eyes and he had to look away for a moment. It was sinking rather quickly over the horizon and the leaves no longer blocked most of its impacting rays. The warm beams of light no longer fell on the upper branches of the tree where his brother was sitting so it didn’t seem to bother him that much, but George felt the fire of the sun burn in his. George covered his eyes with his arm to protect them. He huffed a bit as he tried to contemplate an answer for his brother. He really didn’t want to be last. That was one race that he didn’t want Fred to beat him in. giving an answer to it was almost impossible as well. 

 “Fred,” George said to his waiting brother. “When we turn old and grey, I will promise to write my own history book about the hundred and one pranks Fred Weasley made at school and I will give it to the library so all of the students who are researching a good laugh can pick it up and see who the most infamous prankster was.” Fred let out a tiny laugh at his comment. George smiled up at his brother. 

 “And,” he said cutting the laugh off halfway. Fred gazed down at him waiting for his answer. George looked off towards the Burrow still wearing the happy smile on his face. The sun no longer burnt his eyes as it fell below some random pink cloud cover. “And I will pass on the loving memory of my twin brother by naming my kid after the most infamous prankster there ever was.” He could feel the grin on his brother’s face burn the top of his head and the heat was almost radiating. The sky slowly grew darker and the wind slowed down leaving his hair alone for one. The lights of the village were on at full blast now but the light didn’t hit the oak leaves anymore. The bright and colourful shades were soon turned to the dull lifeless green again. The sky seemed to fight out one more burst of wind before it died out for the night. It was weak and made only small ripples in the grass as it blew across the fields of the Burrow. It tussled his hair only misplacing a few strands here and there. 

 “Thank you,” Fred answered. George looked back up to where his brother once was sitting to see the bow empty. A light tap came off of his shoulder and he turned his head to see a small little red headed boy looking down at him. His bright colourful eyes beamed back at him happily as he clutched a tiny stick in his hand. He poked him one more time in the chest playfully.

 “Who are you talking to Daddy?” the little boy questioned him. George smiled and scooped up the tiny child in his arms and plopped him on his shoulders. His son giggled and squirmed with delight as they started to walk back down to the house. 

 “No one Fred. I was just thinking,” George said softly. 

[sunnyrollins]

Hi! One day I found your fanficiton "Trial by fire" and now I read and loved all your fanfic here! I like the prompt ❝ you mean so much to me, i don’t think you’ll ever understand. ❞ thanks!!

[now i feel like i have to apologize for slacking on updating “trial by fire”! but i really appreciate you reading and your kindness!]

6. “You mean so much to me I don’t think you’ll ever understand.”

Pulse racing and bulletproof vest hugged snuggly to her chest, Rollins slowly entered the the small coffee shop with her hands raised in front of her. The typically lively venue was unnervingly silent, and it was empty aside from the two men who stood in an empty space between tables.

“Rodger?” Rollins called out cautiously as she inched her way through the door. “It’s Detective Rollins.”

“If you’ve got your weapon just put it down.” Despite trying to sound stoic, she could hear his voice tremble just slightly with his words. “Please. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know you don’t. And I’m unarmed,” she assured him, holding her hands just slightly further above her head with the words when she stepped into his line of sight. “I’m just here to talk.”

For the first time since she had entered the space, Carisi’s eyes turned away from the man standing in front of him – the one who was pointing the barrel of a handgun directly at his chest with unsteady hands, despite his claim of not wanting to hurt anyone – to look at her. She knew him well enough to know that, he was trying to be brave in the face of danger. As he always was. But he was nervous. She knew as well as anyone that it was difficult not to be in that situation.

The way he looked at her let her know that he desperately wanted to say something…maybe to tell her to get out of harm’s way and let him handle it, or just to remind her that he loved her on the off chance that things went wrong. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she knew that he knew, in that moment, it was best not to say anything at all.

“Look…” she started again. “You wanted our attention, right? You’ve got it. So you can put the gun down.”

The hand holding the gun shook just slightly and Rodger took a deep breath, seemingly to steady himself.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” the repeated words were practically whispered. “I just want my wife back. And none of you seemed to give a damn until now.”

The entire squad had been working late nights into early mornings in an attempt to catch the man who’d been on the run since someone had seen him shove a young woman into the back of his truck before taking off. He may have truly believed that they didn’t care, but Rollins knew that could not have been further from the truth.

Since the start of the case, it was something she couldn’t seem to ever get fully off of her mind. She’d been reading Jesse an extra bedtime story every night, holding Billie a little closer to her chest when she’d rock her to sleep, letting her lips linger against Carisi’s for just a moment longer than she normally did when he’d kiss her before getting out of bed in the morning. She didn’t want to ever know or understand how it must have felt to be in Rodger’s situation – so afraid that he was only a phone call away from losing the person he loved forever.

Now that it was the person she loved on the other end of his gun, however, she almost did.

“We all want the same thing here,” Carisi finally said.

“But this isn’t gonna solve anything,” Rollins finished for him. “I understand you’re hurting…but you’ve gotta let Detective Carisi go. He’s not the one you’re mad at.”

“I just needed someone to listen. I just…” the man paused and let out a nervous breath. “Oh god. If I go out there they’re going to kill me, aren’t they?”

“I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Rollins assured him. She held her hand out to him, ensuring that she didn’t make any quick or sudden movements. “Give me the gun, Rodger.”

With only another short moment of hesitation, he finally lowered his arms with a glance between the two detectives, letting the handgun clatter to the floor with a defeated whisper about it never having been loaded in the first place. Carisi didn’t take even a second to breathe or even release the tension from his shoulders before turning the man around to cuff him, and Rollins quickly made her way back out onto the street.

“Carisi’s bringing him out,” she called out. “Do not shoot.”

Guns lowered…groups of officers dispersed…and for the first time since they’d arrived on the scene Rollins allowed herself to exhale, her knees nearly buckling under her at the feeling of every emotion that had been settled in the pit of her stomach finally being released.

It had been such a seemingly typical morning before the moment Olivia had gotten the call. She hadn’t even thought twice when Carisi had mentioned the victim’s husband wanting to meet up with him to talk. But that short moment in the coffee shop – when she was unsure if it was going to be the last – she couldn’t help but feel as if she had been taking the six months she’d spent in a relationship with him for granted.

Once he had handed a handcuffed Rodger over to a group of officers who got him situated into the back of their squad car, she shuffled through the small crowd to get to him, their arms finding their way effortlessly around one another without a second thought. Her palm cupped the back of his head to hold him as close to her as possible, and her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to memorize every last detail of how he felt in that moment. The warm coming off of his body. The smell of the cologne he had put on early that morning.

“Sonny,” the word was such a soft sigh that she was sure it would have been inaudible had he not been so close to her.  

“It’s alright,” he assured her, despite the fact that, when she was pressed so close to him, she could feel how quickly his heart was still beating against his chest. “It’s alright.”

She pulled away from him just enough to cup his face between her hands, her eyes studying for a long few seconds before she spoke again in a hushed whisper.

“You mean so much to me I don’t think you’ll ever understand.”

He knew he didn’t need to respond verbally. Instead, with his own exhale of emotion, he pulled her back in close to him until his heartbeat willed itself to settle.

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

001- Bates Motel, 002-Cordelia/Angel :)

001 - Bates Motel

Favourite character: Norma Bates.

Least favourite character: As you pointed out, there are a lot of assholes on thie show so it’s hard to pick, but if we’re talking about main/reoccurring characters I’d go with Shelby.

5 favourite ships (canon or non-canon): Norma/Alex, Norman/Norma (non-romantic), Norma/Dylan (non-romantic), Dylan/Bradley and Dylan/Emma.

Character I find most attractive: Dylan or Bradley.

Character I would marry: Eh, none of them exactly make for perfect life partners lmao, but probably Dylan. 

Character I would be best friends with: No one. 

A random thought: Initially, I loved the idea of Dylan and Emma as a ship, but as they progressed I found them to be really overrated and didn’t like their development at all. Emma’s character was completely sidelined in favour of making her Dylan’s love interest and it made no sense for them to have a child so soon and so young. I didn’t see any longevity in their relationship and them having a child and playing house when they were 21 and 17 respectively when they met was so forced (particularly since neither Emma nor Dylan seemed remotely interested in having children or settling down, they were both trying to figure out who they were as people). Also, in the final season Emma just didn’t even seem that loving towards Dylan. They already felt like an old married couple whose relationship had gone stagnant and were on the brink of divorce. 

An unpopular opinion: I feel like I’ve already stated my unpopular opinion above - I don’t really like Dylan and Emma that much. Another unpopular opinion is that I actually like Bradley and think that she had a lot of potential. 

My Canon OTP: I wouldn’t necessarily call them an OTP, but Norma and Alex.

My Non-canon OTP: I don’t have one.

Most Badass Character: Norma.

Most Epic Villain: Norman. 

Pairing I am not a fan of: Norma/Shelby, Norma/Christine’s brother (he’s so insignificant I can’t even remember his name lol), Norman/every love interest he has. 

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Definitely Emma, and I’d probably also go with Alex. 

Favourite friendship: In the early days I thought Norman/Emma and Norma/Emma’s friendships were cute, but unfortunately, both were kind of abandoned.

Character I most identify with: No one.

Character I wish I could be: Good god, no one haha.

002 - Cordelia/Angel

When or if I started shipping it: I started shipping them a couple of months ago after watching Angel. The first time I remember really being aware that I was starting to ship them was probably ‘To Shanshu in L.A’ and by season 2 I was completely in love with them. 

My thoughts: I can’t believe how underrated and misunderstood this ship is. When I knew about them before watching Angel I couldn’t understand it at all, but now I do completely. Angel and Cordelia are two people that had something missing in their lives at the time when they found each other in L.A - a sense of purpose and identity. Angel had been through so much with the whole soul debacle and his break-up with Buffy that he din’t know who he was or where his place was in the world. Cordelia was the high school prom queen whose entire identity was embedded in popularity and the admiration and validation of others. Angel without Buffy, and Cordelia without high school, meant they were both uprooted and searching for a new meaning and purpose. By working together, creating Angel Investigations, forming a friendship (not just with each other but Doyle, Wes, Gunn, Fred etc.) and helping the helpless, they both found that purpose. When Cordelia died I truly believe Angel lost his purpose and that throughout the entirety of season 5 he was deeply grieving for her loss (although it wasn’t made obvious until ‘You’re Welcome’), because despite having the rest of his friends around him, Cordy was really his center. Emotionally, she was the one that reached him and kept him grounded. Their development was beautiful - they started out as acquaintances that only knew each other through Buffy, then they were colleagues, friends, family and they slowly fell in love. They fought together and grew together and complimented each other in every way. Cordelia’s vibrant personality and sense of humour brought Angel out of his shell, whilst Angel’s compassion and empathy made Cordelia open up to others in a new way and stop being so self-involved. What I love about them so much is that it’s not the kind of all consuming passionate if-I-can’t-have-you-I’m-going-to-die kind of love, it’s so much more realistic. They’re just two people who are a constant presence in each other’s lives for years, they go share each other’s ups and downs and share life-altering experiences in their fights against evil and come to realise that they need each other and love each other in a way that goes beyond friendship. Honestly, I could talk about them all day, so I think I should stop here. But basically, I think they’re an amazing ship that suffered hugely due to the writing and that if the writers had committed to them completely they could have been absolutely incredible.

What makes me happy about them: Urgh, everything? I love them so much. The way they laugh and smile together, how Angel turns into a blithering fool when he’s around her because she makes him nervous, how distraught Angel is whenever Cordy’s life is at risk because he can’t live without her, how they need each other, how they protect each other no matter what, how they’re always there for each other. This list could continue. 

What makes me sad about them: The fact that they were never able to truly admit how they felt for each other or even had a chance to be together. That season 4 destroyed everything they had and could have had. That the writers never fully committed to them as a romantic ship and so wasted all of their potential. That Cordelia unfairly died. 

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: I haven’t read much fanficiton about Cordelia and Angel because there isn’t much out there. However, I wouldn’t really like to read any that bash other ships (e.g. Buffy/Angel), because I’m just not about that. I believe in respecting all ships and being true to the characters previous loves.

Things I look for in fanfic: Stories that are as close to canon as possible and true to the characters. 

My wishlist: I’m not sure what this means, but I assume it means my wishes for them as a couple? In which case, I’d wish for Cordelia to still be alive, Cordelia to not have become a higher being, all of the events in season 4 to have never happened and for the two of them to have had the opportunity to meet at the beach that night and admit their feelings for each other. From there, I’d have them struggle with their feelings for each other, but agree they want to give it a go and be together. They’d have difficulty transitioning from friends to a couple (particularly with the rest of Angel Investigations and how that impacts the group dynamic) and come up against the looming issue of The Curse. From there on, I don’t know what I’d wish. It would be too cliche for me to wish for Angel to become human and the two of them to live happily ever after, and I don’t really think it would be fitting for them as a couple. But I’d definitely wish for them to have an opportunity to give their relationship a go, because they at least deserved that. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: For Angel, Buffy and Cordelia, I don’t really know. I’m not overly fond of any of Cordelia’s love interests except Angel.

My happily ever after for them: This might seem weird and I have no idea how it’d ever happen, but my happy ending for them would be that Angel becomes a demon (not a vampire, but a demon, maybe a half demon like Doyle) and he and Cordy continue to run Angel Investigations (screw W&H, let’s pretend they’re gone haha). That way Angel, as a demon, would still be physically strong and able to fight to help the helpless, he’d have his soul without The Curse and he wouldn’t be immortal (so he could grow old with Cordy) and he would be able to go into the sunlight. No matter what, for Angel to be happy he’d always need to feel like he had a purpose and for him, that was helping people. ‘I Will Remember You’ proved that. He had the opportunity to be human with Buffy but he chose not to be. He made that choice for a lot of reasons, including the protection of Buffy, but I strongly believe his primary reason for doing so was because he simply couldn’t see how he would live in a world where he couldn’t help people in the same way he was able to as a vampire with a soul. 

Thanks so much for asking, lovely! And sorry this got a little long, as you can tell I have a lot of thoughts/feelings about Angel and this is the first chance I’ve had to talk about them.

[sometimesrosy]

Hey I was wondering how do you think the B/C confession or first kiss going to go , how do you think they are going to address everything the ring / Clarke’s radio calls ect. And how will bellamy know that Clarke is the one he truly loves ?

LOL. Oh nonny. I can’t answer that. I don’t know. 

That’s the story.

How will they do it? I can’t tell you. I don’t know. 

I know they need to. I can see the story threads that are left hanging. I can see, with the increase of story threads relating to Clarke and Bellamy’s NON PLATONIC feelings for each other, that they are getting ready to complete this story. 

The love story is being told, because it is not only relevant to Clarke and Bellamy, it is also relevant to Echo, to Madi, to Octavia,and to Raven. 

Echo is the love triangle. That’s a story.

Madi is parent trapping them. And has been ever since she got the flame. That’s a story.

Octavia has her weird resentment towards Echo, her desire to control Bellamy and/or get him to forgive her, and either a rivalry or a redemption arc with Clarke. That is a story.

Raven has the replay of how Clarke destroyed her and Finn’s relationship which has NEVER been satisfactorily resolved and has undoubtedly continued to affect her relationship with Clarke, as she keeps blaming her for deciding who gets to die or live, like she did with Finn. (oh! Raven told her to kill Lxa and she killed Finn instead. I bet she’s still mad at that, even though she realized that Clarke saved him from torture.) LISTEN. If the r/f/c love triangle doesn’t come up in season 6 i will eat my hat. ITS RIGHT THERE. And here’s Clarke alive after being dead for 6 years, after raven shut the door on her and didn’t get home to her in time, after she is TO BLAME for leaving her. And here Clarke is trying to get back into the family and replaying Raven’s biggest trauma. And they have been RESOLVING PAST TRAUMA. That’s a story I am D.Y.I.N.G. to see. 

HOW do they tell these stories? 

I don’t know. That they have set them up? That I know. 

EVERY consideration of how they could tell these stories is going to be a different story. I could write a billion fanfiction. Or everyone else could write a billion fanficiton, and none of them would be right, even if they were great and logical and fit the story. 

telling a story is hard and it’s a journey and who knows where it could go until it’s written and produced. 

[bicep-naruto]

all the "talk about" asks ;)

1: Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie.

It was 5 years ago, which is super weird OWO

2: Talk about your first kiss.

I haven’t had one yet lmao

3: Talk about the person you've had the most intense romantic feelings for

I don’t really think I’ve ever liked anyone that romantically before,, It was mostly just like playfulness but I never liked them lmao

.4: Talk about the thing you regret most so far.

GIVING AWAY ONE OF MY CATS HHH

5: Talk about the best birthday you've had.

A couple years ago, my family and I stayed in a hotel and went to Disney Land~~

6: Talk about the worst birthday you've had.

Probably this year? Idk it was really busy and stuffs so nobody had time to really give me a good birthday

7: Talk about your biggest insecurity.

I don’t like my appearance atm, but I’m working on it!!

8: Talk about the thing you are most proud of.

I’m really proud of my writing skills, but not any pieces in particular :P

9: Talk about little things on your body that you like the most.

I have these random beauty marks but I don’t think anyone can see them cuz they’re always covered lmao

10: Talk about the biggest fight you've ever had.

In 6th grade with this one girl (you know who it is lmao)

11: Talk about the best dream you've ever had.

None? I have pretty interesting dreams but none of them stand out to me

12: Talk about the worst dream you've ever had.

My parents died in the dream and hhh I hate even thinking about that :(

13: Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time.

Honestly I don’t know but hopefully,,, I like it?

14: Talk about a vacation.

Places with water are cool

15: Talk about the time you were most content in life.

I’m content right now and stuff everything is pretty good 

16: Talk about the best party you've ever been to.

Lmao I don't go to parties

17: Talk about someone you want to be friends with.

Nobody in particular because I know that most people are all the same

18: Talk about something that happened in elementary school.

sad face

19: Talk about something that happened in middle school.

even more sad face

20: Talk about something that happened in high school.

constant disappointment from boys

21: Talk about a time you had to turn someone down.

my friend asked if i would be her girlfriend and she even gave me a ring but i said no rip

22: Talk about your worst fear.

my parents dying :(((((((((

23: Talk about a time someone turned you down.

hm idk?

24: Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot.

whenever anyone tells me secrets it means a lot cuz that means they trust me

25: Talk about an ex-best friend.

ew no

26: Talk about things you do when you're sick.

be warm but basically nothing different from my regular routine

27: Talk about your favorite part of someone else's body.

Collarbones? Biceps? Jaws? Anything about people that makes them stand out :P

28: Talk about your fetishes.

Hm,, no... I guess the easiest one to say is I like biting ?? Idk??

29: Talk about what turns you on.

a variety of things i guess

30: Talk about what turns you off.

dumb

31: Talk about what you think death is like.

easy if you’ve done good things, but torturous if you haven’t

32: Talk about a place you remember from your childhood.

my old school was really nice

33: Talk about what you do when you are sad.

blankets and soft music

34: Talk about the worst physical pain you've endured.

when my head and stomach hurt both at once 

35: Talk about things you wish you could stop doing.

being lazy

36: Talk about your guilty pleasures.

jack frost fanficiton

37: Talk about someone you thought you were in love with.

i thought i was in love with a lot of people because everyone else was doing the same thing

38: Talk about songs that remind you of certain people.

none?

39: Talk about things you wish you'd known earlier.

hmm i don’t know

40: Talk about the end of something in your life

idk man

@boof-kun thanks for asking!!

[slashtakemylife]

Well, honestly since all this fandom wank is still going, I think it doesn’t hurt to show this back again, my favorite part

If you take nothing else from this article, please take this: all this outrage isn’t about protecting children, or about morality, or about critiquing media. It’s about people wanting their favorite characters to kiss.

This next part is my personal opinions but are all mostly based on this article, all I wish to add is how stupid this whole anti is because yes, it’s just about character’s kissing and their rules change to their convenience, so I’m just expanding to it with my own experience.

I’ll talk Fandom, why I think Antis have it wrong, some anti foolery and what to do, all of course in my opinion.

I’d like to start out with that “Fiction affects reality” and I can say, YES, but whose fiction? It’s the mass media produced fiction or the one I do from the comfort of my home?

Remember that all pieces of entretainment (books/movies/songs) as small as they may be, are all made by a group of people with the intention to reach to the biggest amount of people, it is their literal job, they know they are throwing ideas and notions to others in hopes to get feedback and be able to keep going, in other words it’s deliberate and so far we get tropes that affect and stereotype minorities. We must criticize those works because, again, a group of people allowed this to be produced with the intention to reach and capture the biggest auduence they can.

What about fandom? Fandom is exactly the opposite for me, we are not a team, we are just ourselves that get invested in one fandom and wish to explore more on the universe these creators gave us, and all for free! None of us are paid for it, yet with the anti movement, we are suddenly treated the way real paid content creators are made.

Fandom is a safe place because we can be whatever we want and explore whatever we wish because Fandom is self-contained, we broadcast to people with the same interests and hope to get feedback, create a healthy community were we just dicuss our fandom.

The anti movement uses the criticism we use on mass media and “moral ground” to justify their actions (harassment) but when you point at a fan, it is just that, you are pointing at a person, suddenly we must justify why we do what we do, what we write, what we think, give our life story, show credentials, all for what? Just to be “Valid”? Valid for who? A bunch of random people on the internet? We already have to struggle to be “Valid” in the real world and in this place were we can just be, we suddenly aren’t, we have to justify everyting we think, just to be allowed to not be harrased and have some freedom.

What is worse is that our prize if we pass this “Test” is just to not be harrased online, that’s it, I don’t know about you but in the Real World they supposedly live in, this is called Blackmail. We are threatened to be excluded, harrassed, recieve threats sometimes even death threats unless we stick to THEIR Values.

This is already bad enough and I haven’t even started with the antis themselves, becuase, who is the judge? Who is going to tell us if we are “Valid” enough to warrant not be harrased? What are THEIR Values?

This changes from anti to anti and oddly enough, it can be flexible to each one because again, every single one of us in fandom is just a team of one, there is no Anti Team, just a bunch of anti individuals that will bite each other because their foundation, like the article said, it’s not about morality but who can kiss and who isn’t allowed to.

What is the Anti handbook? Can anyone give it to me?

Let’s live in the Anti world *shivers*, I went into the fandom pretty young, I was 15, (I’m 25 now) and my first fanfiction was just pure crack, a character was turned into a cat and that’s it, the characters were comlpetely ooc but I was having fun.

What would it be like if 15 y/o me started fandom now?

Remember that now each of us are holded on the same standard grown, working paid adults are, so if I wanted to make a fanficiton I must begin wondering, do I have moraly sound topics? Is this my age appropiate? Are the character “Valid”? The actions I’ll put the characters in can pass the Moral Anti Compass Test? What is this Compass? As a 15 y/o how am I expected to know all this? We can’t be but we Will be harrassed.

If someone doesn’t like my ooc they can and WILL call me problematic, a 15 y/o that just wants some fun, they will invaldiate me, tell me I’m problematic, be asked to tell some stranger who I am and what are my credentials to do that content and no it doesn’t have to be nsfw, it can just be anything, they are currently creating a cloud of fear in all new and sometimes old users.

He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone

Let’s take a look at some Anti foolery since they are full of contradictions and will use Morality for their gain but ultimately they will fall under their own rules because they are not really for Morality but as an excuse to justify their harrasment.

The Minor Excuse.

Oddly enough, many anti’s I’ve seen are minor and they use it to a fault, “I’m a minor, you can’t do nsfw for those characters I like or that pairing I dislike”, Our response and most nsfw artist response is, “Well just block me, don’t come into my space, I’ll tag it 18+ so you’ll know not to come here”

That is a good enough response but for antis it’s not enough because it was never really about their integrity, the real point always was so that the content creator stops creating that content of that pairing they don’t like so the new argument is:

“The characters are MINORS, so you as a DIRTY adult mustn’t do any content about them”

This is good enough becuase now they are called pedophilic and with that argument now the antis carrying torches and pitchforks have a, very bad, place were they can comfortly harrass nsfw content creators (or just creators)

One thing about minors and our example minor anti used is that, as minors, nsfw content must be away from them, that is the point right? Protect them from topics they are not mature enough and it’s totally ok, but do they follow? I began watching nsfw at 15, do Minor antis really keep away? Do they keep their mental celibacy until 18? Oddly enough, if the pairing that they favor is underage as them and is written by someone underage then it is ok for them to see them in more 18+ setting, like not full blown really kinky situations but do be able to include sexual encounters in their content, odd right? I thought they were all in on the minor train so that should wipe all nsfw and in fact the anti in our example had previously stated their absolute distaste in nsfw content, funnily enough just not content on the pairing they didn’t like, content THEY like is good enough.

What these antis don’t want to realize is that Minor it’s a very very temporal state of being, they tops have like 5 to 3 years until THEY are no longer a minor so by THEIR standars they have to leave all shipping involving minors when THEY reach 18, I have yet to see an anti say good bye to a pairing because they are now 18 and wouldn’t be moraly sound to carry one shipping them.

BTW friendly reminder that all underage pairing shown in media are made by a team of adults but I have yet to see a boicott were minor fans argue mass media shouldn’t include romance of any kind involving minors because adults are writting underage relationships, kinda odd right?

The incest/age gap

I won’t go too much into this because I’m just looking for anti foolery, the paring Sheith is considered incest because the character of Shiro mentored Keith and met him at a younger age, this ship and all ships involving Shiro a 25 y/o with his minors peers (shaladins) are a big gigantic no no in the dumpster that is voltron fandom, sheith in particual had Keith say to Shiro, “I love you, you are my brother” in one of the episodes.

However those same anti that satanized Sheith are now happily shipping Catradora, and in this show it’s literally said and shows many many times, by the character themselves how they were raised, basically since birth together as sisters, how it doesn’t fit Incest? Well, because the anti liked that one so I guess the anti manual kinda went into the wind right? Nope, they still hold Sheith as a pedophilic, grooming, incest pairing, but Catradora is ok, should I add that Catra is always trying to kill Adora? Some Villian/Hero pairing? No? Is OK? I thought antis would lift the pitchforks but apparently no...Reylo is bad tho, becuase omg VILLAINS!!!!

Someone really needs to give me the anti handbook because Anti’s themselves don’t follow their own rules, it’s almost as if...

They use Morality to justify their harassment to things they don’t personally like

Hmmm, something to think about right?

Antis that have a little brain do point out how in Real Life pairing would be sketchy and some, yes they are right, they are just bad and sometimes we should consider the real life implications, sometimes we do keep using in fandom harmful tropes but many times we don’t realize because we all arrive here with the mass media influence on us.

It’s not about harrassing, I feel it should be about teaching and letting each other be free because in the end, fandom is separate from life and it’s a SAFE SPACE, I rather have young people explore and understand what they like and don’t in fandom rather than feel excluded and ashamed both in and out of the internet and with no way of letting their feeling out they might just give it a go in real life, we must educate to separate fiction from reality but at the very end, let them be free.

What if one day a minor gets a crush on a 25 y/o in real life? I rather that person acknowlege their crush, know it’s fine and don’t feel ashamed of liking that person but to please not be in a relationship and know exactly why, specially if said person approaches them.

I rather they write and create art imagining what it would be like in a perfect setting, let their feelings out in a shape of unreal characters and situations instead of bottling it up and feeling ashamed.

BTS is one of the biggets boy bands and many fans are minors, I rather they explore and dream what would it be like to be romantic with one of the band members (26-22 I think?) in their own innocent romantic way via fanfics and art, it’s okay to dream of that story were they pick you out of the mass and dance with you on stage than pursuing a real relationship with an older person.

Fandom is SAFE because it’s UNREAL, we can explore things we would never do in real life, we can have some leasure but know how it affects real life, we still have to be careful, we must know that Fandom in the end is just a bunch of people putting out their feelings, they must know to distrust a little because all of Fandom is just our own individual uncurated minds, I read once someone said they got pregnant (or their gf pregnant, can’t remember) because they didn’t know about sex ed and only educated themselves via nsfw fics

I mean again, we are not professionals, we are just people, we are imperfect and many times in fandom we are just chaotic, incoherent and just crack minds, we can and will be completely absurd with reality or try to stick as close to Real Life, it’s up to us to know both exist in the same place.

Each one of us has to understand that and allow others to have their place to be free, Fandom has existed for many years before Antis and oddly enough has become worse because of them, despite their puritian stance they only achieve the same as real conservative people, make us feel ashamed of ourselves, to shut out voices for THEIR gain, it’s never about us, it’s always about THEM