#please recast the rings

[allegriana]

Every time I see those godawful rings in The Rings of Power I am filled with indignation. You're telling me that the greatest living Elven smith set these chunky bizarrely cut stones into these incredibly basic bands?? Was this the wretched work of Sauron to make Celebrimbor forget everything he ever knew about lapidary???

These rings are completely out of step with the rest of the elven art nouveau aesthetic. Elrond was 100% correct; they should have been cast into the abyss before they infected Middle Earth with the desire for subpar costume jewelry.

The whole point of cutting gemstones is to make them catch the light and sparkle in a way that shows off the unique properties of the stone. Celebrimbor's grandaddy understood this perfectly when he crafted the Silmarils, which captured the light of the Two Trees of Valinor. (Then he apparently died without passing this knowledge on to his descendants and Celebrimbor was forever dragged for his questionable design choices, I guess)

Here are some examples of rings made by people who had a budget of more than $50 and more than a weekend to knock out their Jewelry 101 summer camp project

https://www.langantiques.com/lang-collection-art-nouveau-style-1-81-carat-diamond-ring-gia-j-si2.html

https://pebbleandpolish.com/products/victorian-art-nouveau-buff-cut-garnet-and-diamond-ring-in-yellow-and-white-gold

I'd be willing to entertain arguments about using larger/weirdly faceted stones, but you still have to design the ring to take this shape and style into mind

https://byangeline.com/products/partially-faceted-natural-sapphire-gemstone-raw-rough-diamond-18k-yellow-gold-engagement-multi-stone-1280

Galadriel, gazing in fascination at the first Ring Pop ever crafted by the elves. Look at how delicate the rest of her jewelry and costume are in contrast to the Temu engagement ring. The elves eventually have to take these rings off not because Sauron forged the One Ring but because theirs were turning their fingers green.

There are so many set and costume designs in this show that I love; clearly a lot of talented people worked on this show! I just wish that as much elegant craftsmanship had informed the TITULAR rings.

(I'm sure some there have been some defensive justifications for Why the Rings Look Like That but I tell you I will not be swayed by any of them)

[thepixelelf]

Hold Me; Heal Me

set in the Silk Touches and Mended Hearts universe

genres: soulmate au, vigilante au, angst, ambiguous ending pairing: reader x woozi words: 1.7k warnings: blood, description of injury on reader character (bullet wound), mentions of drug use and overdose (not by main characters) notes: this is a recast of a fic and universe I made almost two years ago now... I really like this universe and have some ideas for other characters/stories, so I would love to see if people are interested :] (also I had to make this jihoon I mean shit this is red too?? it just fit so perfectly)

part two: Find Me; Fear Me

In a world where a soulmate’s touch can heal any wound, you would think you’d have no worries. But after your soulmate told you he didn’t want to be exactly that, you set your heart aside. It shouldn’t matter anyways, you reasoned. What need does a vigilante have of soulmates?

You don’t know why you’re on Jihoon’s second-floor balcony. You don’t even know why you bothered remembering which one is his, considering you’ve never been in his apartment before.

It feels like an invasion of privacy, but fuck, you just can’t focus on that right now, not with the burning pain rippling from your shoulder. Impossibly, the bullet still feels like it’s blazing hot where it was sunken into your flesh -- even though you dug it out on the way -- and you flex your jaw in an attempt not to scream. Now is not the time to draw any unwanted attention.

Your left arm is starting to lose feeling, and your head swims from the blood loss. Just as you’re climbing over the balcony rail from the condemned fire escape, your elbow buckles. You fall to the floor with a yelp, pain shooting through your shoulder even though you did your best not to land on it. The black mask on the lower half of your face starts to slip.

You try your hardest not to cry.

The lights inside flick on, and you finally realize how bad of an idea this is.

You haven’t seen Jihoon since over six months ago, when he told you he didn’t want to be anyone’s soulmate.

He’d used the word “anyone”, but it could only apply to you.

Another bout of pain runs through you as you lay there on his balcony. You grit your teeth, and even though your ears are ringing like mad, you can hear footsteps from inside.

He rushes up to the sliding door, visible through the glass even though your vision is starting to cloud with dark grey blotches. His eyes widen, and he opens the door with haste.

“What--”

“Jihoon.”

He’s crouched over you now, but when you say his name, he stops staring at your bleeding shoulder and infamous red leather jacket and instead meets your eyes.

“How do you know my name?”

“I think it’s only fair.” You reach your right arm up, grabbing your mask and slipping it off your face. “Since you know my name.”

Jihoon gasps, though the sound is quiet compared to everything else. “You’re Red?” he whispers.

Your vigilante alias sounds all too real on his tongue.

“No.” Gritting your teeth, you take a second to squeeze your eyes shut and pry them open again with a gasping breath. You can’t collapse now; you’ve already gotten this far. “I just work at Target.”

He doesn’t so much as let out a puff of air through his nose at your attempted humour, instead bringing his hands up and hovering them over you like he has no idea what to do with them. You don’t blame him.

“Jihoon... I need you to help me.”

He frowns, brows furrowing as he stares intently at your shoulder. You know it looks bad.

“How?”

“Just--” You rip off the glove on your left hand and weakly hold it a few centimetres off the floor. “--hold my hand. Please.”

He wastes no time in waiting, and as soon as you feel his skin touch yours, the flow of the soulmate connection washes over you. The pain doesn’t go away, not exactly, but suddenly you can breathe normally, and your shoulder feels lighter, somehow.

They say a soulmate’s healing touch can’t be described -- that you can’t know what it feels like until you’ve felt it yourself. As much as people have tried in books and movies and poetry, you think what they say is right.

It’s indescribable.

You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but when you open them again, you see Jihoon still next to you, your hand in both of his, pressed against his forehead. Though his hands are blocking his face, the light sniffling you can hear gives him away.

“What are you crying for?”

Quickly, he wipes at his eyes with one hand while still holding on to you with the other. “I’m not crying.”

“Okay.” You give him a soft smile, still not strong enough to do much else to show your thanks. “Can you take me inside?”

Jihoon frowns again. “You’re not... Your shoulder, it hasn’t--”

“I know.”

“You’ve just barely stopped bleeding,” he continues. “You’re not fully healed yet.”

Groaning, you try to sit yourself up, and he looks at you like you’re crazy. You kind of are. 

“I know, Jihoon, but I think it’s best to do the rest inside. I don’t want people seeing me here and accusing you of helping Red.”

“But I am helping you.”

With a sigh, you squeeze his hand. “They don’t need to know that. Now help me up, please.”

Jihoon wants to settle you down on his couch, but you don’t let him since you know how awful it is getting blood out of fabric. You make him take you to the small kitchen area instead, leaning against the counter while he struggles to get you a glass of water with one hand. He doesn’t notice you struggling to hop up on the counter, and by the time he makes a stuttered protest, you’re already sitting on top, your head resting lightly on one of the kitchen cabinets.

The soulmate connection is making you a bit lightheaded -- or maybe that’s still the blood loss.

“Don’t do stuff like that while you’re still injured,” he says as he hands you the glass of water.

“Thanks.” You don’t address his nagging, preferring to chug down the water instead.

Jihoon watches you, concern written all over his face. His hand tightens ever so slightly around yours, and you try not to focus on the way his thumb rubs over the back of your hand.

“You look like you have questions.”

Before you’d flopped onto his balcony, you’d prepared yourself for an interrogation, but with the way he’s looking at you, this isn’t going to be one.

He speaks softly, like talking too loud will break you. “What... happened?”

“Drug bust.” You take another sip of water, and Jihoon seems to bristle at your casual air. “Normally I leave dealers alone, but...”

“But?”

You put the glass down, suddenly not wanting to meet Jihoon’s eyes.

There are only two people in your life who know about your alternate identity. Three now, you suppose. Your best friend has known since the beginning, though, and his doctor friend he roped into this mess -- who's conveniently out of town for the week -- politely asked you to keep any and all details regarding your vigilante work from him. Plausible deniability and all that.

So it's not often you talk about the world's injustices with someone who doesn't really... know you.

Your soulmate has no idea who you are.

“This guy,” you say. Errant thoughts are useless, so you simply continue. “He deals to kids -- targets them, specifically. And he laces his shit so they keep coming back for more until--”

Jihoon steps closer when your breath hitches.

“...A kid OD’ed yesterday. She’s in the hospital now, and she’s going to be okay, but...” You bring a hand up to your face, digging your finger into the corner of your eye. Oh, so now you’re going to cry, huh? “I couldn’t let this guy keep hurting kids like that. I had to take it into my own hands.”

“You got shot.”

A snort escapes you, and you gasp a bit in pain when your shoulder protests the sudden movement. Jihoon’s healing touch works quickly, but apparently not quick enough.

“I know I got shot,” you say with a smile. “It’s a part of the process.”

Jihoon doesn’t seem to like that. “You should have been more careful.”

“I was careful. Believe me, it could’ve gone a lot worse.” You try to laugh it off, but he isn’t amused. “Besides, the fact that I got shot and had to high-tail it out of there means that asshole is still on the streets. I need to find him again.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Jihoon just looks at you. It’s almost uncomfortable under his gaze, but you don’t break the eye contact, too scared of what will happen if you look away.

This is the longest you’ve ever spoken to him.

You only wish it was under better circumstances.

“Well.” You slide off the countertop, pulling your hand out of his grip. He’s too surprised by the sudden change in pace that he barely even reacts. “Thanks for your help, Jihoon. Seriously.”

“I-- you’re not--” he stumbles over his words again, but his intention is clear.

Already partway to the balcony door, you turn around to face him again.

“I’m fine,” you insist, rotating your shoulder to show him. Still, the movement makes you wince, and you can tell Jihoon sees through your bullshit.

“You’re not fine.”

“Even so.” You take hold of the mask still hanging around your neck and bring it back over your face. Hooking the straps behind your ears, you try to give him a look that says goodbye. “I have to get going.”

“Are you going after him again?” Jihoon asks, voice harder than before. “That drug dealer?”

You sigh, one hand on the balcony door. “Someone has to.”

“Don’t. You’ll get hurt again.”

Looking at him again, you narrow your eyes. His hands are wringing together, but the glint in his eye is sharp.

“And what, Jihoon? Let him keep peddling drugs to teenagers? Wait until another one overdoses? I don’t have a choice--”

“What if it’s worse next time? What if I can’t help you?” He steps closer.

You snap. “I don’t want your help.”

“Why not?”

He’s up close now, barely a foot between the two of you as you try not to lean your weight on the sliding door. You’re less healed than you thought, but you can’t let it show.

“No offense, Jihoon,” you say with a scoff, “but I don’t really feel like spending time with a soulmate who doesn’t want me.”

He blinks, mouth opening slightly, but no words come out. You take that moment to slide open the door behind you and slip out, hopping over the railing and bracing yourself over the edge.

You look back up at him where he hasn’t moved from the doorway. He’s still staring at you.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” you say.

And with that, you disappear into the night.

part two: Find Me; Fear Me

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Tom is not nervous; that would be ridiculous.

He has been waiting for this moment for years. It is now so close—literally in the palm of his hand—so he is not nervous. Still, he takes a deep breath, suddenly lightheaded, and reminds himself to continue steadily breathing.

Much to the insistence of his peers, when Tom turned seventeen last December, he quickly took advantage of the remaining holiday break and apparated to Gringotts for a Blood Inheritance test. Upon discovering his ancestry (unsurprising, but the confirmation was most definitely appreciated), he read through the dusty old grimoires left in his family vault and catalogued the sparse artefacts.

Most were utterly destroyed with time. Whatever charms had protected each item had long since wavered, with no one to recast them. However, he was able to salvage one.

He admires the dull shine of the golden band and the gleaming black stone of the Gaunt Ring. This heirloom, his heirloom (and isn’t that still a thrilling thought), has been a welcome companion these past several months. And now, on this cool Samhain night, it awaits his command.

The grimoires had no recent entries. Most seemed to stop well before this century, but what remained still gave startling insight. So as written, Tom twists the ring once, twice, and on the final spin, he watches as a faint light starts glowing and growing in intensity.

“This is it,” he shudders. The ring gets colder and nearly unbearable to hold. “I finally get to meet-“

Suddenly its light dims to something not much more substantial than a Lumos, and—he’s taken aback because surely not—classical music plays from the ring’s stone. It’s a quiet and peaceful melody that he swears is coming more from his head than anywhere else.

“We’re sorry,” A deep guttural and grinding voice speaks out, causing Tom to flinch and cover his ears. A terrible mistake, he quickly realises, as the ring presses the words louder and closer into his ear. “But the deceased you are summoning is currently unavailable.”

Unavailable?

Bewildered, Tom asks, “What?” But the voice carries on without pause.

“Your reunion is important to us. Please hold while we connect you with the next available Master of Death.”

“What?!” Panicking as the stone grows brighter than it ever had, Tom throws the ring some meters away, reflexively shields his head with his arms and waits for some sort of impact-explosion-something because what bloody else would be happening-!

Everything is eerily quiet for far too long until he hears soft footsteps snapping the fallen twigs littering the ground and a susurration of robes over leaves, their sound coming steadily closer.

“For someone who has done the unimaginable and gone out of their way to escape Death’s inevitable clutch, you are a sorry sight. Definitely not what I was expecting.”

Tom peeks through his arms. He first notices stars on a black so dark he is sure he had fallen over and was now staring at the night sky from his attempt to brace himself. His eyes follow the trickling pattern, nearly alive with movement until it stops, a sharp divide against the smooth column of a throat.

The celestial embodiment of the Black Family Tree continues, “You look like a rollie pollie. Do they have those in this dimension?”

Embarrassed, Tom realises he hadn’t fallen. No, he only tucked into himself much like he used to do at the orphanage long before he came into his specialness, his magical-ness, and figured out how to fight back.

He stands quickly, brushes his shoulder, casting a wandless cleaning charm with the movement, and looks up, only for his words to die before he can even open his mouth.

He never knew eyes could be such a beautiful shade of green.

[bigfan-fanfic]

My friends have enlightened me on a wedding tradition and I want your opinion. Often when people get married, they will have something old, new, blue and borrowed. If we set this in the time when Bruce and Batdad are renewing their vows (With Damian present), what would be his items? My friends hold the belief that his items would be things he attained from others. Please and thank you <3. - Batsuit anon

Something Old - a simplistic elastic bracelet with little ornaments, made by Dick when he first came to Wayne Manor - the first thing he gave Batdad. He wanted to do something nice, and the little letter blocks on the bracelet spell out P O P S.

Something New - Because I want to assume that in this universe, Bruce does end up learning and overcoming his trauma, I suggest that they have a new pair of rings. Instead of the old friendship rings recast in gold, there's a new pair of wedding bands they chose together, representing their stronger bond as partners that will lead to the end of Batman and the real true Bruce Wayne returning.

Something Borrowed - The Lasso of Truth, borrowed from Diana. It's a risk, but Batdad believes in Bruce - Bruce lets Batdad tie them together with the lasso before they state their vows.

Something Blue - a blue tie - simple and plain, not the expensive thing you'd expect. Clark shyly offers it as his something blue, and Batdad accepts, hugging Clark tight.

[chlodoll]

i was just trying something here and the week is now over (this was also getting longer than expected)

random thoughts of the week 😮‍💨

that song from north west is so catchy i can’t lie! it’s your bestie ~ miss miss westie ~~~

tiktok shop is really ruining the experience on there

andrew and emma broke up over a decade ago .. please get it together stop the lala land edits i beg

idk if those summer fridays lip balms are worth $24

i need to start watching sports these men are always fighting

selena selena selener… oh girl hahahaha

are kids really in 8th grade unable to spell their own names? what is going on?

still hate a man with a podcast mic

i really have no memory of fantasia and jennifer hudson being on the same season of american idol… i thought they were on different ones? you mean jennifer wasn’t a winner but won in the end?! oh i know that’s right!!

i’m actually shocked kylie didn’t walk the carpet at a wonka premiere yet she was there for most of them?

pardi is 40??? he has a kid???????

they did WHAT in the senate hearing room!!!!

suki still has that photo up on twitter cropping nabiyah out? oh she’s a nasty one and stands by it

and fuck south korea for not giving bts that exemption! giving it to people for playing fucking video games! are they insane?!

ariana needs to just rest and revamp rem beauty OR let it go

both of those rings are hideous

the day james gunn stops coming online and fact checking every damn thing is the day i know peace

these white boys of the month are more in the gutter each time. bring back the heartthrob!

seeing those pics of emma stone from behind with that long black hair for poor things is actually the thing convincing me to watch. idk what it’s about otherwise but that hair!

i never really felt deeply about veneers but zendaya should never get them. she has to keep the toof

it’s been time to recast kang

i really do love the bow trend. that one is really cute

i just want zac efron to be happy

how are they mad at people keeping up with tz and call us weirdos who only like tom and don’t like z when they get majority of their z news from here… if we didn’t like her how does that work? if they really thought we were the weirdos why are they here too?

book authors making fake accounts to leave 1 star reviews? on goodreads? wtf

i would love for meghan and megan to meet

i’m shocked people like the movie the holiday so much. even more that people loved the jack and kate relationship. i must’ve tuned them out each time i watched cause i have no idea how they happened

bridergton will be cancelled before they get to all those love stories. they gotta start doubling up. and shouldn’t have changed the order

drake and camilla cabello? please be serious!

why are they even releasing aquaman in theaters?

sydney sweeney is suddenly styled incredibly well

where is simone ashley casting news

the 9 month cruise on a boat from 2003 sounds like a bad idea

who was that white man who instantly became more attractive saying that grown woman by beyoncé was his favorite song by her?

when are they announcing spider man 4?

what did charles say to get them to totally ruin the crown? they were on his neck before. claire foy didn’t work her ass off for them to end the show like that

my reading goal is going to be 40 next year i’m over this

[forabeatofadrum]

Ljubim te (20/24)

AO3 | S&C  

–

RECAST

Kurt walks out of his university building. He didn’t have evening classes, but he needed to get his mind off things and the building is still open. Kurt decided to work a bit more on the play as a distraction. One of the leads got recast and it brought a whole new dynamic, so everyone is encouraged to rehearse as much as possible, even alone.

It didn’t really work, which is why an hour later, he’s already leaving.

“Dober večer,” he says to the doorman and he takes his phone out of his pocket to check if bus 6 is earlier than bus 14. That’s when he sees that has just missed a call from Sunil. That’s odd. He knows Sunil is with Tadeja, which is why Kurt opted for pizza instead of Boni with them.

Kurt calls him back while walking to the bus station.

“Heya,” he says.

“Oh, hey, Kurt,” Sunil says, “Where are you?”

“I just got out of the AGRFT building,” he replies, “I was working a bit more on Ulicia, and I decided to visit the set to get into the whole mood and-”

“Blaine is here.”

Kurt stops in his tracks.

“I’m sorry, what?” Kurt exclaims.

“Uh-uh. Yes, he came here, knocking, looking for you. I said you weren’t home and he was going to leave, but I told him to stay,” Sunil says that very pointedly, and Kurt imagines that he’s looking at Blaine while doing so, “I told him I’d call you. And here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kurt says, dumbfounded.

Kurt hears some shuffling on the other side of the line. Tadeja says something, but he can’t make it out, but the next thing he knows, Blaine’s voice is ringing in his ear.

“Kurt?” Blaine sounds out of breath.

“Yes?”

Really, what is happening?

“I… I, uh, I need to see you. Like, right now.”

“Okay?”

“Can you come-” Blaine’s cut off by Sunil. Kurt cannot hear what he’s saying, but he can hear Blaine humming in agreement.

“… Blaine?”

“Uh, can you come to my place?” Blaine asks.

Blaine can’t see it, but Kurt’s eyebrows raise.

He has no idea what Blaine is doing. He was certain that the two of them wouldn’t see each other for a while, and now Blaine wants to meet up to tell him something?

“Is Quinn okay with that?” he asks, just to be sure.

“… I don’t know where she is, but yes.”

This is getting stranger and stranger, but Kurt decides to take a leap of faith.

“Alright. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Oh. Yes. Alright,” Blaine sounds surprised and relieved, “Yes, yes, I will be there. Bye.”

He hangs up and Kurt stares at his phone for a few seconds before making his way to Blaine’s apartment.

--

Kurt’s nervous, but when he sees Blaine running down the street, he can’t help but laugh. It looks a bit comedic.

“Hey, long time no see,” Kurt decides to aim for casualness.

“I came here as soon as I could, but those damn bikes are so uncomfortable!” Blaine pants, which makes Kurt laugh even more. The bikes really are wack.

Now that Blaine’s up close, Kurt takes in his appearance. It’s not comedic after all. He looks sweaty and dishevelled. Some of his curls have escaped the gel and he has a frantic look in his eyes. He’s trembling slightly.

“Well. You’re here.”

“I am here. Please come in.”

Kurt follows Blaine inside and upstairs and he is still wondering what is happening. Why did Blaine go to Kurt’s place? Where did Quinn go?

“So,” Blaine says once they’re inside and he’s closed the front door behind him.

“So,” Kurt mirrors, because he has no clue what to say. There is an awkward tension in the air. Kurt’s nervous, and Blaine seems so as well. “You, uh, wanted to see me?”

Blaine nods.

“May I ask why?”

Blaine opens his mouth a couple of times to speak, but nothing comes out. He was so hellbent on being here, but now he seems lost for words. Or maybe he does know what to say, but he doesn’t know how to, so Kurt helps him out.

“Does it have anything to do with our talk in the park?”

Blaine nods slowly.

Great.

Kurt wonders for a second if Blaine is going to reject him again.

“Look, Blaine-”

Blaine must’ve realised Kurt’s trail of thoughts, because he immediately cuts Kurt off.

“Wait, no! I want to be with you!” he blurts out.

This is the second time today that Kurt’s getting a total emotional whiplash. His head is spinning and he is trying to figure out if he’s heard it correctly.

When Kurt remains silent, Blaine’s nervosity only seems to grow, and he starts talking about how he likes Kurt too and how he wants to give it a shot and what not, but Kurt can’t keep up.

He wants that as well.

Heck, he’s wanted to be with Blaine ever since he realised he likes Blaine, but he never let himself fantasise and he never acted on it, because Blaine is straight with a girlfriend. But now the same Blaine is confessing his feelings in a very awkward, blubbery way.

Okay, Kurt has to admit that sometimes he did let himself fantasise, but was is nothing like this.

“Blaine!” Kurt exclaims, which makes Blaine shut up.

“Sorry,” Blaine says after he’s calmed down a bit, “Fuck, I was rehearsing in my head what I’d say but instead…” he laughs awkwardly.

“Did you mean it, though?” Kurt asks and he hates how hopeful he sounds.

“Yes, of course,” Blaine says as if it’s obvious, “I wouldn’t embarrass myself like this if it weren’t real.”

“… This is so sudden,” Kurt admits. He is hearing what he’s wanted to hear, but it is so unexpected and Kurt’s still confused.

Blaine runs his hand over his face.

“I know, I know, but you like me back, right? So, uh…”

“Yes, but around an hour ago you swore you had a girlfriend and that you couldn’t leave her and now you’re asking me out,” Kurt points out, “You have to walk me through this. Where is Quinn? What happened?”

“She broke up with me when she saw I’d much rather be with you.”

Now, this is another whiplash. Quinn broke up with Blaine? Quinn was so enamoured by Blaine during dinner.

“And then she told me to go after you. So I did.”

“And you’re fine with that?” Kurt asks, just to be sure. In the park, Blaine was about to break down at the thought of him and Quinn being broken up.

“She loves me,” Blaine says after a small beat of silence, “She wants me to be happy. And I…” He takes a shaky breath. “To be honest, I am terrified, Kurt.”

Kurt’s heart breaks a little bit when he hears how scared Blaine is. He now knows that Blaine’s entire life has revolved about what other people think is best for him. This must be terrifying for him. For the first time, he’s doing what he truly wants.

“Oh, Blaine…” Kurt pushes his own confusion aside and he steps closer to hug him.

“You’re right, this is all so sudden. I am trying- trying to make sense of it myself,” Blaine sounds stricken, but he returns the hug, “I don’t know what to do or what to think or who I am, but I know I like you.”

“Blaine.”

“I like you. That is the only thing that makes sense to me now.”

“I like you too,” Kurt says quietly, “Oh, how I like you. I think I started liking you when we first met, but I didn’t realise until the storm.”

And finally, Blaine laughs. Kurt didn’t realise how much he missed it.

“That’s early. I didn’t fully understand it until I kissed you.”

The two of them stand in Blaine’s hallway, holding each other. Kurt can feel Blaine calming down. The tension is leaving his body and Kurt closes his eyes. It’s silent again, but now it is a comfortable silence.

If you’d told Kurt this morning that he’d be standing in Blaine’s hallway with Blaine in his arms after he just confessed that he wants to be with Kurt, Kurt would’ve laughed.

“Kurt?”

“Hm.”

“Sorry if I just- I put that on you.”

“Hm?”

“You’re right. This is a lot out of, uh, not nowhere. But it is a lot. I- I can understand if you need some time to think about what I said. I- I won’t take it personally if you want to leave, or even if you don’t want to be… with me.”

Blaine’s breath hitched during that last part.

“Especially since I am still… I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t know what I- I mean…”

“Blaine, what is it?” Kurt asks kindly.

“I think I am gay.”

Kurt tightens the hug.

“It’s- It’s always been guys,” Blaine says, “I just didn’t want to believe it, I think?”

He sounds confused, but Kurt doesn’t hold it against him. Again, he’s been here. He gets it.

“But this is so, uh, so new for me. Or not. I don’t know, because I guess I’ve always been gay. But, uh, this is...”

“Weird?” Kurt prompts.

“Fucked up,” Blaine deadpans and Kurt can’t help it, but he snorts, which in turn makes Blaine giggle for a second or two.

“Fucked up, huh?”

“Not bad fucked up… I think,” Blaine clarifies, “But fucked up in its own way.”

Kurt hums in agreement. That sums it up nicely.

“Yeah, uh, so, I understand if you, uh, don’t want to…” Blaine’s breath hitches, “Don’t want to be with a guy who’s still figuring stuff out. I can’t- I don’t even know what to tell my family, or friends, or… anyone.”

“Blaine…” Kurt slowly untangles himself from Blaine. He knows what he wants.

“Cause I am apparently in a closet, and uh, I need to figure out what to do with that. And if I want to get out of it-”

“Blaine-” Kurt grabs Blaine by the shoulders.

“And I get if that is a dealbreaker or, uh… I mean, again, I shouldn’t have just blurted that out-”

“Blaine, wait-” Kurt makes Blaine look at him.

“But I swear, I wasn’t- I had this in my head-”

“Blaine, I don’t want to leave!” Kurt says loudly.

Blaine’s eyes widen.

“You don’t?”

Kurt shakes his head.

“No, I don’t. In fact, I can do with some coffee.”

“Right,” Blaine says and he puts his hands over Kurt’s, “I have coffee.”

Kurt smiles.

“Lead the way.”

--

End notes: [Lucius voice] Oh my God, it’s happening.

[finishinglinepress]

NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: Invasives by Emily Kingery

ADVANCE ORDER: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/invasives-by-emily-kingery/

Emily Kingery is an English professor at a small university in Iowa. Her work appears widely and has received honors and awards in both poetry and prose. She serves on the Board of Directors at the Midwest Writing Center, a non-profit supporting writers in the Quad Cities community (mwcqc.org).

PRAISE FOR Invasives by Emily Kingery

INVASIVES achieves a rare feat for a chapbook: it not only creates a world, but it renders an entire life heart-beating through that world, propelled through nights of adolescent self-destruction, defying easy notions of virtue toward a tougher kind of grace. Vivid in both its danger and humor, risk and abandon here are channeled through deft formal execution and booming lyricism, opening up poems that deliver not only a brilliant story, but a thrilling, consuming experience. The characters and incidents intersecting this story are animated and bound together by a tenderness toward the difficulties encountered (“secrets no more than / hands changing color in cold”) as a necessity to acquire the vision and wisdom extending through these poems, like the end of a sunset under an endless Midwestern sky.

–Ryan Collins, author of A New American Field Guide & Song Book

In her Invasives, Emily Kingery exposes the exposed. Dirt bags and bright girls further prove that wet is light and dirt is dark—but it’s all intimate, none of it disposable, all necessary to the story. We think we know what story that is: it’s the one we aIways deserved, the always that needs us in it. Never only a small town. Never just a neighbor boy. These poems inhabit a body that is all will, and willing to be more. “We had visions more necessary than eyes,” Kingery says. To visualize with her is to see, ever more clearly, how we got here.

–Beth Roberts, author of Brief Moral History in Blue (New Issues Poetry & Prose) and Like You (Ottoline Prize, Fence Books)

In Emily Kingery’s Invasives, the past has a volatile life of its own: it appears and reappears, casts and recasts itself among the speaker’s present, with the power to heal as well as to poison. How do you own disorder? an early poem echoes, and this becomes our objective: How do you claim presence in a past that was dependent on your disappearance? How do you logic or language your way out of a past where logic and language were not yours in the first place? Our speaker attempts new methods of witnessing a disordered past that neither damns nor absolves: (“though it’s wrong / to say we are in mourning, even if / we are”). And the results of these attempts are gorgeous, penetrating poems, startlingly precise in their imagery, yet transcendent in scope. In a past where experiences were named and made by others, these poems now do the naming and making, slipping through a textured past at once resolved and resolutely present. Kingery’s crisp language rings in each line, making each one work like an unpredictable, alchemic ritual. What we bury, and what buries us, is never too far away from the surface, never too far away to transform our present: “We forgot to clear our histories,” Kingery’s speaker confesses. “We unsubscribed, but the seeds could keep in the soil / for a decade, longer. / They could be so hard to control.”

–Gale Marie Thompson, aut

Please share/repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #read #poems #literature #poetry

[creationsbynancylee]

The Backstories

Do you want to learn about the stories and meanings behind the symbols and messages on our site? We would love to share more.

An Enduring Motto: Fight in the Open

Over 100 years ago, Mental Health America's founder, Clifford Beers, was told to share his story of living with mental illness and hospitalizations anonymously to avoid negative consequences. He refused to remain anonymous and instead was determined by noting, "I must fight in the open." He refused to give power to the shame and stigma surrounding mental illness and went on to write a book, A Mind that Found Itself, to help others understand the need to address mental illness and mental health openly.

To this day, Mental Health America honors this message and lives out this motto. Share this message and motto with others and show everyone that you choose to fight in the open.

The Mental Health Bell: A Symbol of Hope

During the early days of mental health treatment, asylums often restrained people who had mental illnesses with iron chains and shackles around their ankles and wrists. With better understanding and treatments, this cruel practice eventually stopped.

In the early 1950s, Mental Health America issued a call to asylums across the country for their discarded chains and shackles. On April 13, 1953, at the McShane Bell Foundry in Baltimore, Md., Mental Health America melted down these inhumane bindings and recast them into a symbol of hope: the Mental Health Bell.

Inscription on Mental Health Bell:

Cast from shackles which bound them, this bell shall ring out hope for the mentally ill and victory over mental illness.

MHA Store Collaborations

We are proud to partner with artists and various organizations to create products that increase mental health awareness. Our partners are as dedicated as we are in combating the shame and stigma surrounding mental health concerns, and for that we are grateful!

If you are an artist or company dedicated to supporting mental health and want to discuss a collaboration, please contact store@mhanational.org

[webbna1980]

The Backstories

Do you want to learn about the stories and meanings behind the symbols and messages on our site? We would love to share more.

An Enduring Motto: Fight in the Open

Over 100 years ago, Mental Health America's founder, Clifford Beers, was told to share his story of living with mental illness and hospitalizations anonymously to avoid negative consequences. He refused to remain anonymous and instead was determined by noting, "I must fight in the open." He refused to give power to the shame and stigma surrounding mental illness and went on to write a book, A Mind that Found Itself, to help others understand the need to address mental illness and mental health openly.

To this day, Mental Health America honors this message and lives out this motto. Share this message and motto with others and show everyone that you choose to fight in the open.

The Mental Health Bell: A Symbol of Hope

During the early days of mental health treatment, asylums often restrained people who had mental illnesses with iron chains and shackles around their ankles and wrists. With better understanding and treatments, this cruel practice eventually stopped.

In the early 1950s, Mental Health America issued a call to asylums across the country for their discarded chains and shackles. On April 13, 1953, at the McShane Bell Foundry in Baltimore, Md., Mental Health America melted down these inhumane bindings and recast them into a symbol of hope: the Mental Health Bell.

Inscription on Mental Health Bell:

Cast from shackles which bound them, this bell shall ring out hope for the mentally ill and victory over mental illness.

MHA Store Collaborations

We are proud to partner with artists and various organizations to create products that increase mental health awareness. Our partners are as dedicated as we are in combating the shame and stigma surrounding mental health concerns, and for that we are grateful!

If you are an artist or company dedicated to supporting mental health and want to discuss a collaboration, please contact store@mhanational.org

[jicnationbynlw]

The Backstories

Do you want to learn about the stories and meanings behind the symbols and messages on our site? We would love to share more.

An Enduring Motto: Fight in the Open

Over 100 years ago, Mental Health America's founder, Clifford Beers, was told to share his story of living with mental illness and hospitalizations anonymously to avoid negative consequences. He refused to remain anonymous and instead was determined by noting, "I must fight in the open." He refused to give power to the shame and stigma surrounding mental illness and went on to write a book, A Mind that Found Itself, to help others understand the need to address mental illness and mental health openly.

To this day, Mental Health America honors this message and lives out this motto. Share this message and motto with others and show everyone that you choose to fight in the open.

The Mental Health Bell: A Symbol of Hope

During the early days of mental health treatment, asylums often restrained people who had mental illnesses with iron chains and shackles around their ankles and wrists. With better understanding and treatments, this cruel practice eventually stopped.

In the early 1950s, Mental Health America issued a call to asylums across the country for their discarded chains and shackles. On April 13, 1953, at the McShane Bell Foundry in Baltimore, Md., Mental Health America melted down these inhumane bindings and recast them into a symbol of hope: the Mental Health Bell.

Inscription on Mental Health Bell:

Cast from shackles which bound them, this bell shall ring out hope for the mentally ill and victory over mental illness.

MHA Store Collaborations

We are proud to partner with artists and various organizations to create products that increase mental health awareness. Our partners are as dedicated as we are in combating the shame and stigma surrounding mental health concerns, and for that we are grateful!

If you are an artist or company dedicated to supporting mental health and want to discuss a collaboration, please contact store@mhanational.org

[bronva]

The Rings of Power unveils new cast members for season two as major role recast

The Rings of Power unveils new cast members for season two as major role recast

To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video The Lord of the Rings fans may not be over the epic battles of the first season of The Rings of Power, but we’ve already got a glimpse into what season two may look like as new cast members have been announced. Seven new actors will be joining the existing cast, which includes the likes…

[thepixelelf]

25¢ Magic

Genres: fluff, romance, friends-to-lovers, mans-in-love-disease Pairing: Reader & Wonwoo (Seventeen) Words: 2.6k Warnings: other than some food mentions, none! all fluff 💕 Notes: yet another recasted fic sorry!! I reread the original last night and imagined it with wonwoo and liked it too much 😖 (i changed a couple things to be more inclusive since the original is a way older work! if there are any mistakes regarding inclusivity, please let me know!)

Wonwoo needed a little magical intervention. Definitely not for you. For his eyes. Yeah. His eyes.

Magic 25¢

Through his glasses, Wonwoo eyed the sign above the tiny corner shop as he stood there, debating whether or not to enter. You'd recommended the place to him a few weeks ago, even though you'd never bought the so-called "magic" yourself. According to you, the sorceress inside fixed whatever problem she deemed fit, all for the low low price of practically nothing.

At first, Wonwoo had brushed off your suggestion, scoffing at the idea of a mythical being actually solving his life problems, but now, he wasn't so sure. He couldn't be certain what exactly brought him there, to the small store in the middle of the bustling city, though he had his suspicions.

Lately, you'd been occupying his thoughts in weird ways. He had no idea why, but one day -- and he couldn't tell you which one -- he started looking for you whenever he found something funny or saw something beautiful, or thinking he'd seen you in a busy crowd when really you were never there at all; things like that. It confused him more than he would care to admit. You were his friend, yes. Someone he cared about more than most, but recently you got yourself a position in Wonwoo's heart that no friend has ever touched before. It scared him. What were you doing?

So he'd come to the corner shop. desperate for some sort of relief. The tinted windows and seemingly decrepit interior almost made him change his mind, but the brain-racking problem that was you made him enter.

A pervasive scent wafted up to Wonwoo's nose when he opened the door, smelling like rosewater and oranges. The shop was brightly lit, with various plants and flowers either placed on every available surface or hanging from the ceiling. Gold accents came in the form of geometric wires in various shapes accompanying the flower pots or hanging above the windows. From what Wonwoo could see, the only spot not covered with greenery was a marble counter near the back, which housed a silver service bell.

Before he could ring the bell, a girl popped up from behind the counter, startling him enough to jump back at her sudden appearance. She wore a plain white t-shirt and light wash jeans, matching the shop's simple feel, but her bright pink hair covered her face, and she spent a few seconds just getting it out of the way.

"Hi!" she greeted cheerfully, blowing the last few strands of stray hair away from her face. "Do you have a quarter?"

"Are you... the sorceress?"

She chuckled, a light sort of laugh that you do in front of people you aren't close to. "Sure am! I'm not what you expected, huh?"

Wonwoo didn't want to admit that he expected a haggish old woman wearing torn black rags and looking half past death, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he took a quarter from his back pocket and slid it across the counter.

"I'm guessing you know the drill; you give the quarter and I fix whatever I think you need most." She took the quarter and placed it somewhere under the marble counter, then pointed at a little table in the opposite corner of the shop, right next to the windows. "Have a seat. I'll be right back with some tea."

When she returned with two steaming teas in fine china cups, she sat in front of Wonwoo and looked into his eyes. He pursed his lips, not knowing exactly what to say, but also not wanting to turn away.

"I've decided. I'm going to fix your eyesight."

Wonwoo's fingers unconsciously fixed his glasses, though they weren't skewed in the first place. "My... eyesight?"

"Yup!" Her smile was soft, nothing like what Wonwoo expected before he came in. "Right now, it's what you need more than anything else."

Well, who was he to argue with a sorceress? It wasn't like he was going to straight-up ask her to fix his you problem. He was too shy to just give himself away like that to a total stranger. Maybe this really was what he needed. Though, he actually started to like his glasses after you said they made him look like, quote, "boyfriend material".

"So, if you would just take off your glasses--" the girl said, taking a sip of her tea. "--then I can get started."

Hesitantly, Wonwoo pulled his glasses from his face, placing them down on the wooden tabletop. From a little metal box that Wonwoo hadn't noticed before, she procured a small glass bottle, filled halfway with a lilac-coloured dust that sparkled in the sunlight. It was only then that Wonwoo questioned the windows . They looked tinted from the outside, and... the shop looked empty through them, but now they were clear and letting in plenty of sunlight, and the shop was clearly anything but empty. Was this really magic?

His eyesight wasn't that bad, he thought, especially since he could tell what she was doing when she pulled out the cork and poured some of the dust into her palm. She struggled for a second to plug the cork back one-handed and stick it back in the box.

"Keep your eyes open, please."

Without a second warning, she blew onto her palm, raising the dust off her hand and straight into Wonwoo's eyes. He flinched, falling back in his chair as he coughed. Through squinted eyes, he watched her gulp down the rest of her tea and pack up, then stand from her chair and walk away towards the counter.

"That's all. It should take effect by tomorrow morning."

With another smile, she disappeared into some sort of back room, leaving Wonwoo to wonder why the hell he ever followed your advice in the first place.

•

Wonwoo couldn't deny that he was a little excited to not need his glasses anymore. Sure, he didn't mind wearing them at all, but updating prescriptions costs a lot of money, and keeping them clean was a whole other ordeal. So, when he got up to make breakfast, he left his room with upturned lips, his glasses still on his bedside table.

It was only partway into breakfast -- when he tried to look at the clock on his oven and couldn't tell time -- that he realized his eyesight wasn't fixed at all. Same blurry vision, same nearsightedness. What happened? Had he been ripped off? But who on earth would scam someone for 25 cents?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his buzzer. He walked over to the door, pressing the camera button to see a pixelated version of you standing right in front of it, a big bag in your hands as you waved towards the camera.

He buzzed you in, not thinking much of it. You had a habit of showing up out of the blue.

"Wonwoo!" you greeted happily when he opened the door. "Are you ready?"

In the time you took to get up the stairs to his apartment, he'd found his glasses and put them on, as well as cleaned up breakfast. But ready? He wasn't ready.

As soon as he'd opened the door, you shined like you never had before, like a sunset glimmering off the ocean horizon. It very nearly blinded him. Your smile seemed so bright, and when you frowned at his lack of response (aside from wide eyes and a slack jaw) he had this surging feeling that he absolutely needed you to smile again.

Though, your pout put him in just as much awe in a different, alluring way.

"Don't tell me you forgot," you whined, bottom lip jutted out. "You promised we'd go to the carnival today."

He couldn't stop staring. Your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. All of you drew him in, and he couldn't say why.

"Wonwoo!"

Snapping out of his reverie, he blinked a few times to clear his vision, but nothing changed. You still looked...

Enchanting.

He stammered, trying to get back to himself. The regular Wonwoo, not the one stumbling over the sight of you. "What... huh?"

You rolled your eyes, a move from you that Wonwoo always liked, and today was no exception. Except, this time, he almost lost himself again just with that one action.

"The carnival? C'mon, you promised, so get dressed. We're leaving in ten minutes." Grunting, you used all of your might to push Wonwoo through his small apartment into his room and closed the door between you.

Once you were out of sight, Wonwoo stumbled backwards into his room and practically fell onto his bed, head in his hands. What the hell was happening to him? You looked exactly the same as you always did. Your face was the same, your style of clothes, the way your eyes moved with each expression. So what changed?

Whatever. Wonwoo assured himself that all these weird feelings would fade soon enough. He was probably just tired.

"So," you started once he stepped out of his room. "I've made a one-hundred percent foolproof plan so we can go on every single ride and hit every stall I want. Plus, I've written down our choices of what to buy so we stay within budget."

You were already halfway out the door before he could respond, giant carnival map held in both hands.

•

Wonwoo had a hard time concentrating on the carnival with you right next to him. He'd started noticing little things he'd never picked up on before, like the way your smile grew half a centimetre wider after you scored a single point at a stall game, or the way your eyes screwed shut when you screamed on a rollercoaster. Normally, Wonwoo could barely handle keeping his own eyes open on rollercoasters, but this time he just couldn't keep them off you.

It was by the time you bought food that you noticed something was up.

"Are you okay? You've been quiet all morning," you asked him as you sat down with your lunch. (Not the healthiest thing in the world, but hey, that's what carnivals are for.)

The concern on your face reminded him of something. He didn't know what it was, exactly, but he knew he both liked it in a weird way and wanted you to never feel concern ever again. "I'm fine." He sat up straight. "Just... thinking about something."

"Oh? Like what?" You chewed on your food, leaning forward on your elbows and propping your chin in your palm. Why did he find every single thing you did endearing?

"It's nothing," he assured you, though he was mostly trying to convince himself that. He needed to switch up the subject -- far far away from his feelings -- otherwise he might just burst. "I heard you beat Seungcheol at Mario Kart yesterday."

Your face lifted as you sported a triumphant smile, launching into the riveting story of how you finally won a grand prix against Seungcheol for the first time. Wonwoo concentrated on your storytelling for only a few seconds before he got lost in your eyes and how they sparkled like a thousand, no, a million stars.

"And the, when he asked for a rematch, I stood up and went, 'I'm king now! Your words hold no power here!' so he chased me around his entire apartment, that brat!" You waved your hands around to illustrate your story. "It's okay though, 'cause guess what? I won a second time for our rematch! Gosh, it was so satisfying."

"Really? That's cool." Wonwoo tried to react instead of just staring at the way your skin looked today.

"Uh huh... and then he kicked me out of his house."

"Oh, nice." Your furrowed brows were so adorable.

"Yeah, and then David Bowie rose from his grave just to serenade me as I walked home."

"That's fun." You've got something on your lip; Wonwoo wouldn't mind helping--

You clapped your hands in front of his face. "Wonwoo!"

Jolting up, Wonwoo blinked a few times, but the beguiling you didn't disappear. "What-- what?!"

"You're spacing out on me! Are you okay? Do you have a cold or something? Why didn't you tell me?!" You reached out your hand to his forehead, brushing underneath his hair to feel his temperature. "Oh my god, you're burning up!"

Yes, he was feeling hot, but definitely not because of some fever.

"I'm taking you home. I can't believe you didn't tell me you were sick!" You grabbed his wrist and pulled him up, about to walk away and abandon your lunches.

Oh god. Oh no. If you took him home and started fawning over his "sickness", while looking this ethereal, Wonwoo would probably spontaneously combust.

"No, uh, no!" He wrenched himself from your grip. "I'm fine, really!"

Scrunching up your face, you mocked him, "'No, uh, no!' I think you mean: yes, uh, yes, because we're leaving. C'mon."

"No, we can do more. What about your foolproof plan? What about the rides? Let's keep going."

You crossed your arms and huffed. "I'm worried about you."

Were you trying to make him explode?

"I'm fine. Better than ever. I can do more."

"Are you sure?"

"One-hundred percent."

You sighed, uncrossing your arms. "Fine," you gave in. "We'll do one more ride. Just one."

"Great! What's next on your plan?"

Grabbing your paper map, you tried to read your own writing. You squinted at your plan. "Uh... next up is the Tunnel of Love."

Wonwoo choked on his own spit. "The what?!"

"The Tunnel of Love. I've heard it's really famous here."

"Why would we go in a Tunnel of Love?"

You crossed your arms again. "Because my friend told me it's really pretty on the inside. We could just go home, if that's what you want."

"No, no," Wonwoo said. "I'll go on it."

Your friend was right, it was really pretty on the inside. At least, you thought so. Wonwoo was too busy staring at you under the pink and red lights, oh and the reflection of the chandeliers and fairy lights in your eyes. Your smile was just as stunning as whatever the ride had to offer, in fact, he would argue that you were ten-- no a hundred times more stunning.

He liked the way you smiled and pointed at the things you thought were pretty. He liked the way you looked at him every time, just so you could see if he was enjoying himself, too. He liked the way your smile got wider when you saw his. He liked you.

He liked you.

"See, I knew you'd like it," you said cheekily. Your face looked so cheerful under the coloured lights. "Are you feeling any better?"

Wonwoo nodded. "I think I'm feeling..."

He always imagined falling in love to be something unexpected, like spilling coffee on someone in a cafe, or getting wrapped up in a dog leash with an attractive stranger, or meeting someone outside of a club who hated them as much as he did, but this was much better. Sure, seeing you in an entirely different way, in a whole new light than ever before was sudden. It was like falling into a pit trap with how quickly it happened, but unexpected? No. Wonwoo should've seen this coming.

I've decided. I'm going to fix your eyesight.

For the low, low price of practically nothing.

Without any warning, he leaned in and landed a sweet peck on your lips. "...much better."

•

"Oh, did you ever visit this place?" You gestured towards the Magic 25¢ sign. "I would, but I don't think I have any problems worth fixing right now." Peering through the dark windows, you furrowed your brows at the seemingly empty shop. "It looks closed..."

Wonwoo pulled his hand up, yours in tow with your fingers interlocked in his. He placed a quick kiss on the back of your hand, smiling. "Maybe, but I bet she works wonders."

[remembertheshiremrfrodo]

Me: *slides Amazon one dollar* If you don't recast Sam Gamgee, there's more where that came from

Me: *slides Amazon two dollars*

[wordsandrobots]

I’ve been pondering something since I watched The Witch From Mercury prologue, which is that the setting gives me the strong vibe of ‘this is probably what the pre-Calamity War era of the Iron-Blooded Orphans was like.’ You’ve got a solar-system wide colonial project, mass human augmentation, an corpo-cratic hierarchy running things without heed for the people beneath them, and the first episode even hinges on honour duels, something noted as being a pre-Calamity tradition.

If some bloke named Agnika wandered past, he wouldn’t look out of place, is what I’m saying.

Now, obviously, G-Witch is not an IBO prequel, nor should it be. That nagging feeling I’m getting is merely a symptom of Gundam’s long tradition of remixing itself with each new iteration. The honour duels have a precedent in Mobile Fighter G Gundam in much the same way the Calamity War has one in After War Gundam X, or the centralised industrial interests do in something like the Romefeller Foundation in Gundam Wing.

And that got me thinking about how successful Gundam in general has been at this kind of thing. While Doctor Who is my first fandom, the first one I got heavily involved with is Transformers and there is something similar in how various TF series have built upon, adjusted or assimilated innovations from each other. However, Transformers is a failure case for this process, where the gravitational pull of the original version has slowly swamped all developments, overwhelming them with a melange of nostalgia. Gundam fiction, on the other hand, seems to have largely avoided this trap. For all the tropes, call-backs and recycling, each entry in the series brings in something new or recasts the old in a new light, in a way that feels much more satisfying when looked at as a whole.

I have no singular thesis as to why this is the case, though I think having later Universal Century installments to continue the 1979 series is a benefit, allowing the original to develop without overshadowing the other versions per se*. Certainly, that a lot of those versions are complete departures from the UC helps a lot too. From what I’ve watched, Gundam seems to be at its weakest when it tries to retread exactly the same ground, rather than veering off in a completely new direction such as ‘what if Earth was a giant boxing ring’ or ‘what if our protagonists were actual child soldiers, not the teenage fantasy version’.

I find that refreshing after years of my interest in Transformers slowly dwindling to a cry of ‘will you please do something new!’ It’s all independent of quality, mind you, and I’m not making an argument for the artistic merits of endless self-cannibalisation. But there is merit in telling the same kind of story in different ways, with different tones and different characters, simply for the hell of exploring the possibilities. I’d almost like to see someone try to do it on purpose within the same series, contrasting competing visions of the same archetypes across varied iterations to do . . . something. Though perhaps that risks collapsing into every multiversal cross-over story ever. Or Into the Spider-Verse, if we’re being optimistic. Hmm . . .

Anyway, good luck to Gundam Aerial and all ships that sail within her. I remain interested to see where the variations run this time around. In the meantime, I shall be taking a gander at After War, which so far appears to be asking the daring question, what is the missing link between Judau Ashta and Duo Maxwell?

*Turn A Gundam’s self-positioning as the end point of all prior Gundam stories works best, to me, when seen as a conceptual conceit rather than a strict chronology. It’s ‘thing’ is working towards breaking an endless cycle of apocalyptic war through compassion and understanding. The actual continuity is irrelevant past the message being communicated by saying ‘all these stories stack up to this point.’ (Not that there’s anything wrong with saying all the effort in said stories was wasted because things kept going downhill again, any peace was fleeting, and nothing told afterwards matters until Turn A. That’s kind of the point. I simply mean, there’s no need for it to be a straitjacket, when it’s ultimately a neat meta trick.)

[woodelf68]

AO3 tag game

Tagged by @luthienebonyx

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

75

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

272,188

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

For fics that I've published/posted to share with others: Robin of Sherwood, Wizards and Warriors, Zorro (the Family Channel series), Lord of the Rings, Once Upon A Time, Stargate: Universe, The Tournament, Thor -- and like 99% of that is OUAT, SGU, and Thor. Everything pre-OUAT was no more than one or two fics per fandom. (I am not a natural story writer. I find it easy to write missing scenes, or extend existing ones, but a proper fic with a beginning, middle and end? At that age, the only thing that could force me to come up with enough words to count as a proper fic were those magic words "free contributor's copy". I did do a lot of art and poetry/filks for RoS, though.)

For all those journals filled with fannish scribbles that I wrote just for myself? Various soap operas, with the most being from Days of Our Lives probably, since I had a couple of big OTPs there. House. Highlander. Beauty and the Beast (Ron Perlman series). A bit of Hercules the Legendary Journeys? I remember writing something for Aphrodite and Hephaestus and at least one thing based on Tyr from Andromeda. More of all the shows that I listed as having posted online or had published in zines. Maybe some ST:TNG for Picard and Crusher? It's hard to remember, it's so long ago; I'm sure I've missed at least one fandom.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Bearing in mind that most of the Rumbelle and Rushbelle ones were posted on tumblr years before I copied them to AO3 (thus having most of their likes over here), these are all my more recent Thor fandom ones: Measuring Up, Child of Love, Tumblr Prompt Fics, Mornings, and Trust.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

Yes, always. I very much appreciate any and all comments and I want those who leave them to know that.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

*Scrolls through my fics on AO3* Hm, I can't decide, my three fics in which I accept Neal Cassidy as being dead all make me sniffly. It's either 'Rumple and Henry at Neal's grave', 'Rumple names a star after Neal for Henry's birthday present', or 'Years after Neal's death, his sister visits the grave of the brother she never met'. I debated rewriting that last one when the Rumbaby turned out to be a boy, but was too pleased with the way the fic came out to mess with it.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I've done several Rushbelle ones and one Macelle one that springboarded off a Bad Faery fic. Craziest one was a prompt for SGU's Nicholas Rush to turn into a unicorn. It somehow ended up not feeling like crack at all, though.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I got a few critical reviews from someone this past winter, but nothing strong enough that I would call it hate or be bothered by it. Like 'this is too fluffy and OOC' and I was like 'if you're looking for angst, you're in the wrong place, but thanks for reading!' I was having quite a bit of fun responding to this person tbqh, I was kind of sad when they stopped after three fics.

9. Do you write smut?

Yep. My brain keeps providing me with ideas, rudely not caring that it's much easier to play out sex scenes in my head for my own pleasure than to actually write them down.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No. (At least that I know of!)

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Oh boy. *Drums fingers* I'm going to go with Vincent and Catherine from Beauty and the Beast, because their journey was cut short when Linda Hamilton left the show and I was left feeling unfulfilled and cheated of everything that they could have been. Fic was good, but they were canon, and we did not get enough of them. I wish they had either tried recasting the role or just cancelled it without doing what they did in the third season. Their romance was just so beautiful.

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

If little isolated scenes I just wrote for my own pleasure (often extending an aired scene to make it fluffier or smuttier) in a journal counts, then Days of Our Lives, I think. Or maybe General Hospital. That was the first soap I got hooked on at the tender age of 12, thanks to my mom. For a proper fic written to be shared with others...it might have been a very short Robin of Sherwood scene where Robin wasn't killed due to some Herne-sent Magical Mist™ shrouding him from view of the Sheriff's archers and allowing him to escape back into the woods. (My more experienced self is asking what good that would have done, when the dogs could have just tracked him right back down. I DON'T KNOW, OKAY?)

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh man, I've got too many to choose from. The best I can do is say that for Rumbelle it's probably one (or all) of the fics in the Floofy!verse, and for Thor, one (or all) of the completely self-indulgently fluffy kid Thor and Loki fics.

Open tag for anyone who wants to do it!

[casualcloudlighttrash]

RNM fandom:

Tyler Blackburn isn’t disabled! He should be recast or Alex shouldn’t have a disability! So much outrage!

While writing so many fics that are very inaccurate towards a variety of disabilities and positing lots of assumptions about what disabled people can and can’t do and do and do not feel while being absolutely terrible and rude when actual disabled people raise issues.

Also Roswell random in later seasons:

The show never talks about Alex’s disability! They never show his leg! This is terrible! The writers are clearly ableist assholes!

Y’all I’ve been in this disability game for 30 years, most of you aren’t doing any better than the show. I never expected them to do an amazing job with disability rep. It’s the CW. I was so jazzed to see a main character with a disability who is portrayed as generally competent and fully human. I didn’t really give a rat’s behind that the actor wasn’t disabled because often the experiences of another disabled person don’t really lend a role much additional connection to *my* experiences. I would love to see more disability rep in the writer’s room. I think that’s where a lot of improvements could be made. I don’t care about “authentic” so much as *good* acting that hits the right notes and a lot of that comes from the writing not an actor’s lived experience. And maybe if there was less performative outrage (often from people without a disability themselves) and more calm but constructive dialogue we’d actually make some progress. Yell about disabled actors getting ring fenced into disability focused roles! Make noise about accessibility in the the audition process! Don’t get so wrapped up in whether someone checks a box that may or may not make a bit of difference in a truthful portrayal of a roll just so you can pay yourself on the back for being woke.

And while you are at it start taking a look at how you write fic because sometimes it’s downright odd or disturbing in regards to the variety of disabilities seem on the show (of which there are more than Alex but rarely is that brought up). I love this mess of a cotton candy, brain rotting show. I love the beautiful stories the fandom creates and have seen so many amazing authors put a great deal of work into filling in where the show is lacking. But please people, take a look at your own works before you start screaming about topics it’s clear you don’t really understand. And if someone who is actually disabled gently brings up something problematic or concerning, have a conversation instead of shutting them down. A few of you have actually talked with me and even made some changes to your fic or decided to make changes in future fic and I greatly appreciate that. I appreciate the people who took the time to engage even if they ultimately decided that they did not want to make changes in their representation. There is no monolithic viewpoint that represents all people with a disability so I don’t expect my word to be taken as gospel but when I see the same people who are sometimes the loudest on Tumblr treat me like absolute garbage because I raised one small issue with their disability rep while also saying how much I love their fic then it’s pretty clear to me that those voices don’t actually care about disabled people at all.