#thoughts folks? would that be a neat thing to bring to the fandom?

[llendrinall]

Dear Endrina

I am once again finding myself reading the secret language of plants, and I was wondering.

Are you still writing? Fanfiction, original fiction or others?

I would love to check out other things you are writing (if not already in ao3).

Is there any fanfiction authors your were inspired by for your work? I haven't really found anybody who writes just like you managed to do.

I am a big fan of your work and it always cheers me up reading your stories 😊 thanks for sharing with us all ❤️

Hello, dear.

I am writing, but I am not posting. There are many reasons why: less time, less energy, less fandoms that pique my interest, etc. I won’t detail them all reasons here. I dislike the idea of posting unfinished works so I have nothing to show. I will say that I am working on a collection of (fandom) stories and when I got your ask, I stole a couple of hours to other tasks and wrote 900 words. Nice! Although what started as 7 stories has grown to 16 so I don’t know when they will be ready.

As for other works or authors, funnily enough I had been meaning to write a couple of posts about books, so I will just do it here.

Endrina’s list of very nice books

Quality is subjective so the main criteria here is whether I have re-read these books, whether they had something to drawn me back.

Original fiction

Terry Pratchett.

Every Pratchett fan easily admits that his first books are not very good and that there is no good point to start reading. You simply pick a book, plunge into Discworld, and figure things as you go. Pratchett’s turn of phrase if excellent. Pratchett’s examination of morals is even better. Because it’s fantasy, Pratchett has not been taken seriously. He is too juvenile, too funny, too unserious. But he is also a master at making readers grow a political conscience.

The post I was meaning to write was a comparison between Pratchett’s witches (Weyrd Sisters, Witches Abroad, etc.) and some other author’s witches. Ok, it’s JKR, but I didn’t want it to be a direct attack on her or her character. It’s just a comparison of the content.

In Harry Potter the wizarding world is hidden. The reason given is that muggles would be demanding favors nonstop. Later I think it is implied that muggles may be dangerous to wizards. In Discworld, however, magic is perfectly public. People do demand favors from witches (and wizards, but less so) and people are a threat to magical folk. One of the Tiffany Aching’s books (aimed to younger readers, but still excellent) opens with an imprisoned witch about to be executed (she frees herself, of course, by magical and mundane means).

The thought came to me regarding anesthesia use during labor. I am sure that in Harry Potter witches don’t experience pain giving birth, but they don’t share that gift with muggles.

In Harry Potter, magic folk let non-magic folk suffer.

In Discworld, magic folk understand magic as a duty, while accepting that there won’t be thanks or appreciation. If you have the ability to save a sheep, to remove someone’s pain, to make their passing easier, you must do it.

It’s surprising that school libraries would ban Harry Potter and not Pratchett, because he is the one with potential to bring people to the left.

Naomi Novik

How to describe the Temeraire series? They are very good, they have dragons, they are populated by people who feel very real.

The first book is dedicated to building a fantasy world. So cool. So exciting. It would look so nice as an HBO MAX show! They would blunder the second season, but the first season would be excellent.

The next eight books ruthlessly deconstruct the first one. Much like Pratchett, Novik takes an idea and asks, “but how can this work?” and, often, the answer is “by the suffering and exploitation of poor people”. And she (like Pratchett) will drag the answer to the light.

The third book, Gunpowder war, is my favorite because the structure is crisp and neat. Three places, thee different environments, three challenges. You go from movement to arrest and back to movement and afterwards you feel like having completed a videogame.

Agatha Christie

She, like Pratchett, is not considered a “proper” author. I suspect it’s because she is a woman and because her books are accessible. There is this bias against books and stories that many people can enjoy.

Being a British woman born in 1890, her writing does have some ideas that seem outdated, especially regarding foreigners and Jews. But it’s ameliorated by the fact that all her characters are individuals. Each one of them is a distinct person rather than a stand-in for a whole group. So when in Lord Edgware Dies a Jewish woman is described as greedy an ambitious, she is still given enough personality that it seems like a “her” problem rather than a group trait. I don’t want to completely excuse or handwave it. Occasionally there are racist undertones. But they are still way less obvious that many modern works.

For a long time, every October/November I would read one of her novels to get in the Autumn mood, but lately I have found myself reading her “out of season” and wondering why her call was growing stronger. I realized recently it’s because in her books people don’t enjoy killing. Oh, someone is going to die. Perhaps more than one person. But the murderer kills because a) they expect to inherit, b) they are guarding a secret, c) they are in love, d) a variation of the three. They don’t enjoy killing, is my point. They don’t do it for pleasure. There are no elaborate and inventive ways to torture someone and desecrate a corpse. I find that I am very tired of recent trends in which a psycho killer tortures young women and taunts the police.

Also, Christie is very compassionate towards women. Some women are good, some are evil, some are adulteress, some have relations with married men, some get pregnant while single. In the latter case, the tone is more of “it happens” rather than “what a slut”. It is no ideal, it means trouble and social exclusion for the woman, but it happens so Christie doesn’t moralize about it. (And in Hallowe’en Party there is a single mother who is treated as perfectly normal).

I said earlier her characters are distinct individuals. Christie’s strength lies in voicing varied psychological profiles. Her two main detectives (Poirot and Marple) read as asexual (no matter the forced heteronormative that TV/movie adaptations try to push). Poirot also is a clear case of OCD and… it’s fine. That’s how he is. There are also some great ADHD characters. There is whatever was going on Ms MacGinty is dead. The main suspect is clinically depressed or something, I don’t remember well.

People are varied and allowed to be weird, and I love it.

(Occasionally, a couple of lesbians will pop. Sadly, because these are murder mysteries, one of them may die. But it doesn’t read like a Bury Your Gays trope)

Miguel de Cervantes

This one is not like the others because there is a lot of scholarly work about Cervantes. So much so that he is taken as a Very Serious author when, in fact, he is Pretty Funny. Think lines like “thus came a man riding a donkey, although it may had been a mule, there is no consensus regarding the animal, except it was probably grey of coat. The man was carrying a basin on his head.”

Having some political and cultural context helps to enjoy Don Quixote, but it is not a sine qua non requisite. For English, I like Grossman’s translation.

(Also, this is almost never mentioned: Miguel de Cervantes and his brother were suspected in the murder of a high class nobleborn who was a known sexual harasser. And it shows. There is a chapter in DQ that could very well be titled: Incel Culture, let’s not).

Fanfiction

Astolat

Astolat’s stories follow the pattern of the Common Man falling for the Enlightened Man. This tickles something deep in my brain and I love it.

The Common Man may not be so common. He may be a renowned warrior. He may be a hero. He is only common when opposed to the Enlightened Man (who may be a woman, like Brienne of Tarth, fantastic). The latter is someone with their third, fourth and fifth eye open. Someone who understands magic and, what’s even more difficult, morality. Someone who knows. What they know may vary, but the knowledge is there and with it a certain sense of being removed, of not fitting in the world. So they are surprised to attract the desperate interest of the Common Man.

Other things to like: clever construction of plot, deep and surrounding worldbuilding with just a couple of strokes.

Owlet

Her Bucky (MCU) series is fantastic, but the first work, This, you protect is particularly good. It is funny, it is healing, and it’s an interesting example of how to enthrall people. Most fanfics have sex, it is almost a requisite. Some readers will reject a story if the promise of hot scenes isn’t there. Well, This, you protect doesn’t have sex. It has coffee concoctions and grilled cheese sandwiches, and they are so satisfying that you won’t even notice there is no sex.

Scaramouche

I haven’t read her latest works (I am bit tired of the MCU and Steve/Tony doesn’t work for me) but I have read her previous work, specially the Supernatural fics, and enjoyed them thoroughly. The setting of her stories is imaginative yet familiar. No matter how alternative the AU is, it always feels natural and real, as if she had been a long time there and knew every place and every aspect.

The hoyden

Her DP9 and XMen fics read like silk. I don’t have another word. They are delicate and soft and they flow. They feel luxurious.

[mischiefmodig]

Unpopular Opinion \ / @flameindream \ / not accepting

🔥 giggles

Loki was absolutely not mind-controlled by Thanos to do what he did in Avengers, and saying otherwise erases his nuance as a villain/redeemed hero.

This high key is one of the main reasons that I typically choose to stay away from the Loki fandom in general. I've seen these takes even before I was a fan of Loki and it always rubbed me up the whole wrong way. I have a lot of points though that go into this particular idea, so buckle up boys we're going in LOL

Loki has blue eyes. Sorry folks, he just does. Tom's eyes are a greyish-blue color and there are no green lenses or anything used to give Loki green eyes. If his eyes """""""look""""""" bluer in the film it probably is whatever filter they are using that makes all of the other blue-eyed folks really stand out. I know pretty much everyone assumes he has green eyes, and maybe in the comics he does - but strictly sticking to MCU here, he doesn't.

There is nothing that says that he was. No scenes. Nothing in the scripts. Absolutely nothing. Furthermore, there are literally no scenes that support that with enough concrete information to confirm it either. Yes, the mind stone can influence people's minds to bring forth what we can only assume are people's immediate thoughts based on the scene where the Avengers fight with each other. And it obviously can be used to mind control people, but Loki does that... when he is holding the scepter??? If Thanos was doing that to him, wouldn't he need to still hold onto the spear to keep it up? I'll grant you that even Loki doesn't need to be holding the spear in order to keep his hold on Clint, but then why would Loki of all people not just use the spear to break out of Thanos' control then since he has the tool that's holding him back? People continuously confuse headcanons with reality, and no supposed director or actor retcons and speculations do not count. Everything that is used to try and prove this THEORY is always stretching the smallest things that don't make sense in the big picture.

I don't like to take LOKI show stuff often and apply it to MCU Loki, but if we're expected to believe that both the show and the films are the same (or similar enough) then Loki cannot be mind-controlled. It's pretty clearly established when Sylvie tries to enter his mind that she cannot enchant him whatsoever and that his mental fortitude is too strong. Granted, an infinity stone will ultimately be more powerful than a sorceress with no professional training, but the point still stands.*

He doesn't need to be mind-controlled, period. The thing I disagree with the most is that he has to be controlled at all. Loki is so much more compelling when he has to deal with the consequences of the actions that he decides to take. He can be justified in his feelings of hurt and betrayal without having his war crimes justified. People can have valid feelings and still do bad things. It's just how life works, and Loki ultimately shook the earth to its core for his own rebellion against his family. Taking away Loki's choice means losing everything compelling about his growth as a person and a character. He has earned his redemption as the hero we all know he can be, just like his brother and that's what makes Loki so neat.

What I see people do with this take, is try to absolve Loki of all of the bad things he did in Avengers, but it doesn't work. It's okay that he messed up and did evil things. Yes, he can have his own ( very logical ) reasonings that come from the pain he experienced, but that will never justify his actions. You are doing Loki a disservice by trying to erase his villainy in favor of painting him as nothing but a victim.**

*I'm willing to have some leniency on the fact that he was likely being influenced by the spear in some fashion. But when I say influence, I mean the stone could have been messing with his memories, emotions, or anything else that motivated Loki to continue with his crazy scheme. But nothing more than that. The infinity stones are insanely powerful objects so ofc being among/using that power was probably messing with Loki, but ultimately he was in charge of himself and how he used that power.

**I think in some ways Loki was still a victim of Thanos though. I don't doubt that to some degree he was tortured with the training he likely needed to be able to wield not one, but two infinity stones. I also don't doubt that Loki realized far too late that he was getting in over his head with this alliance ( particularly when he's fighting Thor and seeing the chaos unfold around him ) and I think he was absolutely terrified of what would happen if he didn't comply. But I also think Loki knew what he was doing and fashioned the entire plan by his design. He chose to do what he did with his singular goal of proving to Odin + Thor that he could/should be king.

[bonefall]

Hey man, I get you have trauma regarding genetics, but could you not put it down as much? It's honestly really hurtful to the current part of the fandom that just uses it for fun. Especially like the "I'd rather use horse genes" thing. Obviously you can say no and I keep hearing people getting hurt by seeing something they find joy in get treated like trash when they're not the early 2010s lawful awful folks. I thought it was worth asking once. If you'd prefer for us to unfollow people can obv.

Hey, I don't say this with any malice and I understand you may feel hurt. I respect people who like to work with realistic genetics and I have nothing against people who enjoy them.

So... I'm sorry, if you feel like the current way I talk about cat genetics is hurtful, you may want to unfollow. I do not plan to change how I talk about cat genetics, or anything else I don't like, including specific characters (Moth Flight, Bramblestar, Clear Sky), or arcs and books.

I have a ton of people I see in the notes who use cat genetics and I think you're all cool! But this is a space for me and my own feelings, and I feel extremely limited by the idea of abiding by realistic cat genetics in any form.

And yet, it keeps coming up and I want to make it clear I don't enjoy them and will not include them. I gave Thrushpelt a MULLET

I would legitimately rather hear about horse genetics, as the context of that ask implied the anon had some neat info about how a certain breed of horse is born darker colored and turns gray over time. I would like to hear about the color changing horse

I don't feel like I've been vitriolic at all, I feel like I've just expressed how much I personally do not find cat genetics interesting. I have never insulted people who use them, so this ask makes me feel like instead, I'm being requested to not have a publically contrary opinion on them.

I joked about outliving and physically burying the 2000s Traditional Namers who died mad about Hawkfrost. THAT'S mean. I was correct, but also mean.

TL;DR: If you love cat genetics I think it's good you found something that brings you joy! If the way I have spoken about personally not enjoying them is hurtful, it may be best for you to unfollow. This applies to the way I have spoken about anything so far, including arcs and characters.

I WILL tag for anything I consider harsh criticism of cat genetics though, since with this post, it's got a high chance of sparking discussion. I can tag THAT! How abouuttt...

#Gene Acidpool, so it doesn't clog any existing tags?

[tragicclownwrites]

A tragic clown's SBSP ship opinions

So I came across @shiba-deer's ship ranking post and I thought "fuck it. i'm gonna do one, too!" 😝 I tend to agree with most of their points with just a few differences including the addition of shitty Canva edits by me.

Disclaimer: As the title suggests, these are just my opinions. I know some folks may disagree and that's okay! I'm not trying to flame anyone or start any drama, so please keep it chill. We're all just clowns here. 🤡

Here's the scale I'm working with:

god tier - OMFG I LOVE them 💖🥰

top tier - I really like this ship 💜👍

mid tier - I'm neutral about this ship 😐

bottom tier - I really don't like this ship 👎😓

hell no tier - Get this shit off my dash immediately 🤢🚫

?? tier - I don't know enough about them to form an opinion 🤷

Anyways, here we go~

SQUIDBOB - god tier

Ah yes, SquidBob. The only "god tier" ranked ship on this list. Are we surprised? There are just so many great moments between these two and so much that could be said. Alas, I'll spare the long monologue and just say that their dynamic is absolute perfection. It's literally the basis of a great, slow-burn romance - you can't make this shit up. I love "opposites attract" for the exact reasons that I disliked some of the other pairings on this list. It's notable that while Spongebob is mostly cheerful and exuberant and Squidward is mostly grumpy and reserved, that isn't all they are; Squidward very much has a fun side just as Spongebob has a serious one. They keep things interesting and bring out the best in each other (whether Squiddy wants to admit that or not), in spite of their differences. And per this post, they actually do have a lot in common as well! I could wax poetic about why a fucking sponge and octopus are literal soulmates, but idk. I just think they're neat. 💖

PLABS - top tier

Now this was not a ship that was initially on my radar when I first joined the fandom. But I am happy to say that has definitely changed and it is now a favorite of mine! I love a good friends-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers ship, and Plabs is one of the best. I feel like they have such a "will they, won't they" thing going on that leaves me on the edge of my seat. I definitely want to look into them more. And who knows? Maybe I'll get around to writing a fic? 😉 As for canon, I could list various examples but there is just so much compelling evidence in favor of this for me not to ship.

KARENDY - top tier

This is a ship that I have grown to really enjoy. While I would like to see more of them together in the show, the few interactions we have gotten are great fodder for a budding romance. I like how they have so much in common (ex. intelligence, interest in inventing), but not to the point where they clash (which I likely will talk about later in the list) and it actually benefits them and adds to their connection. They just have so much potential! They inspire my creativity the more I look into them. I mean, c'mon. Sandy literally said Karen was "beautiful" and Karen's wiki says her relationship with Sandy is "a purely positive one."

SQUIDLIAM - top tier (as exes)

This list simply wouldn't be complete without this pairing. If you've read SquidBob fanfiction, Squilliam is the perfect villainous ex-boyfriend. 😈 It could be that I'm a sucker for villain redemptions (spoiler: i am) or perhaps @misslattesart has made me consider alternative possibilities for this character (probably both tbh), but I find myself increasingly intrigued by this dynamic - particularly Squilliam's motivation for constantly trying to outdo Squidward when he appears to have it all. While I'm part of the majority of fandom that headcanons them as exes, it's evident that they were definitely romantically involved at some point. But I do agree that they would inevitably find themselves in conflict eventually. After all, they broke up for a reason.

PLANKBOB - mid tier

Fun fact about this ship: PlankBob actually got me into the fandom (more on that here), so there's a level of fondness for me there. However, it is purely on a crack-ship basis and I've more or less stopped shipping it since joining in favor of other ships on this list. But idk man, it's just a funny dynamic.

PATWARD - mid tier

This is such a hilarious and chaotic match that literally no one would see coming. I think everyone probably knows about that one moment in Kamp Koral. I can't find the clip right now but, I mean, what the hell even was that?? Still, I'm only giving it a "mid tier" rank as, like PlankBob, it's more of a pairing that I'd ship ironically.

SQUIDVIA - mid tier

I mean, Squidward went on a practice date with Spongebob, who was significantly more interested in him than Squilvia was. She didn't get all that much screentime, despite her being the girl Squidward was presumably trying to impress. I'd argue that Squiddy wasn't all that into her either, but rather the idea of her because they are so similar and he thinks that's the kind of person he should be with. I don't really feel any sort of way about this ship, but their relationship probably wouldn't last. SquidBob FTW.

PUFFKRABS - bottom tier but would be mid tier if not for their bullshit (very confusing, I know)

Surprisingly, I do feel like this pairing has potential... if it weren't for a major Plankton-shaped obstacle holding them back. I've touched on this a bit in my fic, but apparently Mrs. Puff and Mr. Krabs have been/were secretly dating for 16 years. Now, 16 years is not a number to scoff at. However, the "secretly" part is giving me pause and sending up all the red flags. 🚩🚩Both of them are single/divorced/widowed/etc. They are not having an affair. So... why keep it a secret? As far as I'm aware, neither of them have any reason not to be open about it (assuming that I'm not off base about this whole secrecy aspect). Sure, not everyone needs to be in their business. But then it's implied that even Pearl doesn't know. I have no idea who made the call but if I was Mrs. Puff and everyone, including my boyfriend's daughter, was in the dark about our relationship and he made no moves to give me any sort of real commitment after over a decade... I'd start to wonder what the fuck was up.

PATBOB - bottom tier (sorry 😔)

I was really conflicted on this ranking because PatBob has all the makings of a great ship - they're best friends, they look cute together, and they have a lot in common. However, the reason I ranked this so low is mostly because their friendship is so much stronger than any sort of romantic connection. I feel like whenever these two are put into a remotely romantic scenario (ex. when Spongebob they raised a baby scallop), that's when the cracks start to show. As friends, they have a great dynamic and are so funny together, even when they get into arguments/spats. However, as romantic partners, it feels unnatural. As shown in the episode I mentioned as an example, Patrick gets to be his silly, lazy self whereas Spongebob has to take the more serious, rational role - which is not his natural inclination, even if he has that side. I just can't help but feel like this would become a pattern if they were actually in a relationship. I live for best friends-to-lovers... but this ship is not the one.

PLANKAREN - bottom tier

I was originally going to rank this "hell no tier" but it's not the worst thing I've ever seen - mostly just a prime example of compulsory heterosexuality (this was a great response on the topic). I still dislike the pairing quite a bit though. Like, are they even married? The two of them are so off-and-on, hot-and-cold together and there's just something so... forced about it. I just think they both would be so much happier if they weren't together, you know? I don't doubt that they support - and maybe even love - each other a bit, but to quote my own fic (not to plug lol): "you can love and care about someone without being in love with them."

SPANDY - hell no tier

I've never liked this ship, even prior to joining the fandom. Hell, even when I was a kid and didn't know what shipping was, I still felt there was something off. As I've gotten older and wiser though, I think it really comes down to Sandy and Spongebob having virtually zero romantic chemistry. Nada. Zilch. Despite SBSP being episodic in nature, their dynamic consistently gives me sibling vibes - which does not translate well into a romantic connection at all. They're just miles better as friends and I don't see that changing in the slightest.

(And this is just a personal nit-pick vs. a solid point but I find myself put off by the frequently OOC portrayal in fanworks - particularly for Sandy, who is actually one of my favorite characters. I know as writers and artists, we're going to take some creative liberties. But if you have to drastically alter a character's personality and/or physical traits to suit your ship narrative, it's probably not a good ship. 🤷)

SQUANDY - hell no tier

I do love seeing Squidward and Sandy getting along and being pals - I mean, look at this interaction (sorry, couldn't find a better gif)! However, any sort of romantic connotation gives me a serious case of the "ick" (SquidBob be damned, honestly). Hence the very low ranking. They are strangely more believable than Spandy, but that's probably the only redeeming thing about this as a ship tbh. Otherwise, it's a "hell no" from me.

(This sound effect is literally me when thinking about this lmao.)

MINDRICK - hell no tier

Not to be that person, but even if there was genuine chemistry... let's just say Mindy doesn't just look young. I even Googled it for you. You're welcome.

SQUARRY - ?? tier

Okay so I've heard lots of good things about this pairing and how they have some great, shippy interactions. However, it's not a ship I'm familiar enough with to form an opinion.

BUBBLERAY - ?? tier

Not really super familiar with these characters' dynamic in general, let alone the ship.

SLAPFERATU - ?? tier

I've seen this ship making the rounds as well, but definitely not familiar enough with them to make a judgment call. From what I've seen (including pulling this pic together), it is pretty hilarious. I will say that. 😆

[the-ironphoenix]

I posted 577 times in 2022

That's 524 more posts than 2021!

9 posts created (2%)

568 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gentrychild

@pocketramblr

@feelingsinclouds

@imposterogers

I tagged 190 of my posts in 2022

#mha - 40 posts

#bakudeku - 12 posts

#amazing - 10 posts

#anyway - 7 posts

#fear of you - 6 posts

#mha manga spoilers - 6 posts

#tumblr - 5 posts

#spoilers - 5 posts

#anyone - 5 posts

#gideon the ninth - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#so many of the fandom founders relay stories of how old fanfic platforms were taken down by censorship and how it destroyed thousands of fic

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I’m gonna be flatly honest, I thought Jurassic Park was a dumb movie because “who the heck would try to create dinosaurs are you stupid” but I literally just thought about how awesome it would be if we could make Pokemon real. Let’s be honest, who is more of a moron, John Hammond who just wants to bring dinosaurs back or me who wants to create fire-breathing ones. 

0 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

#4

Glowingblueheart dunked on you

So I didn't know the Tumblr inbox was a thing until now and this was in there??? I have no idea what it is about or when it came in but I'm laughing so hard lol

0 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

#3

Someone recommended I turn on the timestamps on Tumblr posts, and boy has it retextured my experience. Someone wrote this today? Neat! Someone wrote this five years ago, and it’s still bouncing around? Great but WHY

1 note - Posted October 13, 2022

#2

My friend showing me their new hyperfixation: Look at this!

Me: My dude, my gal, you cannot infect me with this new virus. I am already in the worst game of tag with COVID and monkeypox, if I am infected with TMNT disease I will surely die. 

1 note - Posted October 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I know this is blurry but I’ve never had my dashboard line up so well before I am completely shook folks

5 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[optiwashere]

OK, today I do actually have some stuff to share since it's now been a full year since I posted my first fic for BG3.

Real talk, the sole reason I even wrote that fic is because this was before the epilogue released. It's kind of interesting to think about what might have happened if I played post-epilogue, at least in my opinion. Would I have ever felt the need to write anything at all? This is the first time I've written for a video game fandom, after all. I wrote for TV and book fandoms before this one.

I've got quite a few fun facts for both this fic and the genesis of my fics for this fandom. Is it a little self-aggrandizing to do this? Yeah, probably. But it's fun and I'm bored at work, so who the fuck cares?

For The Moonmaiden's Grace, some of the interesting fun facts:

Originally, Asheera was an unnamed Tav in my fics! In-game she was, of course, Asheera as we know her, but I wasn't sure how video game fandoms worked and I didn't do any reading into the existing Early Access SH/OC fics to figure it out. Do as I say and not as I do in this case — do some research into the fandom trends, folks!

This was written, initially, in first-person POV from Shadowheart's perspective. Before playing BG3/writing these fics, the novel I'd finished was a FPP fantasy book, so my mind was still in that headspace. I quickly rewrote it as you see it today, though.

Even though I've since moved this fic out of the series because it's more of a first draft for their ending together, it's still a wonderfully written fic in my not so humble opinion and it showcases the storybook quality I dreamt of for them.

I don't normally bring up this kind of thing since it feels even more self-important for something so small, but I apparently wrote one of the earliest post-Early Access SH/F!OC fics and my name appears quite often in those early pages. Not a huge deal or even an important detail, but definitely a fun fact for me!

After I wrote that fic, I got the brain worms hardcore. I feel like that should be apparent by now, but I wrote It Is the Wound She Gave Me and Her Private Shore (NSFW) basically back-to-back. From there, I never really stopped writing for both the fandom or that ship.

For my fics as a whole, here's some more neat trivia.

Since Aug 14 2023, I've posted 524, 436 words of Baldur's Gate 3 fanfic. I've written some more, but not that much. Most of what I write, I post. What you see is what you get from me!

Of that chunk of words, Light Casts a Shadow, my Asheera/Shadowheart series, is 213, 938 words long or 40.79% of my fic by word count. It's crucial to note that I have fics for the ship outside of the series. The series is also still a WIP at this time.

If you tack on the other fics (not including drabble/ficlet collections tagged for ships other than Asheera/Shadowheart) then there's an additional 156, 534 words of Asheera/Shadowheart on AO3. That brings the total up to 370, 472 words or 70.64% of my word count. Which, in my mind, is much closer to the perceived reality than what the series shows lol. What that means, by the way, is that I write a lot of smut for these two. Aren't you so lucky?

If you read this ramble I wrote up while waiting for work things to happen so slowly in the background, then I want to say thank you! Thank you to everyone that's read my lil fics, everyone that's stopped by to share their thoughts, and especially everyone that's shared their love of my bbygrl, Asheera. It means a lot to me that you read what I write, especially this far out from the game's release 💜

To many, many more fics to come.

Huh, I didn't even realize it'd been a year since BG3 came out until I opened tumblr this morning. Kinda wild. I didn't think much of the game's release: I like Larian's games, and I like the BG series. I wasn't ever going to skip the game, but I didn't think I'd play it at launch because I was busy working on a novel in 2023 and not doing well financially.

Thankfully, circumstances left me with a little bit of extra money last year just before launch and it meant I could spend on a video game. I needed a pick-me-up after said 2023 novel failed to go anywhere, and BG3 was right there. Like most CRPGs, I played it in basically every moment of free time that I had and did as much as I possibly could in one playthrough.

It's so odd how these small happenstances can snowball into coming back to fandom, finding some friends I might've never met otherwise, and writing a lot of fanfiction along the way. I'll probably have something more interesting to say/share when it's the 14th, AKA when I sat down and wrote my first fic for this fandom.

Anyways, it's been a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to more years to come 💜

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Stare Enough

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 4034

Summary: Bucky's got a new stare. Sam spends all afternoon and most of the evening working up the courage to meet it.

Both Sam and the food are the main attraction at this party and the problem with that situation is that it takes so damn long for one main attraction to get a second to enjoy the other.

He’s grateful—god, is he grateful—for the turnout. Friends, neighbours, the kind of people he and Sarah call family without there being any actual relation by blood, they’ve all shown up. Since the Blip, Sam’s felt like he’s always around, but this feels like a real homecoming. No sadness, nothing bittersweet. It’s a celebration and he’s at the center of it. Him and the food.

At last, Sam’s done the circuit with his plate, spooning creamy salads and grilled vegetables, stacking shellfish pink as a sunrise. There’s a fresh-baked roll perched atop a scoop of sweet potatoes and caramelized onions that smells so fucking warm and mouth-watering he has to resist walking with his nose buried in it. He collects a set of utensils furled in the middle of a paper napkin (courtesy of an efficient assembly line of old ladies, chatting and twisting neat rolls of cutlery), plate bowing into the palm of his other hand, and that’s when his damn phone vibrates in his pocket.

Sam halts and makes a sound of frustration. Nobody’s come to this thing empty-handed, so there are dishes crowding the surface of the tables, no place to set his plate down. His phone vibrates again. A teenager comes up to peruse the spread in front of him and Sam sighs, knowing what he’s about to do.

“Here,” he says heavily, offering up his beautifully arranged and wonderfully fragrant meal. The cob of corn shining with the butter he lovingly smeared over it nearly rolls over the edge. “You’re the luckiest kid in the world.”

Quickly, Sam turns away, sliding out his phone and bringing it to his ear. He doesn’t want to witness the boy digging in. His stomach growls as he greets Joaquin Torres.

“Sam,” Torres says. “Uh, I mean, sir. Mr. Captain Am… Captain Wil—”

“Take it easy,” Sam laughs. “You know me, Torres. Don’t get starstruck now.”

“Honestly, I never really got over you being the Falcon. Now that you’re Captain America… Apologies if it takes me a little while to be cool about it.” After a pause—taken while Torres attempts to become cool with Sam being Captain America, Sam assumes—he asks, “You celebrating?”

Not far from where Sam’s standing, there are two little girls singing along to their clapping game. At a table behind them, a trio of elderly gentlemen are arguing over which one of them it was that caught that 50-pound snapper off the dock back in 1978. There’s a sear of meat and fish being rotated onto and off of the grill and, bouncing over everything, music from a speaker someplace.

“Yeah,” Sam says with a broad grin. “Yeah, we are. I’d save you a plate, but I can’t even manage to hang onto my own.”

He doesn’t mention that Torres is responsible for that situation; he’s aware that, besides being a fan, the Lieutenant is a little bit infatuated with him. Sam’s trying to be gentle until the day he can respond to Torres with friendly smack-talk, the way he would Steve or Scott or Bucky. Maybe not exactly like he does with Bucky.

“Don’t worry about it,” Torres cheerfully insists. “I wasn’t calling for that, I just wanted to give you a heads up about something.”

“Alright. Let me just…”

Sam strides away from the heart of the party towards the water, seeking quiet. Kids dart in front of him and that’s nothing unusual, but when he follows them with his gaze, he sees they’re running towards Bucky. Bucky, who has his Vibranium arm extended and two kids dangling off it already, one of whom might be Sam’s nephew. Of course, Mr. Casual, Mr. Smiles, Mr. Social Butterfly, is carrying on a conversation like his arm isn’t being used as a jungle gym. A conversation with Sarah.

For just a moment, Sam stops in his tracks, considering whether he should go over there and break up any potential flirting. But then he watches them. Bucky’s just talking to her, not flicking his gaze up and down while he checks her out. And Sarah, she’s relaxed and smiling, totally at ease, like Bucky’s another member of their community. That makes him a friend. Family.

That’s one thought too far and Sam jerks himself into motion again, walking until he’d be swimming with another step.

“What’ve you got for me?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to watch as much of the coverage of the fight outside the GRC vote as I can, trying to get a sense of how they’re spinning Walker’s reappearance, the legacy of the Flag-Smashers now that Karli and her inner circle are gone… Anyway, there’s a lot of footage and you’re at the center of most of it.”

“Guess the new suit draws the eye. And the cameras.” It’s no surprise to Sam. Part of the job of being Captain America.

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it, Torres?”

“Bucky’s in the background a lot,” he explains in a voice that tells Sam there’s more Torres isn’t saying.

“Makes sense. He was in the thick of it as much as I was.”

“He’s there at the end too. When you were talking to the Senator about power and the common struggle. Man, that was a great speech. Do you think—”

“Torres. Please. The point.”

“Right, for sure, man. Bucky never takes his eyes off you.”

That flusters Sam for a second. He wasn’t expecting the blunt delivery, especially of those words. He squints down at the water where it’s lapping the side of the dock. He knew Bucky was there; they spoke right after, when Bucky tried to feed him that bullshit (and he knew it was bullshit at the time) about texting and missing the exact speech Torres is apparently still hung up on.

“So Bucky was actually listening to me,” Sam says carefully. “That’s a surprise, but it isn’t really the kind of thing that’s significant enough for you to bother notifying me about, is it?”

“I’d say that depends on what you consider significant.”

“Torres.”

“I know, but he’s not just listening! It’s how he’s looking at you!”

“Like he’s wishing I would wrap it up?” Oh, Sam remembers Bucky’s miracle from their session with Dr. Raynor.

“Like he’s totally into you! Major heart eyes. Sir,” Torres hastily adds.

And Sam should reprimand him for this. Calling with a trivial piece of information when he must know Sam’s already being very selective about which of the hundreds of recent calls (and it’d be more if more people had this number) he chooses to pick up. Calling to speculate on how Bucky was staring at Sam that night in New York.

“I don’t need to tell you this is gonna be one of those investigations we keep between you and me,” Sam states.

“For sure. I just thought maybe you’d wanna know.”

“Uh huh. You get any real news, you pass it along.”

“I will.”

Sam ends the call and turns. He looks to his right: the sparkling river. His left: his people, all the way down to the squirt with the glasses who’s hanging off a metal arm, and the man that arm belongs to.

He’s felt it, the way that Bucky stares. It’s not like it used to be though, when it irked Dr. Raynor at the police station in Baltimore, or confused Walker and Hoskins in the back of that jeep in Germany. This new stare of Bucky’s isn’t one Sam’s ever caught him doing. Bucky hasn’t quite let him. That’s actually how Sam noticed it was happening—Bucky would immediately glance away instead of leaving that dead expression on his face when Sam met his eye. Now that he has proof of it, proof he’s certain Torres would send him footage of in an instant if he asked, he’s scared to look.

Instead, he watches Bucky look at other people. Like Sarah. Like kids from the neighbourhood. His literal hangers-on disperse as Sam observes, scattered after Bucky leans towards them to say something. Sam sees half his smile and even that much has his heart swelling up in his chest. Bucky weaves through the tables and standing groups, the dancers and the kids who’ve broken out a skipping rope. (After eating from that buffet? Kids are crazy. Gonna make themselves sick.)

Without thinking too hard about it, Sam returns to the noise and the smells, trailing Bucky with a stealthy eye on his ass in those jeans. There’s no friction here between him and everybody else Sam cares about, he can see that in every short, friendly exchange someone engages Bucky in as he walks. Things flow as smoothly as the butter oozing off the corn Sam reluctantly gave up. Clearly, they remember Bucky from when he was here helping with the boat. They respect him. They like him. They’ve gotten to that last thing faster than Sam has, which makes Sam feel a little embarrassed as well as a little overwhelmed by how much the two of them have actually been through. He’s seen Bucky as a mindless killer and it almost brings a genuine tear to his eye—here on this glorious day in front of all these folks—to see the dork who rushed out to get his hands on a copy of The Hobbit in 1937 return in his current form as the dork who’ll take a fake punch from AJ and blush over brazen old women telling him how handsome he is.

Bucky stares different? Well. Sam feels different about the staring.

Sam keeps his distance until Bucky reaches the food, then his stomach gurgles a reminder than he hasn’t eaten yet. No ass is nice enough to distract him from his meal. He sidles up beside him and Bucky seems unsurprised, not even glancing over.

“Anything important?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your phone call,” Bucky clarifies, adding a heap of glossy green beans to his plate. Damn, those are some of Sam’s favourite. Bucky better not take all of them. “They need us somewhere?”

“Oh. No.”

Bucky shoots him a suspicious look after this stilted response, but he doesn’t say anything until Sam grabs a plate of his own, hungry eyes roving the feast that’s diminishing now that people have started coming back for second helpings.

“Put that down,” Bucky instructs. He doesn’t wait; he takes the plate out of Sam’s hand and tosses it back towards the pile. Thankfully, the plates are made of paper.

“Buzz off, man,” Sam tells him, reaching for the plate again. “I’m starving.”

“I figured.”

Wait.

“That’s for me?” he guesses, gazing longingly at the plate Bucky’s preparing.

“Yep.”

When Sam doesn’t reply, Bucky pauses with the plate in one hand and a serving spoon in the other and sighs.

“I didn’t want you to miss the good stuff. This party’s for you.”

“I think it might be for both of us.”

Bucky seems too self-conscious to say anything to that. He goes back to loading up Sam’s plate while Sam quietly feels his throat close up with emotion as he watches. He clears it gruffly.

“I woulda had to eat the cake you brought,” he jokes. “Pretty sure only the really little kids have eaten any. You know, people who don’t know better.”

“I was tryin’ to be a good guest.”

“I can’t believe you brought a store-bought cake,” Sam says, laughing as he grabs a set of cutlery for the second time and continuing to shuffle along next to Bucky.

“Have you ever seen me cook?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Trust me, what I did was kinder.”

“If you say so.”

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky demands challengingly, turning to face him. “I do say so.”

Sam’s eyes go from the plate Bucky’s holding between them up to Bucky’s face. He’s close. And he’s got this look, this dancing look in his eyes that undercuts the shit out of the hard line of his eyebrows. Trying to seem all stern. All Sam can think for several seconds is that, if he just grabbed Bucky by the chain around his neck and hauled him forward, they’d never get the food stains out of their clothes. But their laundry would smell delicious.

He clears his throat.

“Then you better stay for a while.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up and he hands Sam the plate he’s prepared for him.

“I plan to.”

When Sam picks a table to sit at, he makes sure there’s enough room for Bucky too. When Bucky sits next to him, he sits so close that their thighs press together and claims that’s all the space there is. Bucky talks and laughs when other people at the table talk to him. He’s easily drawn into conversation now and Sam feels weirdly proud of having brought this great guy home to meet everybody, even if he’s not here like that. People tells stories about last week and last century interchangeably, one old smartass making Bucky howl with laughter when they toss out a memory of Little Sam Wilson streaking from his house to the river for a naked swim. This is the danger of welcoming Bucky into the community. Sam, suppressing a smile, doesn’t really mind.

Elbows up on the table so he can eat, talk, and gesture emphatically with his fork, Sam feels Bucky’s stare creeping up on him. Slow, like the sun slides across the landscape when the clouds blow past. Bucky didn’t make this food, but Sam can feel his satisfaction as he watches Sam accept what he provided. Feels like there are grasshoppers springing around in his stomach. He still has a roll on his plate, one side soaked in family-secret barbecue sauce, and he tears it in half. While the rest of their table are caught up in some story being boisterously told by overlapping voices, Sam turns to Bucky and wordlessly offers the bread, edges dimpled where he gripped to split it. They watch each other chew and Sam’s closed mouth is smiling.

Inevitably, somebody pulls Sam back into the conversation and he does his best to laugh and heckle, covering the fact that he wasn’t listening, that he dropped the thread. The voices rise and rise and fall like water slopping over the side of a bucket.

In the next quiet moment, Bucky inclines toward him slightly and says, “You wanna talk later?”

And Sam says, “Sure.”

The day feels long, long, long, and Sam’s face gets sore from smiling, tired from talking. He does not confess that to Bucky, who’s almost always at his side. Lights go on overhead and beers come out of coolers, leftover food packed up and redistributed among neighbours, small children with drooping eyelids toted home. At first, Sam thinks Bucky’s leaning into his side because he’s drained from so much socializing too, but when he meets his eye, he just sees an invitation.

“Where are you two goin’?” Sarah asks when they slink past her carrying a too-big Cass in her arms.

“Just walkin’,” Sam tells her.

“Gotta stretch our legs,” Bucky contributes.

She looks from Sam to Bucky and back, smiling knowingly.

“Uh huh,” Sarah says.

Sam grabs Bucky by the shoulder to turn him forcibly away from his sister’s insinuations and just… forgets to let his hand fall as they wander along the water. Bucky’s steps angle towards his until his arm’s bumping Sam’s side, Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders. Is this still the body language of a couple buddies on a warm Delacroix night? Is it now, when Sam drops his arm and brushes the back of his hand across Bucky’s?

They leave the party lights on the horizon with the lazily setting sun, scrabbling off the end of the dock and onto the riverbank. Sam reaches up to give Bucky a hand down, so he won’t step in the soft mud and sink to his ankles. Bucky clasps his hand firmly and jumps.

The sound of people drops off down here and the sound of wind in grass, frogs hiding between reeds, rises.

“Are there alligators in here?” Bucky wonders, scanning the river’s edge.

Sam laughs.

“For sure.”

“And you swam here when you were a kid?”

“Even then,” Sam boasts, puffing his chest out, “my courage was legendary.”

“Yeah, and your nudity. Is there anyone within a mile of here who hasn’t seen your bare ass?”

Their eye contact holds. Oh right. Sam breaks away with an awkward, hiccupping laugh, directing his gaze at the dirt.

“The gators haven’t gathered too close to the dock in decades,” he promises Bucky. He stares out at the undisturbed water, enjoying the sun on his face. “Got skittish of the boats. Most of ’em, anyway.”

“Consider me not entirely reassured.”

“You scared of a little Louisiana lizard, man? Didn’t you grow up with Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

“Nah, that was after my time.”

“Damn, you’re old.”

Bucky snorts a laugh, refusing to look at him.

“You wanna take a dip?” Sam goads.

“No.”

But by the time Sam’s pulling his shirt over his head, Bucky’s peeling off his socks. Sam spares him a smile and keeps going, the ground soft underfoot. It could be like the few times they’ve changed in proximity to one another before, but it’s not. He senses Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time. Face hot, he takes a quick look in Bucky’s direction as he’s unzipping his jeans. His heart feels like his new suit—wings just waiting to unfurl.

When they’re down to their underwear, they wade in.

God, it feels nice. The water’s cool and the sun’s clinging to the horizon.

“Just don’t get any water in your mouth,” Sam instructs, then dunks his face and comes up squirting water at Bucky from between the gap in his front teeth, a trick he perfected as a kid. “That arm ain’t gonna rust, right?”

“You asked for this,” Bucky warns. He points a menacing finger and plunges below the surface.

Sam twists as he treads water, trying to see what’s going on down there, searching for a ripple or bubbles of released air. His legs move in twitchy kicks because that’s where he’s expecting Bucky to grab him. But the idiot is playing some kind of psychological game first, making Sam wait a full minute. Two minutes. Three.

He’s opening his mouth to call out Bucky’s name when he breaks the surface. Sam’s ready to swap the concern he was about to form into words into a taunt instead—did Bucky get down there and decide the scariest thing he could do was let Sam’s imagination take over?—until Bucky shakes his head and slicks his hair back. Then the words get caught in Sam’s throat and he just kinda stares.

“There was a really gross fish down there,” Bucky informs him. “Do you guys have eels there? Mighta been an eel. Maybe we should get out.”

“Alrighty, scaredy-cat, let’s get you to shore.”

Bucky propels himself out in front, arms moving in powerful strokes, and Sam’s hand darts out on instinct, fingers closing around Bucky’s hard calf muscle. Bucky jerks and Sam burst into loud laughter.

“Did you think that was an eel? Did you?”

“You’re lucky I…”

I’m lucky you what? Sam wants to ask when Bucky trails off, but he just swims after him.

During their game/possible eel panic (there’s no way it was an eel), they weren’t always fighting the current, so they’ve drifted downstream some. Bucky takes sloppy, sloshing steps out of the water, underwear that might’ve been light grey now dark and plastered to his ass. Sam feels like he’s choked on river water, though his mouth is dry. He lumbers out too and they begin the march back in the direction of the dock and their clothes. The water tickles as it runs down Sam’s legs; must be bugging Bucky too because he plucks his waistband away from his skin before letting it snap back. Clenching his jaw, Sam stops himself from trying to see too much.

This end of the dock is made of old boards before it transitions to pavement farther down, wood smooth on Sam��s feet when he and Bucky haul themselves up, dropping their collected clothes and shoes into a single pile. No point getting dressed until they’re dry, so they sit on the edge of the dock, feet swinging. Feels good. Feels home. They don’t speak until the sun’s set, the sky orange, then grey, then rich, velvety blue.

“You know, don’t you?” Bucky asks softly.

“Know?”

“Yeah, you know. Whenever you don’t know something, you talk and talk—”

“Sometimes I can work through a problem better if I vocalize,” Sam explains.

“But when you do know,” Bucky goes on, ignoring Sam’s input, “you’re quiet.” He looks at Sam. “You’re quiet.”

What else is Sam? Nervous. His skin’s prickling with it, and because even the warm air feels cold when he’s just climbed out of the river. There’s a wet patch spreading around him that he can barely see with evening rapidly deepening into night. He lifts a hand from the dock and sweeps it up his neck, brushing water droplets away.

Without glancing over, he says, “You’re doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Staring. That new stare you do.”

“Maybe,” Bucky acknowledges. A bird starts calling, the sound drifting in and away like the sway of a hypnotist’s watch and Bucky’s silent until it’s over. “Maybe I’m staring for the same reason you’re quiet.”

Sam waits. Bucky doesn’t add anything, so Sam turns to look at his face, hung with cool shadows.

“You’re not gonna say it, are you?”

“I thought you would say it,” Bucky argues defensively.

“You’re the one who’s been staring at me like that for a week. You should go first!”

“Please, you don’t even know how I’m staring at you, I only do it when you’re not looking.”

“Do it now then and see what happens,” Sam dares him.

“Fine.”

Just like that, Bucky locks in like Sam’s attention is the only handhold on a sheer cliffside. Vital and stable, a last chance, the one thing around him that wants to help him higher instead of watching him fall. A lot of that’s familiar from his regular hard stare, but then something opens up behind his eyes. Some fragile thing (that might be Bucky’s sense of caution) breaks. Suddenly, Sam’s seeing what Joaquin saw in the news footage and amateur cell phone video. Except he’s seeing it two feet in front of him. It’s intense. It makes the air a little harder to breathe.

Bucky’s lips curve into a smile, then part as he says, “I love—”

Hopefully, he wasn’t going to end that sentence with ‘store-bought cake,’ because Sam can’t really take back his reaction. The finger slipping behind Bucky’s ear as he cradles his face, the mouth sealed to his. Especially that. Thankfully, Bucky kisses him back, just as hard, and then harder.

“Thank god,” Sam pants when they break apart.

“You interrupted me.”

“I got you to stop talking? Guess we’re in my miracle.”

“I’d complain…” Bucky shrugs. “…but your miracle is pretty nice.”

“Not bad, right?”

He sighs and looks out over the water. Bucky pushes up on his fists and sits closer, offering his hand for Sam to interlace their fingers.

“Hey,” Sam prompts when it hits him that it’s super dark outside and they aren’t gonna dry much more like this, “did you book a hotel room again?”

“You kiddin’ me? I spent all my money on that cake.”

Sam laughs.

“Right, well, I guess you need a place to stay tonight then.”

“You know anything nearby?” Bucky asks with a soft smile.

Getting to his feet and bracing to pull Bucky up after him, Sam uses his free hand to motion towards their clothing pile.

“Put your pants on,” he says, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

[feralcherry]

Naruto takes that might enrage you (girl addition)

Warning, some of these takes might enrage you- that’s fine.

Fillers don’t count as canon, don’t even bring them up if you talk about this post lol. Also it’s been a while since I’ve seen the whole series, so some of these might be disproven as I continue with my rewatch. The excuse that Shounen is for boys is also very weak and holds no weight, as tons of girls (and nonbinary folk) relate to the characters in this show, so that doesn’t excuse Kishimoto for his weak writing of women.

To preface, I love this show. Love it to pieces. It was part of my childhood and holds a very special place in my heart. But there are some things I personally don’t like or wish could have been done better. I love every character and will go blue in the face talking about how much I still love this show. That doesn’t free it from my criticism. I’m also only listing what I don’t like and what I would change, though I’d be more than happy making a post about what I loved.

Let’s start off with my girl Sakura Haruno. She is easily the most hated girl in the series, and all because of how ‘weak’ or ‘annoying’ she is. As if that’s not the fault of Kishimoto himself lol. She was shoved off to the side continuously and never given cool storylines, unlike the other members of her team.

What I took issue with about Sakura:

-What were this girls dreams?? The whole reason she became a ninja was never really talked about nor were they really developed as time went on. She was all about Sasuke, which would be fine if she grew out of it. But no. 

-Her crush on Sasuke was super stale. He was handsome and powerful, but what else was there to him? He was a jerk to her most of the time (there are some instances he’s somewhat kind to her, but if we go off canon, it’s not enough to make her deep love make sense). I think it would have been so much more interesting to see her grow out of her infatuation for him. If they had to have ended up together, watching them relearn each other and fall in love would have made them more compelling. She stayed loving a boy who thought very little of her. 

-She’s pitted against her best friend and doesn’t develop much of a relationship with other girls her age. It’s kind of sad, and I think they should have fought over something other than a boy. 

-We are told repeatedly that she’s super powerful by other characters, but she’s never given time to truly shine. She got like a single battle with Sasori and she deserved more cool moments like that!

-She was a healer, which makes perfect sense. But why is it mostly girls who are the healers? It’s a bit weird, when there’s also Neji with his perfect chakra control. She only has her healing abilities and her super strength; but even then someone like Kabuto has more offensive healing based techniques than her. Like his chakra scalpel. 

What I would fix:

-New dreams. Show her find a dream outside of her team and grow into it. Also give her more of a backstory. Sai has more of a backstory than she does and he’s way newer than she is.

-I would let her fuck up one of the Peins instead of Konohomaru- she’s a main character and passed over for that little brat?? She should have gotten to do more than scream out for Naruto and heal people :/ 

-She her intellect a bit more. She’s so smart, and yet we don’t really see it.

-She’s perfect for genjutsu, Kakashi himself said so. So why not give that to her? Or play more with ninjutsu. She has earth and water on her chart, so why not give her those abilities? Maybe even wood jutsu to even her out with her super OP teammates. Idk how, it could have happened, this is a show full of demons and god like abilities, it could have happened someway.

-She should have grown out of Sasuke and not married a man who doesn’t really appreciate her and isn’t there for her at all.

-I would totally have expanded on Inner Sakura more. Imagine if it made her mind impenetrable? Could have woven that in with her skills for genjutsu and made her unaffected by other’s illusions.

Next, let’s go with a more beloved character of the fandom. Hinata. Now personally I don’t care much for her- she could have been so cool but just like Sakura, they kind of messed her up.

What I didn’t like about Hinata:

-Her entire existence is revolves around Naruto. Naruto this, Naruto that- and yet she simply sat back and watched as his life was shit and did nothing despite her ‘love’ for him. And then fillers/movies are added to show that oh wait! she’s been there this entire time!! no lol. Build her up from the start as his love interest at the very least.

-She stayed super meek the entire time. Shy girls are okay, but I wanted to see her grow into herself more and not need as much reassurance. She’s a ninja and should stand on her own two feet more.

-She’s less skilled then Neji and I would have loved to see her outmatch him at some point, even once. Or gain abilities outside of her clan, or do something that made a name for herself outside of being the heiress of the Hyuga.

-She never fixed her clan which was one of her few spoken goals. That was a huge bummer.

-I think it would have been cool to see her mess up Pein a little more. She only stepped in because it was Naruto, which reinforces that she’s only about him. But at least let her land a hit if she’s as powerful as people say she is. 

-She makes the most sense to be a housewife or a healer with the way her attitude is but in Boruto, she’s kind of rewritten to be a ‘scary’ mother which just doesn’t fit her. Plus, she tells Boruto to go and take care of his dad?? Bro, that’s your child and your husband is the hokage. 

What I’d fix:

-Prove her dad wrong and show him that her compassion isn’t a weakness but a strength. 

-Fix the Hyuga clan bs.

-More character growth and showing more of her life away from Naruto. Her romance with him could also have been better. I hated her always watching him but never standing up for him, it kills me.

-Neij dying for her proved their clans hierarchy bs to be right and it just doesn’t make sense for him to die for her. It showed that he was right to feel caged and that he simply existed for the benefit of the Main family.

Now with the others, there’s much less I have to say about them because they aren’t main characters or the love interests.

Ino-

-Jealous of Sakura, no dreams of her own, stupidly loves Sasuke and for what? WHAT’S SO COOL ABOUT HIM?

-I like her growth for the most part, it was cool watching her fight in the War Arc with her team. 

-Why is she the medical ninja? I never got that.

-She got with Sai but they didn’t really show their development and how they fell in love with each other. It’s like she only likes him because he looks like Sasuke and called her pretty once.

Tenten-

-Should have gotten to train with Tsunade at some point, since she was the one who originally idolized her. 

-We know nothing about this girl at all. She doesn’t even have a last name.

-Her weapon usage was meant to be so cool and yet she missed so often- there’s a disconnect there. Her abilities could have been built up more. Imagine if no matter what she never ever missed. That would have been cool.

-Her weapon shop isn’t doing well. Just because it’s an era of peace doesn’t mean the need for weapons is totally over, not if there are still active ninja??

Karin-

-I actually like her, she’s kind of funny and I like that she’s mean even if she can get annoying.

-Again, another healer, though she’s also sensory which is more interesting. I’d like to see her with some jutsus though. That would have been neat.

-Her love for Sasuke makes sense since he saved her and smiled at her, making her think of him as her hero. And she’s the only one he apologizes to without Naruto strong arming him into it.

Temari-

-She’s pretty solid in my opinion. Though I would have loved to see her more without her brothers.

Konan-

-Her goals in life were to support Yahiko and Nagito’s dreams. It would irritate me so much if other girls in the series were more well rounded and din’t also have some sort of dream involving a boy.

-She was underused. I would have loved to see her fight more.

Tsunade-

-Only becomes hokage to support others dreams...All of them men. And then later passes the title onto Kakashi who doesn’t even want to be Hokage either. 

-No other justus used, she’s on par with Jiraya and Orochimaru and yet she’s only super strong and the best medic. She should theoretically be more well rounded than that, right? She also should be shown fighting more even if she’s a medic, she’s also s legendary sannin 

-Had to be saved by 12 year old Naruto. I know it’s a show about him, but she’s meant to be a literal badass but needs a kid to save her.

Kushina-

-Wanted to become the first woman hokage and then didn’t. Her husband did. and then she became a housewife?? What?? She should have become the first woman hokage with a badass husband or had another prominent role in the village like as a council member or something.

Kurenai-

-Always lost a fight? She’s some genjutsu using badass but always lost fights.

-No real personality, she’s just chilling there. Sexy as hell though. Has a kid and that’s about it.

-What I will give her is that I’m so glad she was allowed to age. So many anime mothers always look the same as their teenage self and she looks like she can be anybody's mama.

Over all, the girls could have been handled much better. I wouldn’t find issues with any of them being housewives or all about boys if that weren’t what seems to be the standard in the anime. I just wanted more of a variety and better character development, especially for Sakura and Hinata who are the mains 😩

Now to what might REALLY piss people off- ships! I’m not trying to start some war here, this is just my opinion and you can take it or leave it.

Sakura- Naruto, since they had the most development and showed more than two seconds of caring for each other. Even Sai in Shippuden has more of a connection to Sakura than Sasuke did.

Ino-Shikamaru, if she had to end up with a guy it makes sense it’d be him since they spend more time together than her and Sai did. (inosaku for the win tho)

Hinata-Shino or Kiba, again, because they spent more time with her. Naruto and her felt very rushed and I don’t quite understand the appeal.

The one that made the most sense and became canon was Shikatem, though their son’s design was lazy :D 

If I do a second part, it’ll be about the boys and the ships with them that made sense to me. For now, this is all I have. If you’ve made it this far, thank you lol

byeee

[bakujho]

Strap in folks, it’s rant time.

So, let's talk a bit about manipulation and abuse present in fandom. It’s uncomfortable, but fuck it lets go, I’m tired of the “good vibes only” push that sweeps all this shit under the rug. I’m not pretending to be an expert by a longshot here and I’m happy to discuss, but I have dealt with enough abusive and manipulative people personally and professionally to spot em a fucking mile away and generally keep my distance. Unfortunately, I’ve noticed a gross trend where there are people being attacked, then are guilted into keeping quiet because the Abusers make it seem like it’s not worth mentioning or that it doesn’t really matter... Unfortunately, the Abusers know exactly what they’re doing, they’re really fucking good at it, and they know exactly the kind of response they’re going to receive (because in some cases, this isn’t the first fandom they’ve pulled this same shit in). 

Right off the bat though, lets get some basic facts about fandom out of the way. No one in fandom owns any character: be it interactions, personality or anything else about said character. No fandom creator owns an idea, or has any right to tell people off for having similar ideas/techniques/styles etc. There’s no such thing as a completely original singular thought, and pretty sure if you think of something ‘original’, there’s inspiration from another source. No one owns a hairstyle, a costume, a backstory, a colour scheme, an item, a scar etc etc. If someone has a similar thing, neat, clearly you’ve got similar tastes. If someone has a carbon copy of your creation on multiple points, ABSOLUTELY question it, but having the same hairstyle isn’t copyright infringement, and having a similar history isn’t ripping someone off, it’s coincidence. 

Going to put the rest under the cut, CW for manipulation tactics, abuse, and all those sorts of goodies.

So, I’ll start with the Abusers here. Everyone knows who they are, they know who they are, unfortunately the victims of them are worried about speaking out because, for the most part, the ones abusing people are in a position of perceived power and speaking out against them can put the victim in a tricky position. No one wants to be ousted from a fandom they enjoy for speaking out against someone that’s been around fandom since its inception. Which brings me to my first point.

Power: Abusers LOVE the feeling of having power (be it follower count, general clout, perceived hierarchy etc) and get really uncomfortable when they feel someone new comes to threaten their position. So, what do these people do in that situation? Option A is to completely ignore and hope they’re not dethroned, Option B is befriend immediately and subtly manipulate the person to keep a close eye on their actions. Keep your friends close, but enemies closer amirite? 

So how the fuck does a person subtly manipulate another person, shouldn’t it be obvious? Fuck man, I wish. But there’s a lot of different techniques used to keep people reigned in and submissive: guilt tripping, evasion/diversion, attention seeking, lying, intimidation, playing the victim etc etc. So obviously these will all present differently based on the abuser, but the goal of all of them is the same. To stay in power, and keep control over everything they can. 

So how would all of these present online? (of course these examples leave some wiggle room for context lost in text/translation/cultural differences etc, but for the most part it all fits the same pattern that the abuser would use in a face to face situation). 

Guilt- tripping: “Well you wouldn’t be here if not for me” “You owe me for your place in the fandom” “well if we really were friends you’d do this for me…” etc etc. Things that pit your emotional attachment to the Abuser against you, the closer you are, the easier it is. Suddenly the Victim finds themselves indebted to the Abuser for their ‘friendship’ that the Victim didn’t realize was conditional. 

Shaming: Invalidating the victims feelings by saying things like “even a child knows better than this”, “it’s okay you don’t understand, you’re probably young”, “I’ve been around fandom longer so I know how things go” etc etc. It makes the Victim feel like they’ve done something wrong by drawing boundaries for themselves, or sticking up for themselves. Remember, the Abuser doesn’t want to lose their crown so they will talk down to their Victims to make them more unsure of their stance, second guess themselves, and feel bad that they spoke up in the first place. 

Projection: “Others have done X to me, I would NEVER do the same” It’s a simple yet effective tactic. The Abuser takes the things they’ve done to people, say it happened to them, and shift the blame to the now faceless enemy so the Victim feels obligated to side with the abuser because, yea, those things mentioned fucking SUCK and no one wants to experience it. No one wants to be that asshole saying “no you deserved it” (because no one fucking deserves to be doxxed, swatted, hacked, etc etc)

Playing-the-victim: Abusers LOVE playing this game. It’s their bread and butter to set the stage for manipulation. “Having a really hard time rn, sorry im such a fuckup”, “struggling with mental health”, “this is all so hard for me” (legit though, if you are struggling please seek help where/when you can, mental health is important). So any of these statements alone can be harmless, and overlooking someone's mental health can have dangerous outcomes, HOWEVER, when these sort of statements are paired with the other things mentioned, it’s no longer simply a vent or a way to work past personal demons, it’s a way to gain sympathy and support, and it is very intentionally done to garner that emotional response from those that will listen to them. 

Attention-Seeking: can be as simple as “no one interacts with me anymore”, making a dramatic vague post, deleting that same post and making a newer, more dramatic post but this time seeking affirmation from the good responses of the last post, posting cryptic messages that ooze “ask me what happened” (vaguebooking is a plague), basically anything that is asking for a response without asking. How is it manipulative though? Guilt. If you’re aware of the Abuser, these types of posts are meant to abuse the Victim's sense of empathy, the natural response to these sorts of posts is “what happened, I’m sorry that happened to you”. 

Diversion/Evasion: straight up changing the subject or switching the blame to anywhere BUT the Abuser. The Abuser says “change X you’re copying me”, the Victim responds “I feel I didn’t copy you”, and the Abuser presses “well the fandom might not think so” and changes it from a personal issue to a larger, more aggressive problem. In this case, the Abuser is the ONLY one with a problem, but are purposely misleading the victim to take the blame off themselves. It’s not THEIR problem, it’s the FANDOMS problem...now making it the Victims problem. 

Blame: Abusers love to blame everyone BUT themselves for their perceived problems. Fandom isn’t interacting with them as much? It’s the fandom that’s dying. More drama in the fandom? Well there’s too many people here now. Getting called out for bad behavior? That’s the problem of the person who CLEARLY doesn’t understand how fandom must work. It’s the age old tale of “I’m perfect, it’s obviously everyone else who is wrong”. At what point does the Abuser realize that they may be the cause for their own misery? They don’t. 

Intimidation: This is a fun one that’s usually a last resort because if the Abuser is pretending to be a sheep caught in a snowstorm, it doesn’t look good for them to publicly announce they’ve been the wolf the whole time. It looks like “well I have X on you”, “if you only knew what I could say about you”, and “I could ruin you” type shit. Of course, in most cases, the Victim hasn’t done anything to warrant this sort of aggression, but the queen is losing her pawns and is now grasping for anything to fight back with. And who knows what sort of lengths the Abuser has gone to to gain information on the victim. It’s pretty easy to find out a lot about a person online, so the Victims back down due to the threat of the unknown.

Avoidance: refusing to talk about the problem, which is an issue I have with fandom itself, in this case. The “no drama good vibes only” is so fucking detrimental when there are problems that need to be addressed. An Abuser will push the narrative that they’re only here for a good time and don’t want drama, while actively creating drama in the shadows. Its not a problem if we don’t talk about it, right? If no one knows, it’s fine. It’s fine. No, it’s manipulative, and if there are problems they NEED to be talked about, because that’s how you find resolutions. 

Denial: This one ties in with avoidance and blame, in that the Abuser will straight up deny that they’ve ever been, or have ever created a problem. The Victim is making a big deal from nothing, they can’t control how others feel about them, so they’ve done nothing wrong. The Abuser will claim they had the best intentions when approaching someone, so clearly they have done nothing wrong. 

Lying: Including omitting any information from arguments that may paint the Abuser in a bad light. The Abuser absolutely doesn’t want anyone to find out what they’re up to, so they’ll say exactly what they need to to change the narrative surrounding them. It could be minor changes to conversations to complete fabrications. Ex “I only approached X to make sure they were okay after X happened”, but X screenshots tell a completely different story. It’s not always easy to catch an Abuser in a lie, especially when there’s the push for “no drama” so no one talks about their personal experiences and can confirm/deny what was/reported to be said. 

So bringing all of those points together and bringing it back to the Abuser wanting to have the power to control what they like/don’t like in fandom. Once they have that feeling of invincibility, they may coyly ask people to delete posts that could lead back to them looking bad, politely ask another creator to change their creation because the Abuser doesn’t like it, or them asking nicely to stop interacting with another member of fandom the Abuser doesn’t like. It may not seem like much at a first glance...after all they asked nicely. However, once you look a little harder and a little longer, it becomes very clear that the intention is to stay in control. The Abuser will do ANYTHING to stay on top, and will employ every trick they have in their arsenal to sew discord and mistrust amongst other members of the fandom to keep the fingers pointed anywhere but at themselves.

So, sound familiar to anyone? My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about the topic. If I’ve now made you uncomfortable and you’re going to unfollow/block, cheers, wish you the best. And if you’re feeling called out and attacked by my post? GOOD, stop being a fucking shitty person. 

A few last reminders before adding some resources:

Setting and enforcing personal boundaries is not abuse.

Choosing not to interact with those who make you uncomfortable is not rude.

It is important to call out abuse when you encounter it, it could save someone from becoming a victim themselves.

Always stand up for yourself, you’re your own best advocate. 

Now for some resources: I used a few of these while researching along with my old textbooks from my psych, abnormal psych, and human relations classes I took back in university.

Manipulation tactics

How to recognize a guilt trip

How to spot an attention seeker

[twixtandshout]

Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

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

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen. 

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread. 

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

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

[ashkazora]

2020 Fic Roundup

Stats:

Fics Posted (Total): 13

In chronological order: Cold Floors and Warm Hearts - a fluffy shance fic about the three times Shiro accidentally wakes up in Lance’s room. Exchange fic. 3,441 words.

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You - a small klance fillet based on the US tv show, The Blacklist. 639 words.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) - a Lance-centric gen fic exploring his relationship with the Blue Lion, and her control over him. 15,618 words.

Coffee Grinds and Morse Code - a post-s8, Shance fic written for the valentines shance exchange! 3,593 words.

Nectar and Ambrosia - my first Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for the square ‘denied food as punishment.’ Lance whump. 2,641 words.

there ain't no rest for the wicked - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for ‘big brother instincts,’ but this time with Plance and Lance whump. 3,508 words. 

Of Claws and Steel - a science-fiction, super sentai cat armour AU entered around the Lions as futuristic mecha armour. Most underrated fic here. 14,344 words.

Hairline Fractures - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill, ‘bleeding through bandages.’ Lance whump (again). 5,059 words.

Leverage - last Bad Things Happen Bingo fill for the year, for the prompt ‘on a leash.’ Featuring Shance, and Lance and Shiro whump. 7,743 words.

Lay It Down To Save It - Leakira Klance AU written for Leakira week. Made in collaboration with @crapoftheworldblr​! 18,102 words.

to the stars and back - The Dragon Prince Plance AU with Prince!Lance and Elf!Pidge. In collaboration with @rosieclark​! 36,574 words.

Sweeter Than Honey - written for the Blue Moon Lance zine! Features BAMF!Lance as the honeypot on a mission. 4,098 words.

In The Closet - Klance fic for the winner of my fic giveaway. Fluffy, and definitely a bit saucy. 2,363 words.

Fics Posted (Gen): 5

the water was dark (and it went down forever) Nectar and Ambrosia Of Claws and Steel  Hairline Fractures  Sweeter Than Honey

Plance: 2

there ain't no rest for the wicked to the stars and back 

Shance: 3

Cold Floors and Warm Hearts Coffee Grinds and Morse Code  Leverage

Klance: 3

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You Lay It Down To Save It  In The Closet

Collaborations: 2

Lay It Down To Save It to the stars and back

Ship/Character breakdown:

Ship breakdown:

This year, the biggest ship I wrote for was Shance (3 fics), with Plance (2) and Klance (2.5) coming in from behind. The k/l ficlet doesn’t count as a full fic.

Character breakdown:

Of the 13 fics, Lance is in the most with 13 (insert surprised pikachu face here), then it goes Shiro (12), Keith (10), Pidge (8), Hunk (7), Allura (6) and Matt Holt (2). Other characters appear only once, such as Coran, Haggar and Kolivan. Technically, the Blue Lion clocks in at 2 mentions. 

Characters that had the main focus:

Lance had the sole POV for 7 of those fics, and shared POVs (in a collaboration) iin 2 additional fics. Shiro had the second most POVs at a total of 3, while Keith had 1 sole POV and 1 shared POV, and Pidge with one shared POV.

Specifics:

Best/worst title?

Best title: the water was dark (and it went down forever), but honestly so many other fics has titles I liked. This title was based off of the Tim Winton short story by the name name, The Water Was Dark And It Went Down Forever, where the main character swims and debatably drowns. So it’s fairly fitting.

Runners up titles include Sweeter Than Honey, to the stars and back, and Lay It Down To Save It.

Worst title: Hairline Fractures. It’s dumb and it makes no sense. It was the first thing that came to mind.

An honourable mention includes Leverage, which would be first if not for the fact that the title inspired the ending, so it’s not too bad.

Best/worst last line?

Best: From the water was dark (and it went down forever):

Blue’s grasp on him was like an endless expanse; an opulent and brilliant ocean. Her waters were dark, and  it went  down forever.

This was definitely my favourite, even though it’s pretty cringe. The way it was formatted in ao3 and the way it related to the title plus the reoccurring symbolism of water made it pretty neat!

Worst: From there ain't no rest for the wicked:

Pidge laughed, and turned her back from the darkness.

I’m sorry. This ending was so cringey. I hate it. There’s nothing else to say except I have no idea how to fix it. Oof.

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

tbh, I wrote a lot more, considering I had my final exams this year. Breaching 100k was crazy. 

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

Honestly? Klance. I’m not the biggest fan of the ship but writing it is very interesting, and I enjoyed it. 

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Of Claws and Steel hands down! It’s the first fic idea I ever had for VLD,  and the one I really love the most. One day I’d love to write a continuation of it, but the reception of the fic wasn’t great so idk.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) even though it was started in 2019, was finished this year and is my most popular fic of all time! It’s got 4k+ hits and 450+ kudos. Crazy, since it was only supposed to be a dumb little warm up fic to get me back into writing in preparation for Of Claws and Steel. Alas, turns out people really liked it!

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Of Claws and Steel. It was the fic I worked the hardest on this year but got the least amount of attention :)

Story that could have been better?

Easily there ain't no rest for the wicked. There was so much plot and so many things I wanted to include but didn't. There’s a lot of things missing and bad plot flow. One day if I got more time, I’d love to write more on it.

Sexiest story?

In The Closet, hands down. It gets a bit steamy with a k/l makeout session. Originally it was going to be a lot saucier but I wasn’t too comfortable in my ability to write it well ahaha. 

Saddest story?

None of my stories were sad, per se. Most of the sad ones were more scary/foreboding rather than actually being sad. I guess to the stars and back right now, because it’s dealing with Lance’s insecurities and Pidge’s desperation to find her brother (and a lot of other things, which will be revealed in the future!)

Most fun?

Sweeter Than Honey! It was fun to write and is my most fun fic. BAMF!Lance and his witty commentary is always a great laugh.

Story with single sweetest moment? 

I can’t choose :,). It’s a three-way tie between Cold Floors and Warm Hearts’s last scene where Shiro realises Lance bought him the necklace, Lay It Down To Save It’s scene that I can’t say because it’s technically unpublished ;), and to the stars and back’s scene where Lance and Pidge talk about what they would like to be in life (ch3).

Hardest story to write?

Probably Of Claws and Steel, as I completely stagnated on the story for a long time. It took me 8 months to write it. Without Rue’s help, I probably would have taken so much longer. Runners up is Leverage, as it took me like a solid week to write 90% of it, and 3 more months to write the remaining 10%. For some reason, parts of that fic were such a pain to write. 

Easiest/most fun story to write?

The easiest was definitely to the stars and back. I could relate to a lot of Lance’s actions and thoughts in the fic, so writing his POV was super easy and rather cathartic ngl. However the most fun was probably Sweeter Than Honey, as it was super self indulgent ahaha.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

Lay It Down To Save It changed my perception of Keith. I don’t particularly like Keith in canon, but I’ve warmed up to his fanon self and general character after writing from his POV.

Most overdue story?

Of Claws and Steel easily! It was the first VLD fic idea I had but took 8 months to write. Oops? 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

For the first time I incorporated HTML coding into my fics, which taught me a lot about coding and different ways to convey certain messages and detail things. These codings altered fonts and colours, which you can see in 

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Write my tua/vld au fic, which will be my first solo multi chapter fic, and hopefully finish it by the end of next year. Also, sticking to a consistent writing schedule and try to write at least 100 words a day, plus finishing TSSAB. I’d also like to finish some more BTHB prompts!

That’s all, folks! Thank you all for sticking with my writing! Hopefully 2021 brings even more writing, fun times, and great fics. Happy New Years (in 24 hours), everyone!

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 70: Azure Heart

Chapters: 70/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating:

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Has The Worst Time,

Summary:  Loki remains who he has always been

Thor was carefully working his beard into a braid when he heard the commotion at his door. Your voice frantically entreating the guard to let you in; which he did. You were one of a handful of individuals he allowed in here at will, and you'd never abused the privilege.

You threw yourself at him, terrified, clutching his arm and babbling about a Frost Giant in your bath room. It seemed you thought that the jotun child had been released from the ice early, and was running around unsupervised.

“Wait a moment.” He said, trying to slow the stream of words. “You saw a little jotun girl in your bath chambers? The ones you share with my brother?”

“Yes! She shouldn't be out yet, not without her guardian! It's not safe!”

“I just want to make sure. Did you see a little girl, or did you see a small Frost Giant?”

“I...well it had to be the kid, right? Frost Giants don't stay small!”

“Alright.” Thor said. “I will go investigate. You go and do what you are supposed to do today, and don't worry about this any further.”

You departed, but reluctantly, and with many entreaties to be kind and gentle to what you were sure was a lost and scared little girl.

Norns, but his brother was being foolish. So secretive, so terrified of the consequences, but he probably wanted you to know, deep down. Thor suspected that whenever Loki slipped, it was because he wanted someone to see, to know something that he was too afraid to say. That somewhere in his subconscious mind, he was tired of keeping this secret.

Thor wanted to build a realm where Loki could be comfortable with the truth of himself. Or at least where he could feel something other than hatred and shame over it. Thor was acutely aware of all the personal failures piled up on his shoulders over the centuries, where his brother was concerned. Some days he waxed furious at his own father, and sometimes even his mother, for keeping this from them both. All the things Thor had said and done pertaining to Frost Giants...and Loki had agreed, and internalized it all, just as Thor had. And it had all come down on him with the crushing force of an unstoppable glacier when he'd found out. And to find out while Thor was banished, and Odin asleep, all his support structures gone, and then to have the entire kingdom thrust upon him at such a vulnerable time...It was no wonder he'd fallen into madness. Would Thor have done any different, had it been him?

No, Thor reflected. No, he probably would have been much worse. Recklessness was a personal flaw he had not quite yet cured himself of. Combine that with madness, and the ultimate power of Asgard behind it...No, things would have gone quite terribly, if it had been him instead.

But if he and Loki had known since they were young...So many things Thor would not have said, have done. So much unnecessary suffering, undone. He dearly loved his father, but all of this had been so wrong.

He found Loki sitting in the bath room, in front of a mirror, blue face in his hands.

“Come to smite me, brother?” He deadpanned.

“Oh, a little bird told me there might be a Frost Giant running loose, but I see only my brother here.”

“So now she does what I tell her. Typical.” Loki grumbled. “She can run quite fast when she's scared, can't she? Then again, who wouldn't? If they saw...this.” He gestured to his reflection in the mirror.

“Actually, she was scared for you.” Thor said. “She though you were the little girl, running around on her own. She was afraid for your safety.”

“The child? Why would she think-oh. Hmph. I don't know if that's better or worse. At least she didn't set the Valkyries on me.”

It must have stung. Yes, he had told you to run, but it must have hurt to see you run from him. To think you were frightened of him. Yet he might still make the best of this.

“You know what you need to do.” Thor said.

Loki sighed. “I know.” He said. He sounded so small.

“You will do fine. I know it.” Thor encouraged. “Just get it out there. I think she will understand.”

“Oh yes? Tell me, how did your last relationship go?”

“Poorly. I made many mistakes, particularly in communicating. I encourage you not to do the same.”

“Hmph.” Loki had faded back to milky pale, and looked just as miserable in that shape as well. “But there's no way around it anymore. She's going to know that there was no child in here. She won't be able to stop thinking about it. If she begins asking around, someone will bring up the play, or just outright tell her. It should be me. I have to do it before anyone else does!”

“That's the spirit!” Thor said. “Now go out there and seize that day!”

“Oh, go away!” Loki threw a towel at him.

                                                                           ******

Bjarkhild dropped your hand and shrugged.

“It looks as if everything has gone back to normal.” She said. “The mark looks the same as the day you were brought here, even though it looked like a fresh brand last night.”

“Maybe because I was with Loki?” You ventured. You both knew that his presence had certain healing effects on you. Bjarkhild heaved a small sigh of frustration.

“I wish I had access to Eir's notes. I don't doubt she had information on magics involvement in healing. But Valhalla has received her, and her knowledge along with her. There is so much to relearn.”

“She was good at this?”

“The very Goddess of Healing. One of Hela's first targets...but I shouldn't speak of it. You are in fine health now, and that's all anyone can really ask for. Now, off with you. I don't doubt you have something to attend to.”

“Lessons, yeah.” You hadn't mentioned to anyone that you'd seen a Frost Giant this morning. Thor had seemed a little weird about it; kinda cagey. You assumed he had some kind of plan, so you shouldn't go around spreading panic.

Instead, you went outside. To the ox pens. There were several of the big animals in there, wandering around aimlessly without a care in the world. Even the crisp chill in the air didn't seem to bother them.

You leaned against the fence, and watched the biggest one, a huge, reddish animal, as he browsed the sparse vegetation. Soon, in just a few weeks, in fact, you would have to watch Loki walk up to this beast with a great big sword, and...

Bright red and bewildered eyes. Desperate red eyes, and bright red blood, and a blue head that rolled...

You turned away from the fence with your hand clapped tight over your mouth. Could you really do this?

You knew where your food came from. The leather you wore. You knew people who kept chickens and sometimes they became soup. You knew these animals were destined to become food-for you or for the worms, or both-but you'd also never been there for the actual moment. You'd seen livestock alive, and then you'd seen them in nice, neat, clean bits that in no way resembled the living animal they'd once been. You were disconnected from the part in between.

Maybe that wasn't such a good thing. You knew that disconnect was what allowed some of the more egregious abusive practices to flourish. You knew it would be better to know, to witness. That it would imbue the seriousness of it all, the respect for the lives in front of you.

Maybe that was why things like this were done? The common folk, the farmers, and hunters, and herders, they would all have that kind of understanding and respect already. They were the ones who looked those animals in the eyes and knew them.

But the merchants and traders, the craftsmen and nobles, the royalty, they would be removed from it. Animal husbandry was unlikely to be part of their daily lives, after all. Was bringing them all together to witness where their feasts came from some kind of attempt to teach them? Was making their royalty act like their farmers a way to remind them what the building blocks of a kingdom really were? Was it a humbling act? A reaffirming one?

You didn't know. Whether it was better or not, you couldn't stop thinking of how much blood there was going to be. Beheading was the quickest, most painless way, you had read. The most humane.

You shuddered, then squeaked in awkward surprise when someone dropped their yellow cloak over your shoulders.

“You shouldn't come outside without one anymore.” Andsvarr said, leaning against the fence next to you. “Last year, it got very, very cold. Too cold for a human or an Asgardian, if you ask me. But the wool they make here is very good. I assume it has to be.”

“Oh, thank you.” You said. “We get blizzards and stuff back home, but nothing like what I assume they get here. Did it snow on Asgard?”

“Yes, but not often, or much. Not like here. How are you feeling? You look unhappy, if you will forgive me.”

“Not great, to be honest. Been dealing with some things.”

“You certainly seemed to be in a state last night! Were you hurt? Bjarkhild didn't tell me. We got your room gathered up, by the way. Your plants will be fine I think, and we even found your little worm friend. He has cocooned himself.”

“Oh good, I'm glad he's okay. I'm glad you're okay too. No, I'm not hurt.” You sighed. “I think my problem is deeper inside. It's him.” You gestured at the huge bull. “I don't want to kill him.”

“The sacrifice? I see. Well don't worry!” Andsvarr began earnestly. “You won't be the one to do it. That will be his High-”

“It doesn't matter! I'm the one who'll be distracting him! He won't even see Loki, he'll be looking at me. And I won't say anything, I won't warn him...”

“Um...The bull would not understand you, even if you did.”

The bull. Right, of course, you were talking about the bull.

“I guess I just feel bad for him. He didn't deserve this. Doesn't.” You were talking about the bull.

Andsvarr gave you an expression of bewildered support. “Would you like to come back inside? I can get you a warm drink? We have that chocolate powder that you put in milk.”

You shouldn't stay out here staring at oxen. It was getting you nowhere.

“Yeah. Some hot chocolate sounds good. I just...I don't want any more shocks for a bit. I just want a moment's calm.”

                                                                       *****

Loki barely ate. Everything tasted like sand and emptiness. Tonight was the night he lost you.

You were in your room right now, helping to clean up and reorganize. A team had already been in there, salvaging what they could, cleaning up the broken glass. They had patched up the wall, but it would need to be repainted, and a new window pane would need to be added to their next order of supplies.

He'd told Brunnhilde to keep a bed ready with the Valkyries. You couldn't sleep in your room until the window was repaired. The temperature would dip to well below freezing in there. And when you inevitably ran from him tonight, like you had this morning, you would need a place to rest.

All he could really hope for was that you would be able to overcome your disgust enough to continue acting as his Seidkona, even if he could no longer hold you, or touch you, or revel in your love.

“You know, she might not even care.” Thor had told him. “Humans can be unpredictable about this sort of thing.”

It hadn't helped. He couldn't dare to hope for that acceptance, not since the broken Bifrost. He had to be ready for the end.

He'd taken this meal alone. As coiled up as his innards were, he couldn't possibly have even faked a conversation. It was like going to his own execution, and he'd already done that!

He let his fork fall to his plate, unable to finish.

He should have told you from the start. Then you would have never loved him, and would feel no betrayal. And without seeing your soul as he had, he might not even have fallen for you. But when would he have told you? When was ever a good time for this confession?

He could hear you down the hall, lamenting a tear in your stuffed fantasy animal. The power of that blast had thankfully not carried far. It had tossed a few things around in his room, and the blast itself had woken him up, but it hadn't reached Thor's chambers. Mostly, it had destroyed your own little room.

He'd see to it that the doll was repaired. You loved the little creature, even though it wasn't real.

Just like you loved the false face he presented to you.

You were leaving now, to fetch dinner with Andsvarr and the maids. You did that occasionally, taking a meal, usually lunch, with the servants, or the cooks, or Frigga's former handmaidens. It seemed that, unlike all the peasant princesses of the tales, you didn't want to forget where you came from. He could respect that; he, and much of Asgard was in a similar situation. Besides, it was good for you to get to know the people, and for them to get to know you.

But what if one of them told you before he did? Frigga's handmaidens especially liked to talk among themselves, and between them, they knew practically everything about every Asgardian alive. But you understood a great deal more of the language now, and if one of them let it slip in idle conversation, you might be able to pick it up.

He wanted control of this situation. At least the tiny amount of control it took to be the one to say those words to you. He wanted at least that.

There was a tiny knock at his chamber doors, just barely perceptible. The only one left, Loki answered it. As if summoned by his thoughts, Lofn stood in the hallway.

Loki eyed her warily. Of all his mother's handmaidens, Lofn was the hardest for him to understand. She seemed to him to perceive two different worlds at once, the world of the soul revealed itself to her as to no other. She saw all the intricacies of emotion and the truth in people's spirits, though she seldom said much, and what she did say didn't always make immediate sense. Still, it was always best to heed her advice.

Also, she was sometimes just compelled to do things that seemed odd or random, and right now she was holding out a long coat in a style he preferred. It was blue, however, the sky blue his mother used to wear.

“I have made this for you.” She said, with that dreamy, yet cunning expression of hers. “It feels like there are things you need to remember. That you have always been you, no matter what coat you are wearing. And that every crawling, wriggling, screaming creature is born worthy of love and care. I held you, as a baby, though you don't remember. But I saw it.”

She shook the coat, urging him to take it. He did. It was light and warm as he slung it around his shoulders; a perfect fit. Somehow, she always knew.

She didn't wait for thanks, or any answer at all really, just nodded and walked away.

How did she know these things? Did she look across the world and see his distress? How long had she been working on this coat?

He had always been him. Well, of course he had. He hadn't ever stopped being a Frost Giant, no matter what shape he took. That was part of the problem.

The mirror in his room had broken, but hadn't been replaced yet. He looked at himself with his new coat, his reflection shattered into many facets. All those faces, but only one of them was real.

The light blue didn't really suit him, but he liked the coat anyway. It reminded him of his mother, how she used to hold him, envelop him in the folds of her dress and make him feel safe. Of the books she read to him, and the stories she told. The magic she taught him and the little jokes.

If he squinted just right, he could almost pretend it was her in the myriad panes of mirror, drawing him into warm memory. Dinners together, as a family, when he was just a boy. How she knew all along, but had loved him anyway. She should have told him, they should have told him, but her love was never in doubt. She wanted to protect him, and had made the unequivocally wrong choice in her attempt to do so, but she did love him.

He even remembered the way Odin used to hold his hand with the same care and pride he had for Thor, all three of them walking from corridor to grand corridor, to meals, to classes, to bed. How he spoke to them of so many things, trying to raise them both. Like a real family.

Loki's eyes burned, his throat tight. He wanted it. After everything that had happened, he just wanted that more than anything. Why couldn't he have had that? What had changed?

Odin had been his father, had acted like it, at least when he was young! What had changed? Was it disappointment at the emergence of his Aesir nature-as god of mischief, deceit and lies? Was it that Laufey had failed to die or be deposed by his people after the war, thus making it more difficult to install Loki as a suitable replacement? Odin had raised him too, to be a king. Had he simply grown frustrated that he would be saddled with a tiny, deformed Frost Giant for longer than he had anticipated? Had he grown too competent? Or not enough?

He had always been him. Even before he knew. Running around the palace as a little boy, chasing after his big brother almost from the moment he could walk. Filching snacks from the kitchens, and crying over scraped knees. Trying to climb on things he shouldn't. Practicing his magic by changing Thor's clothes into dresses, attempting to elicit any kind of reaction from stoic Hogun, causing strange odors to arise from Fandral's ever-flapping mouth, teasing Volstagg about his increasing waist and family size. Even attempting to cut Sif's hair as a prank. Oh, he had known woman's wrath then!

All follies of youth. He missed them. Maybe they had never truly been his friends, but he missed them all the same.

He missed you too. He missed you, and he hadn't even lost you yet. He was mourning for you, for what was about to happen. When you saw who he really was.

Who he had always been. You didn't even know. In the run of things, you barely knew him at all.

You barely knew him. Who he had always been. You didn't know.

You didn't know about Frost Giants.

You didn't know about Frost Giants like Asgard thought it knew about Frost Giants Didn't know about him, about who he'd always been.

About a little boy who chased a little girl with a pair of scissors, until she punched him in the face and knocked him down, and he laughed to be beaten at his own game. A youth running from his enraged older brother, who tripped over his own skirts in the attempt to catch him. Who burned with a touch of envy when his chubby friend married young and had babies on the way almost instantly. Who always looked upwards and forwards.

He had always only been him. Frost Giant or Asgardian, always him. Loki. Always Loki.

You knew Loki.

You would come back tonight, and he would tell you this terrible thing. He was still terrified that you would leave, but you deserved to know. You knew the side of him that wanted to provide what you deserved. You knew that part of him, and more importantly, you trusted that part of him. He cherished that trust, and wanted to reward it with trust of his own. He would tell you, and accept whatever came of it.

He would be who he'd always been.

[vesuvianoak]

Conversations and Cautionary Tales – Love Like Yours Fest Day VII – Valerius x Ąžuolas

Title: Conversations and Cautionary Tales Author: Vesuvian Oak Fandom / Setting: The Arcana (post-game) Characters / Pairings: Consul Valerius x Ąžuolas Tobeluk Rating: T+ Word Count: 1337 Warnings / Notes: Written for @lovelikeyoursfest Day VII Summary: Summer storms make for interesting lodging arrangements.

I’m a trope loving fuck and this is my greatest achievement to date haha

Summer rain beat against the shop window, drawing attention to the sign hanging there that said simply Closed Except By Appt.; inside the shop, however, was alive with activity and plans, and had been for several hours now. Ąžuolas moved from point to point on the counter, a writing pad and stylus in hand as he took notes. Seated on the opposite side of the counter was Valerius, his own notes balanced on one knee as he offered suggestions between sips of lemon tea. (The assaliaq Ąžuolas had offered alongside the tea remained untouched.) Their years of working together professionally, and being together personally, were showcased in the way their trains of thought ran parallel to each other, and in the implicit understanding of their turns of phrase and thought processes.

"So we agree that the first step is getting people to the theater in the first place," Ąžuolas announced, sliding his writing stylus between his temple and the leg of his glasses.

Valerius nodded in agreement, setting the china on the countertop before indicating sections of the blueprints of the community theater. "Considering the history and the architecture of the theater—"

Ąžuolas scoffed as he reached across the counter and snagged the piece of assaliaq. "Well, I can tell you right now nobody gives a half a damn about that," he said, tearing off a piece.

"Excuse me?" It was obvious the comment wasn't about the bread.

Ąžuolas held up a finger to wordlessly request a moment to chew and swallow; when he spoke, he gestured expansively, assaliaq in hand be damned. "When people think of theater, they think of plays and music, so if we're heading up the project on increasing accessibility of the arts—" He reached over with his free hand and tapped the slender folio, embossed the title of the project and their names, in which they kept plans and notes—"then we have to bring the theater away from being about the art and the history and the snooty stuff you like and start focusing on affordability and building general interest."

A beat of silence as Valerius considered this, then nodded solemnly. "Valid points are raised," he pronounced, "however I want the record to show that I resent your assessment of my taste."

"Whatever, babe—" Any other teasing he had was cut off by a low rumble of thunder. "Oh damn, sounds like a summer storm coming in." He moved to the sideroom in which he and Asra did readings, peeling the gauzy curtains back to watch the rain pounding against the glass in sheets.

"Then I'll take that as my cue to leave," Valerius said, standing and gathering the plans and notes into neat stacks.

"I wouldn't count on it," Ąžuolas warned, letting the partition fall back into place. "This is a storm that'll send the carriage network home for the day."

"I appreciate your concern," Valerius said bracingly, tucking the folio under his arm and moving with purpose for the door, "but I promise you, everything will be—"

He opened the door with relative ease, only for it to be all but pulled from his hand as the wind caught it, spraying a sheet of rain into the entryway. Ąžuolas appeared at his elbow and with no small measure of their combined efforts, helped him pull the door back closed.

Ąžuolas leaned against the door frame, feeling for the lock and sightlessly throwing the bolt. At the same time, Valerius took stock of himself (thoroughly dampened) and the folio (thankfully dry). After a moment, Ąžuolas' laughter, soft but warm, caught his ear; he looked up in time to see him drying his glasses on his shirttail and placing them back on his face.

Despite the marked difference in their heights, Ąžuolas easily met his eyes as he worked the folio from Valerius' hands. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

☁ ☁ ☁

Dinner was a quiet affair, one underscored by the storm outside and shared over a meal—a chicken and rice curry that Ąžuolas had been eager to try and a young rosé Valerius had given him for a holiday some months prior. "Proper date night," Ąžuolas teased; despite the consul's remarks that the curry and rosé were terribly matched, there was a softness in his expression that spoke to the fact that he was enjoying himself.

At length, the sound of bells from the Temple District joined the rumbling of thunder, marking the late hour. "Looks like you'll be joining me for breakfast," Ąžuolas noted. "Probably for the best—I think I have some of your pajamas you can have back."

"You have what?" Valerius asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm a pajama-stealing gremlin," he said simply, shrugging, before giving Valerius the (short) grand tour. "You should know that by now."

After the cursory tour, Ąžuolas disappeared into the master bedroom and returned a moment later with the aforementioned pajamas. "You're welcome to anything in the washroom," he said as he passed the clothing over. "I'm going to pull some extra blankets and stuff from the closet and change."

"Thank you," Valerius replied, voice soft and warm with affection, as he caught Ąžuolas' hand in his and lifted it to press a soft kiss to the backs of his fingers. The pleased rush of color that came to Ąžuolas cheeks before they parted ways was profoundly rewarding, if he was willing to admit it to himself…

Some fifteen minutes later, Valerius emerged from the washroom, day clothes folded neatly and tucked under his arm and his hair loosed from its perennial braid, and paused in the doorway of the master bedroom, watching Ąžuolas as he finished turning down the bed. The blankets had been changed, and a second pillow laid out at the headboard. Ąžuolas himself was spreading a second throw over the mattress, his linen sleeping tunic bunching at the waist as he leaned over to brush out a few wrinkles, half humming half singing a Vesuvian folk tune. It was a microcosm of his very nature, of the things that Valerius so admired and adored about him, and the consul leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed as he took in the scene.

After a moment, Ąžuolas' gaze lifted, and he smiled warmly. "I see you staring," he teased lightly. "What's up?"

A flip reply came to mind, but died on Valerius' tongue as he came to a dawning realization regarding the master bedroom, and a wry smile shaped his features.

"What?" Ąžuolas repeated, standing up straight and crossing his arms.

Valerius' gaze flicked from Ąžuolas' face to the bed—big enough for two but a single bed all the same—and back again, the same smile still on his face.

Ąžuolas' gaze followed Valerius, and he seemed to come to the same realization—and then he grinned in a way that one could only describe as mischievously. "Oh no, there's only one bed," he announced, hands on his hips.

The response, up to and including the badly acted "surprise," worked a chuckle from the consul. "Ąžuolas—"

"Whatever shall we do?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed before falling back, head hitting the mattress with a soft but pronounced whump, limbs splayed dramatically. "I guess we'll—" A pause as he lifted the back of his hand to his forehead, meeting Valerius' gaze with a cheeky grin—"just have to shaaaaaaare."

Valerius pushed off the doorframe and carefully laid his clothes on the bureau by the door before coming to stand on the opposite side of the bed and look down at Ąžuolas. "Need I remind you we've been seeing each other for three years?"

"Ugh, you're no fun," Ąžuolas scolded, sitting up. He pushed back the blankets and shimmied under them before lifting an arm out to Valerius in invitation. "Now come cuddle in the witch's bed. They'll write cautionary tales about us for ages to come."

A lot of things could be said about Consul Valerius, but that he needed telling twice was not one of them.

[hahanoiwont]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Undertale (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Papyrus & Sans, Frisk & Sans, Alphys/Undyne, Papyrus & Undyne, Frisk & Everyone, W. D. Gaster & Papyrus & Sans Characters: Sans, Frisk, Papyrus, Alphys, Undyne, W. D. Gaster, Gaster Follower(s) Additional Tags: playing with the FUN mechanic, The Void, Magic, Determination, spacetime shenanigans Summary:

Shortcuts are an exact science.

Shortcuts are an exact science. They move through the Void—an infinitely-collapsing nothing dimension that takes up no space and time, but at the same time is uniform all across whenever it is accessed. The Void is a constant, while Sans and anyone following him and the starting point and the destination and a couple other environmental considerations are the variables. Most of the magic cost of a shortcut comes of enforcing regular six-dimensional reality onto the Void long enough to use it as a path to a regular six-dimensional destination.

If it’s just Sans taking a shortcut, he can cut out most of the cost—a relative second or two in the void won’t remove him from reality like it would most folks.

Sometimes he remembers why that is, sometimes he doesn’t. But he always remembers that the Void will hesitate to destroy him. The Void is as safe for Sans as…well, a relatively safe space in a dimension of infinite entropic constants. If he’s gonna have trouble with a shortcut, it’s gonna be in the world of variables, in himself or where he pops out or what he did wrong in his calculations.

Sans is very fast and very accurate in his calculations. He hasn’t shortcut himself into a staircase or table since…he can’t remember when. There was one time in particular, he thinks…

He’s pretty sure it’d scared…someone…Papyrus(?) so bad that he’d gotten a strongly-worded lecture about respecting the seriousness of his studies and not using highly advanced, theoretical magic to save ten seconds of walking. And the dangers of the Void, which always makes him snort when he thinks about it.

Come to think of it, he’s pretty sure he remembers Pap also being there for that conversation, saying he’s sure Sans knew what he was doing, and Sans wouldn’t endanger himself carelessly, so it must have just been a mistake, right, Sans?

That had actually made him feel worse than the lecture.

And then Papyrus had taken him quietly aside later, and asking him Could You Have Fallen Down If You Did A Mistake? in the way that meant Tell Me You Care More About Your Life Than This, I Know You Are Better Than This, I Am Already Impressed By Your Accomplishments And Wish You Wouldn’t Show Off If It Could Hurt You. If Sans recalls correctly, he’d said something like…

“nah, paps, i was just—i was just being dumb, wasn’t thinking, forgot we moved that table, didn’t even hurt, right? just felt weird for a bit, it’s, uh, um.” He’d let out a breath and hung his head, unable to look at his brother’s increasing distress. “sorry. i shouldn’t have been showing off. i was just…yeah. that was stupid of me.”

He’d just been having fun with having a part of his studies he could show off to Papyrus and ****** without having to practically write a thesis to explain what it was and why it was kinda cool. Theory is great—Sans loves theory—but it was fun to have a practical application, and a useful one at that. He’d just gotten kinda carried away.

He’d thought he was being all responsible, owning up to what he did wrong (at least to Papyrus; he’d taken his brother’s out in front of ******) and apologizing for it, but Paps had seen right through him.

“That Was Actually Pretty Cool, Though,” Papyrus had said. Sans had perked up entirely, forgoing scuffing his shoes on the floor in favor of basking in his brother’s admiration.

“right? isn’t it? i can teleport!” he’d said. “i mean. maybe i should have…tested it out a bit more. it kind of was an ‘irrational and dangerous misuse of untested theoretical physics,’ and all. lab safety is cool. that was…kinda not that.”

Not to mention how the shortcut that had taken him halfway through a table in the lab hadn’t been his first shortcut—he’d shortcut straight to Papyrus once he had a decent idea of how to balance out his equations for it, and spent most of the afternoon tweaking his technique and teleporting circles around his brother. That had been the opposite of lab safety. Especially when he left the lab to do it.

Somehow, Sans had figured he was just smart enough that nothing would go wrong. “You’re never too good to make mistakes” is a lesson he’d learned later.

“I Was Not Really Encouraging Good Science Habits, Either,” Papyrus had admitted at the time. “It’s Very Cool That You Have Discovered This Neat Way To Use Your Magic! But! In The Future! Maybe We Can Make A Corner Of The Room That We Don’t Put Things In? And Then? You Use Your Cool New Magic To Go There? And Not In A? Table???”

Sans hadn’t said it then, because he’d had some sort of hang-up where he didn’t say it out loud, but that had been one of the many times that Papyrus had been so cool. Even when Sans had been, in hindsight, kind of insufferably proud of his scientific leanings, Papyrus always let him know that he thought what Sans was doing was cool and impressive, and that he was proud of his brother’s accomplishments.

Sans can remember that incident most of the time, even though it doesn’t really make sense with the memories he also has where he never told Paps about his interest in science, and told him he was going to dentistry school instead. The dentistry story is the one he always remembers, though, so that must have…ugh. It always gives him a headache to remember this stuff.

Not worth the effort. He’s never gonna get that past back anyway, so why bother sorting out what really happened? Better to take what he has now: the coolest brother in the world, some pretty good friends, some pretty bad jokes, the sky. The Surface.

He’d never been as impressed by the idea of the Surface as other monsters seemed to be—seemed like it couldn’t be that great when Sans already had everything he needed underground with him. Not worth risking that for some world they’d been cut off from for thousands of years, right?

Stars, he’s never been happier to be wrong.

What he has now is everything he’d ever had underground, plus an ever-widening world of friends and family; sights to see, foods to try, things to avoid doing. He sure is glad he did absolutely nothing while Frisk did all the work of getting the Barrier down.

At least, he assumes he did nothing. Frisk won’t say what happened, and no one else remembers.

There are a lot of things Frisk won’t say. And it’s not just because they don’t talk much.

Doesn’t stop them from being a curious kid, though.

Today, Sans is relaxing, enjoying his escape from Alphys’s “SELF-ESTEEM TRAINING!!!” with Papyrus and Undyne, when Frisk trots up to him and stops, staring down at him insistently.

“‘sup, buddy?” he asks. “you find a cool rock somewhere?”

Frisk sometimes brings artifacts back from their adventures—clothes, tools, toys; almost always human artifacts that they seem to pick up from where no human had any business being in the first place.

Doesn’t look like that’s what’s going on now, though. They just have their stick with them, and the locket they picked up somewhere Underground. They’re clutching their shirt hem.

“…home?” they ask, craning their head to look behind them. They scan the surrounding buildings and trees at the edge of town before they check on Paps and crew.

Sans scans the area, too. Frisk hadn’t gone far—he’d been keeping an eye socket on them, or at least their SOUL; they hadn’t been out of his sight for more than a few minutes.

Then again, they do get nervous when they haven’t seen Toriel or Asgore for a while, even after years have passed and their new parents have failed to abandon them. Maybe they’re just antsy?

Undyne suplexes a dumpster unexpectedly, and Frisk whips around to face the noise, one hand outstretched like they would shield Sans from Undyne’s reign of terror against his fellow piles of garbage.

A tense moment passes. Frisk stares at Undyne, who is attempting to suplex Alphys, who is being carried by Papyrus. It looks like they’re playing some sort of keep-away game.

“pretty jumpy there, buddy,” Sans notes. Frisk glances at him, before going back to scanning their (still perfectly normal) surroundings. “makes a guy wonder. what’s rattling your bones?”

Not even a huff. Frisk just shrugs uncomfortably.

“come on. you can trust me, right? tell your buddy sans what’s wrong.” He winks his right eye.

Frisk squirms. They’ll break in a second, Sans is sure of it. Just a little more pressure…

Frisk’s eyes dart away, focusing intently on nothing, and their body twists to follow their gaze. They trot towards it two paces without even seeming to realize it, before their movement is arrested.

They reach up to clutch at something—hard to say what, from Sans’s vantage point on the ground behind them. Their collar, maybe?

They back up a half pace, making the tiniest conflicted noise. They shake their head.

“uh. frisk?” Sans asks.

Frisk glances at him, turning to keep both him and the point of nothing that’s caught their attention in their field of view.

Sans doesn’t know a lot about human eyesight, but if he doesn’t miss his guess, they’re focusing far away. Are they looking at the end of town or past it?

He can’t see anything there, but Frisk sometimes knows things he doesn’t. He’ll have to come back here later and see if he can rustle anything up.

“Home,” Frisk insists. “We shouldn’t be here.”

They reach down towards Sans, and Sans forgoes jokes for a moment to let them pull him up. Frisk doesn’t seem like they’d take the old whoopee cushion joke too well right now.

Normally that wouldn’t stop him, but he doesn’t want to be the shout that causes the avalanche. Frisk is pretty fearless normally. Whatever’s spooked them could be pretty…spooky.

They don’t let go of Sans once he’s on his feet, choosing instead of grab his sleeve and tug insistently. He lets them propel him along, taking an arcing path towards the others.

If the kid’s keeping an even radius from whatever’s scared them, that puts it past a stand of trees. Nothing he can see right now, and they shouldn’t be able to, either.

Sans stares at the back of Frisk’s head. what’s going on here, kiddo?

Frisk doesn’t seem to notice, focused between Papyrus and the trees, until they glance back at him again.

“Do you…” they start. Then they shake their head, apparently deciding that whatever it is, he doesn’t.

“oh, yeah. all the time,” he says vaguely.

“No, no. Nothing. Nothing,” Frisk says. “It’s—did you ever—work with—nothing. Never mind.”

“i’ve had a few jobs, kiddo, i’ve worked with a lot of people,” Sans comments. “maybe a name would jog my memory?”

It’s not a joke, but Frisk snorts, only a little off-beat.

“No, it wouldn’t. Never mind. You should go home. Bring everyone. Game night.” They tug Sans forward and push him the last few feet, to Papyrus, Undyne and Alphys.

The training crew has politely paused midway through a game of catch with Alphys as the ball. Undyne sets her down by the head as Sans and Frisk approach.

“What’s up? Here to join in our EPIC TRAINING SESH?!?” she shouts.

The force of her passion generates a gust of wind that goes right through Sans. Frisk, on the other hand, has to cling to his hoodie to avoid being pushed back, at least until Papyrus’s blue magic anchors them more firmly to the ground.

“Brother! I Am Glad You Have Finally Chosen To Join Us, Instead Of Sitting Under A Tree And Being Lazy All Day! I Am…Surprised You Have Finally Chosen To Join Us! Shocked, In Fact!” Papyrus says. His eye sockets narrow. “…This Wouldn’t Happen To Be A Jape That You Are Concocting With Frisk, Is It? Human! I Have Told You Not To Succumb To My Brother’s Lazy Trickery! You Should Join Us In Training Just To Block Out His Tomfoolering Influence!”

Sans cuts in before he can get on a tangent—normally he has fun egging his brother on, but Frisk just might try pushing them all home if they dawdle too long, and funny as that would be, Sans doesn’t want to know what lengths Frisk would go to to get them all settled into a relative “safe” area.

“frisk just wanted to head home a bit early. too much fun out here, figured we’d ask who’s up for game night,” Sans says.

Frisk lurches and looks at him strangely, even though he’d pretty much just said what they had. Unless “too much fun” means something different to humans. Sans should remember to look that up some time after he stalks Frisk’s encounter with whatever’s out there.

It’s not stalking if you have parental consent, right? It’s, uh…temporary…guardianship. That promise he made to Tori all those years ago counts for that, right?

Welp. Too late to be quibbling over moralisms, anyway. Sans is in this deep, and it’s not like the kid is gonna let anyone else know what’s going on.

Papyrus hesitates, a bit thrown by the sudden plan change—they have a game night already scheduled for tomorrow, tonight was supposed to be relatively free so he could prepare a Meal of Epic Proportions for it—but Alphys is perceptive as Sans knows her to be.

After being placed on the ground, she’d gotten her bearings and read some part of Frisk’s frantic discomfort off of their posture. Their face has resumed a blank expression, but their free hand is clutching their locket, and they’re standing half-hidden behind Sans closer than usual.

Or, from the perspective to the point they’re avoiding, Sans is half-hidden behind them, with Papyrus and Undyne grouped behind them both.

While Papyrus is talking, Alphys makes a subtle gesture to Sans—??—and he shrugs one shoulder and tilts his head back—dunno, but i’m going along with it.

This is not the first nor the last time Alphys will be frustrated by Sans’s staunch refusal to get overtly involved in a puzzling situation, but she does trust him, and she knows him well enough to know he’ll be doing his own investigation later. She pipes up in support.

“I-I think th-” The weight of everyone’s attention makes her flinch, but not as bad as she was during the worst of the amalgamates mess. She steadies after a moment. “I think that that would be f-fun. We c-could bring over something to…”

Frisk’s grip on Sans’s sweater, still there, tightens a fraction—again on the word ‘fun.’ Their stick shifts against his back. Where they’re holding it it’s sort of like a weird seat belt, or some kind of really ineffective shield.

Frankly, if anything were to get through the human at his back, there’s not a lot that would make an effective shield, except maybe magic. Given that Frisk only has DETERMINATION, a stick is as good as anything else, Sans supposes.

Sans shifts slightly, not even enough to be adjusting his weight, and moves his hand a bit. nope. Hopefully Alphys’ll get his meaning—Frisk said they should go to Sans and Paps’ house, and they seem to want to keep everyone together. Whatever is suggested needs to fill both of those conditions.

Jeez, this is really straining his teamwork muscles. It’s been forever since he and Alphys have had to be this in sync. Last time they worked together on something sensitive was…uh…

“Actually, I think! We left off right before the series finale of Kissy Kissy Mer-mew! And even if it’s not! As good as the original! Th-that’s still at your house! So we can watch that! And try making popcorn again!” Alphys quickly course-corrects, and Frisk relaxes. Sans nods, and Alphys relaxes, too.

Oh, he is really not getting out of this without explaining something to her later. He owes her several favors for this one.

Well, maybe one less, with the popcorn suggestion. She has essentially sacrificed his kitchen.

“Good,” Frisk says, pushing at Sans again.

Undyne and Papyrus, watching this interplay like a particularly subtle ping-pong match, decide it’s not worth questioning. Except…

“Hey, isn’t you guys’ house that way…?” Undyne points back to their house, snowy roof clearly visible, a hundred or so feet from the Dreaded Copse of Evil Trees.

“don’t worry.” Sans winks. “i know a shortcut.”

Frisk jerks his shoulder back, and-

Sans takes a shortcut. Taking four other people with him is a bit more costly, magically speaking, than he usually prefers; but whatever’s intimidating Frisk will probably be disconcerted by the Void, right? Home field advantage.

He makes up the calculations for his shortcut on the fly, like he always does. It’s a short trip spatially, and he has a good grip on everyone’s magical signatures to pull them with him. It should be an easy trip. Something he’s so accustomed to at this point that it’s barely math, more intuition. He knows what the hit to his magical reserves will feel like, he’ll be a little hungry and a little sleepy; he knows where he’s going; he knows he’s going to dump Frisk in a snowbank because they could use a laugh.

It should be totally forgettable.

Instead, the Void bucks and writhes, around him and through him like a living thing, like drowning or being crushed or ripped apart into infinitude, and in that endless instant of travel, he grasps every atom, every scrap of energy that makes himself up, and desperately scrabbles for something to keep it together. What shape is he supposed to fit together in? What is he? He’s—

Magic. Magic, that’s what he’s doing. He’s using magic to travel, and he can use it to hold things, move things, can’t he? A stray photon attempts to escape form him and he grabs everything near him, everything he can feel, with blue magic, drags it to him—

Sans. He’s Sans. He’s Sans the skeleton, whole and in the corrupted void—it acts almost like a physical space, right now, flashing lights that he experiences as numbers and words, FUN on a little graph that spikes up and up. If he looked deeply into it, he’s certain that he would understand what went wrong, what happened, how it all works; the void could show him so many things he doesn’t understand.

Instead, he reaches out with his blue magic. someone, anyone.

Falling apart in the same way he was, he can feel his friends. He grasps for Papyrus first; he’s similarly resilient against the Void normally, but Sans isn’t sure “normally” applies right now.

It’s the work of an hour, the work of an instant to crush Papyrus’s magic back into a workable SOUL, and in that infinite moment he gathers his brother’s flaking dust and forces magic and light into it. Intense blue gravity fuses dissipating particles back into one being, and he reaches for Alphys. She’s the least DETERMINED, therefore, most vulnerable to harm.

His magic falters. It’s been a long time since it’s had this kind of workout. He grits his teeth and pushes harder. Time doesn’t work in the Void, so technically, he hasn’t spent any of that magic yet, right? He can use it simultaneously with himself. He’s only experiencing this in linear time because his mind is trying to make sense of what’s happening to him. As long as he doesn’t die or anything, he can reuse the same magic and the same moment. Right?

Sans is clumsier this time as he reaches blindly, messily towards Alphys’s relative direction. Her own magic should keep her alive as long as she’s not actively disappearing into the Void, right? He pushes her magic and dust into a general shape with a crack! and moves on.

Oh. That crack might have been him, actually. Ouch.

…so, turns out he does still have limited magic in nonlinear time.

Undyne isn’t falling apart so much as getting…gooey. Her DETERMINATION is trying to keep her together. Good, he just needs to get her out of the Void and hope it’s not too little, too late.

With effort, Sans searches for the other end of his shortcut, the inevitable finish to the calculation he’d based their path on, but…the Void is twisting, jerking around him—he can’t find it without looking through the Void, and once he looks, he’ll be lost.

Sans blindly tears a hole with a SOUL-deep tug that tell him he’s reached the end of his energy. Weakly, already falling back into physical reality, he turns back to find Frisk—

--who’s watching him, reaching with wide, wet eyes, as he and the others are saved, just a touch too far away to reach them.

Sans, out of magic entirely, reaches his physical hand back towards them, knowing already how futile it will be. Frisk’s mouth sets as they see something in his expression. He’s able to see an echo of their immediate future, how their hand will drop, how it will be taken up be an off-color afterimage of them, how both humans—human-shaped beings—will hold on to one another as they watch the tear in the Void close without them. Abandoned.

And then that future vanishes like a puff of smoke that someone put a bullet through, as someone else’s blue magic scoops Frisk up, sending them crashing into Sans and then both of them to Papyrus.

Sans’s brother is so cool.

Sans is able to see through his darkening vision that they’re falling through a dizzying expanse of gray and white, or at least that’s how it looks to him, before he passes out cold.

Paps can stick the landing for them.

(read it on ao3)

[paladin-pile]

What “Pilot Personality” do each of the Voltron Characters fall into?

This has been sitting in my docs for exactly a year under the title “stupid freaking meta” cause it was a pain to write. But it’s been on my mind so I thought it was time for another post, based on my experience as a pilot and member of the aviation community. 

As I was making this I realized that this might be some good fanfiction material for y’all, so enjoy. (Fyi: every pilot-related example or description I use in this post is a real life true story/situation that I have heard or experienced! Nothing made up.)

I began learning to fly at age 16, before I learned to drive. I got my pilot’s license at age 19 which was almost 6 years ago, and it’s safe to say I’m just a little obsessed. I spent years around pilots from all walks of life, and very quickly caught on to the fact that there are different types of pilots, but still a common thread that goes through everyone.

When I sat down one day in July 2016 and watched Voltron for the first time, I was immediately smitten. It was everything I loved: space, flying, technology, awesome characters, all rolled into one. Interestingly enough, I can pinpoint the EXACT SECOND I first fell in love with this show...

I literally paused the episode here and texted my friend about how I had found the new Big Thing in my life. This was it, this show knew us. As I continued watching I was thrilled to see each character be such a fabulous example of the different types of pilots and have a lot of deep threads I resonated with. I’m going to go through each main character and describe what “type” of pilot they fit and why. So buckle up folks, this post is Hella Long. First up,

Lance

It may be hard to believe, but I speak from experience when I say the vast majority of pilots are exactly like Lance. Even if your normal personality is not like his, he amplifies the traits that are inside every one of us. It doesn’t matter what your personality is like on the ground, your pilot personality can be a lot different, 

Lance isn’t scared. 

These are the kind of people who live for dives and stalls, pitching down the nose and laughing maniacally as the engine builds up to a whine and the ground fills the windshield. In order to get to this point, you have to be really comfortable with the aircraft, know what it can do and what it can’t. This kind of boils down to the first point about pilots in general that are illustrated nicely in the show:

Pilot thing #1: You have a healthy fear of what you should be afraid of, but you know you don’t have to be afraid of much.

Personally I have learned to fear only three things as a pilot: birds, fire, and myself (the ‘myself’ point we’ll come back to later when we talk about Shiro). Most everything else is a non-issue and might even be considered a thrill. This doesn’t mean we’re not cautious and responsible, but we’re not scared.

True, imidately following this scene, Lance crashed the simulator (which I also theorize he did on purpose), so it could be argued he’s not that great of a pilot, but the point still stands. He’s in training, we all did stupid stuff in training, I did stupid stuff in training. It’s the attitude we’re talking about here.

* Side dish for thought: I see a lot of the fandom throwing around the term ‘cargo pilot’ like it’s some sort of insult, or ‘oh that’s so boring and has no prestige whatsoever’ but let me set one thing straight: being a cargo pilot is the BOMB, and I would take that over being a fighter any day.

Flying a 180 ton aircraft filled with supplies or troops through canyons and around mountains, low enough to trim bushes and kick up sand, and the satisfaction of yelling “5 tons of toilet paper comin’ in hot!” into the comms is an end in itself. The poor grunts in the back are strapped in like sardines and trying not to hurl at your erratic maneuvers, but they don’t complain cause they know you have to stay low and move crazy to avoid enemy fire. You and your Thicc Baby are proud as anything when every load is delivered safely, whether its potatoes or tanks. (From what we see in Voltron it seems Lance didn’t want to be a cargo pilot, but I have to admit it would have fit him pretty well.)

#2 Talking to your aircraft

There is not a pilot on the face of the Earth that does not talk to their aircraft like it is a sentinent being, and treat it accordingly. No matter how big and tough we are, you can always catch us patting our ship with a dopey smile and gooey eyes, cooing “Hey Beautiful” or any other myriad of pet names.  It’s a thing, everybody does it. I don’t pretend to know the psychology.

Keith

Ok story time.

A few years back, I took a nurse’s assistant course and worked in a elderly care home.  It was an awful place. Elderly folks who had no family lived in small, dirty rooms, no longer able to care for themselves or sometimes even communicate. I knew everyone on the floor, and tried to show them love as much as possible in their often abusive situation.

One such person was a tall gangly man in his nineties. He was confined to a wheelchair, never made eye contact, and never spoke. Every mealtime we would take him into the cafeteria and sit with him, spoon-feeding because his hands shook too much to hold a utensil. We were encouraged to talk to him as much as we could, even though he never responded and none of us were sure just how mentally present he was.

One time I went into his room, I noticed something. On the rickety table at the end of his bed was a small, dusty photo frame. It held a picture of dashing young man in an Air Force uniform with sharp eyes and half-smirk, a curly-haired little girl in his arms. One of the nurses told me that was him and his daughter. Since we now had a little something in common, I decided to bring it up at the next mealtime.

“Sooo, I saw your picture on the end table,” I hedged, holding out a spoonful of potatoes. I didn’t expect a response, and sure enough, he remained staring at the table blankly.

“You were in the Air Force, huh? That’s pretty neat. I’m a pilot too, but I’ve haven’t flown anything very exciting.” I held the spoon to his mouth and he took it, swallowing slowly.

“P-38’s or P-51’s are my favorite,” I rambled, scraping together the creamed peas. “There’s something about the sound of that Merlin engine that can’t be beat!” I hummed and shook my head with nostalgia. The fighter planes from WW2 had always been my favorite. With the next bite ready, I turned back to him, and almost dropped the spoon in shock.

His head was lifted, back straight, staring at me with such intensity I almost thought he would leap out of the seat. My mouth hung open, spoon frozen midair, and for a moment I sat there in disbelief. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes, bright and fiery, overflowing with words he couldn’t speak. Finally, I recovered enough to smile, wishing I could hear what he wanted to say.

“I love flying,” I whispered, “There’s nothing like it, is there?” His eyes stayed locked on mine, and it was a long time before he could be coaxed into taking another mouthful.

Here’s where I’m going with this. Pilots like Keith are from an era that no longer exists. His are the type we can only find in the silent annals of history, like WW1 and 2. Pilots who were called “knights of the air,” unorthodox and brave in every sense of the word. Cutting out engines and making impossible maneuvers that pushed themselves and their aircraft to the limits and beyond. Split-second, all or nothing stunts that shouldn't have worked but did, pilots that flew by pure instinct and blood running like fire through their veins. Pilots who couldn’t let go of the controls when they landed because they had been gripping them too hard, too long. Pilots who would wait till the very last second to bail out of a burning plane so they could direct it to crash into a target, pilots who coaxed their plane to finish a mission even though half of it was missing, oil was smearing over the canopy, and hydraulic fluid was dripping down their legs. Pilots that got into a new plane that had just been designed and no one knew what it could even do, and flew it anyway. Kamikaze pilots who put their plane into a dive toward a target, knowing it would be the last thing they ever did.

They fought a war, some of them won, and they all disappeared.

The nature of air war isn't like that anymore--with the advent of supersonic jets and drones, the era of the fighter pilot is all but gone, and the gritty sword fights in the sky have become extinct. Even those who are fighter pilots today are given strict guidelines, and risks are reduced to a minimum.

Pilots like Keith don’t exist anymore because they are not born, they are only made under certain circumstances.

The closest you will get to those kind of pilots today are probably bush pilots, they’re pretty much the only ones left that push everything to the limits, fly with no rules, and rely on instinct. But for now, that spirit of Keith, that “you fight like a Galra,” drive, that extra sense and lion-heartedness...are only found in museums, in monuments, and in gravestones.

Shiro

Shiro is a classic fit to what we call a “Jet Jockey.” Responsible, hero-type, yet still a massive dork; the guy you’d see in charge of the Thunderbird demonstration team. He’s a leader, calm, charming, and fierce. It’s in the blood, in the way they walk and smile. When you hear the term ‘you got it or you don’t,” these people definitely “got it.”

They’re perfect, polished in the exterior, but what you sometimes will not notice is their vulnerability. Most all of them have lost close friends, hold some kind of loneliness or sadness in their chest, something that only the love of the air can soothe. Be nice to these guys. People like to put them on a pedestal, but they need human companionship to not let lost in the sky.

I’d like to take a moment here to share my insights from aviation relating to Shiro, namely, Pilot Error, and the Kerberos mission. I see a lot of content in the fandom of Keith and the Holts being outraged that anyone could suggest that the Kerberos crash was caused by pilot error. The typical response is along the lines of, “Shiro was the best, the brightest, most skilled and responsible student, he would NEVER make a mistake like that.”

That’s bullshit and every pilot knows it.

From our very first day in flight school, this concept was drilled into us until we could recite it in our sleep. Mistakes happen to everyone, no matter how good you are or how much experience you have. You think, “Oh I would never do that” or that just because so-and-so is legendary they can do no wrong. It happens every day and the best pilots are not immune. The vast majority of crashes are caused by errors by pilots who are not dummies. It’s the go-to answer when no one is quite sure what happened because it’s the most likely reason. It sobers the rest of us, thinking “that could easily be me,” but we don’t doubt it or get outraged cause we know it can happen to the best of us.

People are prone to make mistakes for no reason, when we know better. It just…didn’t even cross your mind at the time. You thought you were doing the right thing. It’s happened to me personally and I very nearly got killed, but it really opened my eyes to the whole issue.

Semi-related to this is a theory I’ve been toying with: that Shiro getting chosen to pilot the Kerberos mission was a controversial and even scandalous decision. Here’s the cold hard facts: There is no way Shiro was the most experienced pilot at the Garrison. Even if he was a prodigy and had insane natural talent, someone that young just does not have the experience that an older pilot that had been flying for years would have under his belt. Shiro was probably so good that some of the higher-ups at the Garrison wanted to assign him to Kerberos, but the other portion were against it, saying it wasn’t smart to be sending someone so inexperienced, no matter how good he was. When the Kerberos crew disappeared, it could easily have become a huge, maybe even public scandal, where the people who opposed the decision were crying “I told you so!” and citing what a mistake it was to assign someone so young.

The youngest astronaut NASA ever sent to space was 32 years old, and she certainly wasn’t in charge of anything at the time. The youngest person ever in space was a 25-year old Russian cosmonaut named Titov who was essentially strapped into a capsule and launched into orbit to test what happened to the human body in zero gravity for 24 hours (not pleasant, they found out). He was also the second human to go to space, when we knew pretty much nothing about anything. I can’t imagine the guts this guy had, knowing he was going up as an experiment. The whole story is worth checking out. Honestly this sounds more like something the Garrison would do, and the whole situation adds to the suspicion that something is fishy in the place.

Experience rules, I cannot emphasize this enough. It doesn’t matter how “good” you are or how fast you learn, the guy with more experience will always be better than you, no matter how old they are. For Shiro to be the most experienced at such a young age, all the other older pilots and instructors would have to be dead or medically disqualified, or something.

Short end of it is, there is no way Shiro was the best pilot at the Garrison, or the best choice for the mission. Even if he was a prodigy and at the top of his class, which I’m sure he was, that’s not what the higher-ups use to make a decision. Of course, this whole theory might be moot. The creators most likely put Shiro on the Kerberos mission for plot reasons only, but realistically is a little different story.

Hunk

Hunk’s category of pilots hold a special place in my heart: the mechanics. They probably otherwise would not be pilots, but it’s convenient to be able to fly the stuff when they’re running checks. Always covered in grease, their second home is in the hangar, tending to the planes like a kind doctor to a child with the flu. They listen to the aircraft. It’s more of a technical relationship, not quite as mystical as the other pilots tend to portray it. For the Hunk-type, it’s dissected into moving parts.

These folks are NICE. My best friend in training was a mechanic named Bob, who was a ray of sunshine and the sweetest guy absolutely ever. He was also HUMONGOUS, and it was always a kick to seem him squeezing into a tiny Cessna 150 with a squinty-eyed smile and a cheerful “Let’s see how she does!” He would never fly more than a few trips around the pattern.

“Nothing major,” he would say. “I’m not gonna do any crazy stuff like these guys,” *points thumb over shoulder at the Lance-like pilots drinking coffee* “Just little trip around the pattern so I can check out what I did without having to wait for another pilot to take ‘em up.”

They talk up a storm, they ramble. Mechanics tend to make fun of pilots for knowing nothing about how the airplane works, and have gut intuition like no one else. You LISTEN to these guys when they have a hunch or you. will. die.

Pidge

Pidge’s type of pilots are fun to be around. Curious, in the learning stage, usually teenagers, enthusiastic and eager, wanting to be a pilot for the intellectually stimulating reasons (“I read all the fighter manuals”).

I’m reminded of one of the students who was training at the same time I was. 5’4, short cropped hair, large aviator sunglasses, devouring the training books with quick wit and banter with the instructors. She also would roll up to the hanger in her sporty convertible right after getting her drivers license, blaring “Sexy Back” loud enough to shake the propellers off the nearest aircraft.

They may not have the ingrained, primal love for hardcore flying that pilots like Lance, Keith and Shiro have, but to them it’s cool and they love it for their own reasons. It’s a stepping stone to something greater, more knowledge, laid out before them like the rolling landscape far, far below.

Allura

When we’re sorting Voltron characters into pilot categories, Allura drops with a perfect little clink into the box marked Female Helicopter Pilots.

If you’re looking for folks that are Tough, who can catch grenades in their teeth while brandishing two sub-machine guns and walking through fire, you’ve come to the right place. Arnold Schwarzenegger's got nothing on these women. Don’t cross them, they can most likely bench press their own helicopter. They instantly generate mad respect, you feel like bowing whenever they walk in a room.

Fixed-wing pilots and helicopter pilots are two very different breeds, and usually are very loyal to their respective aircrafts. Most airplane pilots wouldn’t be caught dead in a helicopter and vice versa. Of course there are exceptions, but the accepted culture is for the two groups to rib each other, kinda like cat people vs dog people.

These pilots have a beaming smile and deceptively sweet twinkle eyes. These are people who have whipped the butts of every obstacle given to mankind, stared death in the face and beat it with their bare fists. I might be exaggerating here, but this is the feeling one gets when coming across these women.

Coran

Oh Coran, you are one of the most iconic pilot types, and the one folks are most likely to encounter hanging around any small airport. The middle-aged-and-older folks that fly to to other cities for lunches, dubbed “$100 hamburgers.”  They are chipper, wear shorts and Hawaiian shirts, and like to reminisce about the good old days. I am not exaggerating. Most of them are hobby flyers or retirees with eccentric senses of humor and very large amounts of money, maybe more than one plane and an antique car. If you start talking to one, be prepared to spend a while. They are a bottomless well of tall stories of glory, belly laughter, and that snark and slightly odd sense of humor that can turn dark if the right subject is brought up.

All together, pilots are a colorful bunch. Most everyone fits into these basic categories, but there’s a common thread through it all. Love, almost to addiction. Once we get in and taste the crisp air aloft, feel the vibration of the aircraft beneath our fingers, hear that ethereal voice speak to us. There’s no going back. It calls and calls and calls, and the farthest star is too close to hang our dreams.

Hope this has been helpful or interesting to someone. Please feel free to come by and talk to me about anything!

[monorayjak]

Cross-Fandom Dumb Stuff!

Ok...so Jak from Jak and Daxter, you know the prince of an empire, turned good-hearted hero, turned massive murder machine, turned literal savior of the planet.

I tend to characterize both real and fictional people into the mtg colors, and I realized today that I had never considered what colors Jak would be, so I figured, “ah, why not?” and here we are.

So first off, I am pretty sure everyone can agree that baby and tiny child Jak are mono-red, he is emotional and extremely active; then we get to where we first meet him in The Precursor Legacy, at which point I believe he would have fallen more into White/Red territory, as a natural hero trying to help others and eventually stopping Gol and Maia; now, from here we go to Jak 2, where, as hopefully everyone reading this knows, he is pumped full of dark eco and becomes the most emo person in existence, I think it is pretty safe to say that during this point he lost his white color and turned mostly to Red/Black, hence the “ready to kill everybody even if they haven’t pissed me off yet” mentality he has throughout 2 and about two-thirds of 3; finally, this kicks us into the final version of him, the version created in 3 where he is filled with[white?...light? I can never remember] eco and lets him balance back out, this moves him into full Mardu with Red/White/Black as his final colors, which, what I find neat, is that Mardu is the normal “Folk-Hero” color combination.

Now...I am not discussing Combat Racing because nothing major happened during that game to change his colors.

That, of course brings us to J̸͙͍̟̮̓̋͆́ắ̵̛͉͉͙͇̯̜̳̤̙̙͜ͅk̸̛̼̖̑̈́̓̽ ̴̗̚ả̷̢̧͖͎̮͔͕͇͚̪͕͓̞͐̈̇͑̕͠n̸̡̟̭̞̜̍̀̇̓̆̓́͐̋͝͠ḑ̷̳͉̞͉̭̤͌͗͆̓̑͂̈́̐̕͝ ̶̡̖̻̱̹͍̩͔́͒͋̃̆͘ͅD̶̢̨̡͈͙̳͍̗̝̟̓͠ä̵͙͓̭͓͓̜̮̲̙̣́͗̔̒̅͒x̵̢̖̩̟͊͆́͛͆̀̃̈́̓͋ţ̴̢̧̛̞̟̣̮͍͛̉̔̂̓̇̊̓͒̏̕͠ȩ̸̧̠̮̠͇̯͔̖̝̈̄͐͐̀̈́̽̆̃̈́̕͘͜͜͠͝ŗ̶̧̜͉̜̖̱̘̰͖̤̗̥̏̒̾̍̀̀̕ ̸̨̨͔͈̲͉̫͇͚̰̞̭̆̄̔̒ͅͅẗ̵̛̛͍͎̱͉̦̞̝̥͕̥͍́̊͛͘͝h̵̠̝͚̠̗͇̠̩͆́̈́̇̄̌̓̀͌͘͠ͅe̷̥̊̈́̄̄̚ ̶̛̥̼̰̰̮͆̔̑̄͒̿L̸̰͖̬̫̖̱̘̰̏̏͗͋̒͑̈́͂̑̇̄̑͠ő̸̡̡̙̥̜͖͖͈̟̙̲͑̐s̵͔̩̗̠̙̭͆̈̾̈͂́̓̅̆͜͜͠t̷̢̝̳͍̭̺̺͔̦͓̪̳̥́̈́̐͋ ̵̡̡͉̝͎̗̺̩̩̓̓̾͊̊̀͠F̵̢̨̞̭͇͈̲͍̞͆̓͂͆͑̀́̈̂́̚̚̕̕r̷̺͖̰̮̻̙̩̾̈́̑̍̾̇̒̌ͅö̴̱̟̹̳͇͚̹͈̪͇̜͕͉̤́̅͂̔͝n̴̜̆́̽͂̇̀̎͂̚͠t̶̢͇̼͕̏̒̀̄̃̉̍͝ȋ̶̢̟̹̘̜̹̬̜͉ͅẽ̴̛̺̼̝͍̤̭͙̜́̉͒̾̿̽̀̉̈́̉̾̇r̶̡̢̬̜̤͇̦̈́͌̐̕͝ͅ... which is something many of us have promised never to mention again, but interestingly, this game does move Jak into more Green aligned position through his attempts to save the innocent from the Dark Eco monsters and the like, but not enough to really redefine his colors in any meaningful way.

So that leaves us with only one color that Jak does not fall into easily, and that is Blue...and that is because...to be frank; Jak is a bit of an idiot...we all know he is, Keira makes up for his lack of braincells, but yeah, he is pretty good with cars...but Keira has him beat there too...so...yeah

Any thoughts? I genuinely just enjoy doing this kind of thing, and if nobody minds I will probably start doing this type of thing a bit more often, it is therapeutic