#tagging with spoilers JUST IN CASE but I made sure to crop out all the dialogue anyways

[vtmgremlin]

Anyways you all are being subjected to my beautiful boy Vyhaan, a half-high elf bard with a sad past because of course we cannot get enough of those around here!

[talesfromthegasstationexchange]

okay this is the whole rules tm for the exchange

To participate in the Exchange:

1) Fill out the application.

3) Confirm gift pairing within 48 hours of receipt.

4) Notify mod of all tumblr URL changes.

5) Complete a gift by December 22nd.

We recommend that you follow the exchange blog (here) for updates, however, this is not required :))))

Gift Requests*

No OCs or crossovers Alternate Universes are allowed

In the event that an applicant asks for gifts that are too difficult to fill or violate one of the above rules, mods will contact recipients for amendment.*

Gifts

Fanart: Must be a finished drawing, coloured, or rendered black and white - not a sketch. Fanfic: Must have 1000 words minimum, with no obvious spelling or grammar errors.

NSFW: out right im not allowing nsfw related stuff unless someone else wants to mod it. i will be allowing gore related junk since im okay to moderate that gore: although i am allowing it based off of what the source media is i am going to put a 16+ barrier on this one. you can also opt out of making content for these types of gifts if they come up.

Not allowed:

Hateful or abusive content like ship bashing, racism, transphobia, bullying, etc. spam applications will be blocked

Posting.

Put content warnings if applicable. Tag applicable characters and ships. Post between December 23th and 31st. DM or @ mention your gift recipient when you post! Mention @talesfromthegasstationexchange and use #tftgs23 in the first five tags! (Just in case.)

Gifts that do not meet requirements or break rules will not be reblogged.

some may be missed through time zones and tumblr being tumblr but feel free to reach out on here or through my personal in DM,

   What is the tftgs Exchange?

A Secret Santa-type event where like minded fans create content for tftgs.

   What kind of content is allowed?

Either a finished drawing (as determined by the artist) or a fanfic with a minimum of 1000 words.    Can I ask for my designs from tftgs to be used ? Yes you may do so. though you will have to have easily accessible references publicly available for your gifter to use     can I ask for another set of designs that are not my own ? again yes, of course but they do still have to be openly available online and you need to mention the artist/ blog that has them in the application

   Can we ask for gifts with tftgs ships?

You can ask for any ships, as long as it is with canon characters

Is N.S.F.W. Allowed?

hard lines no. i allow gore based on the source media but nothing beyond that. as well if the gift you create does contain gore it should be tagged and cropped accordingly, and the full piece put under a read more or linked off to another page

If you post something in violation of these rules, we will ask you to fix it prior to reblogging it :)

Can I ask for a gift featuring my tftgs OC?

No. ocs are super valid and i love them. but i do feel though it is very unfair to the gift maker to try and visualise a character they may not know well enough to depict.    Can I ask for a gift featuring book related spoilers?

yes! applicants will be separated out into 2 main categories, the audio series and the books. So that no one ends up getting asked to draw or write from part the either haven't read or heard.

  How are pairings made?

Applicants will be paired with other tftgs Gift Exchange recipients. it will take preference into consideration; further, i will not force people into making content for their NOTPs and hated characters. Outside of that, please be open to exploring new people and pairings to spread the happiness this holiday season.

   i dont want the same person to make for or to be given from last year

thats completely fine, ill try my best to work around it an make sure you get someone diffrent.

   I’m not sure if my recipient will like the gift I want to make them. What should I do?

Easy! Anon ask your giftee if you need clarification about what they would want.

If their anon is off, contact me explicitly explaining this, plus any questions you may have. We will reach out for you :>

    What if I have to dropout?

it’s sad to see you go!

In the event that you cannot finish your gift, OR something comes up that will delay your gift (even writer’s block!), please DM either ASAP so that we can find a substitute.

   Okay. You’ve convinced me. Where do I sign up?

Applications open November 14th! aka today

   I posted my gift hours ago, but it hasn’t been reblogged. What gives?

feel free to dm it to my main. ive probs just missed it because my brain is fried @theredheaddevil

Disclaimer:

i cannot be responsible for any applicant that falsley claims to be a legal adult, if you are found out to be lying about your age you will be removed and banned from any following years that i continue to run this. and your pairing from the exchange will be remade

[makeste]

my biggest worry about the UA traitor is that it won’t feel significant as the major characters suspected in being it don’t play a big role in the story leading up to now.. like aoyama yes he might cause shock but hagakure?? she doesn’t done much imo but i do think she is the traitor i just wish hori given her some spotlight early on to lead to the moment and the suspense yk

fwiw, you're not alone, anon; I see this concern crop up pretty much every single time there's a U.A. traitor discussion. but the thing is, there's an underlying assumption here that the sole purpose of a plot twist is to shock people. and I would argue that's not true. imo, a well-written plot twist serves many purposes, and shocking the audience is only one of them, and far from the most important one. (in fact, I'd argue that it's not even strictly necessary.) here are four that I can think of right off the top of my head.

they catch and hold the audience's attention. this isn't the case for all plot twists, but it's certainly true for ones which the author chooses to deliberately dangle before the audience, as Horikoshi chose to do with the U.A. traitor plot. if he really wanted to shock people with the reveal, it would have been better for him not to call attention to it in the first place. there was no need whatsoever to have Present Mic bring it up back in chapter 83. but he chose to go that route because he wanted the readers to notice, and he wanted them to start thinking about it and to start speculating about the traitor's identity. it gets the audience excited, and it gives them an incentive to keep reading to see how the story will play out.

they encourage the audience to engage more with the story. the U.A. traitor plot is easily one of the most talked-about elements in the entire story. at this point I don't think there's a single teacher or student character who hasn't been the target of suspicion at some point or other. and again, this was a conscious trade-off on Horikoshi's part, because it would have been much easier to blindside readers with the eventual reveal if they weren't out here forming all of these exhaustive theories. announcing that There Is A Traitor pretty much guarantees that no matter who it ends up being, someone will have predicted it ahead of time. but the trade-off is that fans are paying closer attention to the story, and continuing to think about the plot even when they're not reading the manga, and engaging in more discussion with their fellow fans. and all of that is more than worth the loss of the shock element imo.

they add new layers and depth to the story. this is the hallmark of all of the most iconic plot twists. anyone can write a story and tag on some sort of half-assed unpredictable heel turn at the end in order to try and surprise people and make themselves look smart. but the best plot twists are the ones which actually make sense, and which have foreshadowing sprinkled in throughout the story, so that when you go back and look at everything a second time it makes you go, "ohhh, that's why." a good plot twist should be just as enjoyable to read the second and third time around, even after the shock value has expired, because the satisfaction of seeing a well-planned and executed plot development is still there. and with the very best twists, the story is actually even more enjoyable to go back and reread afterwards, because the knowledge of the twist adds new insight and context and perspective to all of the previous scenes.

and last but not least, they add suspense. there are plenty of ways to keep your readers on their toes that don't necessarily involve surprises coming out of left-field. and this is another thing that the author gains when they make that calculated sacrifice of announcing a plot twist ahead of time. the reader is no longer going to be shocked, because they're now anticipating it -- but that anticipation is a great consolation prize in and of itself. and so with this particular plot, for instance, there's more to the U.A. Traitor Mystery than just the question of who it is. there's also the questions of why, and most important of all, the question of what will happen when everyone finds out? and those questions add a ton of suspense to the story. when will AFO call on Hagakure again? what will he ask her to do? what's going to happen if and when she finally gets caught? how exactly is Aoyama involved in all this? and how will the other members of class A react?? each of these questions has enough inherent suspense that you could make a separate cliffhanger out of each and every one of them if you wanted to.

the thing that everyone always seems to overlook is that the reveal isn't the point. the reveal, when it happens, is going to be a one-time thing which will only be in play for a single chapter at most, after which the plot needs to still be able to stand on all of its other merits. so for instance, suppose that Horikoshi does go for shock over substance, and decides to go with someone "unexpected" like Ochako. sure, you get the shock value, because no one seriously expects it to be her. and maybe to some people it would feel more impactful, because she has a closer connection to Deku and the other characters. but the trade-off is that a twist like that would make absolutely no sense. it completely lacks the careful foreshadowing of the Hagakure/Aoyama twist. and it would detract from Ochako's character development, rather than adding on to it, because it would completely undo so much of what her character journey has been about up until now. all of that sacrificed just for the sake of a one-time twist, which a good chunk of readers would be spoiled for in advance thanks to the weekly spoiler leak cycle. ymmv, but to me that would absolutely not be worth it, and would be a huge waste of both Ochako's character, and of all the careful work that Horikoshi has done to weave this whole plot together.

on the other hand, the fact that Hagakure has had next to no spotlight up till now is exactly what makes her the perfect candidate. with her there's no need to worry about undoing years of carefully planned character development. there's no need to worry about the twist not making sense, or not holding up to the scrutiny of hindsight, because all of Hagakure's interactions with the other characters have always been curiously superficial. we know next to nothing about her family or history or motivations. her character is pretty much a blank slate, which makes her pretty much the only person in 1-A whose betrayal wouldn't feel awkward and forced and completely unnatural.

and as for everyone who's already made up their minds that her betrayal would lack any impact, I think they're both underestimating the amount of impact that any betrayal from one of class A's own would have, and also underestimating Horikoshi's ability to deliver when it comes to ninth-inning backstories. Dabi's backstory came pretty late in the game as well for instance, and that didn't take away from its impact at all. and the same goes for Hawks as well. just because Hagakure doesn't have any backstory yet doesn't mean she's not going to get one. and if you think Horikoshi doesn't have something good cooked up after all this time, then I don't know what else to tell you, except just, "wait and see."

anyway so yeah. and also just a reminder once again that even though fandom sometimes gets bogged down in this kind of discussion involving our personal opinions as to who would be the best traitor candidate, or the most shocking or meaningful or unexpected, etc., at the end of the day the actual evidence we have all points to Hagakure. I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but yeah lol.

[bibliocratic]

litany An exploration on endings. Or: all the ways it could have gone wrong and right.

jonmartin, spoilers for 200, content warnings in the tags

--

This is not what she thought victory would feel like.

Basira’s fingers tense and smart with overexerted aching when she stops to stretch them out. There is a geography of broken blood-vessels under the bruising that lies puddle-splotched over her hands which scrabble and claw talon-bent at the rubble. They are scored with scratches and tears where her exposed and dust-ruined skin has snagged on fractured brickwork.

She uncovers a foot first, as she pushes up and over the twisted mental of a window frame with an exhausted clatter. A trainer, the white doused with mud, the trailing laces caked stiff and russet. More heaving and hauling, her breath purging from her faster now – maybe, maybe, maybe, but she has lived too long now to believe in miracles. Overturning a fire-blasted section of what could have been once part of the imperious and grand stone stairwell, she reveals the leg the trainer is attached to, pulverised and off-angled by the weight of the collapse, the fabric of it drenched in soot. She peels back a cascade of plasterboard with a grunt, and there is a twisted pelvis, shattered ribs caved in under an acrid-smelling jumper. She’s not surprised at the dull punch of revelation, when she digs out hunched shoulders, coils of hair turned grey-white like swans’ down with the dust.

Martin is obviously dead. She hopes it was quick, fears it was not. His body lying stringless is curved around something, clutching it to him with his bruised and broken fingers. It takes many minutes of labouring, her spine seizing with complaint, sweat pooling at her brow and under her arms, but eventually she reveals Martin’s tender quarry, bundled up against his chest, blood-soaked from a wound long congealed. His own long and bloody fingers clenched and moored into the weft of Martin’s jumper.

She doesn’t need to check his pulse. She is cursed with enough sentiment to do so anyway. Crouching for a moment in the thick of the settling devastation, the fug of dust coating her nostrils, before she murmurs ‘I’m sorry’.

As she stands, she takes off her coat to lay it over them respectfully, the only shroud she can offer.

When her voice is composed, its cracks flattened out, she shouts the others over to tell them to stop searching.

--

The knife does not go in easily. There is force behind its thrust, a manic wave-shock of hysteric intent, and Jon’s lips part in a gasp as skin and sinew and flesh split. The noise wrenched from Martin is soiled with ruin, tremulous and saw-toothed, and he will never be able to forgive himself.

Jon’s eyes close. Peace of a sort granted to Magnus’ last and most beleaguered of Archivists.

And then they open. All of them, like the unfolding back of petals during blossoming, a meadow’s expanse of sight flowering on his face.

“No,” Martin whispers, the refusal almost lost over the tumult of the building around them. He pulls the knife out, and it drips onto the floor, making damp the material of his trousers. “No, nononononono.”

The wound presses together like lips, and then it is gone.

“I think it’s too late for that, Martin,” the Archivist says in that calm and reasoned voice of his.

--

It is a surreal, poorly-rendered mirror of before. A way the record of the world has slipped, juddered aground in a repeat. For all they have both changed, outgrown the casings of the people they were, for all they have endured both together and apart, it is a sick homecoming of sorts to stand again a second time round at the entrance to his hospital ward.

She’s brought supermarket flowers bunched in plastic, the last of a bad crop and too late to get the freshest, the stalks of baby’s breath drooping, the petals on the carnations mottled slightly and past their glory days. Jon lies submerged in sleep, the focal point in a placid storm of machines and wires. This coma chemically induced with no inkling of the supernatural, a last-ditch effort by the doctors to reduce the swelling on his brain. To give the body a chance to heal from the damage sustained during the collapse, his frame bludgeoned and punctured like a shrike-caught mouse, the smoke that has snarled like brambles in his lungs. The almost comically neat wound punched into his chest, nicking his heart.

She hopes his sleep is dreamless.

It takes him weeks to wake up.

“… Georgie?” he finally gasps out on an otherwise uneventful Thursday. His vocals are ribbed and scored with smoke damage. He’s sluggish as he blinks and turns and groans at the complaint of his body around him. “What – er?”

“Hey Jon,” she replies. “Good to have you back with us.”

She lets him acclimatise. Without his glasses, he squints and peers owlishly, like an inquisitive bird, absorbed by the novelty of his environment, the mundanity; the hospital-blue curtain that’s been pulled back around his bed, missing a few rungs and so hanging lopsided in places. The wilting flowers on the side table. The IV needles threaded into his arms.

“Did it work?” he asks finally.

“We think so.”

Georgie doesn’t add more. The conversation is one she knew they’d have, but it still feels like stepping out on frozen water. She is waiting for it to give beneath him, for the drop and drown in the unmoored cold.

His relief muddies in increments. His brow crinkling with a frown, glancing around again at the other beds. Their occupants dredged up and out and recovering from their private terrors, bringing the lessons of their landscape with them.

“Where - ?”

He looks up at her. The ice cracking.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Jon,” she says.

--

“We made it. L-look, see, we’re – I don’t know where we are exactly, b-but that doesn’t matter, does it, because we’re together, yeah? We’re together and that’s… that’s what we promised.”

The blood is drying on his trembling fingertips, the crevices of his palm, and it flakes off like decaying leaf-fall. The front of his clothes is clogged and sodden, the slick slow to harden. The weight in his arms is making his shoulders scream but he can’t let go.

“We – we did it,” he repeats hollowly. Desperately. “We did it, s-so you can come back now. You can come back. Together, you promised.”

The winds of this new world blow as cold as the old one did, and it is Martin’s only reply.

--

“It’s for the best, Martin,” the Archivist says.

“Shut up,” his furious watcher snarls. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t play st – Like him! Like he would! Using his voice.”

“It’s my voice. It’s me, Martin.”

Martin doesn’t respond to that. Their arguments are cyclical as roundabouts. He tells Martin he loves him. Martin tells him to fuck off.

The place where Jonah Magnus met his End, crumpled up on the dais of the Panopticon, has been cleared of blood. It distressed Martin to look upon, as evidence of his ascension rather than his capacity for brutality, so the servitors saw to its removal. The body he gifted to the mulch of the bone gardens, and the wailing growths flourished beautifully with the nutrients it bore.

The screams beyond the walls of the Panopticon cut off faster as he hastens them towards the End. He observes a world in its twilight. There is still torment, and it is unendurable and unfair but it will end under his reign, for good and for ever, and he will ensure that there is no more.

“You don’t have to stay,” the Archivist says. Considered. Gentle. “I know… seeing me like this is not what you wanted. I want us to be together while it ends, but I won’t force you.”

“And how is it any better out there?”

“It’s not,” he admits. “Here, I can keep you safe. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy.”

“Well, you fucked up there then,” Martin snaps.

His anger is righteous and flint-spark, makes barriers that almost waylay his grieving. He looks at him, and for a moment, his gaze shakes. He will see nothing less than he expects to see, a man, unkempt from travel, a bit grubby. Coarse hands he has held, lines he has attempted to smooth. In many ways, this makes it worse.

Martin turns away, and the Archivist lets him go.

He needs time and they have more than enough of it now.

--

He is inconsolable when they dig them out. A horrible, anguished keening like he’s being struck, a gasping that violently gags and stoppers in his chest. His face twisted, blotching, his eyes swollen, and the picture he makes is ugly, rent-open, decimated, bawling into the body he’s crushed up against him. Rag-doll limbed. Ashen.

They can’t make him let go. His cries transform and degrade into wails, garbled wordless, the horizon of language lost. They aren’t even sure if he knows they’re there. The sound pouring out of him is frenzied, delirious and anguished by surviving the unsurvivable alone. He fades hoarse through the ruin he has made of his throat and then he just weeps into Jon’s chest, and still he will not let go.

Melanie’s the one that stops him using the knife the first time. Wrestling it from his grip more out of surprise than shock at Georgie’s shout, and her anger is poisoned with her panic, throwing it to one side and hearing it clatter, snarling that I’m not going to fucking bury both of you, you hear me, don’t even think about it, fuck you, you think this is what he would have wanted, you think we want to lose you too?

Martin doesn’t reply.

They are not fast enough to stop him the second time he tries.

--

There are two men, strangers to these parts, who moved into the village from elsewhere like seeds caught on breeze. They plant their roots in uneasy soil. They talk to no one, versed in polite but guarded pleasantries, their greeting smiles to-the-point and weathered like coastal walls to withstand even the most inquisitive of questioners.

The one who is tall has the pared-down appearance of someone who has lost a lot of weight through some wasting that gnaws upon him. A gauntness that accentuates the furrows and gulleys and crags of his face, worsens the snow-stark white of his hair. The one who is short has been formed naturally sharp in features, although the brown of his eyes is mellow, prone to distance and otherwise unremarkable. The rumour mill, that tumbles in cycles of chatter that rolls from suspicious to musing, supposes some great and devastating fire to account for the injuries on his hands and the exposed skin of his face and neck, the pocked divots like scattered spark burns, ragged scars from shrapnel of some kind.

The one who is short limps on a sturdy walking stick, fashioned from an oak branch divorced from its tree in a storm. Any travel ventured upon is slow and demonstrably an effort. His free hand clasped in the hand of the one who is tall, who decks himself in layers even in the mildest of weathers, whose eyes are biting as hailstones, awashed grey and framed with bruising as though his dreams are rarely kind.

They re-painted the outer walls of their house last summer, when the temperature wallowed sticky and dense and glorious. The tree in their garden has fruited its first pears, few and stunted but a start that promises better crops come next year.

There is the hope that the strangers are happy.

If they are, it remains nobody’s business but their own.

[writerofthecourt]

ushijima, sakusa, iwaizumi, and shirabu being protective of their mute!girlfriend

warning: some bullying and harassment, very slight time skip spoilers, slight mention of injury and blood

a/n: for you, anon! i hope you guys enjoy

EDIT: this is a reupload because tumblr kept deleting me from the tags

ushijima wakatoshi

honestly, you guys were a weird couple

ushijima’s a man of few words, while you’re a person of no words

tendou was 100% convinced that you guys had some weird couples’ telepathy going on

(no one tell him that it’s just text messages and a pen and paper)

for the most part, everybody at shiratorizawa was cool with your relationship

everyone except for ushijima’s fangirls

“i don’t know what he sees in her. she’s not even that pretty”

“maybe he likes charity cases”

you ignored the two girls as they followed after you, your indifferent attitude only further fuelling their anger

“oi, [l/n]. don’t ignore us. you really think you’re too good for us just because you’re dating ushijima-kun?”

“he’s probably just taking pity on you since no one else would want your mute self”

their insults didn’t stop, not even as you approached the gym

“why does ushijima-kun even bother with you?”

“yeah, he would be so much better off without you”

it was at this time that ushijima had just returned from refilling his water bottle and happened to overhear the conversation

“i’d have to disagree with you,” your boyfriend proclaimed

“u-ushijima-kun, where did you come from?” one of the girls stuttered

“[y/n] is a wonderful person, and i’m lucky to have her,” ushijima continued unwaveringly. “i don’t agree with your comments. apologize to [y/n] at once”

at this point, the two girls knew that there was no winning in this situation

they exchanged a nervous glance with one another before hastily throwing out an apology. “s-sorry, [l/n]”

you tried not to smirk as the two girls quickly walked away, embarrassed that their idol had seen them in such a bad light

you sent your boyfriend an appreciative smile before he happily took a hold of your hand and led you towards the gym

in conclusion: no words were needed when the two of you were together

sakusa kiyoomi

when news broke out that you and sakusa were dating, sakusa was livid

not only was it an invasion of privacy, but the fact that it was atsumu’s fault made sakusa even more mad

the idiot forgot to crop you and sakusa out of the background of his stupid selfie

#sakusaandmysterywoman started trending online before sakusa had to eventually tell everyone the truth

“[y/n]’s my girlfriend. leave us alone,” was all sakusa tweeted before social media caught on fire and exploded

like with any celebrity dating scandal, there was some backlash from the fans, especially from the crazy ones who accused you of stealing away their precious omi-kun

eventually, everything settled down, and the fans became a lot more supportive of you and sakusa’s relationship

this led sakusa to being more comfortable about sharing pieces of his relationship with you online

although he was clearly happy, this didn’t stop his overzealous fans from constantly insulting you

“why does [y/n] never say anything when omi-omi gives her a compliment?”

“ngl [y/n] seems kind of rude. i feel like sakusa deserves better”

“omi-kun should be with someone who’s actually worthy of him. [y/n] ain’t it chief”

the only reason why sakusa didn’t respond to any of these people was because you told him not to, and he wanted to respect your wishes

it wasn’t until an especially concerning tweet about a fan “paying you a visit” that sakusa finally had to put a stop to all of this nonsense

“to anyone insulting or even going as far as to threaten my girlfriend, just stop. if you can’t support my decision, then i don’t need you. you are not a ‘true’ fan. i love [y/n], and i’m happy with her. to all of you who have been supportive of my relationship with [y/n], thank you. i don’t say this enough, but i truly appreciate you guys”

after sakusa’s tweet, #omi[y/n] started trending in support of you and sakusa’s relationship, which finally put a stop to all of the online hate

in conclusion: blame atsumu

iwaizumi hajime

when iwaizumi asked if you wanted to go see a movie with him on the weekend, you were over the moon

you knew just how busy your boyfriend was with volleyball practice, so you weren’t too pushy when it came to dates

you made sure to put a little extra effort into your outfit and appearance that day because you wanted to look cute for you boyfriend

unfortunately, this also caught the eyes of guys other than iwaizumi

“hey, cutie. you by yourself?” a flirtatious male close to your age asked. “i wouldn’t mind keeping you company”

you tried not to blanch as you took a step back and shook your head, indicating that you weren’t interested

this did nothing to dissuade the flirtatious guy, as he offered you a charming smile. “you can pick the movie if you want to. come on, it’ll be fun”

you were about to walk away when an all too familiar arm securely placed itself around your shoulder in a protective hold

“leave her alone. she’s not interested,” your boyfriend scowled

“says who?”

“says me. got a problem?”

“w-whatever, man. you can have her”

as the flirtatious guy began to walk away, the harsh glare on iwaizumi’s face soon transformed into worry as he turned to look at you. “sorry i’m late. are you okay? you’re not hurt, right?”

you nodded your head in reassurance while offering iwaizumi a gracious smile

your boyfriend smiled back before placing a gentle kiss just below your eye

“i’ll always be there to protect you, okay?” iwaizumi reminded you

you nodded your head once again, never doubting him for a moment

in conclusion: don’t mess with the seijoh arm wrestling champion

shirabu kenjirou

for the most part, you liked being the manager of the boys’ volleyball team

the shiratorizawa players were always chaotic and funny, and you were proud to call yourself a part of the team

although, if there was one thing to complain about, it would definitely have to be some of their fans

you were in the middle of bandaging shirabu’s injured finger when a chorus of high-pitched cheers rang out from near the gym doors

“[l/n], go deal with that,” coach washijo grumbled in annoyance

you sent your boyfriend an apologetic smile before signing to him to continue applying pressure in order to stop the bleeding

grabbing your pen and notebook, you wrote down a quick message before walking over to where the three girls were standing

please keep your voices down, your note read

“we’re just cheering on the players," one of the girls said

"yeah, what’s wrong with that?” another girl remarked

you’re distracting the players from practice

“well, must be easy for you since you can’t even seem to speak at all,” the last girl replied mockingly, followed by the laughter of her two friends

shirabu, who had been listening to the conversation, immediately got up from the bench to go stand next to you

“you three have been nothing but nuisances this whole time, and everyone agrees with me,” shirabu snapped furiously. “if you can’t be quiet, then leave!”

after shirabu’s angry outburst, the three girls promptly quieted down

you’re too nice, your boyfriend signed after the two of you returned to the bench

well, you know what they say. opposites attract and all that

oh, shut up

you only smiled in response as you finished bandaging shirabu’s finger before pressing a light kiss to the back of his hand

“stop mocking me with your cute couple-y-ness!” tendou screeched from across the court, having just witnessed your adorable exchange

“tendou! five laps around the school!”

in conclusion: stop yelling in the gym!

[yukiobeyme]

Your tattoo shop AU sounds cute! I’d love to hear more about it!!

I’m so sorry for how long this is, but thank you to you and @s8ncake , @asmos-pet , @aguacats , @dj-night-owl , @avellanna-world for enabling me to write and share this. I am putting it under the cut because it is extremely long, like way too long. I am so sorry.

So AciesGecko on Twitter Piercing Diavolo has been living in my mind rent-free and like Tattoo Shop! AU. Their @ here is the same but they suffered from me tagging them once but here is their tweet that inspired it ( x) (it can also be found on Tumblr here: x)

This was originally found on my Twitter but I have made edits and added more details to indulge everyone because I really like this idea. I don’t have any relationships in it, but it could easily have DiaLuci, Solomon/Asmodeus, and Barbatos/Simeon. I have this currently have Lucifer being Satan’s biological father and Lucifer is a single parent. But anyway now into the actual meat and enjoyment of this Tattoo Shop! AU

Welcome to Royal Art and Design (RAD) owned by Diavolo Rey. (It’s my default last name for Diavolo, in my modern DiaLuci fic his name is Diago and someone suggested Rey because it meant King in Spanish and so it’s just stuck.) Diavolo was supposed to take over his father’s company but fell in love with tattooing instead.

This caused major tension and Diavolo’s dad just thinks Diavolo is being rebellious and will one day realize his mistake and crawl back to his Dad but as Diavolo is in his late twenties to early thirties, Diavolo doesn’t regret the tattoo shop. Diavolo is covered with piercings and tattoos that he shows off constantly. Something that also upsets his father because it isn’t professional to have all those tattoos and piercings.

The shop’s main receptionist is Barbatos, a childhood friend of Diavolo. Barbatos’ family lived on the Rey’s property and were their butlers. Barbatos is about 10 years older than Diavolo but they are close friends and Barbatos would follow Diavolo anywhere. Barbatos has far fewer tattoos and piercings than Diavolo. Most of his tattoos are covered except for the ones on his hands.

Then you have the six “brothers”. They aren’t by blood but by choice. They all grew up in (and out of) the foster system. 

The oldest is Lucifer, a renowned tattoo artist (honestly no one knows how Diavolo convinced Lucifer to work with him) Lucifer has a unique tattoo style, something that is sought after. Diavolo loved and adored Lucifer’s style and could recognize his work from a mile away. Diavolo begged and pleaded with Lucifer to work at his shop and was glad they came up with the agreement.

I haven’t decided yet but Lucifer is either covered in tattoos, that he always has covered. Long sleeve button-ups and long pants are a part of Lucifer’s everyday wear. Something Diavolo has told him isn’t necessary. OR Lucifer surprisingly has no tattoos but either way has his ears gauged and an eyebrow piercing and is constantly covered up. (I am leaning towards him being covered in tattoos)

Diavolo constantly compliments Lucifer’s skin and say how it would be a dream to tattoo because he is so pale. Any color would pop and look good and honestly, Diavolo is waiting and hoping for the day, Lucifer lets him tattoo Lucifer.  (Spoiler Lucifer will probably let Diavolo tattoo a huge back piece)

Soon after getting out of foster care, Lucifer got a girl pregnant. He didn’t know until he was contacted. Saying how the mother had given up her rights to the child and he could either sign his rights way or take the child. Not wanting his kid in foster care, Lucifer adopted Satan.

So while Lucifer is in his late thirties Satan just turned 18 and is a walking contradiction. He already filled up one of his arms with tattoos and has plenty of piercings, he loves nothing more than to curl up and read books (he wears big chunky black glasses). Lucifer tried his best to be supportive of Satan wanting to get tattoos but also had to play the bad cop and make sure Satan understood how permanent they were and if he really wanted them.

Satan more or less just hangs out at the shop all the time, that he might as well work there too. He interested in Art and is hoping to attend college for it. Diavolo said if Satan wants to intern at RAD and be a tattoo artist all he had to do is say the word and Diavolo is willing to make it happen.

The second oldest of the “brothers” is Mammon. Mammon was more or less a pity case went it comes to getting his job at RAD. He got in and out of trouble and found himself in jail for a bit, gambling and tax fraud isn’t a good mix. During his time Mammon found himself getting prison tattoos and even taught himself how to tattoo. Something that honestly was encouraged because if it allowed him to have a skill he could use once he was out then it was a skill worth him learning.

Once Mammon was released, he found he still had a gambling problem. Lucifer allowed him to crash on his couch and Diavolo put him through the wringer but told Mammon if he could prove himself he earned himself a spot at RAD and Mammon passed with flying colors.

Mammon’s tattoos are old school and traditional but have a uniqueness to them because of where he learned his skill set. It’s also evident in how Mammon moves around the piece and even how he holds his equipment. Mammon isn’t a fan of piercings, “they hurt too much!” “You have tattoos on YOUR FACE!” He does have his tongue and septum pierced though. 

Third is Leviathan, an otaku but has beautiful Japanese-style tattoos. Even went abroad to Japan to learn about tattooing. In between appointments you can find him either watching anime or playing some game on his phone. Levi had his tongue pierced for a bit but went ahead and committed to having his tongue split. Definitely talked Diavolo into having a fish tank and Levi own reptiles (Is this important to the story? Not really but good to know)

The fourth is Asmodeus. He is the head piercer at RAD and it shows. Asmodeus only has tattoos on his fingers and they are small dots, very minimalist. He also helps Barbatos with receptionist duties. Loves wearing crop tops to show off his belly ring. And flirts with everyone, mainly because it hard to be nervous when you have such a gorgeous person flirting with you.

Finally, the last two “brothers” are the only ones that are related. The twins, Beelzebub and Belphegor. Their style of tattoos are the complete opposite. While Beelzebub focuses on lots of colors, Belphegor works in black and white with maybe one or two colors. Beelzebub is really fit and has full sleeves on both arms and one leg. Belphegor has both hands tattooed and one-half sleeve. He has a hard time finding and committing to a tattoo design, so he waits until it’s perfect. He also is one of the only people Diavolo knows that can fall asleep while being tattooed, it’s quite impressive.

Then you have the current interns Solomon and Simeon (and MC if you want to include them) The application process was intense and it means something to be an intern at RAD because you are honestly learning from the best and learning multiple different styles and perspectives.

Solomon is learning how to pierce too if it’s because of the attraction to the head piercer well no one needs to know about that. While Simeon is strictly doing tattoos and focuses on traditional styles, nothing too modern and not too many colors/ complex colors; “You can’t use the color straight from the tube Simeon, that’s just not right!”

Simeon is the legal guardian to his godson Luke, who is constantly found at the shop too. Energetic and loves to draw then show it off to everyone. Simeon is a little old to be an intern but Diavolo took the chance with him. Something Lucifer disagrees with.

���Wasn’t he apart of your family at one point?” Diavolo asked at some point

“Yes, but he was adopted. We are brothers no more”. was Lucifer’s only response, and didn’t talk any further on the topic.

That’s all I have at this point, but it’s a lot and I just need it in my life. Someone help me do punk edits of the boys. Like maybe I’ll write a small piece on it eventually, but this could easily turn into a huge work that I don’t currently have the time to plan or write. Because tbh I would make DiaLuci a thing for sure, but add Simbarb and Solodeus just for fun or have them as a side relationship.

[dreamingofscully]

Momentum, Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 Here

Rating: Mature (ch 1), Explicit (ch 2) Length: ~12k words Classification: M/S RST, Angst, Post-Ep for En Ami and spoilers through Chimera and all things Summary: Scully’s choices lead to some unintended consequences for herself and her relationship with Mulder.

Thank you to my betas! @sarie-fairy​​ @scullyeffect​​ and @o6666666​​ for the machete betas and @suitablyaggrieved​ @starbuckthirteen​ and @unhappybrthday​​ for the feedback.

Tagging @today-in-fic and @kega-umi.

(Read on AO3)

***

SATURDAY FBI HEADQUARTERS

As Scully arrives at their office, she flicks off Mulder’s music, annoyed that she’s been working all morning while he’s been here having a good time without her. “Oh, bring me some lunch on your way over, Scully.” Sure, can I grab your dry cleaning, too?  

When he first mentions crop circles she tunes him out, irritated at his assumption that she had nothing better to do on the weekend than run off with him to chase aliens or monsters or, in this case, mathematically-brilliant farmers. She’s tired of waiting for him and can’t make herself care about a nebulous case even if it’s better than being ignored and forgotten.

A few weeks ago she would have enjoyed spending a weekend with Mulder in England, distracting him from the case for a few hours here and there. But they weren’t lovers anymore, just estranged colleagues sidestepping the one topic they needed to address. Spending an extended and awkward period of time in his company, with no chance to escape, is an unbearable idea.

After the pointless “serial killer” case this past week she’d been just as guilty of avoiding him. He even brought her breakfast one morning but she didn’t meet his eyes, afraid of what she’d see in them, or what she wouldn’t. It was easier to pretend and hope than confront the finality of his decision.

When he tells her he bought plane tickets for them, she shoots him down immediately, not seeing any other option to preserve her sanity. He looks at her like he’s hoping she’ll change her mind, then speaks again.

“I'll just cancel your ticket.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but instead he takes a single bite of his sandwich and heads for the door. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Mulder…” Scully waits for him to look back at her. “Look, we're always running. We're always chasing the next big thing. Why don't you ever just stay still?”

Why won’t he talk to me?

“I wouldn't know what I'd be missing.”

Disappointment is etched in the set of his shoulders as he disappears from view. The idea she’s let him down tugs at her heart, but is quickly replaced by the relief at not having to worry about being around him. The fact that she’s relieved to be away from him causes her mood to sink even further. When has it ever been the case that she’s been more happy away from him rather than the opposite?

*** LATER THAT DAY WASHINGTON NATIONAL HOSPITAL

“I know how difficult it must have been for you... just walking through that door but you wouldn't have come if you didn't want to and that says something, doesn't it?” - Daniel

His words affect her deeply. The touch from another that Scully’s craved for weeks catches her off-balance. His tenderness reminds her of what she misses, but is it the man or the feelings she craves?

It’s serendipitous. If she’d been given the correct patient file or she’d chosen to go to the hospital at a different time, she would never have known he was there. And the timing. She has no idea where she stands with Mulder and she’s losing patience waiting for him to decide one way or another.

Maybe he’s already chosen but I can't admit it to myself.

Daniel was a man she once loved so fiercely, at such a different time in her life. He still held strong feelings for her, spoke of her memory like it was a treasured thing. Even though he disapproved of the choices she made long ago, he remembers her fondly. It’s exhilarating to be regarded with affection after being starved of it for so long.

Was this a sign I should move on?

She remembers the advice Missy gave her when she decided to leave medicine and pursue her career in the FBI. Her almost-affair with Daniel was something she was reluctant to speak about to anyone, feeling guilty for loving a married man. Regardless, she told her sister everything, like always. Missy didn’t know Daniel but she didn’t like the way Scully said he talked to her, or that he was so insistent on breaking his marriage vows to be with a much younger student. Scully didn’t agree with her on the first, but she did on the latter. The trust she had in her sister made it easier to move on and leave him behind.

Was Missy wrong back then?

***

“You've come at such a strange time.” - Scully

Daniel’s focus is razor-sharp and in his eyes she only sees herself.

“I know, I know. You-you have a life.” She can tell he hopes her new life doesn’t include a significant other. She’s not sure what’s true any more.

“I don't know what I have.” She thinks about the interminable silence from Mulder, not knowing what he wants or what their future holds. The small things that brought her here now of all times. “I mean... your x-rays were in the wrong envelope. I never would have even known you were here if it wasn't for a mix-up. It's just…”

“What do you want, Dana?” It seems like so long since someone’s been concerned with what she wants, even herself. The words take her by surprise.

“I want everything I should want at this time of my life. Maybe I want the life I didn't choose.”

It was devastating to get a taste of intimacy with Mulder only to have it turn to ashes. She thought she knew what she wanted, but maybe she didn’t. Here was a path placed in front of her, the chance to choose something she denied herself so long ago. She was tired of denying herself happiness.

She’s interrupted by the irregular heartbeat of the former love of her life. She molds back into the person she’s comfortable with, the doctor, and acts in order to save him. Thoughts, dangerous; actions, familiar and comforting.

*** LATER THAT NIGHT SCULLY'S APARTMENT

Scully doesn’t get much sleep that night. She tosses and turns, unable to relax after the day’s tumultuous events. Her mind is a whirl of confusing and conflicting emotions. The juxtaposition of Daniel against Mulder. One completely devoted to her while the other seems indifferent. Maybe she could have the life she wanted with Daniel but, more importantly, she feels certain about what a future with him would look like. The unknown path lying ahead with Mulder frightens her. She has never been good with not knowing, with not having things planned out.

She used her skills as a doctor to save Daniel. The practicality of having the knowledge and expertise to do something useful feels like a security blanket. For years now she’s been delving into uncharted territory - seeing things she can’t explain. The idea that science doesn’t hold all the answers makes her feel small and inadequate. Leaving that behind for the comfort of medicine and Daniel’s love was very appealing.

After waking and consuming two cups of strong coffee, Scully gets the urge to visit Colleen but she’s not sure why. Her house felt warm and comforting and she regrets the way she acted that night. She has a few questions but nothing that couldn't be answered by a phone call. Needing to experience her presence again, she drives there anyway.

Suddenly the thought comes to her that Colleen reminds her so strongly of Missy. The thought causes a sudden flood of emotion to rise within her and she has to pause before getting out of the car. She’d just recently been thinking of how much she wanted her sister to help her think through her issues with Mulder. Compared to Missy, Scully feels woefully inadequate when it comes to dealing with her emotions. Her sister flitted from partner to partner, dealing with heartbreak and love easily and fully. It was something Scully had always envied. When her feelings for Mulder deepened to a point she couldn't deny anymore, she longed for her advice and comfort.

Scully steels herself as Colleen answers the door, pushing aside the memories and longing for her sister. She prepares herself with more practical questions about her current predicament. Scully doesn’t need help, Daniel does, and she has a vague sense that Colleen could steer her in the right direction. Something keeps driving her to trust her instincts when it comes to this woman, perhaps she should finally listen to them.

*** SUNDAY

“When we hold onto shame and guilt and fear it creates imbalance, makes us forget who we are.” - Colleen

Colleen’s words repeat themselves over and over in Scully’s mind. She moves away from thoughts about herself, directing them to Daniel. Despite leaving before starting an affair with him, his marriage was ruined and his daughter traumatized. Scully had moved on, but he’d lived with thoughts only of her for ten years.

The idea that he’d been so close for so long had meant to make her feel cherished but it only made her uncomfortable. When she’d been abducted he’d been in the same city, working in a hospital while Mulder searched endlessly for her. When Mulder was holding her hair back when she was sick during chemo, Daniel was impressing a new group of students with his brilliance. And when Mulder held her close during her baseball lesson and they finally took the next step in their relationship, Daniel was thinking about her, ignoring his family.

Perhaps Daniel was put in her life again for a reason. Maybe she should take a chance. He was here now and he loved her. She found comfort in his solid presence and the reminder of her former self, so sure of her science. She pushes away thoughts of Mulder, of the guilt and hopelessness from these past few weeks. A sudden ache blooms in her chest and she presses a hand to her sternum to contain it.

She vacillates for a few moments before making a decision, walking towards Daniel’s room with the flowers she’d purchased on a whim. Instead of breezing in his room and matching his smile with an equal one from herself, she’s greeted with news about Daniel’s worsening health.

Unsure of herself, she leaves the hospital, follows her instincts, and has a vision. The black heart - he’d been poisoning himself. The need to heal him, to bring him back regardless of what he would think or want overwhelms her practicality. If she could heal him, make him see what he was doing to himself, he would get better. Her medicine didn’t help, so it was time to trust in something else.

*** MONDAY

She doesn’t even think about what’s happening until it’s done. It felt so natural to utilize something so separate from her beloved science. She just let go and put her trust in the unknown, her instincts screaming at her that it was the right thing to do before her brain could catch up. Missy would be proud. She hopes it’s not too late to share these things with Mulder, that he’ll still care enough to appreciate the distance she’s traveled these past few days.

When she heads home from the hospital, her thoughts turn inward. She realizes now that the woman Daniel obsessed over is a barely recognizable ghost of her current self. Her gradual transition into the person she is now seems sudden and dramatic when she sees herself through Daniel’s eyes.

She wouldn’t have known she wasn’t the same person if she hadn’t seen him again.

Ever since the beginning of her work on the X-Files she’s been in denial of the things she’s experienced. It wasn’t until Antarctica that her refusal to acknowledge what she saw affected her relationship with Mulder and nearly drove him away. It wasn’t just about him or their relationship, but about herself. Her fear surrounding what she’s become and her stubbornness to resist change even in the face of unquantifiable proof.

She justified it as needing to balance Mulder’s penchant for believing anything, to ground him and keep him honest, as he told her himself. Her outright denial was dangerously untruthful. She realizes now how harmful her actions have been. The contradiction of being so unreasonably skeptical in the face of things she sees with her own eyes and then putting her trust in Spender’s words, despite the mountain of evidence pointing to his treacherous nature. The mistake she made was singular, but with all their history, must have been completely devastating for Mulder.

If they can see past this rift in their relationship, Scully knows things have to change. She’ll never believe everything she sees or hears without careful consideration or evidence, but she owes it to herself, to Mulder, to stop letting science blind her. She’s always tried to guide him to be more critical of his beliefs and not trust the first thing that comes into his head. He’s come a long way in the time she’s known him. Why should it be so hard for her to do the same?

A calmness settles over her at these revelations. She sees the path laid out in front of her, as clear as the sidewalk she sits beside. Her thoughts, like a warm blanket, settle over her, comforting her more than the sun’s rays hitting her back. She’ll always carry a little bit of her sister within her, and this makes her feel more like herself than she has in a long, long time.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the blonde-haired woman in the cap for the fourth time during these past few days. Hoping to finally figure out what she has to do with the strange occurrences she’s been experiencing, Scully rushes to catch her. When she spins the figure around, it’s Mulder. She smiles widely, recognizing the path leading to Mulder, with him. The choices she’s made all along. Of course he’d be here now, so she offers to make him tea. She’s ready to open up to him, she owes him that. She owes it to herself.

*** LATER THAT DAY MULDER'S APARTMENT

Scully doesn’t speak about their relationship or about Spender, but it’s an unspoken thread that weaves through the story she tells Mulder. Her past, what she saw, what she finally believes. It’s enough to have him here listening to her, looking at her with wonder instead of indifference. Is it affection or an accident when he grazes his fingers along her own, as they sip their tea?

She lets the rumbling monotone of his voice lull her to sleep. The tension fades from her body, making her curl towards his warmth as she fades into unconsciousness.

Hours later, she treads to his bedroom and watches him from the doorway. A wave of tenderness washes over her as she gazes at his sleeping form. He’s lying on his side of the bed, one leg wrapped in his thin yellow pajamas splayed outside of the covers, the planes of his bare chest half covered by the sheet, his strong muscled arms resting on either side of him.

Taking a chance, desperate to maintain their connection, she lays her jacket on the corner of the bed. Inhaling a shaky breath, she wavers tentatively, not sure about whether she should presume she’d be welcome. Their conversation a few hours ago reminded her of where they used to be, but they have yet to speak of where they are, what their future holds.

"Mulder?" she whispers, her voice sleep-roughened and hesitant.

She can tell he hadn’t been fully asleep. He sits up slightly on one elbow and reaches his hand out towards her.

She approaches with a tremulous smile and stands beside him, twining her fingers through his. Mulder wraps his other arm around her hip, draws her closer and nuzzles his face into her stomach. She feels she's come home.

"Mulder... the right choice, the only choice, is us." She brushes her hand through his hair and leans over to kiss the top of his head.

“C’mere, Scully,” Mulder says, pulling her towards the bed. The awkwardness of their embrace results in a stumbling maneuver that somehow ends with her halfway beneath him, their legs tangled together. She chuckles and caresses the rough, stubbly skin along his jaw.

“I wasn’t sure…” Scully’s not clear how much to reveal but, finding newfound confidence in her recent self-awareness and their time together tonight, pushes on. “...you wanted this.”

He moves a lock of her hair behind her ear, strokes her cheek tenderly. "When I wanted to go to England with you, it wasn’t just a case. I hoped a change of scenery would help me...." he searches for the words, “tell you what you mean to me, that I was sorry for being such an ass lately. That I am very, very sorry.”

“I had no idea.” Tears form in her eyes, regret at how she misinterpreted his disinterest. Replaying the scene in her mind she sees it now. He’d been acting so different that day until she shot him down. They were always unintentionally hurting each other, too afraid to voice their thoughts, afraid of rejection.

“Well, it’s good you didn’t come. You had some pretty incredible things happen here.”

Mulder looks at her closely, the familiar expression of his mind working, taking a dangerous path. Moving to lay on his side, he puts some distance between them.

“I haven’t been myself these past few weeks. Things have been… difficult.” Mulder looks away from her, resting his head on the pillow next to hers. He reaches out, his hand tentatively brushing against her shoulder.

“I know what I did was--” Scully starts to apologize but Mulder stops her, putting his thumb on her mouth and shaking his head.

“I went to a dark place... but I’ve been heading there for a while. I never really thought I deserved you, or the happiness we had together. I just used what you did as an excuse to drive you away.” Mulder takes a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to someone. She’s been helping me. I - I... don’t want to push you away any more.”

“Mulder... you deserve to be happy. We deserve this.” Scully moves closer to him, reaches out and places her hands on the side of his face to emphasize her words.

“I’m working on it. You make me believe, Scully.” He smiles, but there’s still sadness and regret reflected in his eyes. “I just need some extra help.”

Scully nods, touches her forehead to his and they take a few moments to just breathe together, side-by-side. She pulls away and waits for his eyes to open and look at her before speaking.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Scully bites her lip, brushes her hand through his hair. “Not talking. It doesn’t work anymore.”

Mulder nods and squeezes her shoulder.

"And… I want to be truer to myself. Can you help me with that?"

“Yeah. I can do that.”

Scully moves her hand to his chest, tracing a line over his pectoral and across his ribcage to the lean musculature of his back. She grazes her nails to one side of his spine, wanting to comfort, needing to touch. She drops her gaze to his smooth, coppery skin, overwhelmed by his closeness, the smell and feel of him next to her. A tingling sensation low in her belly spreads to warm her chest. Despite the desire building within her, she’s gentle instead of demanding, wanting to give him solace if that’s all he needs from her tonight.

As she meets his gaze again, the somber look has disappeared. His eyes are dilated, irises deep green and filled with desire, always exciting her with their intensity when he directs his gaze towards her. Suddenly he’s above her again, his eyes shadowed in the dark room, the glints of moonlight highlighting the strength of his jawline, the curve of his clavicle. She presses her thumb along the length of the elegant bone, her fingers over the muscles of his shoulder and neck, lightly grazing over his chin and finally his lips.

“Trapezius. Sternocleidomastoid. Orbicularis oris,” she whispers, centering herself as she touches him. Her eyes follow her fingers, absorbing the details she was so afraid she’d forget, trying to regain some semblance of control as her desire threatens to overwhelm her.

“You sure do know how to talk dirty to a guy, Scully.” His voice is low and gravelly and he angles his head into her touch. When she sees the affection reflected at her in his eyes, she's suddenly struck by the force of her devotion to this man. That they are here, again.

Their faces inch closer until their mouths are barely touching, a feathery kiss that makes her shiver and her eyes flutter closed. His hand grazes along her arm and shoulder to the nape of her neck, through the hair at the base of her skull while his other hand moves to caress the side of her breast, teasing her with his closeness. Their kiss deepens, tongues tangling against each other as the tenderness of their embrace builds into something more urgent. Twining her hands through his hair, Scully draws him closer. She’s missed him, missed this. She feels absolutely greedy with her want for him, not holding back now that she knows he wants this, too.

With his teasing hand, he reaches under her sweater and cups the swell of her breast through the satin of her bra, flicks the hardened peak of her nipple with his thumb. She moans softly at his touch, rolling him over and straddling him.

She speaks into his mouth, not wanting to break the contact of their kiss. "Mmm, clothes…" She wants to feel her skin against his length, wants him to devour her whole. She can’t wait a second longer.

Mulder’s hands move down her torso, pausing at the hem of her sweater. He wraps them entirely around her waist, sliding upwards. Scully takes over and whips the garment over her head and in the general direction of her jacket. Pulling her down, he kisses a trail from her neck to the fringe of lace covering her breasts. She gasps and moves closer, stroking her palms over his pectorals and reaching upwards to grip his shoulders. Sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth, her eyes flicker closed as Mulder’s mouth continues over the swell of her breast. He curves his tongue around her areola, skimming around her nipple through the thin material as his hand seeks her other breast, massaging and kneading. His other hand glides down to grip her hip, dipping his thumb slightly underneath the edge of her skirt before cupping and squeezing her ass.

She’s on fire. Her skirt has hitched up to the top of her thighs and she thinks he must feel how wet she is already, even through the layers of clothing she still wears. Too many clothes. As if reading her mind, his hand caressing her breast moves around and deftly unhooks the clasp of her bra. He breaks from his suckling to remove her bra, grinning proudly up at her. Scully chuckles and leans over, giving him a teasing nip on his lower lip as his hands glide down her sides to search for the zipper of her skirt.

“Side,” she says and moves off of him onto her back. Lifting her hips after he unzips her, she helps him slip off her skirt. She watches as he moves off the bed to carefully lay it on her jacket. He finds her sweater lying precariously on the edge of the chair in his room and takes the time to unravel it and lay it neatly on her pile of clothes as well.

“Mulderrr…” Scully exhales, poking his bare ribcage with a stockinged toe impatiently.

“You’ll thank me later.”

He winks at her, standing by the bed, his darkened eyes sweeping over her languid form. Reaching for her waist again, he removes her pantyhose, taking her panties along with them. These he discards on the floor and she sighs as his gentle hands caress the bare skin of her legs. Grabbing her ankles, he pulls her to the edge of the bed, kneels down before her. Kisses the arch of her foot, the delicate bones of her ankle, the curve of her calf and the swell of her thigh, starting over again with the other leg - licking, nipping, soothing. Achingly slowly.

“So good, Scully.” His eyes connect with hers briefly before he lays his cheek against the top of her thigh, breathing her in, the scent of her arousal heavy in the air. He continues, nuzzling his face against her mons. Such a gentle touch but igniting a powerful flood of pleasure within her. Kneeling up, he presses his tongue to the skin at the joint of her thigh, slicks upwards and swirls around her navel, lingering on the sensitive sucking the skin below. Rising up on his elbows and looking into her eyes, he smiles contentedly.

He drags his fingertips over her hip to the curve of her waist, the side of her breast, running down her arm to clasp his fingers with hers, squeezing gently. She smiles at him affectionately, her chest heaving with anticipation.

He tears his eyes from hers and his head dips down between her legs. His other hand wraps around her thigh, cradling her to him as he nuzzles the delicate skin there, pressing tender kisses along each one. He lowers his head and his tongue drifts along the edge of her outer lips, a touch that ignites a fire deep within, spreading to the edges of her awareness. She moans softly and her free hand meanders to her breasts, caressing and squeezing her nipples, a counterpoint to his movements below.

After teasing his way in, he increases the pressure of his tongue. Using the flat of it to swipe upwards, circling around her clit and sucking lightly. He pushes inside her and swirls before rhythmically kissing and licking her folds, increasing his speed before slowing to a near pause. He relinquishes her hand, inserting one, then two fingers into her, curling upwards and stroking her g-spot. The indescribable feeling of pressure and warmth blooms upwards and outwards, causing her fingers to tingle and her toes to curl. His hand around her thigh moves to her hip and caresses back again, an exquisite loop she focuses on, willing herself to hold on and enjoy this moment for as long as possible.

The ache inside her builds as he nips and licks, caressing her just how she likes. She manages to lean up on an arm to look at him, needing to see him there, reassuring herself that this isn’t just another dream. His head peeks up from between her legs, watching her with a mirrored expression of desire as she touches her breasts. His chin is glistening with her wetness and his smile glints at her in the moonlight.

“You’re so… fucking… sexy... Scully.” Mulder punctuates his words with a few more curls of his fingers inside her, making her writhe and touch herself with increasing intensity. Still watching her carefully, he removes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, moaning as he tastes her.

“Jesus, Mulder…” Scully groans, laying back, breathing heavily.

He moves back down, his warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on the skin of her inner thighs and lips, teasing her again, drawing out her pleasure. As he increases his movements, she feels her orgasm build, the tell-tale feeling like she’s about to overflow with sensation. He sucks her clit with the perfect pressure, runs his tongue up and around her lips, before sweeping over the skin above her clitoris, swollen with need. And that’s what sends her off the edge. The sensitive nerves throb, her inner walls contract, and she sees the universe behind her eyelids.

She never remembers what she says when she comes but she can always count on Mulder’s twinkling eyes, proud and affectionate, to recount the details later. Usually expletives and some form of religious heresy but always, always “Mulder, Mulder, Mulder”.

As she comes back to herself, she feels the gentle caress of his hands on her outer thighs, his scratchy cheek resting on the sensitive flesh of her belly. He’s watching her with an awestruck expression, a half-smile making him look boyish and happy. She wants to give him this all the time just to see his face, the rest of it a bonus.

She wriggles herself up the bed, beckons him with her hands. After discarding his pajama bottoms on the floor, he moves onto the bed beside her, grazes his fingers along her side and kisses a trail up her torso. He pauses at her breasts, cupping them tenderly in his palms. Taking one taut nipple in his mouth and suckling gently, her desire flares up sharply once more. He nips gently, then places delicate kisses over to the other breast, giving it equal attention. His attentions are leisurely, all-consuming, and Scully only wants more.

“Oh, Mul--” her breath catches. “Mulder, yes...”

He releases her nipple and looks at her, grinning broadly, stroking her breasts and giving them a sweet kiss on each rosy tip before moving up to embrace her, settling himself beside her tingling body. He presses gente kisses along her neck, trailing upwards to her face, soothing her warmed flesh with gentle grazes of his fingers and the tips of his nails. His hands move to the hair at her temple, slick with sweat, and he tenderly presses his lips along her hairline.

“Love you.” Scully sighs, wanting him close, to make him feel as good as she does.

“You’re just saying that because…” He traces the outline of her ear and sucks on her earlobe, tapping her earring in a familiar pattern.

“Mmm yeah, you’re right.” She grins at him and reaches down to swat his ass. She runs her hand along the firm skin there, squeezing, then moves around to grasp his cock.

Mulder gasps at her touch, suddenly frozen and certainly not the one in charge. She looks down between them, loving the contrast of her pale skin next to his muscled, coppery torso, her small hand grasping his thick, hard erection. She swirls upwards, using her thumb to coat his fluid along his length. Releasing him briefly, she pushes him on his back and rakes her gaze over his naked body. His muscled chest with its sexy patch of soft hair, his defined abs, his thick hard cock - all hers. She wets her lips and leans down, licking him from base to tip with the flat of her tongue, humming contentedly, warmth spreading from her groin when he moans. She swirls her tongue around the head and is about to take him in when his hands grasp her shoulders, stopping her.

“Not… ah, not tonight, Scully.” His voice is strangled and he’s panting already.

She smiles widely, knowing that with barely a touch, his own ministrations on her give him almost as much pleasure as it does her. She releases him and traces her hands along the length of his ribcage, grazing the tips of her fingernails over his skin, pausing to brush over the peaks of his nipples.

As Scully continues her meandering course over his body with fingers and tongue, Mulder slides upwards on the bed, starting to pull away from her. Before moving away he grabs her hands in his, squeezing them and bringing them to his mouth for a tender kiss. Their eyes lock, an understanding passes between them that sends a thrill up her spine.

Mulder reaches around and arranges the pillows behind him as she sits up on her knees. He turns towards her and sits on the bed cross-legged in front the cushions, beckoning her with a crooked, sexy smile and a gentle touch to her arm.

She kneels around him, straddling him, hovering over his cock. She reaches up within herself for some lubrication, coating him before she guides him to her entrance. Mulder’s hands brace her hips, his forehead presses against hers as they anticipate this moment. Their eyes connect as she settles his full length inside her with one fluid motion. Finally.

Scully’s stretched to the point where pain mixes indescribably with pleasure. She feels like he fills her up from head to toe--she’s never been more complete. Her eyes close, the emotions welling up from her chest threatening to spill over.

After what feels like eternity and a singular moment, she opens her eyes, Mulder’s face mere inches from hers. His right arm is holding her close, wrapping around her back, his hand coming to rest at the nape of her neck, surrounding her with his warmth. In his close embrace, she feels secure, protected.

“Hey.” Mulder smiles slightly, a wonder and shyness to his expression she wasn’t expecting.

“Hey, yourself.” Scully giggles softly, enjoys that she can look directly into his eyes from this position, that it’s so easy for them to kiss each other. As she presses her hand against his chest, she feels his heart beating wildly, matching her own. Their breaths coming in soft pants. Their lips touch gently, and they begin to move.

The intense feeling of his cock thrusting urgently within her is such a contrast to his gentle hand caressing her back, grazing the shell of her ear, the curve of her cheek, the soft skin of her neck. It’s her undoing, this duality of the man she loves - his intense passion and aching sweetness. She gasps as she kisses him, her desperation rising alongside her impending orgasm once more.

His mouth on hers, teeth clashing, lips pulling, tongues pushing and exploring. He tastes like her and like him, the mingling of their togetherness a unique flavor that she nearly forgot these past weeks. She gasps at the familiarity of this moment. Tears well in her eyes, fall down her cheeks and she licks the saltiness from her lips.

Mulder’s hand moves up to cup her cheek, brushing the moisture away with his thumb, he looks into her eyes, concern and love etched into their golden-green depths.

“You okay, Scully?” He stills her movements, caresses her neck and shoulders with his other hand.

“Mmm…” She has trouble forming words, so she smiles widely, bites down on her swollen lower lip and nods her head. She grasps the strong muscles of his shoulder and neck, and moves once again, faster this time, desperate for release. Her mouth latches onto his, sloppily lapping and sucking at his lower lip.

Scully feels the burning in her thighs at the effort of their lovemaking and she adjusts slightly. Mulder laps at the sweat gathered along her brow, kisses along her throat, the side of her neck. When he nips at the sensitive place behind her ear a jolt of pleasure causes her to shudder and moan.

He starts to take control, to thrust deeper as her movements become jerky and uncoordinated, his hands moving to her hips to guide and lift her.

“Love you.” He whispers into her ear, his warm breath tickling her there. He grunts, his voice strained and she can tell he’s trying to hold back, to make things last, to get her to fall again before he follows.

“Oh, God..” Scully can feel the rising tide of her release radiating outwards, her awareness laser focused on the feel of them moving together. One of his hands moves between them to rub her clit at their joined flesh. He thrusts sharply a few times, hitting the spot within her perfectly. And then she’s gone, seeing sparks beneath her eyelids, and a fluttering wave rise from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Mulder’s arms brace her as she rides out the contractions lost in his arms, floating in a sea of ecstasy expanding around her.

His breath soothes her flushed skin as she comes down. He’s whispering words of endearment that don’t quite connect with her brain, but his tone floods her chest with warmth.

He lays her gently on her back, leaning over her while she quivers and comes back to herself. His solid body pressed against her grounds her in the present, and she nuzzles into his neck, wrapping her arms around him to keep him close, feeling thick and heavy after her orgasm. When he pulls away slightly, she opens her eyes. Leaning on an elbow, he’s gazing at her and moving the sweat-slicked strands of hair away from her face. She smiles contentedly at him, lazily drawing patterns on the smooth planes of his bicep.

He grins back, but this time it’s his eyes that are filled with the tinge of desperation. His eyes close and she embraces him, encouraging him with her caress. Nestled between her thighs, he begins to thrust again, her palms splayed over his upper back, feeling the flexion of his movement. Her nails graze his torso with a feathering touch. She presses her nose into the hollow of his neck, breathing deeply. The unique fragrance of their sweat and arousal conjures up memories of their many times together before this night. It feels historic and familiar all at once.

She lifts her legs to twine around his waist. He grabs one of her legs, lifting it, letting him penetrate deeper. The weight of him on top of her, the sound of their bodies coming together, surrounds her completely. Wanting to give him as much pleasure as he’s given her, she clenches her inner muscles, tugs at his hair, nips and suckles the warm skin of his shoulder.

“Sc-Scully…” he chokes out her name before one, two, three thrusts and he finds his release, his mouth on top of hers in a sloppy kiss as he comes. He pumps a few more times before carefully collapsing on his side, drawing her on top of him.

Scully nuzzles into his chest, listening to the slowing rhythm of his heartbeat. She wraps her arms tightly around him, wanting to hold onto this moment, this homecoming of theirs for as long as possible. When she feels his heart rate return to normal, he goes to move, to get something to clean them up but she doesn’t let him out of her embrace.

“Stay.” She kisses his neck, tasting the salty tang of his sweaty skin. “Stay.”

Mulder caresses her back, his hand moves to the nape of her neck and through her hair. He  kisses her more firmly, holds her tighter.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

Scully smiles at him, chuckling softly under her breath.

“No, I can’t,” she says, eyes twinkling.

She kisses him deeply, her hand caressing his hair. She breaks their kiss and looks into his eyes. His expression is unreadable and she feels a lurch in her chest. Her thumb moves over his bottom lip, traces its plush curve.

Mulder kisses her thumb, grasps her wrist so he can place tender kisses on each of her digits. She can sense him trying to think of what to say and, for a moment, she doubts herself.

He looks at her and there’s a sorrowful hesitance in his eyes. It reminds her of his words from before - how he’s unsure of himself. She wishes she could rid him of his doubts by reminding him of his worth, but knows it couldn’t be quite that simple.

“Remember, no hiding.” Scully reaches out and cups his cheek, reassuring him with a smile. A thousand words pass between their gazes and she sees Mulder’s expression soften, a small smile finally gracing his lips. She nuzzles the skin below his jaw and sighs, relieved.

“Find me if I do, Scully.” Mulder whispers into her ear, trails his hand along her back.

Once their bodies cool, Mulder ventures into the bathroom, returns with warm cloths to clean them up and a glass of water for them to share. His tender care, his focus on her pleasure, how could she ever doubt his love for her? His eyes tell her everything she needs to know, gazing at her with the love she thought she’d lost.

He wraps them in his light duvet and holds her close, gently tracing patterns on her shoulder. Scully buries herself in his chest, sighing contentedly at his closeness.

“So, uh… seriously, Scully. I’m wondering if I should stick around more, you only seem to experience strange things when I’m not around. Feel like I’m missing out.” His voice is teasing but she hears the vulnerability hidden between his words.

She leans up to look at him, kisses his lips and meets his eyes with a serious expression.

“I’d be okay with that.”

“Yeah?” Mulder brushes his thumb over her cheek.

“Definitely.” They both grin widely, finally acknowledging to each other what they want, what they both need. Pressing her face close to his, she kisses his cheek and jaw before laying back down.

Mulder kisses the top of her head, sweeps his hand through her hair. His touch slows and stops, his breathing even out, but she stays, just a little while longer.

There’s things still left unsaid, but that can wait until tomorrow. Despite the fear she feels about fully exposing herself to him, she’s eager to take this next step with him into their future.

She’ll have to leave before morning and she feels strangely regretful about it. Usually after an evening together, and always on a work night, they would leave before dawn. They would return to their empty apartments by themselves, not wanting to let their independent lives be disrupted by their intimacy. But things feel different now, like they're locked together, united even closer than before. She’s been denying herself so much by trying to hold onto the person she was. Things must change, within herself and between them, and for the first time Scully is at peace with it.

[feather-dancer]

Now Ghosts he left behind Chapter 3 has been out nearly a couple of weeks suppose now is an acceptable amount of time to go on about ~*themes*~ that have been cropping up in the fic so far that aren’t at all plot relevant but are still important things I want to do justice to: LGBT+ rep and mental health particularly centred around anxiety. Understandably the following will contain spoilers I can’t avoid it, sorry!

~~~

Mental health

It probably doesn’t come as too big a surprise on the latter front, after all in the second chapter of the Strickler fic I tagged for unhealthy coping mechanisms which are loosely based on my own which also happened to have a reference at the end of the second chapter in Ghost!AU showing how far he’d come since then. Now I’ve read some excellent fics on the PTSD front, a few on dysphoria regarding the change from human to half troll but in regards to anxiety many seem to fall into the trap of thinking somebody is a bit more skittish or that it just gives you a more nervous nature. As somebody who has generalised anxiety myself, I really wish it was that simple.

In this fic’s case the anxiety is being heavily tangled in the dysphoria of the change where he’s left alone to process everything while being hit with reminders of what he no longer is thus putting more fuel on the pyre as a result. In a stressful situation (Sometimes not even then!) it can get stuck in a loop of self-created belief such as here Merlin kept him away deliberately though we know this isn’t the case and will warp reality/memories to fit like how he misremembers that Merlin also said his visions are imperfect if there’s nothing to snap you out of it then those spirals often lead to panic attacks or worse a full breakdown. Here his brain is trying to make sense of the impossible, jumping to the most logical conclusion it can come up with and through bad luck has this very wrong thought process that he’s a threat to everyone else. Having been on one or two of these they really do suck! Quite often dissociation goes hand in hand whether you’re aware of it happening or not and thus far he’s had a couple bouts that he’s dubbing blackouts currently. There is also the classic ‘background’ noise variant where for no real reason your fight / flight reflex is jammed on when it feels like it though Jim as shown by the CBD techniques at the start of chapter 3 is doing his best to keep a handle on those spiking too far and Claire mentions he taught her a few to help out to show that his friends know and he is able to talk about it without feeling the need to hide in plain sight every waking moment. If you’re forced to stealth you get frighteningly good about hiding full blown panic attacks and it’s not a healthy situation to be in.

On Toby’s end he mentions a specific situation where anxiety was likely involved before Jim was diagnosed. In it when confronted with a situation option a was bad, option b was worse and there was no good outcomes because his brain got stuck on those. He also mentions being moral support helping get Jim into a position that he would be able to go home but refused to leave him alone until he was sure he was okay. It’s worth pointing out he figured the reason everything kicked off was the ‘problem’ of coming out to Barbara and her not reacting well (Which was an understandable conclusion!) and only later realised anxiety was what made the entire thing even worse and he unintentionally did the right thing to help. Barbara also mentions Jim being on medication for it, the original ones to mysteriously stop working which are implied to be while Toby was pretending to be Jim then moved onto another treatment which was brought up via Strickler’s concern about going cold turkey. As much as anxiety freaking sucks I felt it was important to show that nothing in relation to it is treated as abnormal, it is simply life with having your brain being a bit on the funky side and that sometimes makes you think illogically. It’s not your fault when it happens.

~~~

LGBT+

When I began writing this fic one thing I wanted from the get go is that characters who are LGBT+ are not forced into a scenario created by the plot to out them to the reader/someone else nor signposted in a cheap way to score points because even when you’re with friends who know you’re not saying it every two seconds and even more so when in a stressful circumstance where your son/best friend is currently missing. With this thought in mind, Jim has always been written as Trans but prior to Chapter 3 I simply had no way to bring it up because right now he’s too busy freaking out about being a half troll to notice if anything is different and on this same coin, Claire is Bi while Toby is Pan with a bonus order of trying to figure himself out. There’s others too! Sadly much like confirming Jim is also Bi I’ve not had a way to naturally bring it up as yet if I will at all but they are being written with it in mind.

Jim was a trickier one to bring up because he’s not about to vouch for himself so it was a much easier route to instead hint drop and hope one if not all of them clicked with a reader who he is without any of them being done in a way that could come across as dickish. Barbara got the first two with mentioning Jim should know better about using a given name in regards to Not!Enrique and a second one in regards to another form of medication he’s taking but because she didn’t know if Strickler knew (Incidentally he does) thus she deliberately phrased it vaguely and was ready for the possibility of upset without outing her son because she’s a good parent!! Toby is who gets the rest through a roundabout way mentioning how bad his pre-medicated anxiety could be when he came out as mentioned in the previous section and a second time where he says he didn’t care what he looked like because Jim is always Jim to him. The final important note was how he specifically said that he would not second party exactly what happened because it’s Jim’s choice if he tells her or not. We love and support good friends in this house.

Then there was the inclusion of the river troll Trisantona who is marked as non-binary by calling themselves the child of and the kids think absolutely nothing of it and are more annoyed with their attitude than anything else. Personally I see many trolls and changelings particularly very eh about gender and wanted a little implication they are far from the first troll they’ve encountered who doesn’t fit a human binary so it doesn’t even register as unusual. 

In Claire’s case she had two hints, the first bring a straight joke because it might be low hanging fruit but it’s hilarious I can’t help it while the second was her commentary on Toby’s reactions to name drops because she couldn’t resist teasing him. Small but both very deliberate.

Toby in the meanwhile has been having hint drops since chapter 2 which has only continued in how he keeps comparing reactions Claire is causing to what Jim does to him then you get him openly telling Claire about how it feels like his heart is a bunch of apartments and can the world stop having so many good-looking people in it. That ties in with the two mentions of doing research for a word he hasn’t quite got yet but he’s mostly been sidetracked by everything going on right now.

Homophobia, biphobia and particularly transphobia is rife and only increasing in this country where it feels like every week it’s only getting worse. While in the grand scheme of things it’s probably inconsequential it is important to be the change you want to see in the world. Mine? Even in this mess of an angst fic I want to showcase LGBT+ peeps who are treated as they should be with love and support by friends, family and strangers alike. Being Trans, Bi or whichever label that particular character uses it is simply part of who they are and not a character trait slapped on afterwards for easy points plus if I see one more fic where a Trans character gets outted to others without their consent because the author figured that’s the only way you can do it I’ll go feral.

In a completely unrelated note Douxie is non-binary Panromatic Ace in everything I write and anybody who doesn’t like that can suck it.

[kuroopaisen]

@kacchand (i couldn't tag your main but i wanted to make sure you saw this fdlkjfdlkj) 

hello dear! i’m sorry it took me so long to respond to this dflskjfdlkfdj i decided to answer your ask in a text post so i can link my thoughts to yours more easily! also, i know i'm going to Ramble, so i wanted to be able to keep it under a cut sdlkfjd

Hi rowan!! I've just finished the final chapter of aot and I just wanted to ask your opinion on it!

(SPOILERS THAT DEPICT MY UNDERSTANDING OF THE STORY'S MEANING AHEAD. READ ONLY IF YOU'VE FINISHED THE CHAPTER)

(FR )

(THERE'S STILL TIME TO BACK OUT)

(DO IT NOW. SPOILER ALERT)

I'd also like to ask a follow up question about it, because it seems that I've come to a different concl. from many of my friends and I'm feeling dumb abt how i feel w it.

first of all (and i say this as sincerely as possible, and if i'm coming off as condesending please let me know hh), please don't feel dumb because you've come to a different conclusion :(

we all read media at different levels (i’ve been told it’s ‘not that deep’ before fdljkfsdlkj) and identify different aspects in it, so the fact that you've had a different experience to some of your friends is absolutely not a reflection on your intelligence. and if anyone's making you feel that way, drop their @. i just want to talk :) furthermore, you’re not wrong for responding to something emotionally, especially if it really... makes you uncomfortable, you know? 

i'm from the PH & I've put off determining whether i'm comfy w the manga til the last chap,,,, but is it wrong that I can't shake the feeling that it's a justification of japanese expansionism and genocide? ik this manga has always been in the grey area, and that's what I love abt it! It often shows that no choice they make is absolutely good or bad, and does such a good job at showing you how each complex character came to that understanding (role of environment, etc...) but this last chapter felt too positive abt the rumbling? Like it was justified because paradis was able to advance and there wasn't much choice? idk.

that's totally valid! some of the best think pieces on the show i read mentioned that the concern with the narrative is less "is isayama a nazi sympathiser?" (he most likely isn't), but if he's a imperial japan apologist. and...

well, let's just say that my father is british, and when i was trying to say that colonisation was bad, using british india as an example, he said "well, we gave them railroads." it's... it's uncomfortable and gross and i think it encapsulates how countries with imperial pasts tend to talk about them; even if they don't officially endorse it, there's often a lot of talk about how "well colonialism was good for this country, actually--"

and if the manga felt like it was justifying japanese expansionism, then chances are it had elements that very much did point towards that. i've had a lot of trouble grappling with reiner, annie and bertolt, because they've existed in this grey area of 'victim of oppression' and 'war criminal'; and their existence raises the question of "do people who commit war crimes simply do what needs to be done?" and by victimising them it... it plays into the whole nuremberg defense of "i was just following orders". it's making you feel bad for the people committing said war crimes (and similarly with eren, and all the awful things he's done). but i'll get more into this point later dsfkjfd

i haven't read the last chapter yet (and don't worry about spoilers! i've been approaching aot from a very... specific perspective anyway, so i actually don't mind spoilers -- i read a bunch of analyses of the series before i'd even watched it hh), but... i think if it came off as too positive about, you know... an awful thing that happened, then it absolutely makes sense that you'd feel uncomfortable?

the modernisation narrative in general is one that always skeeves me out. it's one japanese imperialists use to justify the invasion of korea (and even those infamous tweets from the one account purported to be isayama talk about how the population of korea boomed under japanese imperial occupation, which... stop.)

it's also commonly invoked in cases of development. certain members of society (usually the poor), just 'had' to die for the good of the future. who gives a damn if they consent to that? they have to.

similarly, the 'we had no choice' narrative. that's... a concerning one that crops up time and again with history apologists, the argument that "oh if x country hadn't done y, then someone else would've!" or that acts of aggression were done as pre-emptive self-defence, which is so... ugh. i just. i just hate it.

It also feels really weird w the ymir and the whole loving fritz thing. i wish we got to see more of her thought process and what conclusion she came to that led her to destroying the power of the titans.

i... hate this so much. i get that abuse is complicated and victims often have multifaceted feelings towards their abusers, but... most people would focus on that in their story? the story would be about that? but instead, it's just... a thing in the history of the world and that's... icky.

also having the genesis of the titans come from a slave girl in love with her captor... there's many levels of ick to it and i highly doubt it was handled with the appropriate level of grace and sensitivity.

honestly, this might be one of the things that pissed me off the most because of how... contradictory her backstory was with That One Chapter (you know, instead of ymir crying because she wants to be free or because she’s been trapped she........ wants to see mikasa kiss eren’s decapitated head? i guess? what the fuck?) 

idk...I just think that context is sometimes everything. and i understand that media can portray incorrect things,,,, and that isayama likely didn't intend for it to become a global sensation, but i guess i'm just uncomfortable w the right wing nazis getting a comfort book ahaha.

i totally get that! even if attack on titan is meant to be anti-fascists, the fact of the matter is... a lot of fascists love it. and relate to it. which is... alarming. especially given just how popular aot is worldwide.

it’s hard because before the ending, attack on titan did feel like it was more grey; i remember saying that i wouldn’t know how to feel about it until the ending because the story was either saying “the military is corrupt and war is hell”, or it was saying “the military is corrupt and war is hell, but it is necessary.” 

still sorting out my thoughts, but yeah. I think i'm having a hard time understanding what they really accomplished with the rumbling and how they gave eren a sudden lelouch role and a lot of how they made it out to be a happy thing? perhaps I'm too biased to see it fully but to me it gives a "woah. eren was a hero. he saved us from destruction. those people needed to die for us to achieve this temporary peace and new start". i suppose the rumbling gave them a levelled playing ground?

OH MY GOOOOOD okay. i haven't finished code geass. but i really don't like lelouch. i mean... i think i just don't like characters that sacrifice other people for a purported 'greater good' (i could write an Essay about how much i hate erwin smith looking at him is enough to send me into an unhinged rage), but where i'm up to in the anime, i don't like the direction they're going with eren? i mean, i've never liked eren, but... that whole "martyr for the eldians" is just. ew. especially when you see several eldian characters disagree and resist him. 

why does this one guy get to make choices for everyone else? because he’s sPeCiAL? fuck off 

sorry for not being coherent. maybe i'm basing this too much on feelings ahaha. trust aot to finish it's scandalous run with a scandalous end.

no omg you're being perfectly coherent :( also, if anyone's making you feel bad or stupid for how you experience media, they’re... definitely not as smart as they think they are fdslskjfdlk. 

i'm of that mind that, while media consumption is in part an intellectual exercise, it is inherently very emotional; narrative media tries to make us feel as much as it makes us think. that’s what stories are for, you know? intellectual analysis is well and good but what’s the point of a story if it doesn’t make you feel anything?

that's to say, i don't believe there's such thing as basing your opinion too much on feelings :') especially since it's your personal experience with a piece of media; you don't owe anyone 'objectivity' (which is always a farce when it comes to this sort of thing) or 'logical analysis', because nobody's got any right to criticise you for engaging with media the 'wrong way'.

tl;dr I feel like the mood was too celebratory abt the rumbling, and didn't entail enough on the tragedy so much that it felt like a justification for genocide and expansionism. how do you feel abt it's ending and the message it leaves? is isayama responsible to give a morally correct answer to the cycle of hatred? you're not obligated to answer! and sorry for the rambling.

hhh yeah i guess that’s the thing at the end of the day... is isayama responsible for giving a “morally correct” answer? no, but the way the ending plays out is very telling. 

like armin thanking eren? mikasa’s e n t i r e character boiling down to being in love with a mass murderer no matter how poorly he’s treated her? and one could argue that kind of ending is supposed to be unsettling, supposed to hint that the cycle will just continue, but...

framing is everything. and it’s framed like a Good, Emotional Thing, Aren’t We So Grateful Eren Did All Those Awful Things 

YI think I would've been fine if we got to see more of Eren's or Yif you have a different perspective on how eren is being portrayed please do share! I just felt really yucky watching armin say "thanks for murdering all those people for us" with love,,, I suppose he was trying to make eren feel better. ach maybe I'm just overreacting. idk. im dumb ahaha . i'll send this in anyway cuz I'd love to hear your take!

HHHHHHH i just hate eren and i never got him. i felt bad for him in the beginning, but he's always been too... violent for me. there was a very short period of time in season 2 where i felt bad for him, but otherwise it’s just been... ugh. the main three have always been the weakest part of the series imo, so it’s really not surprising they’re part of the reason the ending was so. bad. 

and... well, that one infamous quote pretty much sums up my issue with armin. he's supposed to be the 'intelligent' one, but he's hopelessly devoted to a homicidal maniac with whom he has a very artificial, unbelievable bond with.

at the end of the day, the "thank you for becoming our monster" thing just makes it seem like attack on titan's core message is "war is horrible, but it is necessary." it feels like it's justifying massacre. and while fiction is fiction, and sometimes it's as simple as that, i think something as politically loaded as attack on titan needs to be looked at with a critical lens when discussing what it’s trying to say or what it means. 

do i think it makes someone a Bad Person for liking aot or being attached to it in some way? no, because that’s dumb, and what media someone likes =/= their Moral Goodness TM. ofc trends are a thing and certain pieces of media appeal to certain types of people, but it’s a false equivalency that misses the point. 

but by that same breath, nobody is wrong or stupid or has Less Valid Opinions just because what they took away from it makes them uncomfortable. 

i’m sorry this is So Long i have so many thoughts about this dskljfslkj 

but at the end of the day, 

levi sexy

[overthinkingkdrama]

Jona’s 5 Worst Dramas of 2019

A couple words about this list. I’m making this for fun. If a drama you love ended up on this list, it doesn’t mean that I hate you or I think you’re stupid or have terrible taste. But these are dramas that inspired strong negative reactions in me for one reason or another, whether that be disappointment, rage or disgust.

I’ve only included dramas that finished airing in 2019 in my selection process. If you have some dramas that hated, feel free to share them in the replies or send me an ask. It’s fun to complain about things for some reason.

Also, I have included major SPOILERS in a couple of these. So read at your own peril.

Dishonorable Mention: Melting Me Softly

I sincerely tried to limit myself to only dramas that I--for whatever misguided reasons--finished in their entirety for this list. Mainly because I don’t think it’s fair to brand something as the “worst” of anything without actually giving the thing a fair shake. That’s the only reason Melting Me Softly isn’t higher on this list. But I felt that it wasn’t right to leave it off entirely, if for no other reason then out of respect for the fallen Ji Chang Wook stans out there who lost their lives trying to make it through this trash fire. Somebody needs to stand up for those brave soldiers, out their gifing trash dramas while people like me are safe and sound on our couches, watching the tag like it’s a train wreck.

I made it through only two episodes of this drama, and despite my goodwill toward the majority of the cast, they were two of the most bafflingly bad hours of television that I forced myself to sit through this year. From what I could tell while side-eyeing the drama on tumblr and twitter it didn’t improve much over the course of the run. There were a couple steamy kisses that I enjoyed in clip form, but I don’t think it would have been worth the brain cells lost to sit through any more than that.

Bottom Line: Painfully unfunny, overwhelmingly expositional with no character development, confusing pacing and sloppy editing. Two episodes was two too many.

5. When the Devil Calls Your Name

It pains me to put this on the list because it was just last year that a Jung Kyung Ho, Park Sung Woong collaboration (Life on Mars) ended up in my top 5. And giving credit where it’s due, the two male leads seem to have a great deal of fun working together and I believe that all the actors gave this drama everything they could and sincerely tried to make it work. That’s one of the things I like about Jung Kyung Ho, he picks unique, risky projects that either pay off in a big way or fall flat on their faces (like the amateurishly written and edited Missing 9) Unfortunately, this script just too messy and too bizarre to work. Ha Rip as has a deeply frustrating character arc. He’s such a self-centered jerk for the vast majority of the drama, which is fine for a Faust type story if it’s written with conviction, but every time you think he’s started to turn a corner or grown as a person he reverts back to his old ways. The writing and tone are whiplash inducing. Plus the vague “soul mates” relationship between Ha Rip and Kim Yi Kyung seemed to want to have it both ways, flipping between implied romantic potential and a father/daughter dynamic, which made me quite uncomfortable.

Bottom Line: This drama’s bizarre mythology and world building barely makes any sense at all, but at least they’re easier to follow than the character development. Attempted something unique, but couldn’t pull it off. The OST is super dope though.

4. Love in Sadness

When I watched the first teasers I got the distinct impression that this wasn’t going to be a good drama, or at best it was going to be a guilty pleasure, but at the time when I started it I was hungry for a melo and there wasn’t much airing to hold my attention so I started it on impulse. I think in this case I got what I deserved for continuing to watch something I didn’t think was very good.

The first few episodes were actually pretty gripping and intriguingly dark, but that petered of quickly and the drama became and infuriating wheel spinning exercise with barely any perceptible plot development from episode to episode. The protagonists in this are all so stupid that in the final few episodes the female lead gets kidnapped not once, but multiple times because she keeps meeting her unstable husband alone. Plus nobody in this drama seems to know how to call the police when a madman is waving around a gun. It probably wouldn’t have made me so very mad except that in the last few episodes the writer became unaccountably preoccupied with how sad the psychotic, wife-beating husband’s family life was and how lonely and pathetic his life was when he wasn’t allowed to stalk, assault, and psychologically terrorize his wife. Seriously, in the last leg of the drama the villain is the only character who gets any character development at all. The drama pulls out all the stops to try to make use feel sorry for him. It’s disgusting.

Bottom Line: When a drama about a woman trying to escape domestic violence becomes completely preoccupied with painting the abuser as tragically misunderstood, you’ve got some serious problems.

3. The Lies Within

If it wasn't for the last two episodes this drama would not be on this list, but that isn't because it was in any way an exceptional drama, or that it otherwise would have ended up on my best list. Without the last two episodes The Lies Within is a merely adequate thriller, somewhat heightened by the brutal nature of the premise. I picked this show up largely to fill the void that was left by WATCHER and it was more or less successful, plus it helped that I liked the cast. However even at the beginning this drama I felt like it had some pretty glaring tone problems. There were parts of the drama that were standard OCN dark and gritty thriller, and there were other parts that felt like a campy police sitcom. The humor, when it does crop up in this drama always feels super out of place. But then that last big twist happened and man...I can't remember the last time a drama made me that angry or cratered quite so hard with a twist.

[And this is where I spoil the HELL out of this drama...]

Before this drama decided to go all M. Night Shyamalan in it’s last two episodes, there seemed to be at least one, if not two really reasonable candidates for the kidnapper. Actually all the ground work they’d done up to that point would seem to have pointed to Young Min and if he had turned out to be the perpetrator, I would have completely bought it. Instead they decided to blow everyone’s mind by making the kidnapped husband complicit in his own kidnapping and dismemberment. Which might seem like a shocking twist until you think about it for even half a second.

What it winds up doing on a narrative level it makes everything the characters have done to investigate this series of crimes up to this point feel pointless, resulting in a huge anticlimax. It makes the ambiguous figure of Seo Hui’s husband not only hopelessly stupid, but also cruel and unsympathetic. Because he thought somehow simply sharing the information with her would put her in more danger than threatening and psychologically terrorizing her into investigating the very people he was theoretically trying to protect her from. The explanation that he was already terminally ill doesn’t to anything to mitigate the stupidity of his plan for me. Seriously, you couldn’t think of any solution aside from cutting bits off yourself and sending them to your wife in the mail? I could rant about this ending at length, but I’m going to try to stop here.

Bottom Line: As far as I’m concerned, if you choose to sacrifice the emotional and narrative coherence of your story for a cheap and dirty twist to surprise the audience, you deserve every ranty review you get.

2. Love Affairs in the Afternoon

I’m really not sure what possessed me to watch this drama to begin with. That I continued to watch it is on me. The fact that I watched it despite hating the shallow characters, the thin story and the abortive message at the core of the drama is simply a lapse of judgement for which I shouldn’t be forgiven. Why did I do it despite not having a single nice thing to say about this show? Well, there are two reasons. I was curious to see if they would do anything compelling with one or two of the characters, (specifically the serial adulteress housewife an the broody artist) and I was surreptitiously watching this drama at work and it was really easy to follow the plot while only actually keeping my eyes on the screen about half the time. I watched the last episode before the subs were available and had no trouble understanding what was going. Which could be a sign that my Korean is improving, but is more likely a sign that the writing was so predictable and simplistic that you could follow it if you didn’t speak the language at all.

[Spoilers beyond this point.]

It’s my understanding that in the Jdrama that this is based on all of the characters basically wreck their lives and end up miserable, pointing toward the emptiness of the lives of these people who try to find fulfillment through extra-marital affairs. If that’s how this drama had ended, I still wouldn’t have enjoyed the execution but I could have respected the intent. But in this watered down Kdrama-fied version all the couples’ issues are resolved in the whitewash of a last episode time skip that makes the suffering and bullshit that led up to it feel completely pointless.

Bottom Line: Maybe this level of trashy, uninspired tripe would be somewhat justified if the chemistry between the leads had been better, but somehow they even managed to screw that up. The leads are just bad, vacuous people, a fact which is rendered all the more unforgivable by them being utterly bland. Everybody needed to divorce, nobody deserved to end up happy. Please be wiser than me and avoid this one.

1. Memories of the Alhambra

Initially, I was on the fence about even producing a “Worst List” this year, because in the past few years I’ve tried to be better about dropping dramas the moment they start to disappoint me, rather than hanging on to them and winding up burning myself out. I wasn’t sure if I’d have enough material to write this list, or at least not enough material to make it worth reading. Then I remembered that Memories of the Alhambra finished airing in January of this year (2019 was impossibly long, wasn’t it?) and I thought, “Aha, I can make this work.” I knew at once this drama was going to be the shitty tinfoil star atop my Christmas tree of suck.

I’ve already written a full review of this drama, where I got about as mean as I felt I could reasonably be. You can go read that if you like, I’m not going to retread all my many complaints here. What I will say is that Memories of the Alhambra took my mixed-to-favorable opinion of the writer, Song Jae Jung, and turned it to a negative one. She’s someone who clearly has a lot of interesting high concept ideas, but the execution is just not there. You can hook an audience with a concept, but you have to keep them with craft and structure. 

Maybe the industry can be blamed for that. Maybe she just has a hard time ending her stories, or maybe writing on a deadline doesn’t agree with her. Whatever the reason, I can no longer trust her to deliver a satisfying story. And that’s deeply saddening to me, because Queen In Hyun’s Man is in my top 10 favorite dramas.

To be front-to-back terrible is one thing. The joke’s at least half on me for bothering. But to have potential, to have an interesting hook, a budget, a cast, but then to be either unwilling or unable to live up to that potential feels like a con. That’s how I felt about his drama, like I had been willfully deceived by special effects and flashy editing, all orchestrated to disguise a narratively bankrupt, unsatisfying drama.

Bottom Line:  Is Memories of the Alhambra objectively the worst drama on this list? No, it’s not. Is it the most disappointing? Absolutely, it is. And that’s the more heinous crime, in my opinion.  And that’s why it’s my worst drama of 2019.

[gumnut-logic]

Stowaway

Title: Stowaway

Author: Gumnut

2 Jun 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: How could he possibly screw up even more than he already had?

Word count: 2921

Spoilers & warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 EPISODE 12

Timeline: Episode Tag

Author’s note: I really enjoyed the episode, so I just had to write something. This is mostly brothers being brothers. I hope you enjoy it :D

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“Gordon did what?!”

“Borrowed Thunderbird One to look for Sherbet.”

“The dog?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

Virgil stared at the hologram of his orbiting brother. “You’re kidding me.”

“No, scout’s honour.”

“Does Scott know?”

“Yes.”

“Will I have a Tracy Island to land on?”

John shrugged. “Maybe. Scott is still on his way in on Thunderbird Three. Gordon is on approach.” John’s eyes shifted to the left, obviously scanning readouts. “Assuming he manages to dock TB1 without landing her in the comms room, the Island should be safe.” A smirk. “I tend to think Gordon himself is likely a right-off.” John’s eyes shifted to something closer to serious. “You may be needed, big bro.”

Virgil sighed. “FAB.” Great. Just what he needed after spending all night on the other side of the planet disassembling a terrorist attempt. The GDF had called both him and Kayo in on this one. Kayo for her subtlety and Virgil for the opposite. Turned out that he had been less needed for his heavy lifting and more for his engineering skills. He had ended up butt up in the components of an automated harvester that had been reprogrammed to harvest more sapient crops than wheat. Yet again, he was left stunned that there were actually people on this planet who would do something like that.

Kayo had assisted the GDF in rounding up the culprits, Virgil had killed the harvester, and he’d spent the rest of the time hauling the massive chunk of machinery back out of the city to the nearest GDF base where it could be examined.

In short, he was tired, annoyed and disappointed in people.

A Scott vs. Gordon showdown was more of a headache than he needed.

Another sigh. Whatever.

Tracy Island was a welcome sight in any case and as he kicked in VTOL on approach to land, he felt some of the stress fall off his shoulders. Kayo had already beaten him home. Thunderbird Two was the slowest of all their craft, something his brothers never let him forget, but he loved her with his very soul and would take those extra few minutes over the fastest of their ships any day.

After all, who did half of them have to wait for anyway?

The solid, but soft thump as her wheels hit the tarmac and she trundled through her palm tree guard of honour, the cliff face bowing to her entry. A spin on her axis, he killed her engines and let her whine down to silence.

His shoulders dropped, he closed his eyes and took the moment to just relax.

A breath.

Another.

Pause.

Eyes open, he shoved his chair back.

Okay, next.

-o-o-o-

“You did what?!”

“C’mon, Virg, help me out here.” Gordon had the biggest puppy dog pleading look on his face Virgil had ever seen, and he’d seen doozies.

“Tell me why?”

“Because you are my brother and you love me?” Okay, was that doubt in that eye crinkle?

“I’m considering disowning you.” Virgil glared at Gordon. “You are trying to tell me that you boarded TB1 smelling like that?! And now you expect me to help you clean out her cockpit?”

“Yeeeah.”

“Before Scott gets back which is likely within the next half hour?”

“You got it in one.”

Virgil grit his teeth, but rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why I rarely let you fly my ‘bird.”

“Hey, it was an accident.”

“It always is. You said the same thing about the pink paint.”

“That was not my fault.”

“You were dating the girl, Gordon.”

“Yeeah...uh, can we get on with this? Clock’s ticking.” Gordon knew how to screw up his face to plead.

“You’ll owe me big time.”

“Anything you need, big bro.”

“Anything?”

“Just help me fix this, please.”

Another sigh. Well, it was better than a Scottonuclear detonation when the man found out. “Give me the damn cleaner.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon was right. Thunderbird One’s cockpit reeked.

Oh, he was using this for blackmail material until the end of time.

Virgil had thrown on another uniform. Working with the rocket plane always required a harness or two considering her height and there was no way Virgil was going to rely on that stupid personnel bridge Scott used. The thing was an occupational health and safety nightmare and Virgil valued his life. One of these days he’d drum that far enough into Scott’s brain to get the thing a railing.

So, it was grapple packs and harnesses and a little sonic disruption cleaning at a ninety-degree angle to the horizon.

Another thing to love about his ‘bird. She made sense. TB1 was all speed and no comfort.

Um.

Okay, so his ‘bird was all grunt and no comfort, but at least she rested parallel to the ground. None of this defying gravity crap.

“You okay up there, Virg.”

“Just fine and dandy, Gordon. You are welcome to join me.”

“Uh.”

“That’s what I thought. In debt forever, bro, forever.”

Was that a whimper he heard? Serve him damn right.

Securing himself, Virgil clambered up to Scott’s pilot seat and perched himself there. Grabbing the pack, he’d dragged up there with him, he pulled out the sonic cleaner and clamped it to the cockpit ‘ceiling’. A flick of a switch, and the subharmonics started yanking molecules from the air.

Virgil was not a fan of the gadget. It was efficient and cleaned far better than any rag with any chemical could, but it set him on edge. Something about those unheard harmonics got into his bones and grated them together. He shuddered.

Of course, nothing ensured clean more than a good wipe over, so next came the cleaner and that cleaning rag.

Another whimper.

“Gordon?”

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Apart from owing you my soul, yeah. Why?”

A frown. He could have sworn...

Another whimper.

Followed by a whine.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Swinging around and out of the pilot’s chair, Virgil lowered himself to the cargo bay access and clambered in. The lights came on automatically and he peered around.

This time the whimper was a pathetic bark and Virgil was able to narrow in on Sherbet at the very bottom of the bay, snagged in the harness recess.

“Uh, Gordon?”

“Yeah?”

“You know that trouble you’re in?”

“Yeah, way to rub it in, bro.”

“Well, it just doubled.” A pendulum push, Virgil snagged the internal ladder, and hurriedly climbed down to the bottom. “You have a stowaway.”

“I’ve got what?!”

“Sherbet is in TB1’s cargo hold.”

“Shit!”

“My thoughts exactly.”

He reached the bottom and carefully made his way over to the distressed dog. “Hey, Bertie, whatcha doing down here?” More whimpering and a distraught bark. “Did Gordon kidnap you?”

“I did no such thing!”

Sherbet jumped at Gordon’s voice and snarled.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Virgil softened his tone. “Let’s get you out of there, hey?” He crouched down and offered the pug his hand. Sherbet sniffed it. “Remember me?”

Apparently, he did as Virgil’s glove was suddenly slobbered on.

Taking that as permission, the engineer began untangling the little dog. How he had managed to climb into Thunderbird One, Virgil had no idea. No doubt Gordon would be the one to answer that. If he survived Lady Penelope.

And Scott.

There may be bloodshed.

Sherbet came loose and Virgil quickly examined him for injury. There was none apparent, other than the terror in the little dog’s shaking body. A scan in the infirmary would be a good idea. Considering he had been unsecured during flight; he was lucky to be alive.

“Gordon, get your ass up here and finish the cleaning. I have a patient to attend to.”

“Is he alright?”

“You better hope so.”

-o-o-o-

Sherbet was alright. A collective sigh of relief settled across the island. A few bruises was all the scan showed. Lucky dog.

Virgil gently lifted him off the bed and held him close. He was still shaking. “It’s okay, Bertie, I promise. Now let’s get your mom on the line.”

He had expected Lady Penelope to contact them as soon as possible, but he hadn’t wanted to contact her until he had ascertained Sherbet’s condition. Now was the time to face up to the inevitable.

“Virgil?”

And there was the bell, no saving included.

“Yes, John?”

“Gordon tells me you found Sherbet.”

“Yes, and he is fine.” As if to emphasise the point, Sherbet barked at John’s hologram.

“I see.” A flicker of expression. “Lady Penelope is quite distressed. Would you like to speak to her? I think it would be better if you take this one rather than Gordon.”

“Sure.”

John smiled just a little, a vague reassurance, before the hologram flickered to, yes, a distressed Lady Penelope. “Virgil! You found him!”

“Yes, he’s right here.” He held the little dog up to make sure the holoprojector would catch him.

“Oh, thank goodness!” And to his horror, Penny wavered where she was standing. A hand shot out and steadied her, Parker appearing beside her with a stormy expression.

“He’s okay, Penny. I promise. A bit of a fright and a couple of bruises, is all. He’s perfectly fine.”

“Bruises!”

Shit.

Sherbet barked at her hologram.

Penelope’s posture straightened and a more familiar fire lit in her eyes. “Please look after him, Virgil. We will be there shortly. Parker, bring the car around.”

The hologram cut off.

Oh, hell.

-o-o-o-

“He did what?!”

Scott had had a stressful day. Space rescues were a thing, but not his favourite thing. He much preferred his ‘bird and a wide, blue sky. The silence in space was just...well, silent.

Thunderbird Three was on approach, Alan levelling her off and bringing her around for landing. All three of them were tired at least emotionally after the day’s events, and Scott, physically. Too many near misses for his comfort.

“Now, Scott. You know he is rated to fly Thunderbird One and this was an opportunity to increase his flight time in your ‘bird.” John’s expression was firm.

“I’ll increase his flight time...”

“There was no harm done. Well, very little.”

Alan glanced at him before reversing Three’s engines and starting their descent into her silo.

“Little? What little?”

“Well...”

“John!”

“Yes?”

Scott drew in a breath and his lips thinned. “Do you remember what happened last time you tried to cover for Gordon?”

“I remember perfectly and I have acted accordingly. You no longer have access to my rooms, Scott, so don’t bother trying to threaten me. I’m only the messenger, after all.”

“John.”

“Yes, Scott?”

“Oh, ho, ho, you’re playing with fire, bro.” Alan’s grin was infuriating. “Big bro looks to go all explodey.”

Scott glared at him. “Alan, mind your own.” But his little brother just grinned, immune to his glare.

“Everything has been resolved, Scott. Your cockpit is clean and Lady Penelope is on her way to the island to collect Sherbet.”

Words could stop time. “What? What do you mean my cockpit is clean? What the hell happened?”

John’s hologram smirked. “A polecat. But I’ll let Gordon explain that little incident.”

“A polecat!”

But anything more John had to say was dulled out by the roar of rocket engines killing speed as Alan lowered his bird into her silo. And John cut off the signal, the red-headed chicken.

-o-o-o-

It was a good twenty minutes of post-flight checks, a shower and clothing later before Scott made it to the comms room. Striding from the elevator he found Virgil on the lounge, an arm full of Sherbet. His brother was speaking in that familiar ‘rescuee’ tone of his, a soft rumbling, gentle reassurance. Sherbet was gazing up at him with decisive worship.

No doubt the pieces of bacon in Virgil’s other hand were also helping the situation.

“Virg? How was the harvester-?”

Both his brother and Sherbet jumped. The pug turned to glare and growl at Scott.

Virgil frowned at his brother, but looked back down, offering Sherbet a tidbit and the pug settled once again. “It’s resolved. Report later.”

“Uh, sorry.”

“He’s had quite a fright. Couldn’t have been good to be stuck in One’s cargo hold unsecured.”

Scott lowered his voice as he approached and sat opposite his brother. “Any idea how he got there?”

“Gordon must have lowered One’s stairs. It’s the only way I can think he could have possibly boarded.”

“Gordon hasn’t told you?”

“Gordon is...upset.”

“So he should be.”

“Take a breath on this one, Scott. He is well aware he has screwed up.” Brown eyes grabbed his. “Code Penny.”

“Good point.”

“She’s not happy and Gordon is beside himself.”

“So where is he?”

“I told him to go get cleaned up. Penelope will be here any minute.” Sherbet wriggled, yipped and licked Virgil’s fingers. More bacon was provided.

“Sherbet is okay?”

“A few bruises. Very lucky dog.” A pause. “Not so lucky aquanaut.”

As if to emphasise the point FAB One appeared out of the blue and with hiss of VTOL landed beside the pool.

“Well, that’s a new one.” Scott stood up and eyed the pink Rolls Royce.

Virgil rose to his feet beside him, Sherbet licking his chin. “As I said, not happy.”

“Time to face the music.” Scott let out a breath.

-o-o-o-

The music wasn’t as loud as expected. Virgil carried Sherbet downstairs to the pool, Scott beside him. To say Penelope hurried over would be an understatement, her heels clicking madly on the concrete. But he had to admit to himself that handing over ‘Bertie’ to his mom was pretty damn equal to any good rescue result.

“Oh, Bertie, Bertie, Bertie. I am so happy you are safe.” The little pug was plastering Penny with kisses. “Did you ride on the big Thunderbird? Did you?” Bertie barked and wriggled in her arms. “Well, we won’t let that happen again, will we? No.” More hugs and snuggles.

Virgil arched an eyebrow.

“Where is Mr Gordon?” Parker approached, cracking his knuckles.

“Ah...” Virgil wasn’t sure he was willing to answer that one with that look in Parker’s eyes. “Let’s just say he’s safe, Parker, and leave it at that.”

“Mr Virgil, sir, he caused the Lady such distress. I would like to make sure he understands h’exactly how much.” Okay, protective Parker was fully engaged.

Virgil didn’t like that much at all. Which meant Scott likely liked it a whole heap less.

The engineer took a single step forward, conveniently between the chauffeur and his eldest brother. “Now, Parker, it was an accident. Gordon is very sorry.”

“‘E better be.”

“I am.” And Gordon was standing on the edge of the patio, his whole posture defeated and morose. “I am so sorry, Lady Penelope. Can you ever forgive me?”

Penelope looked up, her lips thin and an eyebrow arched. She didn’t say a thing.

Gordon took that as a negative and somehow, his posture slouched even more. “I understand.” He turned to walk back inside.

“Gordon?” Virgil suddenly found his arms once again full of wriggling pug as Penelope handed the dog back to him and walked towards his little brother. Parker glared.

The aquanaut stopped in his tracks, turning as Penelope approached. She reached out and gently caught his arm. “I wanted to thank you for what you did today.”

“Huh?”

His brother, ever the orator.

Penelope smiled just a little. “Well, you did fly halfway around the world to help Parker rescue Bertie. I know Bertie wasn’t really in trouble, but I do appreciate the thought and the effort, not to mention the unpleasantness with the polecat.”

Gordon grabbed the back of his neck in obvious embarrassment and stared at his feet, but he was standing straighter.

Penelope reached over and touching his chin, raised his head a little to look at her. “Thank you, Gordon.”

Virgil swallowed a grin as his brother flushed scarlet and smiled just a little. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

“Good.” Penelope was smiling at him.

A moment...and the moment passed. “Very well, must go, things to do.” And Penelope was returning to Virgil, lifting Sherbet into her arms and heading to FAB One.

Blink.

“Come, Parker, appointments to attend.”

The chauffeur eyed Virgil a moment making it clear this incident was far from forgotten in his book, shot a caustic look at Gordon and turned back to the car. “Yes, m’Lady.”

Open and shut a couple of car doors, a blast of hot air as she launched, and they were gone.

All three brothers stood there a little stunned.

“Well, that went easier than expected.” Scott, the ever not-fazed.

“Oh, thank god.” Gordon wilted where he was standing. “I thought Parker was going to kill me.”

Virgil smirked. “He still might. I’d keep away from him for a while if I were you.”

“You might be right.” Gordon sighed again. “Oh, I am so glad that is over.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was over, little brother.” And Scott was stalking towards the aquanaut. “I believe you and I have some things to discuss.”

“Oh, we do?” Gordon squirmed.

Virgil could almost count it down in his head.

Five.

“Yes, we do.”

Four.

“Uh, are you sure, ‘cause I honestly thought this was all resolved.” Gordon took a step back.

Three.

Scott was definitely taking pleasure out of this. “Oh, no, Gordon. Definitely not resolved.”

Two.

Another step back, ready for launch. “Uh, Scott. You love me, don’t you?”

One.

“Polecat, Gordon. In my cockpit.”

“Ah, yeah?” Gordon ran.

Thunderbird Four was gone.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[ad-drew]

The Shaman Society | An Excerpt, Part 4

Second draft is coming along well, got through a couple more chapters. Cutting stuff that doesn’t need to be in a scene or a paragraph and suddenly things flow so much better is a wonderful feeling. In any case, here is another excerpt featuring a couple new characters for the first time (at least in these excerpts). This one’s a bit longer, but oh well. I try not to give too much away in these, but there’s some small spoilers are inevitable.

Also, I’ve noticed other writeblrs including tag lists on their updates, and I was thinking of doing the same, if anyone out there would be interested. Just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you when I post another excerpt or any other information regarding my WIP.

---

“Oh, come on!” said Christine, with a snorting laugh. “You totally are!”

Rei pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, exhaling a quiet grumble. “For the last time, I am not a magical girl.”

“Is that so? Let’s see…” Christine raised a hand, counting off each point on her fingers. “You’re part of a secret society that fights evil monsters. Check. You’re powered by a magic gem. Check. You can magically change your outfit on a whim. Check! You even have a mystical companion!” She gestured behind them, where Asami followed a few steps back, glancing between the pair of them with an amused smile. “Check, check, and check!”

Rei cringed. For as long as she could remember, Christine had loved the magical girl genre. If the series featured flashy action, cutesy girls fighting evil, and overdrawn, pseudo-sexual transformation sequences, Christine consumed it the same as the air she needed to breathe. So much so, she could point out every single similarity to Rei’s new “secret identity,” as she called it. Oh joy.

“I swear to hell,” she said, with a stern shake of her head, “if you start comparing me to Sailor Moon, I’m gonna puke.”

Christine held a hand over her mouth, suppressing a giggle. “Personally, I’d say you’re more of a Sailor Jupiter, but that’s just me.”

“What is this ‘Sailor Moon’?” said Asami, leaning in to join the conversation.

“Oh, a character from an anime,” said Christine. “Have you seen anime? Actually, do ghosts even watch TV?”

Asami’s brow puzzled together. “I have not heard of anime, no, but when I was with Rei’s mother, I did enjoy some television programs from time to time.”

“Oh, awesome! What about movies? Have you seen Star Wars?”

“I’m afraid not. But I would be happy to watch it sometime.”

“Heck yeah!” Christine pumped a fist into the air. “Movie night with a ghost!”

Asami raised a correcting finger. “Actually, we prefer ‘spirit.’”

“Oh, sorry. Spirit.”

Rei watched the two with a quiet smirk. Good to see them getting along. Definitely an improvement over Christine’s stuttered babbling yesterday, when Rei had first introduced her to Asami. Not that she could blame her. Meeting a ghost and learning about a secret, magical monster-fighting society wasn’t something most people expected to deal with on a given Saturday afternoon.

Fast forward to Sunday morning, when Christine’s initial shock had vanished in place of overwhelming fascination and intrigue, which wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t then vehemently tried to explain how Rei now was, in fact, a magical girl.

“Oh, speaking of which,” said Christine, giving a quick look around, “should we be worried about people noticing Asami? I mean, pasty dead women in kimonos aren’t exactly common around here. Plus, she’s literally transparent.”

Rei followed Christine’s look. A long row of buildings lined the street, packed with various small businesses and boutiques. The center of Milton wasn’t exactly a booming hub of activity, but it did have most of the essentials. She spotted the local bakery, and the dry cleaner’s next to it. Duskwell Theater lay farther down, across the street from a barber shop. Among the steady flow of cars driving by, several handfuls of pedestrians strolled along either side of the street, enough that walking in the company of a plainly visible dead woman might be cause for alarm. If they noticed her, of course.

“There’s no need to worry,” Asami said, with a bright smile. “I can be seen only by those I wish to see me, and right now that includes you and Rei.”

Christine lifted a brow. “Oh, well that’s handy.”

The trio rounded the corner of the Fresh Mart grocery store when another group of girls nearly walked into them. Christine yelped and shuffled out of the way, while Rei performed a poor excuse for a pirouette to avoid a shopping bag to the face. The only real casualty of the near-collision was a cup of frozen coffee one of the other girls dropped when trying to dance out of Christine’s path. The plastic cup exploded when it hit the sidewalk, splashing a mess of mocha slush across the girl’s pristine white shoes.

“Oh gosh, we’re sorry!” said Christine. “I swear, we didn’t see—”

Christine’s voice froze mid-breath. Standing across from them with mouth agape, staring down at her mocha-painted shoes, was Jessica-freaking-Palmer. Of all the shitty people to run into—could have at least had the decency to spill that coffee over the front of her stupid crop top. Tammy and Sarah, Jessica’s usual flunkies, stood on either side of their ring leader, both carrying multiple shopping bags and glaring at Rei and Christine with upturned noses, as though they’d stuck their faces over an old toilet.

“My coffee!” said Jessica, with a contemptuous groan. Her gaze flicked upwards and found Christine, who shrank back a step. “My God, watch where you’re going!”

“Seriously, you’re the worst,” added Sarah.

“Yeah!” Tammy said, with an indignant stomp of her foot. “What the hell’s your problem?”

Christine swallowed, grabbing at the hem of her leather jacket. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, don’t you apologize to them.” Rei stepped in front her, scowling at the three girls. “They’re the ones with the problem.”

“Says the psychopath.” Jessica pointed at her own face, where a thick nasal splint taped across her nose. “I have to wear this for another week thanks to you. I’ll be lucky if my nose isn’t crooked!”

Rei couldn’t help herself. She flashed a grin and said, “Well, that’d be an improvement, wouldn’t it?”

Jessica’s jaw fell open in a silent gasp. “You—you—!”

“Aww, what’s the matter? Tongue-tied already?” Rei’s smirk widened, goading Jessica into taking a step forward. That’s it; give her a reason. “Guess you never were any good with words. You up to a solid D+ now in English?”

Before Jessica could lunge, Tammy pulled her back by the shoulder. “Forget it, Jess, they are so not worth it. Just let them go make out or whatever.”

Jessica looked to Tammy, back at Rei, and again to Christine. With a disgruntled huff, she backed off. “Ugh, fine. Got better things to do anyway. But this isn’t over.” She pointed at Rei. “Don’t think you get a free pass when you get back to school because your folks went and died, got it?”

Rei’s face burned. Red flashed in front of her eyes, and the entire street corner blurred around her, blood pumping so loud through her skull the only thing she heard was thunder between her ears. Tammy and Sarah both screamed. When her vision cleared, Rei had Jessica pinned against the brick wall of the grocery store, one hand to the back of her neck, the other wrenching her arm backwards at an awkward angle. Jessica shrieked, tapping her free hand against the wall in futility.

“What did I say?” She yanked Jessica’s arm harder, causing the girl to squeal with a desperate sob. “Next time it wouldn’t be your nose! How about an arm!”

Tammy and Sarah jumped on her. She fought them, maintaining her grip even as the two girls started smacking the side of her face. They pleaded at her to let go, but she ignored them. Insult her grandparents, huh? Insult their deaths? That was worth another broken bone. Maybe two.

A third pair of hands grabbed her. “Rei, stop! It’s not worth it!”

Christine’s voice cut through the mayhem, and Rei lost focus. Her grip slipped from Jessica’s arm. Finally, Tammy, Sarah, and Christine dragged them apart. Jessica recoiled away from the wall, eyes wild with tears. A small line of blood cut across the side of her forehead. Rei stepped back to the edge of the sidewalk, chest heaving.

Tammy and Sarah ran to their friend’s side, but Jessica pushed them off. Still staring at Rei, she clutched her arm and scrambled to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” said Sarah, pulling her friend along the sidewalk. Jessica didn’t fight this time, hurrying along after her. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

“Fucking freak!” Tammy shouted, scurrying after the other two. “Screw you and your dyke girlfriend!”

When the other three girls were gone, Rei calmed herself to the point her lungs stopped gasping for air. She swallowed, looked to Christine. “I’m sorry. I was—what she said—”

“No, it’s fine.” Christine’s focus shifted into a somber stare at the ground. “I get it, believe me. They’re awful.”

Rei’s fingers gave an involuntary clench. Awful didn’t cover it. Loser, freak, dyke—those were the tamer things Jessica’s posse had called Christine over the past three years at every goddamn opportunity. Those, Christine would brush off with a smile and awkward laughter. The worse things? Those left her crying in the bathroom through entire classes. Those left Rei showing up on her doorstep with two pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream when Christine was too miserable to leave her house. Those made Rei want to bash Jessica’s stupid, smug face into a locker until she choked on her own teeth. One day, maybe she’d get the chance.

Fucking Jessica Palmer.

[scuttleboat]

There’s no cursing in The Good Place... (spoilers for season 1)

This post may contain graphic and sexual language. Most of my blog does. Sorry this is way too fucking long.

I had a thought a few weeks ago about how the “no cursing” rule is used on The Good Place, and how a benign act of “appropriateness” is actually an early sign that the characters are living in a dystopian scenario.  And how--bear with me here--this reads to me as a clear analogy for dramatic flailing of fandom groups this last two years. Now, I may not make this point in the most thorough or elegant way possible, as I feel vaguely intimidated talking about a show that has such thoughtful philosophical consideration behind it, but I’m going to give it a shot. If I flub, blame the messenger not the essence of the idea.

In season 1, Eleanor and the audience are presented with a world that is supposed heaven, specifically a “neighborhood” of the good place that is specifically curated to fit its residences (in this case, Eleanor, Chidi, Tahani, Jianyu, and others). Of course, we learn right away that Eleanor believes she’s there by mistake, and one of the first rules that demonstrates her “wrongness” is that she wants to curse, and can’t.

Eleanor: “Why can't I say ‘fork’?” Chidi: “If you're trying to curse, you can't here. I guess a lot of people in this neighborhood don't like it, so it's prohibited.” Eleanor: “That's bullshirt.”

The show glosses over this pretty quickly, and it’s played for laughs for the rest of the season. It very cleverly supports the show’s season 1 misdirect: any awkward or unsettling aspect of The Good Place is excused away by the audience (and by the characters) as simply being a side-effect of Eleanor’s misplacement. Of course you can’t swear in heaven!  Swearing is for bad people, and good people wouldn’t even want to hear it. So, therefore, it doesn’t exist here.

And yet, this is not just a subtle form of personal torture for Eleanor (as she is, of course, really in The Bad Place), it’s actually a pretty grotesque form of censorship on all of the characters. Notice that Chidi doesn’t say he is particularly averse to swearing. He says “I guess a lot of people in this neighborhood don’t like it.” Although not nearly as much as others, Chidi does curse a couple times in the show, himself. So, clearly, it’s not a thing he feels particular discomfort about---so why is it censored when they’re alone?  If this were truly a heavenly place customized for each soul, then Eleanor would be able to express herself and Chidi would be able to hear it, but other people who didn’t want to hear it would simply not be subjected to the cursing. 

Instead, the neighborhood completely outlaws cursing anywhere, at any time. In the s1 premise, it’s not enough for the other citizens simply to not hear the swearing, it matters if it’s even happening anywhere in their environment, whether they themselves are witness or not.  So why am I focusing on that idea, when we know the whole thing is manufactured, and the people who made up this rule did so as a lie, just to be cruel?

Because that line of thinking is so endemic to certain parts of fandom right now. Whether it’s making a story or fanart that contains content someone morally disapproves of, or whether it’s only a simple text post or meme going around, there’s thing now where people feel like content boundaries and warnings aren’t enough. It’s not enough to acknowledge that public platforms like Tumblr are unmoderated and that venturing forth to search or browse is accepting a certain amount of risk that one might run into something that makes one uncomfortable.  

[read more below the cut]

When people are campaigning that content they disapprove of--sexually, romantically, politically, morally, paternalistically--shouldn’t exist, they’re doing what the demons of The Bad Place have done to Eleanor and Chidi. They’re saying “This offends me, so it should not exist anywhere that I can know about or ever possibly visit.” Yes, that’s fic about characters who are underage having sex. Yes, that’s fic about characters having sex in a way that doesn’t fit their canon sexuality. Yes, that’s fic about violence and torture being done to characters for brutal and bigoted reasons. Yes, that’s fic about rape, assault, and abuse. Yes, that’s fic about uncomfortable, even disgusting things. Yes, it’s fic about noncon, dubcon, bad bdsm, ABO, slavery, fetishism, power differences, incest, and unrealistic depictions of drugs or sex. It’s fanart and headcanons about those things too.

These ideas, posts, fanworks, and concepts are part of fiction and literature. They’re part of fandom too, and are in fact one of the ways that fandom has pushed the edge of creative development for decades. As they said in Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, “We do the weird stuff.”  Now most people in fandom don’t want to be a dick and just shove things in the face of someone who isn’t interested in consuming it--the artists and writers usually want their work to be found by people who want to consume it. So various media platforms have tools or informal conventions for negotiating shared spaces: tags and ratings on AO3, for example, serve a primary service of sorting the archive and secondary service of warning people of undesired content. On tumblr, it’s most an honor thing where people typically don’t follow blogs that post stuff they know they don’t like, and if someone is going to post something controversial they usually throw up an “FYI” at the top, or put it behind a read-more tag. Those decisions are voluntary, however, and everyone who uses a site like Tumblr is doing so with the express acknowledgement that they cannot control what others post, and may in fact browse a post with content they don’t like. For emotional, personal, or political reasons. ((Note: I’m not referring to personal targeted bullying  and harassment, which may violate the TOS of particular social media sites, and is off-topic for this discussion.))

What happens when you see that post that offends you? Well, you have three primary choices. You can engage with the OP, you can ignore it, or you can hit the “block user” or “report” options. At any given time, those various options may be what you decide to do, and that’s fine. That is, pretty much, the system working. It’s not a perfect system for sure, but it’s a reasonably functioning one on sites like Tumblr that try to accommodate the needs of millions of users. (don’t worry, fandom wont stay on tumblr and twitter forever.) AO3 has similar protections in place, with the difference being that AO3 is a far more opt-in user process: there is no personal “dashboard” or “my feed” on AO3. A person has to seek out content and utilize filters, and doing that only gets the user to the basics like title, summary, and tags. To actually SEE content, the user has to willfully click into the story.

I’m describing these processes (which most of you reading this will already know) because it’s important to keep in mind scope when we’re talking about content exposure and potential resulting damage. When you use these sites (and for the most part, the whole internet), the onus is on the user to curate their experience. On Tumblr that means blocking or blacklisting what you see, and on AO3 that means not clicking the link to a story unless you’ve read and accepted the warnings and description. On Google, it means don’t search “HS History teacher Dean takes teen Castiel in the locker room” if you don’t want to read something fitting that description. Yeah, it may offend you that it exists, but that doesn’t mean that you have to engage with it to prove that it’s harmful to you.

I’ve seen a lot of discussion this last 18 months about what people “can” or “cannot” write, draw, post, or squee about. I’ve seen it in The 100 fandom, I’ve seen it in Teen Wolf fandom, I’ve seen it in Star Wars fandom, I’ve heard about it in anime/cartoon fandom, and I’ve even seen it crop up in, OF ALL THINGS, Game of Thrones fandom.  (side note: if you complain about sexual content in fic while also posting gifs of GoT or Sense8 then I personally would like to throw a pie in your stupid face.) For some people, the answer to “I don’t like that this thing exists” seems to be to aggressively rail against it, to the point of targeting the creator, harassing them, or campaigning for websites or forums to change their rules so that XYZ offensive content does not exist. They say “I don’t care if you write it, just don’t post it where I might find it.”  The idea here is that the world around us is better without XYZ being part of our creative works or discussions, and that shunning that content and those creators makes the world (the internet) a kinder, softer, more welcoming place. 

A good place. 

A place where only good things can be. Where no one is made sad, and nothing that happens here can bring discomfort to anyone. And if you want something that’s not allowed in the good place, the righteous place, then it’s you who doesn’t belong. 

To circle back, the show The Good Place has gotten more popular this season, and I couldn’t be happier. I think it’s a fascinating examination of the ambiguity of people, as well as how mental stress can be used to torture. It’s a funny show with a lot of heart, but it’s a dark show too. And one of the darkest, subtlest things the show has ever done was reach into Eleanor’s mouth and change the words she is speaking. Not to prevent actual harm, but to make sure that other people could live in a world where things they abstractly disapproved of didn’t exist at all. For that, Eleanor was denied her basic concept of self and expression. The elimination of communication like that is such a profound violation of individuality and self that it’s almost incomprehensible that any world in which that happens could be ever perceived as a “good” place. That’s not a nice neighborhood where everyone gets along and is sheltered. That’s mind control. That’s gaslighting. That’s Hell.

There are a lot of ways to handle the struggle of content filtering, and hopefully we’ll figure out new and better ways in the future to balance the needs of artists with the needs of consumers, but one way that doesn’t work is censorship. AO3 isn’t going to change its rules to prevent content you don’t like. They know where that road ends. Tumblr might someday, but I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for it. And if they do, this whole network of fan culture will migrate to another site without those constraints. It’s already happened twice since I’ve been around. Purity wank is an old problem for fandom, but it used to be an attack from the outside. Now it’s coming from the inside too, probably because the community is so much bigger. So it’s time to really examine the discussions we hear, and sort out if silencing each other is really going to fix anything.

[lovehoundd]

When the cage is open (Bioshock fanfiction)

pairing: Jack/Elizabeth | word count: 4912 | warnings: spoilers, like hella spoilers | tags: angst and fluff, post burial at sea | ao3 link: x

the end of Burial at Sea pretty much broke my heart, so in order to cure my shattered emotions i needed to write such a horrible, plotless fluff. it’s really stupid and corny, but it was fun to write since learning to my finals is killing me. i just want Jack and Elizabeth to be happy ಥ_ಥ  they’re good kids and deserve a lot of love and puppies. beta was done by my ray of sunshine @ahjiminie​

The end of Jack’s mutual story with Rapture was near, he could feel it in his bones. There was one thing left for him to do, namely killing Fontaine. Jack had no idea whether he’ll succeed or die trying and rot in this underwater hell, but one thing was sure – he had to do it.

It was the only way to be sure that the girls will be truly safe and free. And there were other victims of Fontaine’s doings. Dozens of civilians dead and others who were pulled into the civil war, more or less consciously, like poor Diane McClintock and Jasmine Jolene whose only fault was being naive or in love. And finally, Andrew Ryan, who in the face of failure died on his own terms. Ryan’s deeds were no better than Fontaine’s, but Jack admired his dignity and how he valued his freedom. Maybe because Jack never had his own. Not to mention that Andrew and Jasmine were his real parents, even thought he had never known them.

It wasn’t rational, but somehow Jack felt that he owned something to all of them. He wanted to fight Fontaine in their name, to be sure that their suffering wasn’t in vain. But primarily, Jack wanted to do it for the girls. They were the ones who Rapture hurt the most and Jack was willing to do everything he could to repay them.

Rapture tainted and corrupted Jack, he felt all its sins crawling along his skin. After all, he was inseparable part of it. When he first got out of the bathysphere, the city seemed like a nightmare from which Jack couldn’t wake up, but the thought that above him there is a normal world waiting for him gave him hope. Later it turned out, that apart from Rapture, there was no other home for Jack.

Although everything was leading to it, at the thought of confronting Fontaine Jack was shaking out of fear and anger. He could still feel the burning despair in his heart, when the thought of Atlas being Fontaine came back to his head. Jack truly believed him, gave his life into Atlas’ hands willingly. Not that it wasn’t already there all this time.

He was Frank’s puppet and he had no free will, but even without enslaving phrase “would you kindly” Jack was sure he’d trust Atlas with all his heart. His voice was the only reassuring thing in the hell he’s been through, the only light in the darkness. Maybe he and Diane McClintock weren’t so different after all.

But now Jack knew the truth and was left all alone. Sure, there was Tenenbaum who helped him, but Jack was aware that alike Fontaine, she saw him only as a tool. In her case, she wanted to use him for more noble reasons, but what was the difference for Jack? He had nothing. No memories, no family, no past nor future. Just another freak of nature, in which Rapture was abounding. His whole life has been a whim of a man, who valued power high above human life.

Jack didn’t even own himself. At this thought he shuddered. Tears started to well in his eyes, but were wiped away quickly. There was no time for this and he needed all strength he had right now.

Jack was deep in his thoughts while wandering about Apollo Square. He needed to get second dose of Lot 192. He had already taken the first, to cure himself out of Code Yellow and other remaining trigger phrases. Since then, dancing to Frank’s tune has come to an end. Fontaine had nothing on him, no more dirty tricks. Now it was just old fashion guns against guns. And well, not so old fashion giant amount of ADAM. But first, he needed to regain control over his plasmids before even thinking about getting Fontaine. To do that, he needed another dose of Lot, which was in Suchong’s private clinic. Jack was desperate to get there as fast as possible, but on the other hand he was also afraid of going to the lab where his creator used to work.

He got there by accident, while exploring the second floor of Artemis Suites. As always, Jack was going through all the rooms in search of anything that could become handy. While doing that, he noticed entrance to Suchong clinic in the east wing of the building.

After a while of searching, he finally got the Lot. Jack sighed with a relief. Plasmids changing every 30 seconds were driving him crazy, not to mention he couldn’t properly fight. He went further into clinic, hoping to find some more of Suchong’s notes. Jack was still terrified, but wanted to learn all he could about himself, about the precious “ace in the hole”, since all of his previous life was just a crop of lies.

He found Suchong’s recorded diary, the last one, which was very obvious since it was lying next to his massacred body. Jack’s first impulse was feeling horrified and sorry for him, even taking into account all what Suchong did to him. Being drilled to a table by a Big Daddy was a horrible way to die. But when Jack listened to the record, he couldn’t help but to smile viciously. Suchong’s death pretty much summarized all his deeds.

There was nothing more for Jack to do, so he should get back to finding Fontaine, but he felt a sudden need to go further into clinic. He found a breach in a wall, behind which there was another room. Led by curiosity, Jack proceeded.

In the darkness something white loomed before his eyes. It was a shirt on a young woman’s body lying on the floor. Thinking, it’s just another rotting corpse, Jack approached. Maybe she had some EVE with her, it was worth checking. But when he got closer, he saw a barely noticeable movement. Her chest was rising and falling, so lightly and slowly, that she could be easily mistaken for dead. Jack was surprised and felt a glimmer of hope that he may help her.

“Hey, do you hear me?” he touched gently her shoulder. Surrounding darkness was so deep that he could hardly see her face. Jack snapped his fingers using Incinerate as a lighter. Finally, he could see the girl better. First thing he noticed was a horrible injury on the left side of her head and a grimace of pain. It took a moment for Jack to realize how pretty she was, under all those bruises and scabs. He shook her shoulder, in the most gentle way he could.

At Jack’s touch and mild lighting, the girl frowned and slowly opened her eyes with noticeable difficulties. She tried to say something, but only a stertorous sound came out of her chapped mouth. Jack reached for a bottle of water he had with him and helped her with drinking it. When finished, the girl gasped.

“Thanks,” she whispered. Jack didn’t know what to do. It was not safe around here and he didn’t have anything to make her a proper dressing. His first aid kits seemed not to be enough.

“Answer me only if you feel strong enough. Do you know what are your injuries except your head?”

“I… probably have a concussion... but nothing else,” she answered quietly. Jack leaned closer to see her wound. Only then the girl saw him better.

“Oh God… It’s you. It is really you...” She closed her eyes and slowly a smile spread on her face. Few tears ran down her cheek. Jack didn’t pay attention to that since she was probably just splattering, not being fully conscious. He’s heard a lot of strange things said by citizens of Rapture. He thought that the best option will be taking her to Tenenbaum since seemingly her knowledge on medicine was far wider then Jack’s.

“I will take you somewhere safe,” he said and took her in his arms, lifting her up. She was so light and petite that the injury seemed much more serious to Jack now. She nestled against Jack’s sweater like a little girl.

“I saw you... in my vision… I saw you saving Sally… I can’t believe you’re here,” the girl sighed, sounding both exhausted and delighted. Jack frowned, starting to be little bit irritated. He didn’t want to lose her, to have another life on his conscience.

“Hush! You’re very weak, you must save your strength.”

“You just have no idea how important you are, do you?” she chuckled lightly. “That you’re the only person that can end this spinning wheel of madness and pain? Oh Jack...” She smiled and tears run down her cheek. Jack forgot about her state and stopped, being shock and slightly scared. How this girl knew his name? Who was she? She seemed little bit out of this place, just like him. And what was she doing here, half dead, but still conscious enough to say such bizarre things. He looked down on her.

“How… how do you know my name?”

“It’s a very long and complex story. I doubt…. you’ll believe it,” she snorted, but there was sadness in it.

“After arriving to this city nothing ever will be the same. I think you can’t surprise me in any way. But now, please say nothing. You must rest. I’ll get you to someone who will patch you up.”

“Mhm, okay,” she sighed.

“Just, one last thing. There is no need to tell you my name, since somehow you know it, but what’s yours?”

“It’s Elizabeth.” She closed her eyes, making a quiet whining sound, when she felt a vertigo. A moment later she passed out. Jack thought that it was better for her, while being unconscious she couldn’t feel the pain. He stopped for a moment to firm his grip and make carrying more comfortable.

Jack tried to let his thought wander aimlessly for a while, to rest a little bit after all that he’s heard, but one thing kept on occupying his mind. A nagging feeling that he has already heard the name “Elizabeth” in his rather short life before. Though he had no idea when and why.

* * *

Everything hurt, even breathing. The slowest movement made a wave of pain go through Elizabeth’s head and when she tried opening her eyes, the world whirled around her. But she was alive. Suffering, both physically and mentally, but alive.

How was it even possible? She remembered a slowly dying light, her last vision of Jack arriving to Rapture, Sally singing “La vie en rose” and then everything gone. Her death was sudden and violent but also essential in some way, so her being alive made no sense.

Since Jack was here, some time must have passed. What was it, weeks? Months? Hard to measure and even harder to understand. The only reasonable explanation were the Luteces, but what was the point of brining her back to life? Her part in the story was over, she was the mean to an end, leading to the big final with Jack playing the main role. Her and Booker’s sins were redeemed, there was nothing more for her to do.

And her happiness? Never mattered, so why should it be important now? The Luteces weren’t the type of people who felt compassion or did things in sake of one’s happiness. But on the other hand, only thanks to them Elizabeth could ever meet her father and spend some time with him, even if it was just a few days. And they gave opportunity for Booker to pay the debt he had to Elizabeth. So maybe after all they did care, in their very specific way.

Or was it something bigger? It could be just another whim of the Luteces. But could be also fate as well. Elizabeth was always sentimental, so she knew her judgment wasn’t clear, but she couldn’t get rid of the feeling that it was written for her and Jack to meet.

She had the strangest feeling that she had known him all her life. Of course it was impossible, but some kind of bond could’ve been created between them when Jack’s memories mixed with hers. But Elizabeth knew it wasn’t all that was there.

Vision of Jack was the last thing she had seen before her death, the only consolation in it. Now, he was the first person for Elizabeth to see after her revival. It was a strange coincidence and Elizabeth has noticed that in her life there was no place for fortuity.

Her thoughts came back to Jack. Not constant and variables, infinite amount of universes or fate. Simply Jack. How she could feel an emanating willpower and determination from him. How he managed to preserve his innocence and kindness after all he’s been through. How he seemed to be glowing in the ubiquitous darkness of Rapture.

He was filling all her senses, which were still dimmed by pain and confusion, but by this maybe more sensitive. She felt him all over her heart, her thoughts, her soul. She felt him everywhere.

At this thoughts something rolled in Elizabeth’s stomach. This feeling, so simple yet so overwhelming, was completely new to her. How could she know it, since most of her life she spent being isolated from other people? It was probably the first time since meeting Booker when she started to feel something close to happiness. But a moment later her thoughts darkened after realizing something.

She was not the type of a person who could just sit down for a moment and fall in love. She was out of time, out of place, always. A part of two, three, a hundred, millions of millions worlds, thus not truly a part of any world. She didn’t truly have anything.

But was Jack any different? A man without a past nor future. Bereft of free will, created only to serve and obey. They both didn’t have anything. Not until now.

When Elizabeth thought about their lives, she found one thing pretty ironic. How was it possible that Jack, who was enslaved by Fontaine, could make more changes and do more good than she and Booker together? Booker, his own master, making decisions good and bad, but his own. Who’s life was painful, but he lived it fully. And who in the end had no choice, trapped in a circle of his own guilt and redemption.

And what about her? A woman for whom time and space had no meaning. Who could crush and create new worlds with an eye-blink, but was too proud and blinded by revenge to save one little girl.

Jack had more strength and humanity in him than they ever had, even though he wasn’t even born to be man, but a slave. He embodied everything Elizabeth and Booker tried to be and failed. Their fate was every man's fate: to try and fail, over and over again, but to never give up.

But Jack was different. He somehow managed to break the circle. Something Elizabeth and Booker could only dream of.

All those thoughts were rolling in Elizabeth’s head, while she was still hang between being conscious and asleep. After a while of struggle she opened her eyes, everything blurred with pain. She tried to sit halfway up, when a woman’s voice, with a thick German accent, came to her from nearby.

“Lie down, child. You’re still very weak.”

“Where is Jack?” Elizabeth murmured, trying not to sound obviously concerned.

“He brought you here few hours ago and left. I don’t know where he is now, the beacon of the radio is very weak.”

“But why did he left?”

“You don’t know? He’s gone to kill Fontaine.”

“Fontaine?! This bastard is still alive?” Elizabeth was really hoping, that after a sudden success this psychopath will quickly die in the civil war he had induced, maybe even killed by one of his supporters.

The woman chuckled.

“So, I assume you had the pleasure to meet him in person, right? And yes, unfortunately he’s alive and well, but with some luck it may be changed. And oh, I forgot, you can call me Brigid.” Elizabeth in her first reaction wanted to answer “Yeah, Tenenbaum. ‘Mother’ of the Little Sisters, I know you.” but in the last moment she bit her tongue. Maybe telling people things that she shouldn’t be aware of, wasn’t the best idea.

“I’m Elizabeth.”

Tenenbaum knelt down next to her and slowly started to change Elizabeth’s dressing.

“Your wound is serious, but it should heal without any complications if you’ll be careful.

“Is my wound… fresh?” Tenenbaum gave her a surprised look.

“Yes darling. Do you remember how you got it?”

You bet I do, Elizabeth thought.

“No, I don’t. Tell me one thing… When did Atlas attack Rapture?” Tenenbaum looked even more bewildered.

“Something more than a year ago. Why are you asking? It’s commonly known.” Elizabeth brooded. How was it possible? Even if the wound wouldn’t be serious enough to kill her, she still got it a year ago. She should have died out of dehydration or simply anything!

For the first time in her life Elizabeth would be glad if the Luteces appeared out of nowhere like they always did, babbling about universes and physics, only to understand what the hell was going on. But they didn’t. She was left here all alone, with no answers.

Maybe it was better this way? Did knowing the answers were ever good for her? Probably not. Could she simply think of it as an occasion to start a new life? Were Luteces really this kind? After all, she wasn’t this important, to break the rules of the universe over and over for again, just for her.

Was she?

Elizabeth smiled sadly. She wasn’t even sure if it was possible for her to move on, after all she’s been through.

She was burst out of her thoughts by a childish squeak. In the corner of her eye she saw a little girl running to her. A child approached her and grabbed her hand, cuddling it.

“Sally, leave this miss alone! She’s very sick.” Tenenbaum scolded the girl, but she didn’t pay attention. All she cared about now was Elizabeth.

“Mommy! Mommy, I knew you’ll be back, I knew it! I was waiting for you for so long, but I always knew you’ll come back for me!”

“Oh Sally...” Elizabeth felt tears running down her cheeks. First it was single drops, but a moment later she started sobbing. With difficulties she lift herself up and embraced the girl.

“You will never be alone again, I promise you that. I will never leave you.” She stroke Sally’s hair and wept. It was impossible to be real, just too good.

“You’re... this girl’s mother?” Tenenbaum’s eyebrows couldn’t get any higher.

“No, but I am the closest thing to it.”

Now there was no question if Elizabeth could move on, or not. She simply had to, for Sally. Elizabeth embraced her tighter, still crying and smiling.

* * *

“I remember when me and the Kraut put you in that sub. You were no more than two. You were my ace in the hole, but you were also the closest thing I ever had to a son. And that’s why this hurts.”

Jack was going up in an elevator while Fontaine tantalized him via radio. Jack kept on clenching his fists, with Electro Bolt dancing between his fingertips. He felt like he could kill Fontaine with his bare hands. “Pulling the ‘dad card’ just before the end, are you Fontaine? You must be insane to think this’ll work. Now you have nowhere to run. Fight me you cowardly fuck.”

Jack wasn’t the avenger type. He didn’t want to spill more blood and if he’d got a chance to spare Fontaine, he would do it without hesitation, despite the fact how much he’d suffered because of him. But Jack also wasn’t a fool. He knew that sparing Fontaine would only made things worse, since he wasn’t the type of man who can repentance. There was no other way but killing him.

Jack closed his eyes and trembled out of fear and disgust. “There is no mercy for the wicked.”

Jack didn’t have strength to care. Not anymore. He only wanted Fontaine dead and he could even die trying. His life had no value to him.

No, it wasn’t completely true. It looked like that few hours ago, but right now Jack was afraid of dying. Maybe not dying itself, but dying before seeing Elizabeth again.

He sighed and leaned his forehead against cool wall of the elevator. He slowly opened his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

“I just want to see her one more time.”

* * *

When Jack came back to a hideout, he looked completely exhausted. He was smiling, but it only reached his lips. All girls ran towards him, jumping, shouting and cheering. Fontaine was dead and they were finally free.

Jack took them into his arms, stroking them and laughing, but he only did it to make them happy, since he wasn’t feeling joyful at all. Tenenbaum also approached him, shook his hand and kissed him in both cheek. Everybody were safe and blithe. Everybody but Jack.

He lift his eyes from the girls and looked above them. Back behind of the crowd, Jack saw Elizabeth standing alone. It was like seeing the first signs of dawn after hours of a terrible sleepless night. Jack exhaled slowly, feeling how calmness was filing all his bones.

She came closer and lightly spread her arms. It was something for what Jack was waiting, although he didn’t know that. He almost ran to her and closed her in a tight embrace.

Elizabeth smiled involuntarily, feeling his palm on her shoulder-blade.

“Welcome home,” she murmured. Jack wanted to make an ironic remark about her just being corny, but he couldn’t say anything since he started to cry.

* * *

Elizabeth felt Jack’s breath on her cheek. She lift her gaze and looked into his eyes. He answered with a shy smile.

“You’re not sleeping,” she said.

“No, I can’t. For the first time in my life I have a chance to sleep soundly and I just can’t.”

“I know what you mean. All of this seems like short break between one horror and another.” Jack snorted quietly.  “Right? But from what you’ve told me, it must be an end. At least for us.”

Elizabeth smiled sadly. “I really hope so, Jack.”

He sunk into his thoughts.

For the last few hours they were talking. Elizabeth told him everything. About Columbia and Luteces, about Booker and Comstock. About constant and variables. How she arrived to Rapture and how Atlas killed her. To Elizabeth great astonishment, Jack believed her. They talked to Sally and she told Jack that Elizabeth was an angel the last time she saw her. But did the word of a girl, who was brainwashed for almost all her life had any meaning? For Jack it had.

And it mattered very much to Elizabeth, not only because she simply wanted him to believe her. She could see herself in Little Sisters. Isolated, brainwashed and being perceived not as humans but an objects. Very valuable and desired, but still an object. And Jack could see beyond that. He could see the real girls in them, not only monsters that can be killed for ADAM. It was the same with her. He didn’t saw her as a freak, but as a person who had suffered way too much in her life. In this way he saved her just like Booker once did.

When she finished her story, Jack was completely overwhelmed and tired. He asked if he could sleep next to her this night. After the events of the last few hours he was devastated and didn’t want to be left alone in this terrible darkness, bereft of the moonlight. Elizabeth felt exactly the same.

“Elizabeth?” Jack said after a short moment of silence.

“Yes?”

“Tell me...” He looked at her cage pendant. “Now, since your cage is open and you’re finally free…What will you choose? All possibilities are right in front of you… Everything you could never do, now is within your reach. You can finally go to Paris.  There is a whole new life ahead of you.” Elizabeth silenced for a while and looked at him from under her lashes. She got a little bit closer and sighed quietly.

“My life… never belonged to me and the only thing I used to have were dreams. I had so many plans... Now I can hardly remember most of them. But now, when I have the choice, for the first time in my life, I…” Elizabeth hesitated, but then looked him in the eyes one more time, and she was sure.

“I choose you, Jack,” she said quietly and brushed her lips against his. After a moment of shock Jack started to respond, thought his movements were slow. He cupped her face and gently deepened the kiss, but not making it harsh. They were both really careful and tender, like it was the first and the last time they could ever see each other.

Something rolled in Elizabeth’s stomach. It was like a wave coming through her body, feeling Jack’s hands on her, lips brushing against lips. She had never felt anything like that in her life, to touch, to feel, someone this important to her. They hardly knew each other, but she couldn’t get rid of the feeling, that all her life, all her suffering was leading to this moment, to meeting Jack.

For Jack she was an echo of the life he was robbed from, but also an announcement of the life that was about to come. A warm voice in the darkness, a lighthouse on the raging sea.

Jack kept his palm on Elizabeth’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. He gave her a thankful smile. Elizabeth grinned cheekily.

“And what about you, Jack Wynand? After breaking your chains, do you also have some particular plan?” Jack snorted.

“I might have something on my mind,” he said, reached for her right hand, and kissed it. Then he started to play involuntarily with her fingers, especially with a pinky.

Elizabeth looked at it. Now she remembered, that this finger wasn’t entirely hers. That she wasn’t this Elizabeth from Columbia, unstoppable, with endless chances for a life. Her finger was now normal, and so was she. This world was the last shore she had landed on.

But even after realizing that, Jack seemed the only option for her to choose. Now, she was sure even more.

“Elizabeth, I think that… when it comes to what you’ve told me… about constants and variables...you and I, we may be constants. It may sound stupid, but when you look at our lives, it’s like, we are the two sides of the same coin.” Jack said, still holding her hand.

“Heads or tails. You are right, Jack.” Elizabeth thought.

“You mean… fuck despotic dads?” She answered instead. Jack burst out laughing.

“I was trying to be poetic, but yeah, it was my point. But now it’s over. Tomorrow, we will all go back to the surface. The girls probably have never seen the sky before, I can’t wait to see their delight.” The thought of seeing the sky again moved Elizabeth so much that she felt tears welling in her eyes. She have never thought of having a chance to see it again.

“Now go to sleep,” Jack said and kissed her on the forehead. She snuggled against his sweater. It smelled of salt, blood and the faintest scent of cologne. This mixture was rather odd, but pleasant. It was a masculine fragrance, which she involuntarily linked with Booker. Oh God, Booker.

* * *

Elizabeth was lying still, waiting for Jack to fall asleep. She didn’t have to wait long, after a while his breath was calm. Now she could try talking to Booker.

“Booker...? Dad?” She murmured very quietly. Silence. No more voices in her head. She didn’t need his help anymore, so it was obvious that the hallucinations will disappear. But she couldn't stop hoping to hear his voice one more time. Tears ran down her face. It was her last goodbye with him.

“Booker, I miss you. I miss you so much I thought I was going insane. Those few days we’ve spent together in Columbia… It was the best time of my life.” Elizabeth sobbed quietly, not wanting to wake up Jack. The only answer was still silence, pulsing in the thick air. Elizabeth felt overwhelming loneliness, running through her body and clenching on her throat.

“One day, when I die… We’ll meet again, won’t we?” No response, only surrounding darkness. Elizabeth bit her lip not to weep aloud.

After a moment her breath started to calm down. She lift her gaze, looking at sleeping Jack and wiped tears from her face. Then she found his hand, closing it in hers.

“I miss you, Booker, and I’ll never stop. But right now… I think… I hope... It’s gonna be alright.” She closed her eyes. “Thank you... for everything. I… I love you dad. Please, rest in peace.”

She exhaled and inhaled deeply for a few moments. She nestled against Jack’s chest, feeling how her sadness was mixing with hope and love.

And then she fell asleep.

[talesfromthegasstationexchange]

okay this is the whole rules tm for the exchange

To participate in the Exchange:

1) Fill out the application.

3) Confirm gift pairing within 48 hours of receipt.

4) Notify mod of all tumblr URL changes.

5) Complete a gift by December 20th.

We recommend that you follow the exchange blog (here) for updates, however, this is not required :))))

Gift Requests*

No OCs or crossovers Alternate Universes are allowed

In the event that an applicant asks for gifts that are too difficult to fill or violate one of the above rules, mods will contact recipients for amendment.*

Gifts

Fanart: Must be a finished drawing, coloured, or rendered black and white - not a sketch. Fanfic: Must have 1000 words minimum, with no obvious spelling or grammar errors.

NSFW: out right im not allowing nsfw related stuff unless someone else wants to mod it. i will be allowing gore related junk since im okay to moderate that gore: although i am allowing it based off of what the source media is i am going to put a 16+ barrier on this one. you can also opt out of making content for these types of gifts if they come up.

Not allowed:

Hateful or abusive content like ship bashing, racism, transphobia, bullying, etc. spam applications will be blocked

Posting.

Put content warnings if applicable. Tag applicable characters and ships. Post between December 23th and 31st. DM or @ mention your gift recipient when you post! Mention @talesfromthegasstationexchange and use #tftgs22 in the first five tags! (Just in case.)

Gifts that do not meet requirements or break rules will not be reblogged.

some may be missed through time zones and tumblr being tumblr but feel free to reach out on here or through my personal in DM,

   What is the tftgs Exchange?

A Secret Santa-type event where like minded fans create content for tftgs.

   What kind of content is allowed?

Either a finished drawing (as determined by the artist) or a fanfic with a minimum of 1000 words.    Can I ask for my designs from tftgs to be used ? Yes you may do so. though you will have to have easily accessible references publicly available for your gifter to use     can I ask for another set of designs that are not my own ? again yes, of course but they do still have to be openly available online and you need to mention the artist/ blog that has them in the application

   Can we ask for gifts with tftgs ships?

You can ask for any ships, as long as it is with canon characters

Is N.S.F.W. Allowed?

hard lines no. i allow gore based on the source media but nothing beyond that. as well if the gift you create does contain gore it should be tagged and cropped accordingly, and the full piece put under a read more or linked off to another page

If you post something in violation of these rules, we will ask you to fix it prior to reblogging it :)

Can I ask for a gift featuring my tftgs OC?

No. ocs are super valid and i love them. but i do feel though it is very unfair to the gift maker to try and visualise a character they may not know well enough to depict.    Can I ask for a gift featuring book related spoilers?

yes! applicants will be separated out into 2 main categories, the audio series and the books. So that no one ends up getting asked to draw or write from part the either haven't read or heard.

  How are pairings made?

Applicants will be paired with other tftgs Gift Exchange recipients. it will take preference into consideration; further, i will not force people into making content for their NOTPs and hated characters. Outside of that, please be open to exploring new people and pairings to spread the happiness this holiday season.

   i dont want the same person to make for or to be given from last year

thats completely fine, ill try my best to work around it an make sure you get someone diffrent.

   I’m not sure if my recipient will like the gift I want to make them. What should I do?

Easy! Anon ask your giftee if you need clarification about what they would want.

If their anon is off, contact me explicitly explaining this, plus any questions you may have. We will reach out for you :>

    What if I have to dropout?

it’s sad to see you go!

In the event that you cannot finish your gift, OR something comes up that will delay your gift (even writer’s block!), please DM either ASAP so that we can find a substitute.

   Okay. You’ve convinced me. Where do I sign up?

Applications open October 20th! aka today

   I posted my gift hours ago, but it hasn’t been reblogged. What gives?

feel free to dm it to my main. ive probs just missed it because my brain is fried @theredheaddevil

Disclaimer:

i cannot be responsible for any applicant that falsley claims to be a legal adult, if you are found out to be lying about your age you will be removed and banned from any following years that i continue to run this. and your pairing from the exchange will be remade