#which I would find a more interesting angle in fanworks personally

[lost-technology]

Slowly re-reading / savoring the manga. My thoughts around the end of Trigun Maximum 2... So, Vashwood shippers, we need to talk. Well, every fanficcer really, but especially you... Why do I see so few fanfics covering Wolfwood's FEAR of Vash? All of the early volumes of manga, Wolfwood is seeing WEIRD PLANT THINGS. He was witness to the Fifth Moon incident. He sees Vash's healing capabilities in Trigun Maximum 1 and through 1 and 2, sees Vash's general endurance (the one time he got exhausted and sick and wrecked the bike notwithstanding). He saw Vash STILL IN THAT CONDITION sticking his neck out for others, just reckless with his own life and it scares him. He gets hints at Vash's general immortality and wonders if he is unkillable. He wonders at how much he is like his brother. Underneath the guidance and dare we say... growing friendship, there is this underlying terror. At least, that's what I feel from reading the manga. And it makes me feel like... mangaverse Vashwood shippers... unless you're ignoring canon and just writing something self-indulgent or you're writing a post-series AU, or at least a late-series thing, I feel like "No way they're bumping and grinding right away." And if they are? Any note on Wolfwood's wondering just what he's gotten himself into and just what he is romancing? Same with Vashmeryl in the manga... the sharing of PTSD stuff, the terror she has. She's gotta overcome her fear of Vash after that, which happens in the manga... I just feel "this is not a romance manga" and anything shippy is really self-indulgent on the fans. Which is OKAY, but... I don't know, I just don't see it when people insist on any of it being canon and it sort of baffles me at the amount of shipping this fandom has (okay, so it really doesn't because all fandoms have shipping... but, it's like, when a friend and I do shipping roleplays for Fire Emblem: Awakening, that makes a lot of actual sense because half that game is a shipping sim. It's Character Horny-Chess)! Not an anti-post, just me casually wondering, after going to the fanfiction section of Ao3 at how quickly and readily some of the shipping stuff is, even in non-ship centric fics when I go and read the manga and read "Wow, even Vash's friends are scared of him, at least a little bit, if not a lot." Poor guy.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

I'm finding it difficult to reconcile the fact that what I've always wanted and envisioned for Nikolai and his relationship with Fyodor based on fanworks and the very very little canon information we've had to go off of so far, will very likely be very different from what we actually get.

While I understand the appeal of Fyodor taking over Nikolai's body via his blood ability, and the inherent, romantic, ironic tragedy of that — for Nikolai, the person who yearned for freedom, to meet an end by having his soul eternally trapped in the body of the person he loved the most, while Fyodor lives on in his body, never truly knowing how much he was adored by him — I would just hate the idea of that happening now? It just feels far, far too soon for Nikolai to be dead, for his character to no longer have a role or a purpose; his mind and behavior is so utterly fascinating in all its bizarre contradictions, there's so much more to explore and discover with him, he's one of BSD's most complex characters, or at least he's set up to be, and I really hope Asagiri wouldn't throw him away this soon without doing anything more with him.

I never really thought that Nikolai would be the one to end Fyodor for good, way down the line (that can only ever be Dazai's job, to me, since he's his foil), but I always imagined he'd at least have some kind of role in attempting to kill him, since that's his ultimate wish. I imagined that it would be ugly, frenzied, unhinged, desperate, Nikolai finally being forced to acknowledge the horrible truth that's always been buried within his subconscious but he's never wanted to accept: that going against all human reason and killing someone he cares so deeply for will not, in fact, simply make those feelings go away, and will instead make them unable to ignore in his despair. The realization that he'll always be chained to human emotions, to love, no matter how much he thinks he can be free of them. And then, the ensuing breakdown from that. Yes, it's extremely fanficky lmao, but that kind of drama makes sense to me for him and them. It's interesting.

There was also the angst angle of Fyodor being immortal, and Nikolai's agenda perhaps stemming from wanting to save him from that, and being able to finally free him from it in the same way he himself wants to be freed. Killing being the ultimate expression of love, not too dissimilar to Mushitarou killing Yokomizo, both putting on an act of being hateful/vengeful/hostile towards the other in order to cope with the fact that deep down they can't bear the thought of them being gone.

But then we got Fyodor's "death" here, and Nikolai's reaction to it was so unbelievably underwhelming and calm that it made me question everything I thought I knew about Asagiri's writing skills him, and what the story is going for with him. And combined with this revelation now that Fyodor is (unsurprisingly!) immortal, but specifically in the way that he can be killed but supposedly resurrects endlessly (which I really like in of itself, don't get me wrong)... it makes me question what exactly Nikolai knows, or will know, and it somewhat destroys the potential angst we could get with them in the end, or at least drastically changes it.

If Nikolai already knows Fyodor can't be killed, that means we'll never get a moment where he tries to kill him and then has to face the fact that he did the deed and it didn't make him feel freed, and he instantly regrets it. It also means we'd never get a moment where he tries to kill him and then discovers he can't truly die, and the ensuing insanity that would occur from that. It also makes me even question the legitimacy of his reaction to Fyodor's "death" here... was it so damn apathetic and lukewarm because he already knows it wasn't permanent? I mean, I'd like an explanation for it feeling so ooc, it would make me feel better about that, but I can't deny that it would be disappointing to have yet another part of this arc that was just an act and not genuine feelings....

Now, that isn't to say that it's impossible to do anything interesting with Nikolai already knowing the truth. He could be wishing to try to attain free will through the illogical pursuit of an impossible task: in this case, killing Fyodor. There's a beautiful, tragic paradox in him wishing to attempt something to gain his freedom that he and we know is impossible, especially if subconsciously he takes solace in the fact that he'd be able to kill Fyodor without actually losing him for good. If Nikolai doesn't already know, assuming he's not dead he's likely going to find out the truth soon when he next sees Fyodor alive and kicking — I can't imagine a way he wouldn't find out. In that case, we wouldn't get the aforementioned scenario where he tries to kill him and discovers it's futile, which is the most juicy to me I won't lie, but I am still fascinated by the idea of how Nikolai will respond just seeing him suddenly alive again and having to process this after having just mourned him. It's interesting to imagine how he might respond to and treat Fyodor after at last knowing how it truly felt to lose him, and realizing how much he didn't want that, and then suddenly having him back. It might cause him to finally understand that his desire for freedom is unobtainable, and cause him to spiral, and fundamentally change their relationship going forward. An eventual tragic end for him such as Fyodor taking over his body would not feel out of place to me in that case, perhaps, but still not until we've had more time to see Nikolai reflect and see his possible change in perspectives.

I don't know, I'm just rambling at this point lmao. I know very well that so much of my expectations and desires for Nikolai and Fyolai are built up from fan content over the years just because there's been nothing else to work with, and that it's unfair to judge what Asagiri decides to do with him/them based on preconceived notions. Whatever he does could still be interesting in the end, even if it's not what I initially wanted or expected, and being open to being surprised is always a good thing. At the end of the day we still know barely anything about Nikolai, so it's not completely fair for me to judge something as ooc for a character we still know so little about.

But... it's because we know so little about him and have gotten so little of him, that at the very least, I'm gonna be really upset if he does die here from being possessed by Fyodor like people are worrying about. I really don't think he will, because I'm pretty confident the helicopter pilot is the one Fyodor swapped with/resurrected in the body of as per soup's theory, and again I'm not saying it wouldn't be fitting eventually... but I really don't want it to happen now. :/ I just think Nikolai still has so much potential as a character and so much more we need to see of him before his likely inevitable and tragic demise (however it happens), so whatever Asagiri decides to do with him I just really, really hope we don't lose him so prematurely; it would honestly be such a tremendous waste imo.

[dixkens]

MI6 Cafe Creators Tag Game

So late getting to this, but thanks to @silverbrume for tagging me in!

We’d love for people to keep getting to know each other after this year’s 007 Fest, so we’re starting this tag game!

Rules: Answer the questions, then tag 3 new people to complete this. Also tag the person who tagged you and @mi6-cafe so we can reblog your response.

Note that when we say ‘fanwork’ in the questions below, that could mean a fanfic, gif, fanart, headcanon, cosplay, crocheted work—any kind of fancreation counts!

What work of yours challenged you when you were creating it?

Everything I’ve written?

But seriously. There’s Nothing to Fear https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674746 from my Bondverse x Leverage crossover series The Incredibly True Adventures of 2 Hackers in Love where Q, seriously wounded in Afghanistan after a plane crash, has to cope with recovering from a life-changing injury.

Deciding that Q’s backstory was wounded veteran always felt right. On the other hand, writing the immediate aftermath of his injury felt like a challenge and a risk and one I wasn’t sure I was up to executing. Particularly since it was important to me to keep the story respectful of the realities of the situation I was fictionalizing.

What is a fanwork you’ve seen which gave you a new headcanon about a character?

There was a fic with a line about how much more dangerous Q is than an agent. I latched onto the idea that Q is dangerous and, more importantly, aware of it quite hard. The fic was good in several ways but also had plot points that irritated me (to the point that if you ask me about it, I WILL rant at you) so I’m not going to track it down to link.

Is there a fanwork that you really want to make, but you haven’t started yet?

Two that I can think of.

The first’s working title is Yusef’s Tale. A backstory for the man Vesper loved and was betrayed by.

The second is a femslash crossover with the movie Red where M (Mansfield) and Victoria Winslow (the assassin played by Helen Mirrin) were/are lovers.

What fanwork of yours surprised you, and how?

High Water Mark https://archiveofourown.org/works/36281518 - I wrote a magical AU. I made up a mythos. I made Q a god. I made M his priestess. I wrote M/Q.  The whole thing was very different from what I would have said that I ‘usually write’.

What doesn’t surprise me is it will probably have a sequel. This keeps happening to me.

What themes/styles/subjects are common across many of your fanworks? Alternatively, what themes/styles/subjects are you most interested in creating?

High-trust committed relationships, stories where the conflict is Individual vs System, complex examinations of consent, agency, and autonomy. I also tend to sprinkle in references to other fandoms and geeky jokes in a variety of subjects.

I find myself writing similar things from different angles, making something that seems innocuous at first glance threatening later, or taking the same situation and interpreting it multiple ways. For example, in my branching series Curriculum Vitae https://archiveofourown.org/series/2276666 Q ends up wrapped in a blanket several times but because of circumstances his responses vary from nearly having a panic attack to falling asleep.

What other fandoms do you create for, if any?

I’ve posted in Leverage, Good Omens, Discworld, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Norse Mythology and likely will again.

I also have WIPs for the Wayward Children series and Thor: Ragnarok. I aspire to someday write fanfic for my favorite spy movie of all time Hopscotch.

Is there an artist that you like to listen to while you create? Or one whose work always inspires you?

I don’t generally listen to anything while I’m writing though I do sometimes find songs that fit a fic’s theme. I’ve been slowly building a playlist to go with 2 Hackers for example.

Share a fanwork that you’ve found yourself thinking about weeks after reading/seeing it.

This is not a Bond fanwork but it is one I think about from time to time even now, years after I first saw it. This Firefly video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZr9wsZz_bk (I hesitate to call it a fanvid) is an excellent example of a creative work that takes a critical look at the source material’s flaws.

Finally, share where you post your works!

Mostly at https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypatia

Occasionally on https://dixkens.tumblr.com/

Tagging: I’m so late to this party I don’t know who hasn’t already been tagged. If you haven’t and read this, comment, and I’ll tag you!

Edited: Tagging @verdigrissoup

[millenniumblog]

[ID: A chart describing the core values of each of the nine Enneagram personality types with YuGiOh characters correlated to each of the types.]

YuGiOh Enneagram Analysis, Part #1

Please note that this is the “boring” informational post about Enneagram with the Types listed and explained as well as a few other things. The next post is what has the actual, in-depth character profiles promised!

Introduction & Motivation

Over the past several months, I have been trying to analyze my strengths and weaknesses as a writer and learn more. I have been writing fanfiction since I was a little kid, making my first FF.net account in 2003 when I would have been twelve years old. Even before that, I was a lurker and wrote fics to share with my childhood best friend on paper or floppy discs.

YuGiOh came into my life at some point shortly thereafter. I know this, because I spent my thirteenth birthday in a comic book shop, mostly watching some of my male friends play the trading card game. I had some of the cards, but I was never much of a player, unable to keep up with the seemingly rapid rule changes. Besides that, I was always way more interested in the story and characters than I was in the card game. I remember I even wanted to call “YuGiOh cards” “Duel Monsters” instead to make it seem a little closer to tween-y LARPing.

Eventually, I gave up on collecting cards or trying to ply the game. I felt that while my male friends didn’t mind me being around when they played, they weren’t extremely interested in helping me learn or keep up. I felt I had other strengths, so I started carrying around a notebook even more than I already did. I started my fledgling forays into online fandom. And YuGiOh was a big part of the beginning of that.

I can’t remember posting any YuGiOh fic in particular, and I’m sure that if I had it would make me cringe now. What I do remember is reading some and also spending a lot of time lying on my bed, headphones plugged into a small purple stereo, listening to the first of the two American-released CDs with YuGiOh-inspired music on them. In particular, the last three tracks were pieces of music from the original score composed for the 4Kids dub, which is - for some reason - different from the original Japanese music.

During that time, I would fantasize and conjure my own YuGiOh plots in my head, most of which were focused on the Ancient Egyptian and more spooky, spiritual, and horror themes in the show. I was really fascinated with the reincarnation angle, though my understanding of and opinions on how that works have grown with time.

Years went by, and I didn’t think about YuGiOh much at all. Then, something happened in 2018. I don’t know what got in my head, but it was like all the joy I once found in thinking about the YuGiOh characters came back in a giddy conversation with my childhood best friend. Then, for a little while, it wouldn’t leave me alone.

I started writing for the fandom then, and after several detours, I’m trying to get back in the groove of it.

My approach to the tone of YuGiOh-fanning is that it’s a bit serious, but it’s also with a tongue placed in my cheek because of how incomprehensible or silly the plot can be on a meta level. Sometimes, it almost brings tears to my eyes by being so over-the-top about something that, in the real world, would make no sense at all. But the drama, in the context of the universe, somehow rings true.

I think that’s all owing to how most of the primary characters are just... really freaking great characters.

It has often puzzled me. Like, did Takahashi do all this layering on purpose? Is it really there, or did earnest fanon just make it seem like it? And, as a person, I am always here for a good fan-and-canon symbiosis.

This post is going to be, from here on, an effort to match the YuGiOh characters to the 9 Enneagram Personality Types. I am writing this for my own benefit as I continue to work on my pet YuGiOh fanfiction project, It’s Always Sunny in Domino City, which is a mixture of YGOTAS-vibes-and-concepts taken seriously and a sincere take on fanfiction for the actual canon. It’s dramedy about a sizeable chunk of the main cast a few years post-canon with some canon divergence such as the Memory World arc not yet and possibly never-happening. If that sounds like something you’d like, I would humbly request you check it out!

Either way, this will be an in-depth character analysis cheatsheet for all of the characters above, based on my observations, opinions, and feelings. I invite discussion, but it’s fine if we need to agree to totally disagree!

If you are interested and enjoy what’s below the Read More and in the coming second post, then you are welcome to utilize the character analyses to aid you in your own fanwork!

Enneagram

What is Enneagram, and why am I using it?

Enneagram is a personality categorization system that one might compare to the somewhat better-known MBTI. However, in the words of excellent writing-advice YouTuber, Abbie Emmons:

MBTI shows us how we behave.

Enneagram shows us what we believe.

I will be referencing Abbie’s video Using The ENNEAGRAM To Write CONFLICTED CHARACTERS and her free Enneagram-cheatsheet, available in the description of the linked video. Whether it’s before you continue reading or after, if you’re interested in writing, I would highly recommend you check out her channel!

The Enneagram system has nine basic personality types that overlap and interact in really interesting ways. It is not a hard science, and it’s not a horoscope. Instead, it’s supposed to be “based on conventional wisdom and modern psychology.” All I can say is that with every set of characters I’ve tried it with, it works! Once you get the hang of it, it feels kind of like ~✰~magic~✰~!

Below, I will list Abbie’s simplified definitions of each of the personality types, in order:

Type 1: The Reformer

The Rational, Idealistic Type:

Principled, Purposeful, Self-Controlled, and Perfectionistic

Basic Fear: Of being corrupt/evil, defective

Basic Desire: To be good, to have integrity, to be balanced

Key Motivations: Want to be right, to strive higher and improve everything, to be consistent with their ideals, to justify themselves, to be beyond criticism so as not to be condemned by anyone.

Type 2: The Helper

The Caring, Interpersonal Type:

Generous, Demonstrative, People-Pleasing, and Possessive

Basic Fear: Of being unwanted, unworthy of being loved

Basic Desire: To feel loved

Key Motivations: Want to be loved, to express their feelings for others, to be needed and appreciated, to get others to respond to them, to vindicate their claims about themselves.

Type 3: The Achiever

The Success-Oriented, Pragmatic Type:

Adaptable, Excelling, Driven, and Image-Conscious

Basic Fear: Of being worthless

Basic Desire: To feel valuable and worthwhile

Key Motivations: Want to be affirmed, to distinguish themselves from others, to have attention, to be admired, and to impress others.

Type 4: The Individualist

The Sensitive, Introspective Type:

Expressive, Dramatic, Self-Absorbed, and Temperamental

Basic Fear: That they have no identity or personal significance

Basic Desire: To find themselves and their significance (to create an identity)

Key Motivations: Want to express themselves and their individuality, to create and surround themselves with beauty, to maintain certain moods and feelings, to withdraw to protect their self-image, to take care of emotional needs before attending to anything else, to attract a "rescuer."

Type 5: The Investigator

The Intense, Cerebral Type:

Perceptive, Innovative, Secretive, and Isolated

Basic Fear: Being useless, helpless, or incapable

Basic Desire: To be capable and competent

Key Motivations: Want to possess knowledge, to understand the environment, to have everything figured out as a way of defending the self from threats from the environment.

Type 6: The Loyalist

The Committed, Security-Oriented Type:

Engaging, Responsible, Anxious, and Suspicious

Basic Fear: Of being without support and guidance

Basic Desire: To have security and support

Key Motivations: Want to have security, to feel supported by others, to have certitude and reassurance, to test the attitudes of others toward them, to fight against anxiety and insecurity.

Type 7: The Enthusiast

The Busy, Variety-Seeking Type:

Spontaneous, Versatile, Acquisitive, and Scattered

Basic Fear: Of being deprived and in pain

Basic Desire: To be satisfied and content—to have their needs fulfilled

Key Motivations: Want to maintain their freedom and happiness, to avoid missing out on worthwhile experiences, to keep themselves excited and occupied, to avoid and discharge pain.

Type 8: The Challenger

The Powerful, Dominating Type:

Self-Confident, Decisive, Willful, and Confrontational

Basic Fear: Of being harmed or controlled by others

Basic Desire: To protect themselves (to be in control of their own life and destiny)

Key Motivations: Want to be self-reliant, to prove their strength and resist weakness, to be important in their world, to dominate the environment, and to stay in control of their situation.

Type 9: The Peacemaker

The Easygoing, Self-Effacing Type:

Receptive, Reassuring, Agreeable, and Complacent

Basic Fear: Of loss and separation

Basic Desire: To have inner stability, "peace of mind"

Key Motivations: Want to create harmony in their environment, to avoid conflicts and tension, to preserve things as they are, to resist whatever would upset or disturb them.

Now that you’ve seen all those, what do you think your favorite character is? In YuGiOh or anything else! It works great for original characters and even yourself and your loved ones.

The actual Character Profiles will be in coming post(s), but continue reading if you want me to explain more about how and why the Enneagram is a great personality typing system. #nonspon, or whatever.

The Enneagram Chart

Now, you could just go to the Enneagram Institute’s page on How the System Works, but below I’ll cut it down to only the parts I’m interested in and explain those in a way that helps me.

Unlike in astrology or MBTI, which are both more restrictive in different ways, the relative position of each type matters a bit on the Enneagram chart, because it can be used to visualize a lot of things about a person!

The Basic Chart

The Types are shown in a clockwise fashion with “1″ in the 1 o’clock position on an analog clock. The interior lines mean things, but I have trouble reading it without further delineation.

Centers of Response

Below are two small charts, displayed side-by-side. (If it’s too small, try right-click, open in new tab!)

The chart on the left shows the three “centers.” The “centers” indicate the first ‘processing language’ a person would use to respond to stimuli.

Type 8, Type 9, and Type 1 respond first based on instinct (primal, gut-feeling). If you want to go Freudian, this is from the id.

Type 2, Type 3, and Type 4 respond first based on feelings (social or personal desires, the heart). If you want to go Freudian, this is from the ego.

Type 5, Type 6, and Type 7 respond first based on thoughts (analytical rather than emotional, the head). If you want to go Freudian, this is from the superego.

Remember that, of course, every single type and person engages their instincts, their emotions, and their thoughts at different times and to different degrees, and some of these are learned or changed behaviors. This is about what their innate drive toward that would be.

Likewise, the same “centers” can also be used for the chart on the right. You will notice that all three of these are defined by what is typically considered a negative emotion. This is because this is about a person’s instinctive, not particularly conscious emotional response when they are backed into a corner and deprived of something that is core to the needs of their personality type.

Type 8, Type 9, and Type 1 tend to respond to a threat to their psychic well-being with anger/rage.

Type 2, Type 3, and Type 4 tend to respond to a threat to their psychic well-being with shame.

Type 5, Type 6, and Type 7 tend to respond to a threat to their psychic well-being with fear.

Stress vs. Growth

We all know that there are times when a person isn’t acting like themselves, for better or for worse. Usually, “You’re not acting like yourself,” means that a person is behaving badly. Of course, it’s way easier to withdraw and bristle and defend rather than growing in the midst of adversity. However, it is certainly possible to experience character growth in response to experiences, good and bad. Unlike a lot of other personality typing schemes, the Enneagram has a way to display and predict what stress and growth do to a person.

The Enneagram never suggests that any Type is an island unto itself. Every person contains multitudes, but a person’s Type is likely to remain relatively stable throughout their lives, once they have had a chance to develop any personality at all. This means that when a person is stressed or growing that they do not become the type they emulate. Rather, they are more highly expressing that aspects of their personality that reflect those drives and desires but in a way that is either fraught, sickly, or unwell (in the case of stress), or aspirational, flying-high, and incorporating the hard-lessons into who a person is going to be going forward (in the case of growth). The latter, especially, isn’t a sustainable mode, while a stressed person can become more entrenched in their bad habits and defensive coping mechanisms.

Stress

Note the white, directional arrows. Each number has an arrow point pointing to it and an arrow leading away from it. The point indicates that this is the stress manifestation for the Type at the origin of that arrow. The origin of each arrow indicates the Type being described.

Confused? Let me finally give you a YuGiOh example.

When I was trying to identify the Types of the characters, defining Marik was difficult, because he has a “Yami,” or Dark Side, which has its own personality and will but which is not its own separate soul or person than Marik himself. Rather, it’s a kind of fantasy/magic-assisted personality splintering where Yami Marik is a full manifestation of the negative traits Marik needed to embody to survive.

So, for reference:

When stressed, Type 1 behaves more like Type 4. 

When stressed, Type 2 behaves more like Type 8.

When stressed, Type 3 behaves more like Type 9.

When stressed, Type 4 behaves more like Type 2.

When stressed, Type 5 behaves more like Type 7.

When stressed, Type 6 behaves more like Type 3.

When stressed, Type 7 behaves more like Type 1.

When stressed, Type 8 behaves more like Type 5.

When stressed, Type 9 behaves more like Type 6.

Alternatively, you can use these sequences to follow the stress lines:

1-4-2-8-5-7-1

9-6-3-9

Growth

Think of the above-explanation in reverse.

The sequence:

1-7-5-8-2-4-1

9-3-6-9

As a Type 1 grows, they incorporate more positive traits of Type 7.

As a Type 2 grows, they incorporate more positive traits of Type 4.

As a Type 3 grows, they incorporate more positive traits of Type 6.

As a Type 4 grows, they incorporate more positive traits of Type 1.

As a Type 5 grows, they incorporate more positive traits of Type 8.

As a Type 6 grows, they incorporate more positive traits of Type 9.

As a Type 7 grows, they incorporate more positive traits of Type 5.

As a Type 8 grows, they incorporate more positive traits of Type 2.

As a Type 9 grows, they incorporate more positive traits of Type 3.

Wings

The final thing to know about the Enneagram chart for my purposes is about wings. The wing of your personality traits accounts for the complementary and contradictory aspects of your personality. They are the inconsistencies that make you human, predicted and jumped in. Typically, a person is not thought to have both possible wings but one or the other. A wing is one of the two adjacent Types to yours, the number before, or the number after, and it is annotated, for example:

Type 1, Wing 2: 1w2

Type 1, Wing 9: 1w9

Link to Part 2 Here!

[beggingwolf]

hi so I've just eaten too much ice cream, feel vaguely ill, and I'm here to tell you All About How I Failed At Outlining for SGKF this year!

that's partially just a fun tagline, but it's also a bit true. I told my friends I'd be trying to use several different outlining methods to try and knock out a plotty piece for the fest, and things did not go to plan!

important to begin with: I am what is referred to as a "pantser." I tend to just start writing. this is strangely contradictory to my personality, which deeply loves plans. unfortunately, what often happens is plans and outlines ruin my excitement and drive while working on a project (it tricks me into thinking I've done all the work and resolved the plot), leading me to abandon it.

and though I can throw together pretty words and made a decent fic, my fics never turned out as good as they could have been. I kept telling myself that if I planned in advanced and worked out what I was doing BEFORE I did it, I'd be able to craft a fic with such care and attention as to make it really SHINE.

so, uh, kinkfest rolls around, and since I was a mod I could see all the prompts before they even got released to the public, so I basically had a WHOLE EXTRA two-ish weeks to start planning and writing.

did I? NO.

so, despite the fact that I collect writing advice like a magpie , I'm not the greatest at implementing it. if you go into my SGKF google folder, you'll find a few instances of me TRYING to implement writing advice like metawriting:

(and you'll see some fics that didn't get finished/make it into the fest!)

my issue was (and still is) that I think I value every little word too much. this is a bad thing: I'm an overwriter by nature. when I get words down, I want to keep them because I feel like I worked hard for them, even if they're not great or don't actually serve the story in the way they should. that's not to say all my metawriting was bad; it wasn't. I tried it out for A Drowning in California as well [which will henceforth just be referred to as "California").

I had a whole subfolder for California. what kind of amazed me is how different my initial notes for the prompt are from what the story actually ended up being. here, take a look:

literally almost none of this is in california. the WWE and UFC stuff made it in, and so did sid wrestling with horny, but that was it. I was going to start this fic in the locker room, with sid wrestling someone, and it was seriously going to be a story about sex—about sid wanting to hold geno down in bed. that was the premise.

and instead, we got a really emotional story about familial rejection and the isolation it can make people feel. SO! something happened along the way, right?

when I started getting into the plot that would support this supposed sexfest, this is where I went at first:

geno wants the relationship to get serious, sid is like mentally still a 12 year old who just wants to wrestle people and doesn't want to talk about his emotions, and prefers to use physicality to communicate. this doesn't work for geno, who wants ... more

we can start to see the actual emotions come through, the things I was interested in: sid using touch to talk, and geno desperately wanting more

what did the most good for me, in the end, was "doing" the metawriting by talking with my friends.

I told them what i thought this story was about ("I'm thinking about making this a story about relationship-defining, maybe? and the communication needed for a lasting adult relationship? I think I'm going to set it in california/LA, where Sid has invited Geno along for the first time for his California Summer Fun/Training/Escape, whatever, and Geno's going to be emotionally preoccupied with Defining The Relationship—maybe they've been on-again-off-again? maybe they're just new to this, like almost a year deep, and they're not getting younger—and thinking this trip is about that [or hoping this trip is about that, and realizing it isn't, and being disappointed].") and they told me what jumped out at them.

Jes told me what would ramp up the tension would be a deadline of some sort; "Geno’s going to break up with Sid or make some decision or something, or there’s something approaching where they have to make a will they or won’t they decision of some kind related to the core ‘defining the relationship’ issue. Geno’s going back to russia and in previous summers they’ve always slept with other people while apart? or Sid has a wedding coming up and he’s offhandedly mentioned taking someone else as his plus one?"

I liked her thoughts. it made sense to add an external pressure to all this, and that wedding idea stuck out to me the most.

Lis said I should add a jealousy angle, so you can largely credit her for the club scene: "one thing i like to sort of headcanon/imply about sid's california trips is he uses them to hook up anonymously. so you could have, like, sid and geno seeing sid's friends, but also accidentally running into some of sid's friends. and geno's like oh, great, so here i am doing this horrible summertime training that i hate because i don't need to train in the offseason actually, and i'm learning what exactly sid gets up to when we're apart."

My magical solution these days is GOING FOR WALKS. do it if you're able. it clears out your brain. so on my walks I ended up deciding that I wanted a taylor crosby wedding. I like taylor as a character, and as a person with sisters I just like writing her in. best of all, she and sid are close and I like writing "I'd do anything for my family" sid.

and then I was like. oh. what if it's not that sid is afraid/nervous to bring geno, it's that he can't.

I... wasn't as conflicted as I thought I'd be about writing sid's parents as homophobic. I prefer to write them as supportive; I think troy crosby's been eviscerated more than he should have been in older fanworks, and though I respect their right to make fictional!troy whatever they want, I've been a little skeptical of outlandish takes on him ("he doesn't say I love you to his son because a camera caught them mid-interaction once!") ever since I read how the media has found him a convenient narrative villain while he tried to keep his underage son safe from the media as a child and while they needed to cook up Spicy Stories about squeaky-clean sid.

uh, tangent aside, I always thought I'd never write a "parents are the villains" story, but I did here. it felt right. it was easier, too, because they're not PRESENT in the story. I didn't have to write trina actually being horrible to her son. I just had to skirt the edges of the wound.

which works well on two fronts: I don't have to actively write the crosbys being horrible to sid, and I also leave more to the imagination of the reader, and that almost never fails to make the work better. whatever the reader imagines them saying to sid, it's going to be 10x more hurtful than anything I'd write.

I dug really deep on some personal emotions and fears I experience as a gay person for a lot of sid's arc here. sid is deeply imperfect in this story, and he's internalizing his pain and the horrible thing that's happened to him, which is making him pull away from his partner, and sid is not responding how geno wants, nor is he responding well, period, though he's trying in his own wounded, stilted way.

and beloved geno, whose tender heart is so hidden away for fear of someone hurting it. I really like writing geno; he's huffy and emotional and sometimes bitchy and feels things SO deeply.

once I had more of an idea, I was already working on a more detailed outline. this is where I seriously took Jes's advice and WROTE EVERYTHING OUT! it made it so much less daunting, because I didn't have to be figuring out my next steps AND crafting sentences at the same time. also this is where I tell you that the title of this post is mostly a lie, it was metawriting I failed at.

This outline also meant I avoided writing large swaths of things that should've been cut. Another beta told me I should delete three scenes and condense a bunch of emotions into the club scene, and she was SO right. Cutting events out of an outline is WAY easier than cutting out pages of text.

Ironically my outline kind of deteriorated after the club scene, but that's alright: after I wrote the club scene, I actually had a clear vision of what I wanted the end to be. I just had to trust myself. I CAN do this, I CAN still just write intuitively sometimes!

I think California did what I wanted it to do. I'd love to try something out that's longer and has more story arcs in it (jes has a post for that too!) but I think that's best saved for another, longer project, though 18k isn't short.

next up is maggie stief's writing seminar that I bought a month back. I'm going to start working on that this month and see how I like it. I have a few halloween fic ideas, plus spookfest, so these next two months we should be cooking in the kitchen!

[phantomato]

What do you think about Tom Riddle x Y/N stuff? Like those "imagine Tom Riddle as your boyfriend..." things all over here on Tumblr and TikTok? I personally don't like them, because most make him a little too OOC, but I respect people who do enjoy them.

The anons have come for my head on a pike, I swear, asking questions like this. You’re tricky, and I’m opinionated, so let’s do this.

On OOC: I don’t care for the term OOC. Every fanwork that is not strictly canon-compliant makes the characters OOC by definition, forcing characters into situations that they otherwise would not deal with, and even some of those canon retellings take characters quite far from themselves. So what it comes down to, for me, is: which traits do I, individually, need in order to feel like a character is accurately portrayed? My Tom is rarely violent on the page, for example, and I write him as capable of a full range of human emotions. For many readers, this is wildly OOC. For me, Tom’s intelligence, his complicated relationship to his identity, and his discontent with the power structures of his world are his defining traits. There’s no correct answer for which is ‘more accurate’ or ‘better.’ Finding other people whose perception of the character is compatible with your own is more valuable than trying to name a definitive understanding of the character. x Reader fic likes a Tom that is handsome, young, dangerous, into BDSM, and very obsessed with his girlfriend. None of these define Tom for me, but clearly the combo works for thousands of people.

On x Reader more broadly: It’s not my thing. From what I’ve read of this genre, and I admit to not being an expert, it amplifies many of the tropes I most dislike from Harry or Hermione ships. That is, whoever plays the boyfriend is there as a reward for the hero, more an object than a subject. But I’m here because I want to poke around in Tom Riddle’s head, y’all. If it isn’t obvious yet, I’m more likely to insert myself into Tom’s perspective than that of any other character. x Reader is pretty darn boring if you approach it from that angle, since a nameless, faceless woman largely reacting to the devotion of a man isn’t a compelling romantic partner. And, as a final nail in the coffin, much of this type of work is explicitly set during Hogwarts—I am not interested in fantasizing about being a high school student again.

I’ve filtered it out of my tumblr experience as well as I can, though the lack of consistent tagging and language means that things slip through. Power to the people who enjoy this; keep on doing you.

This is really negative, I’m very sorry, y’all. I’ll answer a positive ask next.

[rimouskis]

yes, it’s been a wild ride. i don’t know much about hockey or sidgeno(?). i mostly keep to fic because this fandom has a lot of good content and i love it. i’ve been trying to find sidgeno content but it’s very few and limited? i see the general appeal, but i do wish someone would give me a crash course lol

It's funny, in a way, the evolution of sidgeno. I've only been around for 5 years, but... they have been an eventful 5 years, that's for sure.

Depending on how you slice it, we're a juggernaut in Hockey RPF (11% of all Hockey RPF on ao3, the highest percentage of any ship), but in terms of tumblr engagement, yeah, I suppose we are a bit small. It's hard for me to have much perspective on it; it's been a LONG time since I've been in a major fandom that has more than 27k fanworks on the archive, so I'm used to it.

Regarding tumblr presence specifically, we're totally a small corner. Hockey fandom experienced a surge of interest from omgcp in 2016-2017 and then there was a mass exodus after a long series of ethical failings from several angles (as well as, like, just general fandom lifespan? lots of [especially young] people spend 2-3 years in a fandom and move on, so that's normal) which specifically led to a lot of pens fandom drying up in quick succession despite the new fans brought in from the repeat.

I think we're starting to pick up steam again. Hockey fandom on tumblr these days (TO ME) seems more varied re: which teams people like. Tons of people are fans of multiple teams, which was rarer back when I started with hockey in 2016. Also, our mean age is rising too, I believe, which helps mellow things out. Everything is pretty decentralized and tucked away... and we even have different subsections! Like, sidgeno fandom is already a subset of Penguins fandom. There are people who write player/player fics, there are people who write y/n self-insert fics, there are people who don't do any of that...

It's not a huge fandom sandbox, but honestly I've found that smaller fandoms can just be... nice? It isn't universally true, of course, but I've come to enjoy it here even if the ao3 tag isn't popping off and I can recognize almost every URL in the fandom. It has its charm!

And as for a crash course, haha, it reminds me of the old early 2010s primers! I was talking about this with a few folks a while ago about these primer-like essays and how while there are a few newer (but... about old history) primers floating around tumblr about sid and geno (and elsewhere: one, two, three), it feels like most sidgeno fans have obtained our knowledge through reading fic, reading sports articles about the Penguins, and watching things [games, documentaries, TV specials].

There's been a big shift (from 2014-era sidgeno fandom to 2021-era sidgeno fandom) in characterization, but it also means it can feel like there's a high barrier to entry; not only do you have to figure out hockey, but you also might have to dig through outdated information to figure out who the "characters" are. We also definitely don't advertise a lot as a fanbase, which means there often aren't many "here's the ship/thing I like, let me tell you about it!" posts.

I also think we lack BNFs, which is actually healthy. BNF culture has really died out in general over the years, but I think it's better for fandom culture and lowers the barrier of entry for new creators (there's less pressure! Everyone is always happy to see a new fic!) But the lack of huge, influential personalities means that we don't have those "advertisers" to bring in new people.

Upsides and downsides to everything, right?

I have a very meager fic rec here, wherein I link a much bigger fic rec by another blogger, but a lot of sidgeno fandom stuff seems to be transfered by osmosis... you just have to hang around for a while and you'll figure out what's up and what style of fic you like and which writers you jive with :)

We're a good bunch, I think. There are just really a lot of cool people around this neck of the woods.

Edit: anon, in the notes of this post @icedbatik makes some WONDERFUL suggestions. she's one of the most friendly, kind folks around here, and she's right; pop into the DMs with people. it's real easy to make some acquaintances and eventual friends!

[parf-fan]

One year ago, Rob Condas posted in celebration of Shakespeare’s birthday.  A year later, I finally finished writing the fic that post (and comments thereupon) inspired.  This is the first Faire fic I’ve ever finished, and would reeeealllly like some feedback on it, please.  In addition to the ao3 link, the text of the fic is below the read-more.

Title: The More, the Marrier Words: 6,705 Chapters: 1/1 Pairings: Horace Tanningrove & William Shakespeare, Horace Tanningrove / John Hopfield Warnings: drunkenness, drunken shenanigans, canon-typical implied/referenced dubious consent (very mild though, if you were okay with the bender subsubsubplot of Myths and Legends 2019, you should be okay here)

Summary: "Happy Birthday Shakespeare ❤️ I hope you and Horace are painting the town tonight"  –Rob "Oh, if you thought Horace and Shakespeare went hard in the summer and fall of 1558, just WAIT till you see what they'll do for Will's birthday"  –Michael Having relocated the previous autumn when the R and J play was picked up by a producer in London, Will now celebrates his natal day by returning to visit his hometown of Mount Hope.  Much of the first day of this visit is, of course, spent in the company of Horace Tanningrove.   As the two become progressively drunker, they engage in shenanigans of sundry disaster variations.  In the morning, both are hellaciously hungover, and the night is a blur, at best.

Opening notes: This fic is dedicated in equal measure to Rob Condas and Michael Stahler, with thanks to the same for inspiring it through a Facebook post and comments on said post, respectively.  And, obviously, for partially creating and fully rendering such lovable and memorable characters, with such an exquisite dynamic and rapport.  The admiration I hold for you defies description.

Thanks to kaythehawk for the title, for proofreading and feedback, and for lowkey holding my hand through the posting process; and to my mom for assistance in devising phrases and combating lethologica.

To anybody unfamiliar with the 2019 season of the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire: First, what series of events in you life led you to this fic?  Second, you are quite welcome to read it, but you will undoubtedly be quite confused on many points.

This is a fanwork created out of love and admiration for the source material and those who brought it about.  Characters and setting belong to Zeno Creative Group PRF Productions.

The More, the Marrier

April 24th , mid-morning:

Will cracked an eyelid and his skull promptly split. Though he hastily undid the first, the second diminished but slightly. He cast about for words to describe it. “Uuhhhurrgh,” he eventually settled upon.

His eloquent critique was answered in kind from nearby, and Will decided that his desire for information would lend him the fortitude to bear the suffering. He opened his eyes – both this time, and all the way – albeit slowly. Only one of them appeared to work, but he filed that away as a problem for later. Instead, he took in his surroundings. Locks and bars and but the tiniest of windows. Wooden benches, pallets of straw. On some of the straw —

“Horace?” Will's voice rasped like a file, and it occurred to him that he was very thirsty.

Horace opened his eyes, promptly shut them, and said. “Prithee, extinguish the sun. Temporarily.”

“Would that I could, friend.”

Horace gave eyesight another try, amid much blurring and face-rubbing. At length, he got enough of a handle on it to look over to Will. “That garland is most becoming on thee,” he said. “Quite a jaunty angle.”

Will put a hand to his head and, feeling rapidly-wilting blossoms, found the cause of his partial blindness in the form of a flower-crown that had slipped over one eye. He gingerly adjusted it. “Thou lookst not o'er shabby in thine,” he observed.

Horace reached up and likewise discovered a ring of flowers encircling his brow, though his had not slipped. He considered it, then left it as it was.

Having solved the mystery of the halved eyesight, Will turned his intellect toward discerning their surroundings. In a moment, he'd concocted an ingenious scheme to that end. “Where thinkst thou we are?” he asked.

Horace, who'd been looking around despite the excruciating pain in his head and how damn bright the world was, answered, “I should fain think we be in the jailhouse.”

“The jailhouse? Nay!”

“Aye, there's bars and everything.”

A voice blared from out of eyeshot at a volume surely far higher necessary. “Well reasoned, master Tanningrove. I should consider thee for the position of deputy with detective brilliance like that.”

Horace, who'd pressed his hands to his ears and yet could hear every decibel with painful clarity, said, “Oh, well, that's very kind of thee, Sheriff Perry, but I fear I should find such work dreadfully boring.”

“It was a jest. I was makin' fun of thee.”

“Oh.”

By now, Will and Horace had both gotten themselves turned so as to see the sheriff standing near what was, upon slight inspection, the door to their cell.

“Good morrow, Sheriff!” said Will in as perky a voice as he could muster, for surely manners were paramount in such a situation as they found themselves.

“It is a good morrow, indeed,” agreed the sheriff. “It is not so good a morrow as it might have been if thou hadst not managed to lock the deputy in a cell and toss the key down a well, but it is a good morrow nonetheless.”

Will paled. “We erm, we stole the keys?”

“Aye, but Douglas had the spare set, so all was well. Of course, he insisted I release him a day or so early in exchange, but that is no great matter.”

“Oh.”

A silence followed, perhaps awkward for those who kept track of such things. At length, Will asked, “So, erm, are we locked in here for stealing from law enforcement?”

“Nay, nay, nah, thou are in 'ere for public drunkenness, possible debauchery, and general annoyance.”

“Ah.”

“But I be letting thee out now.”

“Oh! 'Tis generous of thee.”

Horace chimed in. “Be there a– a fine, or aught?”

The sheriff mucked about with his keys in an overly-loud manner. “Well,” he said, “if there were a fine, then it could be considered paid had young Will here had several pieces of jewelry upon his person last e'entide which have since vanished for reasons indiscernible.

Both men were interrupted in parsing that statement by the cell door swinging open with a din surely worthy of Typhon stirring beneath Mount Aetna. Horace clamped his eyes shut, his hands over his ears once more, grinding his teeth in spite of himself. At length, he managed to comprehend the words “...and thank thee so much for that glorious surprise thou didst leave stuffed in my seat cushion. There is nothing I like better when sitting down after locking up troublemakers at dawn than to find that I have crushed a mess of grapes of questionable freshness, and that the sour-yet-unfermented juice of said grapes is rapidly soaking my trousers. Truly appreciated that.”

“Ah. Yes. Well.” said Horace, glancing at Will. “That would likely have been, I am sure, mine idea.”

“It was mine.” interjected Will abruptly and vehemently – far too vehement for a muddled and hungover mind to be sure of.

Sheriff Perry gestured them out of the cell. As they struggled to their feet, he said, “I shall perceive it as Horace's idea nonetheless, for if it were, then I would consider it pardoned on account of him later turning himself in.”

Horace stared.

Will, whose headache was exacerbated somewhat less by the light and noise that Horace's, took his friend by the elbow and guided him from the cell. The touch on his arm caused Horace to look down, whereupon he realized he was in his shirtsleeves.

“Sheriff, I shudder to ask, but did I come here thus? or is my doublet somewhere hereabout?”

“Oh, aye!” answered the sheriff, clearly remembering. “I put it in the chimney, at thy request.”

Horace stared, this time with his mouth slightly agape, before finding words. “Where on Earth for would I ask such a thing of thee?”

The sheriff was messing about in the chimney. “You grinned and said 'This will confuse me so much on the morrow'.” He removed his arm from the chimney. “It would seem that drunk Horace doth enjoy playing pranks upon sober Horace.”

Horace caught the rather dusty doublet the sheriff tossed him. “That....explaineth so very much.” He gave the doublet a shake, instantly regretted the jolt to his headache, and shrugged into it regardless.

They had just made it outside the jailhouse and were dealing with the assault of the sunlight upon their very beings when Sheriff Perry stuck his head out the door and called after them. “Oh, Miles stopped by earlier. He asked me to tell thee that he'd done a little research and learned that the thing you hired him for is, in fact, entirely legal, and will thus cost double if thou art still interested.”

* * *

April 23 rd :

Memory was delicate and uncooperative, skittering out of reach like Tantalus's fruit if approached directly. A blur of celebration, an echo of good company, a haze of extensive alcohol. Quite likely they had begun sometime after midday, celebrating Will's visit home from London. Day had turned to evening, and as evening wore on, their revelry had perhaps bordered on debauchery, and they were presumably cast from whichever alehouse they'd been ensconced in. Now past wisdom, they had undoubtedly raided the Tanningrove winecellar. As evening faded into night, they had roamed the streets with no real goal besides pleasant existence and mutual company.

This was the state in which they found themselves investigating little sounds from the secondary structure of the forge.

Will gave a small gasp. “Is this true love? I finally found it after all these years.” A dusty grey kitten rubbed its face into his hand. “I would die for thee!” He picked the cat up and scratched its cheek. It gave a disconcerted squeal as it left the ground, but began purring once Will cradled it. “Horace, look!”

Horace's eyes widened and he reached out to pet the kitten, who seemed quite pleased with the additional attention. “Hath it a name?”

Will thought for a moment before saying, “Honeybee, for 'tis buzzing.”

“Mayhap Honey for short?”

“Aye.”

More meowing rose from near their feet. “There yet are more!” cried Will, as he passed Honey to Horace and knelt back down. This time, he reached toward a vaguely striped brown cat, who regarded him with ambivalence before allowing itself to be petted. “By Christ's calluses, I would bloody die for thee.”

Horace, whose shoulder was being kneaded by Honey, said, “That one doth look like a Priscilla.”

Will nodded, then winced as Priscilla lightly bit him. “Priscilla the Scylla,” he amended.

Horace frowned, thinking. “That, that's the whirlpool? The one Odsendus – Osdysa – the Odd guy went near?”

Will struggled with thought and word. “Mayhap? There were six heads.”

“But Priscilla hath one head only.”

“Aye, but she bites. Scylla did to chomp sailors.” He deposited the indifferent cat in Horace's arms with the first, and knelt again, holding his hand out to the final kitten. The final kitten – curled into a shape reminiscent of a turkey leg, and Will instantly named it accordingly – reacted not at all, so he tentatively placed his hand on the fluff's head. It let out a small squeak. Will's eyes were large and shining, his face aglow. “Thou art my muse,” he proclaimed. “I– I would live for thee.”

Horace repositioned Honey to allow for Priscilla climbing his shoulder. “Thou should write that down,” he muttered. “Such a declaration of love I ne'er have heard.”

Will did not seem to hear him. A look of pain was passing over his face. He looked up suddenly at Horace and said in a choked tone, “We cannot leave them here! This place be dustful and lonesome and– and there be sharplisome things about! What if one were to stab itself?”

Horace nodded gravely. “'Twould make the tragedy of Indigo's Investigations seem as unto a children's pageant by comparison.”

“We must save them!” Will stood swiftly, garnering a startled yowl from Legg. Horace was adjusting Honey and Priscilla. “As soon as I open the door, we run and we do not stop until we reach your home.”

“Aye.” Horace steeled himself. Will unlatched the little gate, or tried to. Either he could not open it one-handed, or it was twisting and writhing so as to sabotage his problem-solving. Or because he was drunk, he was vaguely aware of that as a possibility.

At length, he turned to Horace in defeat. “'Tis no use,” he declared. “We shall have to climb over the counter. Prithee, hold Legg.” He deposited the jet fluff in Horace's arms with the others before setting himself on the counter and swinging his legs over. Horace passed him the kittens, then hopped over in kind.

“Where are we running?” asked Will, as he handed Honey and Priscilla back to Horace.

“My house, I thought thou did say.”

“I said that?” asked Will. “I be quite clever, I suppose.”

“Thou hast thy moments.”

Yet scarce had they gone a dozen steps when they felt themselves joined by an unmistakable Presence. Almost without intending to, they slowed their steps to a standstill, and were at length able to make out the form of a cat darker than the blackened steel of an anvil. This cat that was not a cat looked upon them and spoke in human tongue.

“Inebriated mortals. Seek thou not to abduct these young ones. They yet are but kittens – babes, to thee – and are not yet ready to leave the care of my familiars at the forge.”

Will's voice was tremblesome and broken, yet he spoke. “But.... But there are sharp things there.”

If a cat could facepalm – and indeed, who is to say that a cat sìth cannot? – this one would've. “The humans of the forge make it their business to foster my mundane brethren until they may be taken in by ordinary humans as any other cat. Rest assured that their area is safe for them.”

The Being stepped closer. “Return the younglings to the forge, and I give you assurance that when the time comes, my familiars shall consider thee for their adoption. Otherwise,” and now the Being began to grow, “risk my wrath upon thee. Know that I can restore the dead to life; what thinkst thou, then, I can do to the living?”

Will stood mute in fear and anguish, but Horace had wit or sense slightly more. Holding all three kittens, he bowed respectfully to the cat sìth, then hastily retraced his steps to the forge, where the gate sprang open before him. He deposited the small fluffs as near their initial positions as he could gauge, then hastened back to his friend. The felinesque Presence dissipated as he returned, as did the force of terror holding Will.

* * *

April 24th , mid-morning:

The assault of the sun troubled Horace greatly, and he kept his eyes as closed as possible. The surrounding din was likewise torment. He stumbled somewhat over a chicken he couldn't see.

Will absently steadied him, but his focus was on the chicken. “That chicken hath a five upon its back,” he observed.

“How wondrous for it,” said Horace glumly, his eyes still mostly shut. Will's attention returned to his friend, and he realized that Horace was suffering from the light and noise even more than himself. On sudden inspiration, he reached up and adjusted Horace's flower-crown so it partially obscured his eyes.

Both men took one look at the Hellhill and decided that a longer walk would not be amiss. The streets were shadier and quieter along the Grove and Glen in any case.

After a while, Horace broke the silence. “What, precisely, was all that about, then?”

“Well, it would appear that we both got incredibly drunken last e'entide.”

“Clearly, but I was thinking more of that convoluted speech the sheriff gave about vanishing jewelry.”

A voice rang from somewhat off the street. “I'd be less worried about the sheriff and more worried about Bernadette Albright. She be on the warpath.”

Will and Horace turned to see Eskarina Nutter lounging against a tree. Will frowned slightly. “Wherefore?”

“Oh, something about getting married several times over without consulting her even once.”

“Will and I got married?” Horace asked.

Eskarina stopped propping up the tree and began ambling over to them. “Not to each other, at least by my witness. You may well have done, but I didn't officiate it. Here.”

Horace and Will looked blankly at the small proffered bottles.

“Meadowsweet, woundwort, elfin thyme, and roseroot, boiled in nettle tea. Unless thou would prefer to retain the sensation of thy skulls splitting.”

Will took both bottles with thanks and handed one to Horace.

Eskarina continued. “I also recommend hefty quantities of boiled water. I'd eat something as well, were I thee.” The wise woman started off.

“Hold a mome', who did we wed, then?”

Eskarina called back, “Oh, thou wilt run into them soon enough,” and was gone.

They stood a moment, then Horace spoke. “Will?”

“Aye?”

“Wherefore do we still do this on thy natal day?”

“In truth, friend, I know not.”

* * *

April 23rd , nighttime:

Will sobbed into Horace's shoulder as Horace patted his back.

“I shall never see Honey and Priscilla and Legg again. My only loves, and they are gone.”

Horace cast about for comfort words. What were those? He thought there there was supposed to be good for something, but he passed it by. It's alright to cry? He was fairly sure Will already knew that. I know not what thou art going through, yet I am here for thee? But he did know, though to a lesser extent, it seemed, and it was obvious that he was there for Will.

Giving comfort words up as a bad job, he sought instead for cheering words. “Will,” he said, “I promise to spend the rest of the night, if need be, in finding thee a pet.”

Will sniffed. “Really?”

“Aye, verily!”

Will considered for a moment, then his face crumpled anew. “'Twill be of no use, we cannot replace Honey and Priscilla and Legg.”

“Nay, we shall not be replacing them,” Horace insisted, talking with his hands despite being in the midst of a hug. “We shall be seeking thee an additional companion, one to keep thee company until Honey and Priscilla and Legg might join thee.”

Will gave this some thought, eventually straightening up and looking Horace in the face. “Thou meanst it?”

“Aye, of course!”

Will's face split into a grin. “Oh, Horace, thou art the truest of friends!” he cried out as he hugged him again. After drawing away, he said, “Now, where are we to search for such a companion?”

Horace reflected, then his face lit up. “I believe I've an idea.”

* * *

April 24th , mid-morning:

They had hoped to make it quietly back to the Tanningrove homestead to at least recover, if not piece together what they might of the night before, but they hadn't gone more than a few paces before Douglas Johnson trotted up.

“Morrow to thee,” he called. “Much obliged for springing me a few days early like that. Shan't have to miss the next guild meeting now.”

Horace, still making faces over the less-than-savory taste of Eskarina's hangover antidote, said in a degree off from sarcasm, “Oh, aye, glad we could help.”

Douglas peered at Will for a moment. “You, er, I'm guessing that you don't remember. To be expected, I suppose. Well, you were clearly drunk at the time, so I don't think it would count anyway, I, er, I bid thee good day.” He hurried off.

“What on Earth?” began Will.

“I do believe you may have married Douglas last night,” said Horace.

Will was silent for a moment. “Ah.” he said at last. “Well, that is to say, I mean, I'm sure he's right, it likely counts not. I'm going to.... ” He gestured vaguely to continue walking.

* * *

April 23rd , nighttime:

Within an enclosure lay many small white hillocks. As they climbed the wall, Will took in the sight and murmured, “Who hath been unhooking the clouds without my permission to put them in the pasture in the guise of snow?”

Horace laughed. “Nay, good Will, these be not snow, but the fluffiest earthbound of God's creatures: Sheep!”

Will gazed upon the critters, then strode over to one and tentatively petted it. His face lit up. “'Tis the softest thing I e'er have touched!”

Horace grinned. “Unhooked clouds indeed.”

Will buried his face in the sheep, which gave a small bleat. “'Tis so fluffsome I believe I shall perish!” He tore himself away and darted to another sheep. “But thou art also so fluffsome as to beget my death!” Then another. “And thee! They're all.... How am I to decide?”

“Which one hath the best name?”

Will deliberated, then shook his head, blinked at the unexpected dizziness, and stopped. “I cannot discern their names here. We must take them to better lighting that I may see them more clearly.”

Horace thought for a moment. “The village lantern, perhaps?”

“Aye, that's it! We shall take them to the lantern.”

Horace nudged a sheep experimentally. It gave a bit of a bleat, and eventually began moving. Between the two of them, they managed to direct the three sheep to the gate, which they had completely missed on their way in and were, after some fumbling, able to open. Once all were through and the gate closed, they set about clumsily herding the sheep to the village proper.

After some time, Horace remarked, “Ought we have some means of telling them apart until we get there?”

Will thought a moment, then said, “We shall number them.” He drew from his pouch a bottle of ink. Using his fingers, for quills are hardly suited to write on wool unwoven, he rather unsteadily traced a '1' on the back of the first sheep he'd seen. He stood for a moment, apparently lost in thought. Horace eventually nudged him, and Will started and returned to his task, daubing a '3' and a '4' on the backs of the other sheep. Wiping his hand on the side of sheep number four, he resealed the bottle with some difficulty and replaced it in his pouch.

They successfully guided the sheep some distance more, within the village itself, before the animals spotted a flowerbed laden with green things fit for grazing. There they stopped and there they chomped, and neither Will nor Horace had the heart to move them on.

Will sighed and announced that he clearly was not meant to have so fluffsome a companion.

Horace was not deterred. “We shall take a few moments to collect ourselves,” he said, opening a bottle and passing it to Will, “then we shall set out once more. I've a notion near as fluffy and perhaps more interesting than sheep.”

***************

“Young Will, thou didst tell me there was a fire in the square.”

“Aye, mistress O'Bales, 'tis just there!”

“William, that be a lantern.”

“I– what?”

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. “A lantern, Will. One of the village lanterns, what be lit all night? that folk might find their way despite the darkness?”

“....Oh. But there's burning.”

“I be goin' back to bed now.” She turned to leave.

A call sounded from across the square. “Will, I got them! It'll be sour grapes for th— good Lord, the square's aflame!”

Emily blinked, then dashed the contents of her bucket upon the miscreants before her. “I bid thee good night, good masters.”

***************

Horace wasn't overly sure that stopping in the stables was wise, not with Will pining after an animal companion as he was. Even in his state of dubious clarity, Horace had the wit to know that stealing a horse was foolish, with dangerous consequences, even for them, even drunk. But Will had insisted, and did not thus far appear in imminent peril of emotional distress. He was petting a dappled grey belonging to goodness knows whom, telling it that it was such a good horse, such a beautiful horsey, so smooth and wonderful, yes you are.

The beast Horace had sought to pet unequivocally wanted nothing to do with him, so he cast about for something with which to occupy himself. A saddle and assorted tack hung on the door to the stall before him, and he began idly examining it. He accidentally unhooked it after a moment, spent several minutes investigating how he'd done such a thing, and sought to hang it back up. But it refused to hang, or perhaps he lacked the necessary dexterity. Needing somewhere else to leave it, he unhooked a different set of tack, and placed the first where the second had been. Then he stared in confusion at this new mess of leather and buckles unexpectedly in his hands. What was to be done but shift a third to make room for this one? Yet even then, he was still left with a rogue saddle.

By the time Will had finished cooing over the grey, every set of tack in the stable had changed position, and Horace still stared at a set stubbornly in his hands. Fortunately, Will was better able to convince it to settle onto the remaining hook, and they left the stable in perfect order, so far as they could tell.

* * *

April 24th , mid-late morning:

Amy Cooper was looking with mild curiosity at a pig with the number '3' on its back rooting around a flowerbed when she caught sight of the bearers of the flower-crowns. Instantly, she marched up to them, and, pausing only for breath, launched into speech.

“In O'Malley's last e'entide, the both of thee did sort of say vaguely marriage-type vows at me. That is, I think they were marriage-ish. They were somewhat difficult to understand. The words were intelligible enough, but they had not much substance in the strung-togetherness of them. Thou,” and here she gestured to Horace, “did proclaim me the most creative practical-thinker, least ineloquent non-wordsmith, and most enthusiastic non-changeling thou e'er did meet; and Will here did declare of me that he could not wish for a better verbal-sparring partner with whom to maintain an unmalicious bitter rivalry, which at any rate I can agree with. I am here to clarify that unsolicited vows do not a wedding make, and that I be willing to pretend none of it happened.”

“Oh. We, erm—”

“Most well, never happened. I shall be on my way, I've some new square prototypes to build.” She turned and sped off steadily, leaving Will and Horace both some lesser version of gobsmacked.

“Well,” said Horace after a time. “At least we paid her sincere compliments.”

* * *

April 23rd , nighttime:

“Where are we bound?”

“Wherefore ought I know? I be following thee?”

“Thou art?”

“Aye, thou did speak of a new idea since the sheep and chickens and rats did not work out.”

“I.... I was following thee. I must have forgot.”

There was a silence as they pondered the implications of this, then—

“Then I believe we are lost.”

Will thought on that, and said, “Then we shall have to use our wits and become unlost. We are both intelligent enough folk, are we not?”

“Decidedly,” replied Horace.

Will began to pace. “There be no buildings, nor firelight; thus we must be outside the village proper a good bit.”

“Indeed.”

“There be trees all about us. Mayhap we strayed into the forest?”

Horace considered this, then shook his head, frowned, and quickly stopped. “Nay, for look, the sky be too visible. The trees be not near enough one another.”

“Ohhhhhh.”

“What, what's the thing where there's trees and they're tame and orderly and they grow things and someone looks after them?” Horace spoke with his hands, waggling his fingers as though he could grasp the truant term from the air.

Will mulled it over for some time, then said, “Orchid.”

“Aye, that's it! We must be in an orchid.”

Will thought some more, then moved toward one of the trees, and promptly slipped and fell.

Horace did not immediately see where he had gone. “Will? Will! Where art thou?”

“Merely fallen, but I have the answer. The ground be covered in apples. We be in an apple orchid.”

Horace considered that, then remarked, “Agnes's land be not far from some of mine own. I could more easily get my bearings there.” He held out a hand, and Will hoisted himself up.

“Let us skirt the fence until we find a path.”

They walked for several minutes, working their way toward what they hoped was a fence. The wind rattled the budding branches above their heads and close by their faces. At length, Horace said, “Will, it be thy natal day, aye?”

“Aye.”

“And thy natal day be in April.”

“Last that I did to make note.”

“Most well. But the last I did to note, apples grow not in these early months. Nor should they remain on the ground unrotted through all the winter.”

“Yet what I slipped upon was certes an apple, and as fresh and finely-formed as any e'er I saw.”

They slowly turned and looked back into the shadows of the orchard. The full moon cast twisted echoes of the branches, warping the ground into an unknowable writhing latticework. Suddenly, a sharp giggling cry pierced the air, and a glint as though of fangs caught their eyes from the foot of the tree under which Will had fallen. Both men started, calling out in alarm, then turned and fled as swift as their staggering steps might take them.

***************

“I hardly realized cows were so morose.”

“Moo.”

“See what I mean? Didst thou hear what she said, Will? She believes life is pointless.”

Will was across the field a way, in a different pasture entirely. “This one over here is despondent, but only because she cannot be with the love of her life. It's so sad, Horace, it's like R and J but worse.”

“Moo.”

“That is what I say, friend, 'tis not fair.”

By this time, Horace had joined Will, which included tripping over a fence. “What be her name?”

Will thought a moment. “This one be Ariadne. Her love, to whom you were just speaking,” he gestured, “is Meredith.”

Horace considered the prospect. “Were we to unite them, Meredith would stop being so morose.”

“We shall! 'Tis what they deserve.”

The two stumbled to the fence, where they puzzled over the ingeniously-constructed beams. It took at least ten minutes to divine how the beams connected and how to remove a few. These they tossed to the side, along the rest of the fence.

“Go, Ariadne!” Will called triumphantly. “Go meet thy love!”

Ariadne considered him, then turned around and continued sleeping.

Will nodded understandingly. “She wants her beauty sleep first, of course.”

“But once she's slept, she will join Meredith?”

“Of course. And A and M shall be united, and 'twill be most beauteous.”

“Moo,” said Meredith.

“Thou hast the right of it.”

* * *

April 24th , mid-late morning:

They did not cross paths with Theresa Ratchet until they'd passed by most of the shops and into the more residential area. She sat outside her little hut, the spic-and-spanness of which juxtaposed almost harshly with her appearance, repairing a trap. When she caught sight of the bedraggled duo, she smiled broadly and waved, calling out, “Good morrow to thee, good masters! And twice o'er to thee, Will!”

Will returned the wave. “God save, Theresa. I don't suppose I married thee last night, by any chance?”

Theresa's smile, if possible, widened. Several more gaps showed. “Aye, that thou did, good sir!”

“Ah,” he said, barely fazed at this point. “Sorry about that.”

Theresa waved it off. “Nay, 'tis most well. 'Tweren't more than vows, for thou wert clearly – what be that modern phrase? – drunk off thine arse.”

Will made to respond, but Horace hustled him along. “Best not hang about long enough for her to notice that we sprang some of her traps,” he muttered.

“Oh! Aye, not that I recall doing such a thing, nor indeed see how thou could recall it; but aye.” In a loud voice, he added, “Well, if there's no harm done, we shall be on our way. Eskarina suggested something called 'hydration'? We be on our way to try it out. Anon!”

The ratcatcher gave another wave and returned her attention to her traps.

* * *

April 23rd , nighttime:

After much struggle, Horace succeeded in undoing the shutters of his storeroom window, and he and Will climbed in. Climbed is a generous term, of course, for it was more akin to stumbling and staggering and even falling; but the point is, they made it through the window.

After some more fumbling, Horace declared, “The lamp hath vanished.”

Will, who was admittedly less familiar with the room, but had spent enough time there to have at least a working knowledge of it, added, “I believe the door hath moved, as well.”

“First my keys and now this.” Horace felt the walls. “Why is there so much dust? And what are these, chisels?”

Will snapped his fingers. “I have it! We be in the wrong building.”

Horace pondered this for a long moment. At last, he replied. “That....would rather explain wherefore none of my keys fit the door.”

Will's eyes had by now adjusted somewhat, and by the light of the moon shining through the casement, he managed to find a lamp. Several attempts with flint and steel later, they had it burning. Its light revealed shelves covered in tools, dust, rock fragments, and half-formed figures. Horace stared long an hard at a mallet before finally declaring, “I fancy we be in Millicent Goodenstone's workshop.”

Will did not seem to hear him. His eyes, wide and shining once more, rested on an unshaped stone somewhat smaller than his fist, which the lamplight had caught. He drew near it almost unconsciously.

“... had best leave a note and withdraw the way we arrived,” Horace was saying. “What're you....”

Will slowly touched the rock, then picked it up. “This.... This is it,” he whispered reverently. “My new companion, to tend mine heart until Honey and Priscilla and Legg may join me.” He gently caressed the stone. “What thinkst thou of Petra? Obvious, I know, yet it suits them.”

Horace had by this time joined him. “Petra the pet rock,” he said experimentally. “Know you, I believe that suits them delightfully.”

Will broke into a delighted grin. “We've done it! You did it! You found me the perfect pet!” And threw his arms once more around Horace, who gasped in pain when Petra whacked him in the side.

***************

“What in God's name dost thou think thou art doing!??!!!” The bellow awoke Horace with a start. In the pale light of barely-dawn, he could make out the form of Rosalind Anne Uxbridge towering over him, clutching a rake and quivering with rage.

“Knowst thou how long I have spent caring for these blossoms? The ones thou seemst to have mistaken for a mattress?”

Horace looked about and began to piece things together. He'd clearly passed out in a flowerbed, one of Rosalind's many prized patches. He cast about for Will but saw him not. “Where, what hast thou done with Will?” he asked.

“Change not the subject!”

The gravity of the situation downed on Horace. He was without ally in the midst of a garden he'd ruined, with naught betwixt him and the gardener's fury save his own wit. And just that moment, he felt he hadn't an ounce of wit to his name.

He struggled to his feet, desperately playing for time. “Now, erm, see here Rosalind, er, this is clearly a– a mistake of some sort, and if thou will but give me a mome', or several, I can explain myself and the context of this whole affair most succinctly. Or somewhat succinctly. I do not feel overly succinct at this particular moment. What must be understood...” He was standing, he'd more or less gotten his bearings, and he'd pieced together a plan. Without warning, he shot off, ducking the blow of the rake, and ran as fast as his shaking legs would carry him to the jailhouse, where he pounded the door, yelling, “Sheriff! I must report an incident of public drunkenness, accidental trespassing, and general bad behavior!”

* * *

April 24th , late morning:

At long last, Horace and Will made it to the Tanningrove homestead. Jack was out front, ostensibly weeding the small vegetable garden, but more probably waiting for them to put in an appearance. Sure enough, when he saw them approaching, he looked at his father and simply said “Why.” before turning and leaving, weeding abandoned.

Well, it was a reasonable enough reaction to their understanding of how the boy's father had spent his night. They made no move to stay his departure, instead continuing into the blessed dimness of the indoors.

At a table in the parlor sat John Hopfield, a cup of something in front of him. Upon hearing their entry, he looked up, and then beamed.

Horace stopped in his tracks. The color drained from his face.

“Oh.” he said.

Will looked from Horace to John several times, his mouth slightly agape, his sodden-but-drying mind working furiously. Finally, it clicked. “Oh my God,” he said quietly.

“Hello, Horace!” Had he not been sitting, John would've been bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Horace swallowed nervously and suddenly wished he had a hat to twist about in his hands. “Did– that is– erm, good morrow John. I.... ” And now his face was flushed as red as any of his wines.

John's face fell almost imperceptibly, but in a manner more resigned than disappointed. “You don't remember.”

“Erm, quite frankly no, I do not; but I can see it plain enough now, for all my fogged mind.” His hands, desperate to fidget, found their way to his flower-crown and began idly shredding a bloom.

John nodded. “Well, I know not that Eskarina's officiation be technically binding, so.... ” He trailed off.

“That's, erm.” Horace fiddled with the petals he'd pulled from his crown, seven in all. “That's probably for the best, I suppose.”

“Aye.”

There was a long silence. Will looked from John to Horace to the door, torn between fascination and social discomfort at the scene unfolding before him.

Horace shifted his weight. “I mean, it isn't that I'm strictly opposed to the notion, per se,” he semi burst out at length. “I'm not. But, I mean, I wasn't planning on it. At least not yet.”

Now even John was fidgeting, tracing the edge of the cup in front of him. “We– there wasn't, erm, that is — it weren't binding in the eyes of anyone, if thou takest my meaning,” he said awkwardly, blushing. “Thou wert clearly drunk, of course there wouldn't be....”

Horace took some time to process that. “I don't think I would have thought there was, had I known of this before now and thus had time to consider the possibility,” he said at length, now idly crumpling the petals in his hands, “yet I thank thee for, er, for clarifying it.”

Another silence, possibly even more awkward than the first, hovered between them. Making up his mind, Will carefully asked, “Horace, doest thou want me here just now?”

Horace started, reminded of his friend's presence. “Quite possibly not.”

“Most well.” Will nodded despite his splitting skull and turned immediately for the door. “I shall meet back up with thee perhaps around suppertime, then? To piece together, erm,” he glanced at John, “what remains to piece together.”

Horace waved vaguely in confirmation as Will hastened out the door, then looked back at John, still crumpling petals.

After a beat, John said, “As far as piecing together thine evening goeth, there be one or two other things thou likely ought to hear. In fact, I think mayhap thou had best sit for this.”

Several expressions crossed Horace's face, most notably steely resignation and dread. He slowly pulled a stool over and lowered himself onto it. “Yes?”

“When we, erm.... When thou didst marry me, thou also did to marry Stella.”

Horace relaxed. “I was honestly expecting far worse.”

“And then Sherry was jealous, so Stella and I married her after you left.”

Horace's face remained unchanged but for the widening of his eyes and his color draining once more. “Oh God.”

John spoke again, this time more hastily. “And, well, thou knowst well what Sherry be like, and while I suppose I technically know not for certain, I think she mayhap be taking it seriously.”

“Oh God.”

“Indeed.”

Horace passed his hands over his eyes and remained thus a long silent moment, cobbling together words that would suffice. At last, a long, deliberate breath. “John, 'tis clear that we must needs discuss some things. I am like to be obliged to put my part through writing so as to hone my meaning.”

John gave a brief tender smile at that.

Horace removed his head from his hands and stood, slowly and carefully. “I swear I am not avoiding thee, and shall face this anon; but now I am going to find something to eat, and I am going to drink some cleaned water, and I am going to bed, for I be in no fit state just now to cope with much of anything, least of all our, erm, situation.”

***************

Will had so often trod the path from the Tanningrove homestead back to his own house – more accurately simply his parents house, now that he'd moved to London – that his feet steered him thus without conscious thought. When he did finally notice, he pressed on, for he truly needed sustenance 'ere he did aught else. Still, he reflected, he had best make his meal quick, for he had another matter to attend to as soon as he might; though he was yet uncertain whether he looked to it in apprehension, or in anticipation.

He glanced down at his wrist and the initials freshly written thereon. He hadn't even known the noble was in the area. He would've expected him to still be in Hunsdon this time of year.

End notes: (.....The More the Marrier geddit like 'marry'?)

Thanks so friggin' much for reading!  This, the first PARF fic I ever finished, was incredibly difficult to write.  Not only was it a different style and tone to anything I've ever written before, but I began it after not writing anything (beyond journaling and approximately five textposts) for six months.  Thus, my first draft was the shittiest shitty first draft I e'er have made, the writing clunky and ill-fitting and excruciatingly slow.  There's a reason it took me a year.

Please, please, please leave a comment!  A line you really liked, a weak phrase, a character voice I absolutely nailed, typos and other corrections, something you found funny.  Reactions, impressions.  I cannot become a better writer without feedback.  At least leave kudos if you enjoyed it.

I'll be recording a podfic of this work over the next who-knows-how-many days, and will link it here when it's done.  Please note that I have zero notion of a timeline for that project.

In the meantime, notes on the content of this fic.

Much of the style and tone of this piece was inspired by the Storytime: Voltron is (Basically) a Disaster series by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle.  The scene with the forge kittens was based line-for-line on Basically Under Arrest (Part 1).

I have never been drunk or hungover, nor witnessed the same firsthand for any extended time.  This is based on other media representations of drunkenness.

The astute reader will notice that I mingle more modern methods of speech with the more Elizabethan dialogue.  This was intended to mimic the manner in which the actors do exactly that, particularly in interactions.

The notion of Sheriff Perry taking valuables from an arrested Will was derived from streetwork in week one, in which a rumor went around that the sheriff was taking money from his prisoners.  The wording of the rumor was ambiguous, and could've meant either stealing or accepting bribes.

Will abruptly and ardently claiming credit for pranking the sheriff  was inspired by Trial and Dunke closing weekend, when Will flung himself enthusiastically at punishment in Horace's stead.  I like the idea of Will recklessly throwing himself in potential harm's way for people he cares about, particularly for things of low consequence that everybody treats as though they are serious.

The idea of someone's drunk self pranking their sober self came from a Text From Last Night I have saved somewhere on my external hard-drive and cannot currently be bothered to find.

Streetwork on closing day indicated that the R and J play had been picked up by a producer in London, and that Will would be relocating there shortly.

To be clear, yes, I know the difference between Scylla (six heads, monch monch) and Charybdis (whoosh whoosh, motherfucker).  Horace and Will are drunk.

For folk not present at PARF 2017, the cat sìth is explained in this Myths and Legends Finale.

I am neither herbalist nor doctor.  I decided on Eskarina's hangover antidote by googling “herbal hangover remedy” or something like that, and selected some plants that I think would've been available in England at the time.  I know not if they can be safely mixed, nor even if they would taste foul if they were.  I also cannot vouch for their effectiveness.

You will note that I spelled the fire brigade's name as “Emily O'Bales” although it is spelled as “Emily O. Bales” in the program.  I altered the spelling thus because I frequently heard her referred to as “mistress O'Bales”, but cannot recall ever hearing he called “mistress Bales”.  If the cast made a mistake, I fear it was made to such an extent as to eclipse the technically-correct version.

Are village lanterns a thing?  I've heard the term and it makes sense as a thing, so I went with it.

The notion of our Amy Cooper building square barrels came from an episode of QuaranTeatime in which it was mentioned that Amy was expanding her trade into crate-making.  She would totally call them square barrels, though.

Speaking of QuaranTeatime.  Numbered animals with one creature less than the highest number were brought up in a QuaranTeatime episode as something that was happening in Mount Hope.  However, I had planned it into the story before they brought it up.

To be clear, yes, I know the difference between 'orchard' and 'orchid', as you will gather if you note that I spelled it correctly the one time it was in narration and not speech.  Will and Horace are drunk.

If you never heard the tale of the wereapple, I'm sorry, idk how to help you.

Horace and Will are in no danger of being mistaken for burglars or anything when they break into Millicent Goodenstone's studio.  Streetwork on closing day revealed that Millie was going to travel to Bath to further train and become a real master stonecarver, so this particular home would have been unoccupied at the time.

I am confident that I captured the voices of almost all the characters herein.  The exception is  Rosalind Anne Uxbridge, whose voice I had great trouble summoning to my mind.  I hope I did her justice, and apologize profusely if I did not.

“...it weren't binding in the eyes of anyone, if thou takest my meaning”.  The meaning here, of course, is, “It wasn't binding in the eyes of the law because we didn't go through the proper channels, and it wasn't binding in the eyes of God because we didn't fuck.”  (The notion that marriage must involve genital muckery in order to be recognized by the Divine is, of course, rubbish, but the idea was prevalent at the time.)

A note on Tanninghop.  I both do and do not ship it.  If I may be allowed to quote one of my posts: “Whether deliberately or incidentally, the actors subtly play the dynamic [between Horace and John] just a little bit differently every day.  Some days, they are as they appear in the plot’s basic premise: two individuals caught in baseless inherited hatred. But sometimes, it seems they were childhood friends before becoming caught in that inherited hatred.  Some days, they are exes, the animosity between them potentially beginning with their breakup.  A few times, it has seemed that the feud began with the two of them over some petty squabble in like third grade, and merely expanded from there.  Once or twice, they inherited the hatred, but each harbors a repressed attraction to the other.  Occasionally, they’ve even been secret lovers in the midst of the feud.  Watching their interaction has become my favorite part of Queen’s Court, and I always look forward to divining what their exact relationship is on any given day.”  Historically, I have always been trash for a unified canon, a specific continuity (or as much of one as is possible in repeated improvised interactive theatre).  But in 2019, I fell deeply in love with the kaleidoscope of  subtle differences in day-to-day dynamics.  Not just in love with each individual dynamic, but in love with the kaleidoscope as a whole, and with the very notion of that kaleidoscope.  I thus have no set headcanon about their relationship through which I interpret their story: I have a dozen.   That being said, John and Horace are totally in romantic-love in this fic.  However, this fic is not canon to my interpretation.

[seyaryminamoto]

I feel like i'm gonna regret asking this but what is hiby

Oh. Ohohoho, oh. I recently answered this to someone else (not on this blog), I suppose there are so many newcomers in this fandom lately that HIBY has become slightly less known than it used to be.

HIBY stands for How I Became Yours, the most polemic and catastrophic fancomic in the history of the Avatar franchise. If you thought any of the official comics were problematic in any sense, woah boy, they’re goddamn flawless masterpieces compared to this thing.

Every possible angle of HIBY is problematic. Spot-on accusations of tracing were the main reason why Deviantart took down Jackie Diaz’s profile and comic from their platform. I heard Nickelodeon also got involved legally, not 100% sure on that front, but if true, they cracked down on her because she attempted to profit off this clunky mess of an inconsistent story by claiming it was somehow an official sequel to ATLA. To clarify, this last thing is something I was told, I can’t find actual sources to confirm it… so maybe I heard an exaggerated account of the tale of HIBY and it never went that far. Nevertheless, this comic didn’t need to escalate into a legal problem to be absolutely abhorrent.

In regards of art, HIBY somehow keeps discarding the asian-inspired setting seen throughout ATLA and instead favors showing the characters in European castles and outfits that don’t fit anywhere within ATLA’s world at all:

Katara is basically wearing a red version of Belle’s dress from Beauty and the Beast, if I’m not mistaken. The architecture of the place they’re at is so European it’s baffling (if I’m not mistaken, this is supposed to be Toph’s family’s house :’D). Also, it’s blatantly obvious that the background is a photograph, so she could’ve just as easily looked for photos of asian locations instead, but she picked european architecture because yes. Yet more blows against the possible artistic merits someone could offer this comic (if there’s any).

Now, though, the BIGGEST problem in HIBY is, of course, the story:

To recap: ATLA ends with Aang and Katara kissing at Ba Sing Se. Whatever problems someone may have with their relationship, or Mai and Zuko’s, or Sokka and Suki’s, it’s unquestionable that those three ships were canon by the end of the show.

Jackie Diaz’s SEQUEL COMIC doesn’t acknowledge this finale: somehow, Aang is in love with Toph but they’re not together despite there’s literally NOTHING in their way, since Aang and Katara weren’t together at all, according to Diaz. And Katara? Oh, she’s pining endlessly over Zuko, who somehow married Mai…

… Despite wanting Katara too.

… Despite he literally knocked up Katara back when the war was ending, which resulted in a miscarriage because of Mai’s wicked schemes~~!!

Can someone please explain to me in what world does it make sense for Zuko, FIRE LORD ZUKO, to be in a relationship with someone he doesn’t want, when the person he does want is RIGHT THERE, AVAILABLE, when there’s no real political consequences to ANYTHING that happens in this comic? You could say “oh no the Fire Nation people wouldn’t accept a Water Tribe woman…” … but then Zuko ends up with Katara anyways and the only problem is that Mai wants to kill them for that :’) so… no excuse works.

Basically there’s no real plot, the whole thing boils down to “I want these ships to happen and I need them to face hardships even if they don’t make sense”. The main hardship is that Mai doesn’t want her HUSBAND to carry out an affair with Katara. Zuko’s response to Mai’s obvious and reasonable complaint about their illicit relationship is to TURN VIOLENT WITH HER. And he’s the good guy :’)

Mai has a non-existent older brother Sho, who looks like a BLEACH character with Ozai’s hairstyle, and together they will try to kill Katara because, welp, someone has to give them trouble, I guess. In all fairness, the only character with a relatively logical flow of thought in this damn trainwreck is Mai. I mean, “my piece of shit husband married me for political clout, got his mistress pregnant, I didn’t want the kid to be a problem for me so I induced a miscarriage in Katara by poisoning her, probs just wanted Katara dead altogether but whatever, I only got the kid. Then Zuko threw me away despite I’m his legal wife and I’m really pissed about it so I want Katara dead” is the smartest writing in this entire comic. And no, that’s not a compliment, it’s still stupid as fuck but that’s how much more stupid everything else is. 

So, the happy couples are, like I said, Zuko and Katara, who get together despite Zuko is married to Mai, Aang and Toph, who somehow weren’t together despite there’s nothing in the way, AAAND… 

… Sokka and fake!Azula. Because I refuse to acknowledge that thing as the Princess we all love and adore.

Frankly, I consider it a miracle that HIBY didn’t destroy our ship completely when it was posted online, seeing as it was amongst the most talked-about fanmade content in Avatar’s fandom at the time. If people no longer associate Sokkla with HIBY immediately, we’ve definitely done a good job saving our poor ship’s face and showing it’s got a fuckton of potential compared to the shitfest that comic portrayed.

Why is Sokkla so problematic in HIBY? Because of fake!Azula, of course. Why is she fake!Azula? Because she’s got plot-convenient amnesia! Turns out that, for some reason, Azula forgot all the events from ATLA (let’s be real, so did Jackie Diaz so it’s not just her) and she shows up in this comic as a completely different character, so much that, upon hearing about the TERRIBLE THINGS SHE DID AND WAS, her reaction is…:

Fascinating, am I right? :’D She’s nice, sweet, shy and as good as brain-dead. And as she’s so sweet and cute now, somehow that becomes absolutely appealing for Sokka. And he falls for her, she falls for him, they bang dramatically, and so on and so forth…

Eventually Azula sacrifices herself in the final battle when Mai and her brother try to kill everyone and oh no! Sokka’s love interest dies again! Such a shocker, however, that Sokka goes to the Spirit World to save her, and unlike Iroh he succeeds… but what does Azula look like post-Spirit World shenanigans?

… Yeah, okay, fake!Azula calling anyone her “little angels” is just proof of how IC she is, if you had any doubts still.

But isn’t it FUNNY. Isn’t it HILARIOUS. That Azula not only undergoes an atom-deep brainwipe that turns her into a flat non-character, but that after dying she’s revived with WHITE HAIR, dressed in blue clothes and whatnot…?

My interpretation, and honestly, I don’t know if there’s any other possible interpretation… Jackie Diaz wanted Sokka to be with Yue :’) She fucking wrecked Azula’s character to turn her into a fake!Azula, who would eventually turn into fake!Yue after being resurrected because oh that’s just perfect to close off Sokka’s storyline, isn’t it? Only, he’s not with Yue nor with Azula because it’s neither of them. Just as it isn’t really Sokka either, or Katara, or Zuko or Aang or Toph.

Now, revisiting this trainwreck, there is a throwaway line where Ty Lee, in her (I think) only appearance in the story tells Katara that Suki and Sokka broke up. So um, Suki does exist, officially, in this comic, and she did date Sokka but it ended, and she’s back in Kyoshi Island with her team. 

Which elicits the question… why the fuck is she Mai’s maid?

I assure you, if you decide to delve deeper into this mess, you’ll absolutely find a lot more things to laugh about, to be outraged about, and to facepalm about while you wonder how on earth would someone, ANYONE, create something like this and not die of cringe looking at the finished product. It’s baffling to me.

At any rate, if you’d like to torture your own eyeballs reading this comic for yourself, there’s a Tumblr blog that gathered HIBY perfectly neatly for all curious eyes eager to torture themselves with this OOC fest. If you want more details than I care to remember about this catastrophic mess of a story, there’s always the TV Tropes page, which I think illustrates everything rather well. 

So… that’s HIBY. While I don’t think it should be sentenced to oblivion (we had best never forget the lowest lows the fandom has reached, else someone might be tempted to outdo them), this particular fanwork is quite the trainwreck in just about every regard. I really don’t think there’s anything worth salvaging in it. So, if you wanna read the whole thing (I’d be surprised if you would xD), knock yourself out in the blog link I posted up there. Otherwise, have a nice day if you still can after reading my answer to your ask :’D

[aroomoftheirown]

My Own Fandom

By @tiffotcf

It has taken me a long while to figure out who I am. And without fandom I may never have gotten where I am now.

I grew up in a single-parent, demanding household. I spent so much of my youth helping to be the other parent that I didn’t have much time to think about me. However, I still knew from a very young age that I preferred “boys’ clothes and looks” over girls’ and that all the characters I wanted to be from my favorite books, movies, and TV were male or gender non-conforming (GNC). But my mother explained that just meant I was a tomboy, that the closeness I felt with my female friends was just strong friendship, and that I would be interested in romance when I met the right boy.

Now I’m 31, I’m a panromantic nonbinary asexual, and I am finally starting to learn what it means to be happy and fight for what I want. And getting back into fandom and writing fanfiction is a big part of what got me there.

When I started writing again, thinking about characters and focusing on the minutiae of their lives, I remembered how complex and detailed they can really be. And it helped me think more about myself--who I wanted to be and what kind of work I wanted to create and share with the world. Additionally, it made me realize how many choices had been made not by me, but for me.

Fandom--particularly fanfiction--asks its viewership to consider all angles of a character, not just what canon has the time or capability to include. Art, stories, headcanons; these are all examples of laypeople taking characters and saying “they are more than what you, the creators, say they are.” And for members of the LGBTQIA+ community, that drive to explain the more complex nature of these characters acts as a proxy for ourselves. We do not neatly fit into the categories determined by others, like outdated perceptions of gender or sexuality.

I recently wrote my first GNC fic. I took a couple that appears to be traditionally heteronormative (though one of the pair is canonically asexual) and, based on my understanding of the characters’ perspectives and interests, I was able to expand upon that in a way that still fit with their established traits.  Since I wrote this fic for a smaller fandom, the idea of the main male character being GNC or genderqueer had not been explored before. And, especially because of its personal connection to my own struggles, it was one that I was nervous to present. It was not my longest work, but it was by far the most difficult I had ever attempted. It left me sleepless and made me forget to eat for days on end. But in the end I was proud of it. And I was proud of myself for writing out that little bit of myself and my interests, placing them into something that is out there for others to interact with.

Reception has had a few pitfalls; there were some who understood less about the struggles of being bi and GNC and instead found humor in some of the heavier moments. This was hard for me to see. As that was, of course, not my intention and something that I was very conscious of trying to avoid while I was writing.

Fortunately, the rest of the feedback thus far has been overwhelmingly positive, and not just responses such as “I liked this,” or “this was fun to read,” but in terms of thoughtful comments from members of the community who felt this presentation of the characters really spoke to them. One reader told me that they were “proud to be a part of the fandom that this was a part of”. Another mentioned how they were reminded of a time when they had been presented with a similar situation, and had not reacted in a way that they would now be proud of.

These comments were particularly important to me because in my mind this is what creative works are meant to do: touch people and make them think, about the world and their interactions with it. I believe that, in some instances, fanworks can do this just as much as--if not even more than--original ones. In fanworks you, the creator, are not just being judged on your ability to make emotionally relatable works, but in your ability to transform something that is already beloved to your audience. Fan creators push consumers to see and accept something different about that which is already familiar. And that is a skill set that is necessary in a positive and inclusive world.  

Fandom is all about expression, both in terms of creation and self. Fandom is about finding something you are passionate about embracing and reveling in it. And perhaps most importantly, it is about connection--the connections between the characters that fanworks so often focus on, the connection between fan creator and the work they are toiling away on, the connections the communities build for themselves. So it is a great place for someone to reach out and begin to stretch their expressive muscles.

That isn’t to say there isn’t conflict in fandom; we are only human, after all. Since fandom is ultimately an expression of interests, it is therefore rife with different opinions. So sometimes fandoms can suffer from toxicity, just as the real world does. In my 18-plus years in fandom I have seen its ups and downs, but I have always seen it strive to be something more than what is standard or offered by the mainstream. It has been my experience that participating in fandom provides a community of people who are there for one another in both creative works and self-expression.

Being a part of fandom has taught me how to be a fan, not only of the works I love but of myself and the choices that I am making. With the understanding I have gained from my time in fandom I can move forward without forgetting the moments and experiences that got me here. Like a character's struggle in a fanwork, my life has its angst and its fluff. Sometimes it’s full of tropes and sometimes it feels like I am all alone in these new experiences. But it has also given me an outlet to repurpose these feelings, to put my own stories out there, to be a part of a community. And it is incredible.  

This essay was submitted to the @aroomoftheirown​ project, a blog and zine that seeks document the myriad of ways in which LGBT content creators and fandom participants use fanworks as a celebration of their identities and to force popular mainstream media to reflect their lived experiences by collecting essays, comics, and interviews documenting how LGBT members of fandom use their various talents to carve out a space for themselves in mainstream fiction and to explore their identities in a relatively safe space.

The blog that will accept submissions on a consistent basis and the eventual goal is to compile a selection of the pieces into a zine or a series of zines, the proceeds of which will go to the Trevor Project and Trans Lifeline

To learn more or submit to the project, click here.

[baneismydragon]

New Post cause I don’t want to kill your feed >_>

So before you read this check out the following:  http://cara-miakitty.tumblr.com/post/159664075640

@cara-miakitty wrote an absolutely amazing response to my previous post talking about the negative reactions to problematic characters in the ML fandom. Because both my original thread and the response are quite long I am starting a new post to address what was said, but if you are interested in the topic please check the link above first!  

Here is just the tl:dr 

tl;dr, Gabriel gets handled with kid gloves comparatively even though as an adult he should actually be the least likely to change and is more responsible for his own actions, probably because the emotional fallout of his remaining as he is or Adrien losing him is comparatively worse than Chloe or Lila continuing to be awful people.

Ok so based on what you have said I genuinely have a few thoughts and questions if you don’t mind! 

Again I am going to address this in chunks since I will 100% agree that there are multiple characters that get a lot of undeserved grief, all of which I feel warrant conversation. 

This time lets start with Lila. 

first off, I will hands down say that the Lila fans have it the worst. In my experience with the fandom I personally have seen her get the harshest treatment of any of the characters. Very rarely have I seen Lila portrayed as anything other than a petty brat at best, and a full out murderous villain at worst. (I myself as an author have used her as an easy choice for an antagonist, particularly in AUs or in pro-Chloe stories) Given that she is in canon an antagonist this would be fine if it wasn’t the ONLY portrayal of her that seems to be found acceptable in fandom. This also leads back to my bigger point I wanted to make in the previous post that the even more distressing issue is the lack of fandom to allow for the possibility for her (or any of the others) to be anything other than an heartless villain, and criticizing anyone who wants to take a different approach in their fanworks or shipping preferences. 

Lila is also new- she has no pre-existing relationships to anyone in the class which makes it easy to throw her under the bus and see her as having new redeeming qualities. I think your argument about her being used solely as a prop for story points is a good. 

putting her aside for a minute I am actually honestly surprised by your assertion that Gabriel being seen as redeemable in the majority of stories where Chloe is not. I know for me personal when I started reading fics I had very much the opposite problem! I am not saying that I don’t believe you in your experience, I am just honestly surprised. In terms of the Gabriel angle- In a lot of the stories I have seen and many of the arguments I see made regularly, his is portrayed not just as neglectful but full on abusive. You mentioned in your reply the fandom argument of Adrien being malnourished, despite the lack of canon evidence that this is remotely happening, but I know for me I have also seen a lot of arguments ranging from- he has no affection for his son other than to see him as a prop or an asset for his company, to him literally trying to murder his own child in the quest for the miraculous. I find much of this even more baffling given the large chunk of the fandom that still argues that he is NOT hawkmoth- which makes the behaviour arguably worse. Now as I said in the original post (which to be fair a lot of my points were under a read more so I don’t know what all people actually saw since I know at least for me if I read things on my phone and they are re blogged the read mores won’t show up >_>) I do see where the fandom gets concerned if people are writing off behavior. As you mentioned: trying to get your wife back- cool motive, still a villain bro. (Again assuming that he is Hawkmoth.) 

However my bigger concern with this whole overarching issue is less about if people chose to give redemption arcs to one or any of these characters, but people criticizing each other for doing so to any of them- to the point of attacking not just the stories but the actual creators and artists. 

The same holds true for Chloe. 

Again, in my experience I have actually seen the opposite with Chloe getting the most support of any of the problematic characters in terms of encouragement for her getting redemption and/or being seeing as an ultimately good character at some point down the line. She gets her own miraculous, she is certainly more prominent in terms of shipping than Lila is. And while I am certainly willing to concede that she is often written with very little true growth or change to her character even when she is redeemed, I have been encouraged by the fact that many artists/writers still seem to view her in a positive light even when she is kept largely bratty.  However this does NOT mean that she has been exempt from mass amounts of fan hate, but towards her character and people who support and/or ship her character.  

I was going to write more but I completely forgot where I was going with it. 

TO sum up: I think some lovely points were made by cara-miakitty, and while I find some of my experiences in the fandom to be quite different, I do think it is really worth thinking about the fact that these characters are often not treated as worthy of being given their own development and depth by many in the fandom- even less so if it isn’t directly tied to the growth of one of the “more important” characters, and I also still find it distressing that people who are looking to do that for these characters are often met with hate and negativity on top of their already depressing lack of content. 

[dasakuryo]

vaultfox ha respondido a tu publicación: me, when the fic I was reading, with a really...

I can’t even count how many fics I’ve x’d out of using random spanish just … our of nowhere, clearly taken from a google translate.

I know. And it's really frustrating, because I am enjoying a story and really interested on how the characters are behaving, how the events are unfolding to suddenly... see my language being portrayed in such disrespectful way. I am not saying that anyone who wants to include Spanish in their fanworks while being a non native Spanish speaker, has to be extremely proficient and have a native-like understanding, knowledge and grasp of the Spanish language (and considering the amount of Spanish varieties and dialects it would be actually pretty difficult to be proficient in all varieties and know every single thing there is to know about the Spanish language). What I do think is that people need to be mindful of what they are doing, and they need to be respectful. It doesn't take much, proper research online, asking a native Spanish speaker, NOT using a translator, visiting language reference forums and websites (there are literally entire websites dedicated to translations, contrastive analysis between two languages, etc). Wordreference forums are honestly amazing and people help each other out every time, and you have a handful of native speakers of any language providing you with several options. There are tumblrs dedicated to this as well, there are even native speakers of the target language one wants to use in their fics in virtually every fandom... there are more than a handful of ways to actually portray and use the language (Spanish or any other) respectfully.

If someone chooses to make a copy and paste of Google translate... I can't believe we have to be saying this but online translators (unless they're in context and contrastive, like for example Linguee is) are not reliable. They might be the starting point, but they are not the answer. Languages don't work like that, lexis doesn't work like that and most certainly idioms don't work like that, let me give a random example:

-Let's suppose I want to say it's raining a lot, in English (not making any distinctions between varieties nor whether it is an old-fashioned expression or not) I can use, among a lot of other options, "it's raining cats and dogs". Now, if I wanted to use the same idea but in Spanish, and I wanted to say that it's raining a lot too, I can't just translate that very same expression and go "están lloviendo gatos y perros" because our idioms for that are not a direct transfer of English idioms (apparently a lot of people assume languages function as transfers of another language, but I am derailing). For example, you can find the expression "llueven sapos" (literally: it's raining toads) or "llueve a cántaros" (literally: it's raining by anphoras). And as far as I know, no English speaking person upon seeing it's raining heavily goes "OH MY— IT'S RAINING BY ANPHORAS!"

And there's a whole another angle regarding the imbalance of power between languages in the English vs Spanish equation, which has to do with the role of English as an imperialistic language, but Phillipson, Kumaravadivelu and countless other linguists have talked about it better than I ever could (for obvious reasons, primarily provided the fact that I am not a linguist) in a tumblr post.

If I can spend over an hour looking for idioms and checking collocations whenever I write in English, what's stopping non native Spanish speakers of extending the same care with the treatment of a language it's not their mother tongue or one they are not proficient in?

I spend a lot of time checking if my use of English, especially when characters speak, matches that of English speakers (whichever the background). Is this something they may use or say? Does it sound natural? Does it ring a bell? I literally go back and forth, listening carefully to how characters speak in movies, tv shows, even check English-speaking youtubers.

If I can go through all that trouble, why can't others do the same when including a dialogue line in Spanish?