#and i have complete and utter writer/artist block

[bananasfosterparent]

For some reason it seems hard for people to understand a magical fantasy couple in a magical fantasy world outside of real life can have a relationship that's:

Evil (selfish)

Unhealthy

Dark

Morbid

Codependent

Posessive

Obsessive

BUT still be:

Functional

Enjoyable for the couple themselves

FULLY HAPPY

A positive experience for the couple

Just because a certain type of relationship will go a certain type of way in real life, doesn't mean it has to in an excapism fantasy where it wouldn't even need to.

Are Ascended Astarion and my Evil Tav a healthy couple that practice safe boundaries and constructive habits? No, absolutely not. Not at all.

Are they content with one another and able to find complete and utter joy in their union and dynamics in a way that is so overwhelmingly positive for both of them? Yes. And that's the fun of it. Since they don't exist in real life, there's no reason for their story to be tragic unless if I wanted it to be. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Nothing about real life matters in this context because I (as the artist and writer for my character and crafter of her story) am not someone who blurs the lines between fantasy and reality, therefore it is safe to indulge in this fantasy and not have to worry about myself wanting to seek this lifestyle in real life.

It's wild to me that so many seem to want to "protect" people from seeing the content and seeking "that sort of relationship" irl. As if it's some infection that will render people mindless. Why think so little of others? Can they not figure out how a block button works? Can they not block tags and keywords? Can they not remove themselves from posts and conversations that make them uncomfortable? Can they not distinguish real life from fantasy? Can they not research BDSM relationship dynamics for real life on their own?

They have google and access to real world communities for healthy couple dynamics in real life. Just as the rest of us do.

While you shouldn't purposely use a trigger against someone, there is no reason for people to censor themselves for roleplaying something innocent and fun, in the way the game intended.

You can disagree, hate AA all you want and that's perfectly fine. But please stop trying to make everyone else who likes him, hate him too. It's counterproductive, it's selfish, inconsiderate, and sometimes borderline victim blaming (when a great many AA fans themselves have trauma experience as well).

Our Tavs and Durges can have a perfectly imperfect relationship with him, be evil and happy with one another as much as we want them to be, and there's no argument against it that makes it a bad, non-canon, or awful thing.

[anxresi]

Brace yourselves, folks… We’re about to enter the dark, dreary and sometimes disturbing world which is Thomas Astruc on Twitter. 😧

Those possessed of a weak disposition, prone to nausea or an complete intolerance to utter bullshit may want to turn back now. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. (but still leave me a ‘like’, if you’re feeling generous 🙏)

Anyway, what ‘delights’ has this stand-up guy, this pioneer of mediocre cartooning, this dude on the cusp of arguing with little kids on Twitter been sharing with us, the great unwashed, at this present time? Let’s run through a brief checklist of the ‘highlights’, shall we?

*Telling people the upcoming Miraculous movie is what the fans ‘want’ but the show is what we ‘need’ (whatever THAT means, typically modest reaction from the epitome of humbleness himself).

*Saying that anyone who DARES criticise the show should ‘keep it to themselves’ or they’ll be ‘blocked for spreading negativity about the artists’ (dude thinks he can police Twitter… good luck with that!)

*Informing fanfiction writers that their work is ‘pointless’ and the only people who know what they’re doing are him and his team (If you mean ‘How To Destroy A Franchise In Five Easy Seasons… I guess he’s right)

But his favorite topic (seriously, check out his replies… we’re talking more than 50% here) concerns a fictional teenage girl he constantly decries but can’t seem to get enough of moaning about. It is of course… oh let’s face it. You know the answer to that one already. ROLL THE TWEETS!!

Yep, you guessed it. Apart from the OP being uncommonly accurate in their opinion, now apparently ‘Chloe’ has become The Not-So-Great Bearded One’s new insult of choice for anyone who dislikes what’s been done to the show. Poor ‘Karen’ never stood a chance… 😢

What a mature, grown-up type chap he is! I have no idea why he’s no longer referred to as ‘Hawk Daddy’ in polite circles, and instead called ‘Man Baby’. Just look at him, REALLY giving it a bunch of teens on Twitter who DARE imply his show is nothing but da best! You go, Thomas! Go change your dirty diaper, that is. 🤢

So, abandoning all her subtleties and nuance , reducing her to a shrieking monster and choosing to actively give characters who have arguably done FAR WORSE throughout the series much better endings means they ‘wrote it well’? Gosh, maybe getting an F in English stands for ‘Fabulous’ after all!

Guess in Thomas’s somewhat warped worldview, everyone who doesn’t like 💯 of his show from top to bottom should be placed on a plane with their main abuser to be forcibly deported and probably tortured for the rest of their sorry lives. That’ll teach them!

And who cares about stupid stuff like ‘build-up’ or ‘character-development’ if they genuinely were preparing Chloe for… what was that thing he described it as again… a ‘damnation’ arc? Let’s just flip a switch at the end of S3 to turn her into a pathetic caricature of her worst excesses without explanation, then introduce a ‘perfect’ sister out of nowhere to throw all those undesirable traits into sharp relief! And that’s not even getting into that detestable retconning flashback episode… What an absolutely fantastic idea to make everyone hate her as much as Thomas does!

No-one will notice the sudden incongruity here… after all, the average age of their audience is 5-8 so if they just throw excrement like crazed baboons about Chloe at the young audience time and time again caveman-style CHLOE: BAD. EVERYONE ELSE: GOOD the kids will chow it up like cheap chocolate ice cream! The older ones that do kick up a fuss? Who gives a ****. They don’t buy the merchandise, and where would all those hard-working producers if it wasn’t for all that cheap plastic crap?

With considerably less cars, swimming pools and exotic holidays to hard-to-pronounce destinations, that’s where! Let’s keep that bandwagon of shit a-rollin’… 🤑

Ah, now I believe this is that classic tactic otherwise known as ‘gaslighting’. When you say something as a fact over and over again, when the opposite is clearly true. Those of lesser willpower may start to accept it as reality while others (mostly those with functioning eyes, ears and brains)… won’t.

You know who was also good at that gaslighting thing, don’t you? A few clues… A Former (thank God) President? Very orange? Initials DT? Yep, that guy.

…And coincidentally, someone Thomas has been known to compare Chloe (14 year old girl, let’s not forget) to regularly. I mean, with THAT kind of accolade hanging over her head from the guy who created her, how could she ever fail?

See? What a great influence he is on the young too! Now he’s got his own handpicked gang of sycophants out of the street labelling anyone with the slightest complaint from a)pointing out the animation was slightly better last season or b)saying they miss the old transformation sequences as a ‘Chloe’. I think we’ve found his new favorite insult, and it’s the worst word he can possibly think of. Figures.

I bet he’s putting together a petition as we speak, for an official entry into the dictionary. Fortunately, there’s already one for ‘Thomas’, as in ‘Doubting Thomas’… someone who talks so much nonsense you should disbelieve anything they say. Or Thomas The Tank Engine, because whenever you mention a certain Blonde’s name in his presence, he tends to blow steam, look very heated and… you get the picture. 😆

On top of everything else, now he’s issuing threats. I have to hand it to him though… that’s a pretty good one. NO PLEASE TAKE MY MONEY MY LIFE I’LL EVEN GIVE YOU A FOOT RUB A BACK RUB AND LEARN TO LOVE ZOE ANYTHING BUT THAT NNNNNNOOOOOO….

Seriously guys, we need an immediate intervention. THIS CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN. I’m about to book an emergency flight to France, to barricade him in his office until he promises to never again even entertain the notion of… this. Who’s with me?

(And incidentally while I’m there, does anyone want me to pick them a souvenir? A beret? Frog legs soup? One of those miniature replicas of the Eiffel Tower? Let me know by tomorrow at the latest, and I’ll see what I can do) 😊🇫🇷

[clefclefairy]

very very quick post on current Fandom Woes that i want to throw out so i can put it out of my head and go do important things (making sword)

1: 'ugh this is so OOC just make OCs if you're going to do this' and how does fandom treat OCs, exactly? do you RT people's OC art? do you call OCs "cringe?" do you ask questions about people's OCs? do you commission art/fic of people's OCs? do you think you're the arbiter of what "in-character" is for an entire fandom?

2. i was there 3000 years ago, gandalf, and so i can say with confidence: "he would not fucking say that" used to be unilaterally applied to any LGBT content. any fucking queer ships would be told "this is OOC, they've never said they were gay in canon!" and if you tried to explain like, basic subtext or the long history of queer-coding to some internet rando they would just call you a stupid fangirl. i'm not saying that's always what is happening now, but i am saying that this is where that attitude can and did lead, and still leads for certain queer headcanons. (try calling a character trans coded. see what happens!)

3. sometimes people just want to have fun. sometimes people just make jokes that do not align with their view of the canon characterization for fun. sometimes people just like to mash their current favorites against a thing they like or find funny. acting like this is killing fandom rather than simply personally annoying you is ludicrous.

4. again, not every post with this attitude is saying this, but given the current social climate surrounding AI art/AI chatbots/AI fanfic and the complete and utter disdain for fanfic writers and artists, "why even write this it's so OOC" feels very...entitled. you don't know what emotions, life experiences, formative media, styles of interpretation, and methods of critique/analysis someone brings to any given character. everyone brings themselves to the table of fandom and that's supposed to be a good thing. (coda: there are some ways people can willfully misinterpret characterization and be incorrect. people can also just be missing necessary context in their analysis. people just might not be good at analysis and interpretation. piss on the poor, etc., but outside of malicious willful misinterpretation, this isn't like. evil. you can just block and move on.)

5. i don't care if a fic is OOC to my personal interpretation of the character. i really, truly don't. i hit the back button and move on. you don't know why someone writes or feels the way they do about characters, and sometimes people don't want to write OCs! they want to process whatever's going on in their life with their favorite characters! and that is fine! even if it doesn't make sense to anyone but them! even if it isn't good! fanfic and fanart needing to be good is bullshit. you can't and shouldn't try to quality control free writing and art like you would professional work. (coda for the piss on the poor website: this does not include malicious hate speech and imagery. it DOES include topics you personally find unappealing. not everything is for you.)

6. fandom is a collaborative community experience and not everything is to your taste. you don't know why someone writes or creates or draws what they do, or why they're doing it. have a private circle of friends to bitch about stuff you don't like together. trying to make other people behave in ways you don't find 'cringe' or write and draw what you want, for you, isn't happening. block and move on, mute and blacklist, use your back button on fanfics, and mind your own business.

[beevean]

I swear to all holy IDW Sonic discourse is the glitter of the already obnoxious hellscape that is the Twitter side of Sonic fandom. Doesn't seem to matter what completely unrelated thing you want to look up on that place, apparently you can't escape that shit no matter what. I just wanted to look at some quality Felix the Cat content on Twitter, and yet there it is; in the form of people gnashing their teeth over that one IDW parody comic- by posting it without the artist's permission, even when the artist stated they weren't going to post it on Twitter because they knew that exact shit would happen- and everyone and their grandmother stating that the comic was quoting from Twisted of Tales of Felix for the fiftieth time. At this point I wouldn't be surprised if the IDW slap fights come up even if you looked up something like how to bake a god damn cake or some DiY tutorials.

Oh yeah the dude was called... xenophobic I think? For preferring Japanese writers?

(and I also saw someone say that that comic "better represents Forces Sonic than IDW Sonic because he made a speech about Eggman not having friends". the pain is immense)

The Sonic Twitter (Sonic X now?) fandom is an utter cesspool, combining the fandom's natural tendency to hiss and bite at every opinion with Twitter's magic ability of spreading like the plague the most rancid takes ripe for outrage. Absolutely unhospitable territory. I'm there only for the cute fanarts, but I try to engage as little as I can with the Sonic content. I blocked the word IDW but it does little.

[coldprimavera]

Thread by @wwxwashere on Twitter

⚠️ WHAT IS HAPPENING IN BRAZIL: a thread ⚠️

am i going insane or more of the world should care about a country generating covid variants that could spread internationally? right

spoiler alert: covid is killing us. badly. no, it's not this bad everywhere. yes, you should care.

our government is DELIBERATELY and CLEARLY trying to kill us, not only not doing anything but actually trying to stop any help from getting here, with censorship to go with it.

PLEASE, READ RHIS THREAD

it's NOT this bad everywhere:

"No other nation that experienced such a major outbreak is still grappling with record-setting death tolls and a health care system on the brink of collapse."

yes, you SHOULD care:

"Preliminary studies suggest that the variant that swept through the city of Manaus is not only more contagious, but it also appears able to infect some people who have already recovered from other versions of the virus."

you REALLY should care:

"And the variant has slipped Brazil’s borders, showing up in two dozen other countries and in small numbers in the United States."

1 in every 4 covid deaths WORLDWIDE is happening in brazil, INTERNATIONAL MEDIA ISN'T TALKING ABOUT THIS ENOUGH.

our president?

- calling it "a little flu"

- literally making trying to legally stop states from lockdown

- blocked any attempts to get vaccines here for months

- recommended meds with no scientific proof which caused SEVERAL other deaths for overuse of improper meds

he refuses to wear a mask in public but it's not just the things he isn't doing, it's the deliberate steps he takes to make sure ANYONE who tries to do ANYTHING to help (even the US!!!!!!!! OFFERING US VACCINES FOR MONTHS!!!!!!!!!!!!) is shut down.

we have no oxygen. no ICU beds. no proper masks. basic food is so expensive here the country is falling back to hunger, so whoever is not dying from covid is dying out of starvation or due to the complete and utter collapse of our healthcare system.

if you read the articles i post here you will know brazil has a RECORD of being GREAT in this type of scenario & getting vaccines to everyone fast as fuck.

this is a DELIBERATE ATTEMPT TO KILL US, i couldn't possibly stress that enough.

who is it killing? take a guess.

"The study also found that Black Brazilians were likelier to lose their jobs or face pay cuts than white people during the pandemic. The death rate in poorer cities has been substantially higher than in rich ones."

BY JANUARY OF THIS YEAR the ny times was reporting "The country has not yet approved any of the vaccines on the market."

NOT EVEN APPROVED. ANY. OF THE VACCINES.

this isn't a tragedy, this is our government's plan.

again, why are people not helping? i have no clue.

"On Friday, officials at the World Health Organization called the surge of cases in Brazil deeply troubling and warned that it could wreak havoc well beyond the country’s borders."

censorship? oh yeah, the president's son is trying to silence a guy who made a TWEET calling the president out. & that was only news not a shady unexplainable death bc the guy is famous and rich in the first place.

this is not the only threat he has made, btw. during his CAMPAIGN he said he'd kill people who opposed his government. that is how low we are.

10,3MI brazilians might starve to death and things are only getting worse:

have i proven my point? cuz honestly there is no lack of evidence, but i can go graphic if you need to hear what happens when a patient needs oxygen or an ambulance and our hospitals can't provide it.

no? yeah. better not.

"ok but what can we do"

TALK. ABOUT. THIS.

WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS.

WHY IS THIS NOT EVERYWHERE.

WHY IS NOBODY HELPING.

i literally feel crazy, as if this is only happening in my head. every brazilian i know is desperate and nobody cares.

"ok but what else"

we need donations, badly. money for food, masks, literally all supplies. if you are a single person guess what THERE ARE NO ORGANISED WAY TO HELP YET you literally need to find a brazilian or learn portuguese to be able to get to local donations centres.

have i mentioned nobody cares? how is a country going through this massive of a crisis with a government trying to kill and silence us yet there people barely heard about this???? given IT IS CREATING DEADLY VARIANTS THAT ARE SPREADING BEYOND BORDERS

oh my god i feel insane

special call-out for portugal & also the US for fucking us up historically

https://t.co/JQ9LBkfSIV

per request i will make an english speaking video about brazil's covid situation to be posted @ youtube.com/c/AndressaBuss later this week

🌟DONATIONS LINKS🌟

update: if you want to place a donation to @CUFA_Brasil or @maesdafavela i will offer free portuguese-english translations to help with the process.

email me @ thatkindofblue@gmail.com (i can't keep up with DMs here)

You can also try to finda artists or writers or professionals in brazil and hire them! or tip them a kofi! Or simply search for "brazil" in the search and help out by sending one dollar or two in kofi or gofundmes that will also help brazilians staying safe

i will keep linking more as i find it. donation centre to get basic food to people who need it: https://t.co/gFZdskBE6G

Update: finally managed to get an extensive list of options for donations after over 24hrs trying, from jun last year so some campaigns have ended but there's still plenty to choose from

(again: im available for free translations & help in your donation process if you need it)

just assisted in a R$740 donation process to the above donation centre & i am working on putting together a list of various options for donations as well as brazilian artists who are making emergency commissions :)

im mostly trying to assist people place the donations themselves & when i have to place the donation i offer vast proof (of whatever kind you need) of each transaction

im not a random account with no face behind it, im a broke history teacher who has covid, im trying to help

Thread by @wwxwashere on Twitter

And before i forget:

BOLSONARO GENOCIDA!

[bts-weverse-trans]

201128 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - Namjoon

RM: “I spend a lot of time thinking about where I am now” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.28

The story of BTS’ new album BE started on April 17, 2020 when group member RM announced its production on the BANGTANTV YouTube channel. In the seven months that followed until the album’s release, RM’s mind was full, his thoughts flowing in and out of his head.

How do you feel about the unique approach you took to making your new album, BE? RM: The other members were a ton of help to me. My lyrics made it on the album, but the music I composed didn’t, so I’m really thankful to the group for the music. How should I say this? I feel like everyone is doing a great job. There are so many parts in these songs that I’m indebted to them for. “Stay” was originally going to be the title song on Jung Kook’s mixtape, but everyone liked it so much, and they all agreed to put that on our album. That’s how much influence they had. I’m really happy my room idea was chosen to be the album photos. Since we’re spending a lot of time in our rooms because of COVID-19, we laid out the idea of each of us decorating a room in our own style. I can’t remember for sure (laughs) but I think I’m the one who came up with that. I made a comfortable room, one that’s modern and warm because that’s what I like.

There’s a painting in the middle, and symmetrically arranged figurines. RM: The figures are from my own collection. I wanted to show one of my paintings, but that didn’t pan out. But still, those are the things I hold most dear to me right now, so I let the room embody the things I wish I had, too.

It’s well known that you like art and frequent exhibitions, but how do you feel when you look at art in your home or another space where there are no people, like in the album art? RM: Someone said, “You don’t have to buy this painting; it’s yours so long as you’re looking at it.” That’s my favorite sound bite these days. What I most envied about painters was that, even after they died, their work would be hanging up somewhere, maybe even in another country, still defining that space. Musicians leave behind their songs and videos, too, but it’s only through fine art that viewers in the future are able to completely meet artists from the past. I’m envious that this is only possible for painters. These days I’m trying to find spaces where I can have more relaxed viewing experiences.

There’s a full experience involved, from the time you get ready to leave your house until the time you’re actually looking at artwork in the gallery. RM: That’s perfect to me. There’s art you can keep at home, and then there’s art that should always be viewed in museums.

What effect do you think that type of experience has on your music? You didn’t compose any of the songs but instead participated in writing the lyrics to all of the tracks. Did that experience affect your lyric writing in any way? RM: I think it’s helped me develop a way of thinking using all the senses. I used to be attuned to speech and focus on language and auditory textures, but now I can look at my thoughts from many different angles. That’s why I spend more time studying art now. I’m waiting for the day that it all comes to the surface, like when you paint the base on a canvas over and over so the colors pop. It’s hard to answer in one word if it has a direct influence on my work, but I think people who create music develop a way of seeing the world through their personal experience and their creative process. Painters naturally exhibit their art over a very long period of time. I think it gave me an eye for looking at the world in one long, continuous stroke. So now it’s become a little challenging for me to write lyrics these days. I’ve become more cautious.

Why is it so challenging? RM: I used to have so many ideas pouring out that it was hard to pluck one out. So I would stack them up like a Jenga tower and ponder over which one to remove. But now, it’s hard to even add a block to the stack. I’m not sure why but, when I look at these artists whose works span their entire lives, I sense that the rhythm of my creativity is slowing down more and more. That’s the source of my dilemma. I’m only 27 years old. I still need to wander around and get tripped up a little. But am I just trying to imitate what the fine artists are doing? Or maybe BTS experienced so much in the past seven years, that now it’s time for us to take a breather? I’ve got so many questions, I feel like my hair’s turning white. That’s why none of my songs are on the album. I wrote some, but they were too personal to use there. I don’t exactly like myself like this, but I have to see through to the end in this direction and find the answer.

Maybe for that reason, your rapping has shifted focus to the lyrics more so than trend or musicality. It emphasizes the feeling of the words over a particular format or beat. RM: Exactly. In—was it 2017? Pdogg was talking to Yoongi, Hobi and me about our style, and said, “Namjoon, it feels like you’re becoming a lyricist,” and it really stuck with me. I have a lot of thoughts lately when I watch Show Me the Money or listen to hip hop songs from the Billboard chart. My music started out all about my life as a rapper, so I spend a lot of time thinking about where I am now.

So you’ve started to ask yourself who you are as a musician? RM: I listened to Lee So-ra’s seventh album again today. I keep changing my mind but, if I had to pick between her sixth and seventh album, I like her seventh a little more. And then I listen to the most popular songs on Billboard, and I feel kind of thrown off. Um … There’s something Whanki Kim said that’s been running around in my head lately: After moving to New York, he embraced the style of artists like Mark Rothko and Adolf Gottlieb, but then he said, “I’m Korean, and I can’t do anything not Korean. I can’t do anything apart from this, because I am an outsider.” And I keep thinking that way, too. That’s my main concern lately.

You can feel that on BE. As the members take on more prominent roles as songwriters and producers, characteristics of old Korean music—the kind of music you likely listened to in middle and high school—gradually entered your sound. But your music isn’t from that era, and it sounds like pop, but not quite. RM: The sound has to fit with the whole album so I couldn’t incorporate that feel into BTS songs, but the songs I’m listening to most lately have been Korean. Songs like P-Type’s “Don Quixote,” Dead’P’s “Spread My Wings,” Soul Company’s album The Bangerz. The impressions the songs from back then have left on me, the lyrics from back then and the lyrics from now, they’re different. So BE is both Korean and pop; it’s very unique, in my view.

I think that’s especially true for “Life Goes On.” It’s got a pop melody, but compared to “Dynamite,” it has a very different feel. It doesn’t slip deep into the sentimental, instead allowing the melody to flow naturally. RM: Exactly. The chorus is totally pop, and one of the writers was also American. But the song doesn’t really follow American music trends, weirdly. So I don’t know how “Life Goes On” is going to be received. It’s really calm, almost contemplative. So there’s lyrics, like, “Like an echo in the forest,” and, “Like an arrow in the blue sky.” The song kind of feels like that: It could just float off and disappear. It might even come off as bland next to “Dynamite.”

If nothing else, it seems the song will stick around for a long time. Maybe kids now will listen to it later on in the future. RM: I hope so. That’s the one thing I really hope for, people in the future, thinking back and saying, “Oh, right! Remember that one song?” That’s what my favorite artists and other people who leave a lasting impression on me have in common. One thing common among the songs that have affected me a lot, like Lee So-ra’s seventh album, is that the lyrics they utter in their voice along with the overall sound stick with me. I hope when people look back, my words uttered with the sound of my voice, echoes for a long time in an auditory or visual way, or even throughout their entire lives. But that’s the dilemma: We have all these bling-bling symbols of our success, but we’re not that kind of team.

And yet, BTS’s career path is even more “bling-bling” than ever. “Dynamite” was the top song on the Billboard Hot 100. RM: I was the first one to check our position (laughs) but I didn’t want to get too excited about it. I was scared of facing disappointment so I put the brakes on out of habit, and restrained myself. But on the other hand, I feel like I should relish this moment. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing; shouldn’t I enjoy myself a bit? But I disliked that sensation of only feeling elated so I tried to be as objective as possible. I was just one small part of everything that made this happen.

It reminds me of that part, “Running faster than that cloud of rain /  Thought that would be enough / Guess I’m only human after all,” from “Life Goes On.” RM: “Only human” sounds so appropriate for me right now. One time, I saw a dark cloud over the N Seoul Tower while I was walking along the Han River. I was with a friend and we talked about where the border between where it’s raining and where it’s not might be, and suddenly, we came up with the idea to run and find that spot. But after running for 10 minutes, the cloud was even further away than it had been. At that moment, the puzzle pieces snapped into place. You think you can go faster than that dark cloud? No. That’s what I realized then. And I just like what Whanki Kim said, that maybe I can’t do anything not Korean, because that’s what I am. I used to work late and then stay up all night when things weren’t working out, sometimes walking from Samseong to Sinsa station, thinking everything through. But now, like the saying, I realize that maybe I can’t do more than what I am.

On Weverse, you said that you gained some muscle from working out. Could the change to your body improve your creativity in the long term? RM: I started to think I better change myself a little, physically or mentally. I’m talking about being steady. I used to bombard myself with challenges and worries and just get over them, but now I think it’s time to find that one sturdy thing and plant myself there. The best choice was working out, and I think it’s changing my behavior a lot. I’m hoping that, if I keep working out for a year or two, I’ll become a different person.

Music is your job, but also your life. Like you expressed in “Dis-ease,” how would you say you feel about your work? RM: This is my job and my calling and I feel a great sense of responsibility. I think I’m lucky and happy that I can solely worry about my creative process. And I feel very responsible to those people who put their trust in me, so I try not to cross any lines, judge myself honestly, and always be professional. Those are the responsibilities that come with the job—the things I have to do and the promises I won’t betray. But if I’m going to do it, I’m going to be happy while I do it. That’s not always going to be possible, but that’s generally how I feel.

Well then, how do you feel about BTS at the moment? RM: BTS is … Well, it’s really hard to tell. (laughs) When BTS started out, I thought, “I know everything there is to know about BTS,” but now it’s, “I don’t know a single thing about BTS.” In the past, I felt like I knew everything, and that anything was possible. Call it childish or ambitious. But if I were to ask myself, “What is BTS to me?” I would say, we’re just people who met each other because we were meant to. But it feels like the stars aligned and a startup company became a unicorn, with perfect timing and lots of smart people. Looking back, there were a lot of ironies and contradictions in this industry. I thought I figured them out one by one, and then finally understood the whole thing. But now I feel like I don’t know anything at all. Anyway, to sum up: My young, reckless twenties. The events of my twenties. There were a lot of contradictions, people, fame, and conflict all tangled together, but it was my choice and I got a lot out of it, so my twenties were an intense but also happy time.

And what about you, as one individual person? RM: I’m a real Korean person. (laughs) A person who wants to do something in Korea. I think millennials are charging into society stuck between the analog and digital generations, and what I chose is BTS. So I try to integrate myself into our generation, try to understand what people like me are thinking, and try to work hard to capture that feeling without being a burden on them. This might be another kind of irony itself, but this is who I am. I’m a 27-year-old Korean. That’s what I think.

Trans © Weverse

[ladyaj-13]

Thank you @astridcontramundum for the tag! This was fun :)

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you’ve written, then pass this on to at least five other writers. 

When I say fun, I also mean really difficult :D In no particular order:

Out of Line - Endeavour, Morse/Sam, T, 15k

The first fic on AO3 for this pairing (there's still only three, and the other two are smut in Italian, come on people, write me some more), this story somehow demanded to be written. I tried not to. It came out anyway. And I ended up really liking it.

Like Spinning Tops we Stop - Endeavour, Morse/Jakes, G, 20k

Utter domestic fluff. It's kid-fic, it's going on holiday, it's cooking for each other and it's 'lets get you out of those wet clothes, my love'. For quite a while it was also the longest thing I'd written. I re-read it all the time.

Hot Water - Merlin, gen/pre-slash Merlin/Arthur, G, 3.6k

I have a real soft spot for the story that, a decade after I'd watched the show for the first time, finally managed to break through my Merlin-specific writing block. And then I was completely blown away by the response.

Blind Date - One Direction, OT5, G, 14k

I had SO much fun writing this one. It just clicked. The banter and back and forth between all of them, particularly in the first chapter when they're filming the 'Blind Date' episode, flowed so easily. I properly love it.

Follow Your Arrow - One Direction, Louis/Harry, T, 36k

I have to mention my first ever Big Bang, published just this week. It's so long, guys. For me, this is ridiculous. Over 36,000 words? Preposterous. But also what a lovely experience this whole thing was, with my wonderful artist, patient and kind beta, and the incredibly supportive mods.

Tagging (if you fancy it) @imaginationtherapy, @ronniebox, @neondiamond, @hekate1308 and @haztobegood!

[baywindowproductions]

You Make My Hart Go "Bloylalaloo" (Rilaya Oneshot)

Hey, Fandom - Ren here! 🙂 I know this post is really, really late, but I promised a Rilaya fanfic for you guys to celebrate reaching my first 100 followers in the summer of 2016, so here it is! 🙂 I procrastinated on this so much, so thank you for your patience. Also, this is my first fanfic (despite having been a writer for 13 years, I’m a little rusty due to writer’s block/lack of inspiration), so forgive me if this sucks somewhat 😂

But anyway, I hope you enjoy! 🙂

Prompt: Riley and Maya are hanging out in Riley’s room, and Riley’s mere existence is making Maya feel all the feels (as usual), and it gets to the point where she quietly utters, “Bloylalaloo!” and Riley hears and says, “What?” but Maya tries to deny it. Riley won’t have any of that, though, and eventually pulls it out of her - at which point, Riley also shares her feelings for Maya, and BOOM! Rilaya happens.

(fun fact: another fanfic was written using this same prompt (submitted by me), which I would totally recommend for you guys to check out as well; it was written by KaiAnatoly2017 on Wattpad and is simply titled "Bloylalaloo")

Pairing: Riley Matthews x Maya Hart

Genre: Fluff (romantic)

Word Count: 1,153

Rating: T

Riley Matthews sat in her bay window with a wide smile on her face, relishing over the adorable dream she had last night. The bunny and the puppy had kissed (as they usually did), and she was bubbling over with so much elation that she thought she might explode if she didn’t rant to someone about it. Thankfully (as if the timing couldn’t be more perfect), a certain blonde someone decided to climb in through the bay window at that very moment. Maya Hart - Riley’s best friend; and, unbeknownst to the blonde beauty, the girl she had been in love with since the moment they met.

“Hey, Riles!” Maya greeted her with that same old warm smile, which she saved only for her best friend. The one that made Riley feel like they were the only ones in the universe. So much so, in fact, that she had to break herself away from staring endearingly into the blonde’s ocean blue eyes, long enough to ask Maya to repeat the sentence she’d failed to process.

“I’m sorry, what?” Riley asked, shaking herself out of her stupor.

Maya chuckled to herself, before asking again. “I said, what’s got you so happy this morning?”

“Oh, um….” Riley couldn’t hold back her slight giggle as she blushed and looked down at her lap, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Certainly more than one thing, she thought.

But she decided to ignore her feelings, when she remembered what that other thing was: the dream that she was just dying to tell her best friend about before she arrived. The one about the bunny and the puppy. Kissing.

“Well, I had the most adorable dream last night, Peaches!” She said, looking up at Maya with the most beaming smile you could ever imagine.

With this kind of expression coming from someone like Riley, Maya wasn’t the least bit surprised at this announcement; she had come to understand, in all the years she’d known her, that this was just who Riley was. And she loved her for that.

In fact, it was one of Maya’s favorite qualities about her.

“Oh, really? Care to tell me what it was about?” Maya asked, crossing one leg over the other and leaning toward Riley, her palm resting softly on the bay window cushions as she looked lovingly into her best friend’s eyes.

And with that - barely able to contain herself - Riley launched into her rant.

As Riley started talking a mile a minute, completely absorbed in the absolutely adorable scene she was describing, Maya took in the amazing sight in front of her: her best friend and love of her life, sitting in the bay window, bursting with joy and so excited to tell her about something wonderful that she had witnessed (even if it was only in the confines her own mind). The sight itself was enough for the artist to bubble over with feelings of her own.

So, with her gaze lovingly transfixed on the brunette, Maya softly breathed out the only word she could think of, to describe the…. well, indescribable feelings she had.

“Bloylalaloo!”

Riley’s words slowed to a halt as she squinted curiously at her, making Maya realize instantly what she had just done. Her eyes widened in panic as she leaned back a little, taking her palm off of its resting place in the bay window, and tried to think of a Plan B on the fly.

Okay Hart, breathe. Just play it off like you didn’t just single-handledly reveal you’re in love with her, and she’ll leave it alone, Maya thought.

….Hopefully.

“What was that?” Riley asked quizzically.

Hope is for suckers.

“Nothing!” Maya replied, probably a little too quickly. She turned back towards the bay window, ready to climb out and down the fire escape so she could run home, and avoid having to face Riley with her feelings... and the rejection she knew would inevitably come.

But, as it turned out... Riley had other plans.

She grabbed hold of the back of Maya’s culottes to halt the attempted escape - much in the same fashion as Maya had done to her, actually, on the latter’s fourteenth birthday.

"Maya, I'm not letting you leave this bay window until you admit what you said!"

Silence.

Riley's features softened before she spoke up again. "Peaches? Please... just tell me what you said!"

"No!" Maya let out, her voice strangled.

"I know what you said, Maya; and I know what it means!"

"Then why do I have to blurt it out and ruin everything?!" Maya demanded, finally turning back to face her best friend.

Slightly trembling, she braced herself for the next words to come out of Riley's mouth.

Smiling fondly at the blonde beauty, Riley simply replied, "Because it won't be ruined."

Maya's features turned from sadness to a cross between realization and surprise. Of all the things she'd expected to hear, this definitely wasn't one of them.

After all, hope was for suckers, right?

"What?" Maya said softly, throat closing as a high-pitched sound made its way past her lips.

Riley smiled softly, looking lovingly into the blue eyes of the one she loved the most, her extraordinary relationship. "You won't ruin everything, Maya."

There was a pause as Maya's vulnerable eyes searched Riley's assured ones.

"Because I feel the same way." Riley admitted, letting out a euphoric laugh.

At this, Maya let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. A relieved, breathy giggle escaped her lips. Still hesitant, though, she decided to ask the brunette a question, just to settle her worries.

"Ring power?"

Riley's smile grew even more assured. "Ring power."

"Why didn't you say anything, Riles?" Maya asked.

"Probably the same reason you didn't. I was scared of losing you. That you would feel differently about me."

"Hey, you could never lose me. And that's on ring power." The two girls giggled, feeling a weight lift from their shoulders, knowing they didn't have to hold in their feelings any longer.

Maya, once again, looked deeply into her chocolate brown eyes, and she asked her, "You wanna know how you make me feel?"

It was Riley's turn to have vulnerable eyes. "What?"

Maya smirked a little as she lifted the tips of her fingers to hold Riley's chin. Then, she slowly leaned in, closed her eyes and placed a soft, passionate kiss on her best friend’s lips.

Riley melted into the kiss, her hands going to the blonde beauty's waist and shoulder. They held the kiss for a few seconds before Maya pulled away, leaned her forehead on Riley's and whispered, "Bloylalaloo!"

At this, the two erupted into giggles, leaning in again after a moment as their lips moved more passionately against each other than before.

A few minutes later, Maya pulled away and said, "Hey, I guess your dream kinda came true, huh?"

Confused, Riley asked, "What?"

"The bunny and the puppy really did kiss!"

Riley's eyes widened with awe, and a moment later her legs started bouncing, her smile growing more and more exaggerated.

She was about ready to explode with happiness.

With a knowing eye-roll and a snort, Maya simply said, "Go ahead, let it out!"

"YYYYYYYYAAAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

[klixxy]

weekly fic recs

(ft. my bookmark comments - mostly mha and voltron)

boku no hero academia:

what is right and what is easy - theroyalsavage

(bnha; tododeku; fluff + angst; 2k words; oneshot)

Midoriya Izuku is not chosen to represent Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament. He does not slay a dragon, or rescue innocents, or brave a maze of dark magic. He does not win accolades, or fame, or glory.

Instead, Izuku meets the son of the greatest dark wizard of the age, a Durmstrang student with hair like a sunrise and eyes like a war. And maybe, he just might win something else.

If I'm Being Honest.... by I_dont_know_man 

(bnha; tododeku; fluff + crack/humor; 26k words; oneshot; truth quirk)

Midoriya scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Uh, Shouto, why are you glaring at me like that?”

“I-” Todoroki began to lie, until nausea slammed him like a door to any room that Bakugou entered. “I--” Todoroki grit his teeth, and glared daggers into the wall behind Midoriya. Goodbye, friendship. It had been absolutely divine while it lasted. “Because you’re very attractive.”

They say honesty is the best policy, but it sure as hell had a knack for Todoroki making a complete and utter fool of himself.

Or: In which Todoroki is placed under a mysterious truth-telling quirk and suffers, Uraraka laughs at him, Midoriya is confused but smitten nonetheless, and Twitter is the thirstiest site on the planet.

paint on our lips (paint on those fingertips) by spicanao

(bnha; tododeku; angst + magical realism; 11k words; oneshot; gallery au)

Galleries are wonderful places. The works seem so vibrant, so beautiful, so alive.

Until they're actually alive.

(Ib AU)

[my bookmarks: holy shit this is beautiful in an odd, poignant, dream-like way]

Todoroki Shouto’s Amateur Guide to Not Fucking Up The Timeline by Anubis_2701

(bnha; tododeku; crack/humor; 13k words; oneshot; time travel; future fic)

All that Todoroki had wanted was milk. Nothing drastic, nothing dramatic, just milk.

Unfortunately, in his quest to get milk, he ended up running into one of the saltiest, most impulsive people this side of the globe. Who also just so happened to have a volatile time-travel quirk.

So yeah, he was fucked. Just slightly. Being punted randomly through time wasn't exactly how he'd wanted to spend his Saturday morning. At least the younger versions of his friends are cute.

awake and (un)afraid, asleep or- by driedupwishes

(bnha; tododeku; fluff + angst + The Feels; 54k words; oneshot; social media/future fic)

“You,” Shoto says, picking his head up from where his screen is filled with The Worst Photograph Ever, curtesy of Shinsou, Jiro, Kaminari, his brother, and nearly everyone they know. “You are so dead to me.”

Kirishima blinks, mouth half open while Izuku mutters oh god, it’s too late, isn’t it on the other end of the phone, before Kirishima is leaning into his space to see his screen.

“Oh,” he says, in response to the photo someone in the crowd of civilians watching the fight had taken of them. “Oh, that’s-” he cuts himself off for a minute, leaning back to eye Shoto’s face while on the other side of the phone Izuku smothers what is probably a laugh, and then changes tracks.

“It’s super manly to love and support your friends,” Kirishima tells Shoto haughtily, as if this whole thing isn't his fault in the first place.

-

or: Kirishima and Shoto accidentally start trending on Twitter and in retaliation Shoto decides to make an Instagram to showcase all his Hero Deku merchandise, so that everyone knows how much he loves his boyfriend Izuku, and no one expects how quickly it will all spiral out from there

[my bookmarks: broke my heart. i teared up multiple times and even now I'm barely holding back tears.

pure beauty. pulls an incredible amount of emotion from the descriptive language and conveys the love and loneliness and that pulsing ache so well that i thought that my chest would cave in from the force of all the fucking feelings in it. this entire fic was a perfect, awe-inspiring package of fluff, beautiful shoto and class 1a interaction, heartfelt long distance tododeku feels, and almost every single paragraph had my heart fucking squeezing so hard in my chest that i could barely breathe.

i am in awe.]

Hooliganisms by aphrodaisyacs

(bnha; gen/todofam; crack/humor; 17k words; series; social media)

In which an anonymous artist’s street art of Bald Endeavor goes viral, causing a chain of coincidental events and ironic situations to ripple through the lives of everyone- heroes, villains and civilians alike.

[my bookmarks: i'm crying so much from laughter]

Part 1: Where it all begins- the origins of the street artist known as the "Bald Hooligan" and their rise to infamy

Part 2: The spin-off focusing on the unlikely trio whose friendship was borne from the events of Part 1

Daydreaming by AnonymousTwit

(bnha; gen/todobakudeku; angst; 7k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric)

If he'd been more careful, then they'd be fine. If he'd been paying attention, then he wouldn't be alone right now.

But he wasn't and he hadn't, so it's just him, now. It's him, his thoughts, and the unconscious bodies of two of his closest friends as he waits for someone to reach them.

Whether they be friendly or not.

Or

Author has writer's block and coughed up some Todoroki angst in retaliation.

A Study in Firsts by Oceanbreeze7

(bnha; gen; angst + fluff + humor; 76k words; ongoing; class 1a-centric)

There’s a first time for everything.

The first time everyone crammed in Momo’s room to study, a mess of limbs and books on her bed.

The first time Mina burned crepes so badly the smoke alarm went off.

The first time a jumpscare got Sero so badly, he flipped off the back of the couch.

The first time Uraraka fell asleep at the table and accidentally sent it floating.

The first time someone realized Todoroki walked far too quietly, and far too cautiously around the dorms to be normal.

The first time Midoriya broke his toe on a door frame and kept walking through it.

The first time Kirishima woke up screaming through the walls.

The first time Tsuyu blanched at the sight of a needle.

The first time Bakugo dropped, clutching the back of his neck with eyes scarily vacant and detonating everything around him until Aizawa had to intervene.

It wasn’t always pretty, but the dorms were filled with firsts.

Responsibility by deafmic

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 94k words; series (complete); todoroki-centric; dadzawa + papamic)

“I told you outside,” Aizawa chooses his words carefully, reiterating the same point he’s made before. “My responsibility for you doesn’t end at the classroom. Every part of your life is partially my responsibility. Your father doesn’t scare or intimidate me. If you need help, I can get it for you, but you and I both know that you need to ask for it first.”

Aizawa organizes a way for the students to go home for the holidays. Todoroki Shouto, however, gets left behind by his father. Aizawa, annoyed at Endeavor, takes Shouto under his care for the night, and is joined by a certain Yamada Hizashi.

[my bookmarks: *unholy screaming sobbing noises*

an incredible and emotional journey from start to finish.]

the drip of melting ice by walking_through_autumn

(bnha; gen/platonic shintodo; angst + fluff; 19k words; oneshot; todoroki/shinsou-centric ft. dadzawa)

Aizawa found out within a day. It was quite likely due to the dish Todoroki had washed and left to dry in the shared kitchen after the kitten had been fed off it. Hitoshi was forced to reflect that it wasn’t any good hiding the litter and cat food in their wardrobes if Todoroki was going to make a fundamental mistake like that.

Aizawa stood in his door frame and raised an eyebrow. “Well? Where is the cat?”

Hitoshi gave his most disarming smile. “What cat?”

Todoroki chose that moment to exit his room, eyes on his phone, other hand holding a cat toy. He bumped into Aizawa and looked up slowly, like in a horror movie.

“...oh,” Todoroki said. Aizawa raised the other eyebrow. Hitoshi rubbed a hand down his face.

Herbal tea, weekly floor gatherings, spoiled surprises, movie marathons, shared custody over a cat, rain and ice and blankets and plushies, and the journey of falling into a friendship.

(Or: Hitoshi moves into the 2A dormitory at the beginning of his second year, learns who his neighbour is, and makes the friends he had declared he isn't there to have within the space of a semester.)

Hand in Hand in Hand by kngsbrg (Citlalcoatl)

(bnha; todobakudeku; fluff + strangers to lovers; 10k words; oneshot; tea au)

Boiling the water, choosing the right temperature for the right kind of tea, using quality leaves, scooping the precise amount, and letting it steep for just the perfect time...

All that and more is needed to make a delicious cup of tea.

A business that Shouto was quite knowledgeable about.

*

Spring begins and brings with it the hint of new fresh air, buds waiting to blossom, and just a bit of change.

[my bookmarks: featuring: oblivious teamaker shoto and pining firemen baku and izu]

even if i die (it's you) by monomoon

(bnha; todobaku; fluff + angst + strangers to lovers; 75k words; complete; paramedic au)

Or; where Todoroki never went to UA and, in rejection of his father's ambitions, became a paramedic; and where pro hero Bakugou Katsuki is just a little bit too intrigued with the heterochromatic man who always glares daggers at him whenever he sees him.

When Bakugou was suddenly and abruptly met with two cold, heterochromatic eyes glaring daggers right back at him, he had two immediate thoughts:

"Why does he look like he's plotting my assassination?"

and

"Why the fuck are his eyes so pretty?"

[my bookmarks: UGH THIS IS JUST FUCKING PHENOMENAL- GORGEOUS LOVELY INCREDIBLE HEARTSTOPPING HEARTBREAKING BEAUTIFUL RIDICULOUSLY GOOD POIGNANT I AM RUNNING OUT OF ADJECTIVES BUT IT'S GREAT TRUST ME AKDHJSFNW]

This Is Now by colormesherlocked

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort + fluff; 193k words; series (ongoing); todoroki-centric)

Todoroki Shoto will be a hero.

...But not just yet. Right now, Todoroki Shoto is a bitter, pessimistic, hurt teenager who doesn't want help, friends or hinderances of any kind getting in the way of his misguided goals.

Thankfully, there will soon be people in his life who will be more than happy to drag him into a place of happiness, safety, and acceptance - kicking and screaming the whole way, if they have to. All he has to do is survive his first meeting with them and all the incredible changes that will come after.

This is Todoroki Shoto's Hero Academia.

(Semi-canon compliant up to a point and told from Todoroki Shoto's POV.)

the league of anti-villains by aizawa_wears_crocs (avenris), avenris

(bnha; gen; angst + fluff + humor; 35k words; ongoing; todobakushinmono-centric)

When he's secretly tasked to find the UA traitor, Todoroki isn't expecting help. He's especially not expecting it from the three other first year students perceived as villainous in their own ways. Unfortunately for him, Shinsou, Monoma and Bakugou have all got something to prove, and his solo mission turns into a team effort that rapidly spirals far beyond what they were expecting to find - but hey, they're in too deep now.

Or: in which the gang solves the mystery of the traitor feat. todoroki family shenanigans, copious amounts of dadzawa, backstory for my favorite 1-B gremlin, and good old-fashioned illegal vigilantism.

such eloquent graffiti by firelilyblooms

(bnha; todobaku; angst + hurt/comfort; 9k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; future fic)

Todoroki Shouto is sitting cross-legged at his coffee table, hunched over a bowl of instant ramen, when he finds out along with the rest of the world that the Flame Hero, Endeavor, is dead.

Or, Shouto's guide to dealing with death.

[my bookmarks: i am in ✨pain✨:)]

Tell-All by HopeNight

(bnha; todofam; angst; 4k words; oneshot; todofam/natsuo-centric)

When Natsuo is twenty-years-old, he publishes a tell-all book on his father and growing up in his house. This starts a domino effect, of course. With the book comes an investigation and sets the groundwork for the Hawks scandal in several years’ time that will see the disbandment of the Heroic Public Safety Commission and the ascension of pro hero Deku to the Number One slot. This will also lead to a decades long chain of change and progress with Deku wielding his influence and charisma like a sword and shield to make society and the world a little better than when he found it.

In essence, you can say, that Todoroki Natsuo is the true hero of this story with his fake quirk and an anger burning in his gut. Just one small book and suddenly…everything changes. The future is brighter for its existence. The curtains are thrown back and the light begins its work to disinfect and cleanse.

When Todoroki Shouto is in his second year of UA, his brother, Natsuo, publishes a tell-all book of essays about growing up in Endeavor's house.

This is Natsuo's story about how he really changed the path of things.

like an open wound by filzmonster

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 5k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; manga spoilers)

It's a Sunday and Shouto is making gyoza in the dorm kitchen - or: It's a Sunday and Todoroki has an existential crisis over food.

[my bookmarks: oh my GODDDDDDDDD

*screeches while crying**is a blubbering mess*]

Shouto Todoroki and His Stuffed Eeyore (And Also Childhood Trauma) by ThatSpicySeaFlapFlap

(bnha; gen; angst + MORE ANGST; 42k words; complete; todoroki-centric)

Aizawa looked him in the eye, placed a gentle hand around his bicep (not like Endeavor, his father had only ever touched him with the intention to burn) and asked, “Are you okay?”

People don’t usually ask him things. They like to tell him things, like where to sit or what to wear or how to talk or how to be a hero or how to be himself.

‘Am I okay?’ He thought. He realized he doesn’t ask himself things, either.

Shouto didn’t have an answer to Aizawa’s question, so instead he said:

“A very long time ago, my mother did something....highly upsetting.” The boy was tracing the outline of his scar, his calloused finger stopping and jumping around the bumps and ridges of the burnt skin. “Something today reminded me of that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” His teacher asked.

“No.”

“Okay. I’m here when you do. I’m always here, kid.” Shouto only responded with a sob. He felt as if he’d earned that right after all the emotional labor he had been put through tonight.

days by chibistarlyte

(bnha; todobaku; angst + hurt/comfort; 19k words; series (complete); todoroki-centric)

Most days, Shouto is fine.

But some days...

Some days, Shouto falls apart.

Location Sent by sunflowerstorm

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 15k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; third year 1a)

In their first year at UA Midoriya sent his location to the class 1-A group chat during the Hosu incident because he didn't have time to do anything else before rushing to Iida's aid.

Now in their second year, Todoroki sends his location to the group chat at 6:30am on a Saturday morning after going home for the weekend. Midoriya knows immediately that something is very wrong and takes off, Bakugo hot on his heels.

-----

"They’d known each other long enough to be able to communicate practically wordlessly. The quiet rage on Midoriya's face was extremely telling, this was bad. Bakugo braced himself as Midoriya shuffled to the side to show where his hands were hovering over what was most certainly a burn and a serious one at that. Todoroki’s own fire didn’t burn him but they all knew that didn’t make him fire proof. Bakugo could do the math."

Faith by phinnium

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 7k words; oneshot; todoroki-centric; manga spoilers)

"You wanted to open a case?"

Aizawa frowned, "uh, yeah. Someone showed you Dabi's video, didn't they? And I don't doubt Todoroki himself has told you bits and pieces."

Izuku did not expect this to be how the conversation went.

"Yeah. But Todoroki isn't being hurt now. He's fine. Endeavour's changed."

Or: Midoriya trusts the Hero Commission far more than he should, especially given the situation at hand. Todoroki isn't available to explain what's what, so Aizawa and Bakugou do it instead.

(Written after the release of issue 293 of the manga, and in the aftermath of the current arc. Spoilers ahead.)

Incendiary by macrauchenia

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 17k words; ongoing (hiatus?); todoroki-centric)

"You're going to die, little Todoroki. And if you don't, your classmates will instead."

A training exercise backfires when Izuku and Todoroki become tangled in an escaped villain's vendetta against Endeavor. Alone in a perilous situation due to the villain's barrier quirk, Todoroki must take desperate and creative measures to save his classmates.

[Class 1-A Teamwork/Bonding]

Parallax by petrichor (findingkairos)

(bnha; gen; angst + hurt/comfort + fluff; 64k words; ongoing; todoroki-centric)

Todoroki Shouto has memories that he didn't make on his own, motor skills that his brain doesn't know how to parse, and a love of science and mathematics and physics that means he broke down his Quirk into its most intricate, universe-bending components at the age of seven.

In one universe, he wants to become a hero. In this one, even though he doesn't want to, he might have to.

(Featuring: a rapidly developing Shoutosquad, Quirk science, headcanons of all flavors, healthy and supportive sibling and sibling-like relationships, and Dadzawa.)

[notes: one of my current favorite fics that i’m eagerly following for the next update. :D]

Caturdays by staqua (aka my fav todobaku author)

(bnha; todobaku; fluff + angst + enemies to lovers; 10k words; oneshot)

"Hmm... It's lunchtime now isn't it? You should have lunch with him."

"With Bakugou?" He blanched. "I think he would refuse and then murder me."

Rei chuckled softly as if death was a joke and held his hand tenderly. "If he's in the hospital, someone he cares about must not be well. I think anyone going through that should have a nice meal with good company."

"You overestimate me," Shouto pointed out and she gave another laugh.

OR: Shouto's usual Saturdays included visits to his mother and the cat cafe; he wasn't expecting Bakugou to get thrown in the mix.

voltron: legendary defender:

*hacks twitter in space* by Zakyuu 

(vld x marvel; gen/klance; crack/humor + fluff; 17k words; social media au; ongoing)

the voltron paladins arent as popular as the avengers, obviously — in fact, no one even knows they exist. but they still radiate the same kind of dumb gay energy like the rest of the world.

or: pidge somehow manages to connect voltron's communicators onto earth and virtually nothing is the same. voltron also collectively makes everyone lose their marbles while they play hot potato with the fact that theyre in a ten thousand year war with the galra.

the fear of falling by amillionsmiles

(vld; gen; angst + fluff; character study; 3k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

Keith can pull off a downward spiral. It's the kind of maneuver he does in his sleep.

[my bookmarks: stunning. beautiful. breathtaking. poignant.]

Recoil/Release by Cheshyr

(vld; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 22k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

When Keith is bitten by an alien creature with venom that causes your dominant emotions to be amplified, the team is ready for a day of dealing with an incredibly angry paladin.

Which means they're not ready at all for what actually happens.

hound by story_monger

(vld; gen; angst + hurt/comfort; 47k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

Keith has a lot of practice being alone; you might almost say he's good at it. When he finds himself seriously injured and stranded on an unknown planet, he knows he's not alone there. And here's the worst part: even after rescue and after things return to normal, Keith gets the distinct sense that whatever was on that planet has followed him. He doesn't have proof. But he knows it's there. He knows it's not going to stop until it gets what it wants.

Keith's 'Physical Contact' Initiation Program by alisayamin (sh_04e)

(vld; gen; fluff+ angst + hurt/comfort; 26k words; oneshot; keith-centric)

Keith didn’t move and neither did Pidge. It was a little awkward until Keith finally said, “Maybe we could officially officiate this..?”

“What do you mean?”

“Fist me.”

Pidge recoiled and sputtered, “Keith, what the f-” She was cut off by Shiro’s bellowing laughter from the observatory deck.

With his straight face unchanged, Keith lowered his left hand with the stopwatch and lifted his right hand, fisted.

Pidge actually sighed with so much relief, “OH. You mean fistbump! Right.” She slapped her forehead to remove the very very wrong image her imagination drew for her, “Holy shit, Keith, we need to work on that but yeah sure, I’d be honoured to officiate your physical contact program whatever.”

Or

That one time Coran realized Keith was too distant and decided to make him undergo the 'Physical Contact' Initiation Program which then led to --> 5 times the paladins realized Keith was an actual cat.

The Red String by Le_Tournesol

(vld; gen/klance; angst + fluff; 19k words; series (ongoing); keith-centric; pre-voltron au)

Lance and Keith keep coming across one another at different points in their lives.

[my bookmarks: this is so sad and sweet and lovely]

All that is gold does not glitter by Rangergirl3

(vld; gen; angst + fluff + hurt/comfort; 28k words; complete; keith-centric)

Keith isn't what most would call a 'people' person, but that doesn't stop him from caring about his team.

aka

Five Times the other Paladins learned something about Keith, and the One Time he learned something about them.

[my bookmarks: fuck. just- fuck.]

Miscommunication Celebration by SleepySsnail

(vld; gen; fluff + hurt/comfort; 4k words; oneshot; keith-centric; birthday fic)

Keith was never too focused on his birthday, but when it rolls around he hopes his team remembers it. When Keith's birthday is full of quality time and fun, he doesn't even question why his friends haven't said "happy birthday" to him.

Or: Where Keith thinks everyone is celebrating his birthday when they really forgot about it.

Keithtober 2019 Day 23: Birthday

avatar: the last airbender:

Change of Address by hearmerory

(atla; gen/zukka; ANGST + fluff + hurt/comfort; 89k words; series (ongoing); zuko-centric; modern au)

A collection of instances in a modern AU of Zuko's shitty childhood, featuring Ozai's dislike of his son's autism and sexuality.

[my bookmarks: FUCK F U C K WHAT THE ACTUAL F U C K.

I CAN'T WITH THIS ANYMORE.]

[fyeah-bangtan7]

RM: “I spend a lot of time thinking about where I am now”

The story of BTS’ new album BE started on April 17, 2020 when group member RM announced its production on the BANGTANTV YouTube channel. In the seven months that followed until the album’s release, RM’s mind was full, his thoughts flowing in and out of his head.

How do you feel about the unique approach you took to making your new album, BE? RM: The other members were a ton of help to me. My lyrics made it on the album, but the music I composed didn’t, so I’m really thankful to the group for the music. How should I say this? I feel like everyone is doing a great job. There are so many parts in these songs that I’m indebted to them for. “Stay” was originally going to be the title song on Jung Kook’s mixtape, but everyone liked it so much, and they all agreed to put that on our album. That’s how much influence they had. I’m really happy my room idea was chosen to be the album photos. Since we’re spending a lot of time in our rooms because of COVID-19, we laid out the idea of each of us decorating a room in our own style. I can’t remember for sure (laughs) but I think I’m the one who came up with that. I made a comfortable room, one that’s modern and warm because that’s what I like.

There’s a painting in the middle, and symmetrically arranged figurines. RM: The figures are from my own collection. I wanted to show one of my paintings, but that didn’t pan out. But still, those are the things I hold most dear to me right now, so I let the room embody the things I wish I had, too.

It’s well known that you like art and frequent exhibitions, but how do you feel when you look at art in your home or another space where there are no people, like in the album art? RM: Someone said, “You don’t have to buy this painting; it’s yours so long as you’re looking at it.” That’s my favorite sound bite these days. What I most envied about painters was that, even after they died, their work would be hanging up somewhere, maybe even in another country, still defining that space. Musicians leave behind their songs and videos, too, but it’s only through fine art that viewers in the future are able to completely meet artists from the past. I’m envious that this is only possible for painters. These days I’m trying to find spaces where I can have more relaxed viewing experiences.

There’s a full experience involved, from the time you get ready to leave your house until the time you’re actually looking at artwork in the gallery. RM: That’s perfect to me. There’s art you can keep at home, and then there’s art that should always be viewed in museums.

What effect do you think that type of experience has on your music? You didn’t compose any of the songs but instead participated in writing the lyrics to all of the tracks. Did that experience affect your lyric writing in any way? RM: I think it’s helped me develop a way of thinking using all the senses. I used to be attuned to speech and focus on language and auditory textures, but now I can look at my thoughts from many different angles. That’s why I spend more time studying art now. I’m waiting for the day that it all comes to the surface, like when you paint the base on a canvas over and over so the colors pop. It’s hard to answer in one word if it has a direct influence on my work, but I think people who create music develop a way of seeing the world through their personal experience and their creative process. Painters naturally exhibit their art over a very long period of time. I think it gave me an eye for looking at the world in one long, continuous stroke. So now it’s become a little challenging for me to write lyrics these days. I’ve become more cautious.

Why is it so challenging? RM: I used to have so many ideas pouring out that it was hard to pluck one out. So I would stack them up like a Jenga tower and ponder over which one to remove. But now, it’s hard to even add a block to the stack. I’m not sure why but, when I look at these artists whose works span their entire lives, I sense that the rhythm of my creativity is slowing down more and more. That’s the source of my dilemma. I’m only 27 years old. I still need to wander around and get tripped up a little. But am I just trying to imitate what the fine artists are doing? Or maybe BTS experienced so much in the past seven years, that now it’s time for us to take a breather? I’ve got so many questions, I feel like my hair’s turning white. That’s why none of my songs are on the album. I wrote some, but they were too personal to use there. I don’t exactly like myself like this, but I have to see through to the end in this direction and find the answer.

Maybe for that reason, your rapping has shifted focus to the lyrics more so than trend or musicality. It emphasizes the feeling of the words over a particular format or beat. RM: Exactly. In—was it 2017? Pdogg was talking to Yoongi, Hobi and me about our style, and said, “Namjoon, it feels like you’re becoming a lyricist,” and it really stuck with me. I have a lot of thoughts lately when I watch Show Me the Money or listen to hip hop songs from the Billboard chart. My music started out all about my life as a rapper, so I spend a lot of time thinking about where I am now.

So you’ve started to ask yourself who you are as a musician? RM: I listened to Lee So-ra’s seventh album again today. I keep changing my mind but, if I had to pick between her sixth and seventh album, I like her seventh a little more. And then I listen to the most popular songs on Billboard, and I feel kind of thrown off. Um … There’s something Whanki Kim said that’s been running around in my head lately: After moving to New York, he embraced the style of artists like Mark Rothko and Adolf Gottlieb, but then he said, “I’m Korean, and I can’t do anything not Korean. I can’t do anything apart from this, because I am an outsider.” And I keep thinking that way, too. That’s my main concern lately.

You can feel that on BE. As the members take on more prominent roles as songwriters and producers, characteristics of old Korean music—the kind of music you likely listened to in middle and high school—gradually entered your sound. But your music isn’t from that era, and it sounds like pop, but not quite. RM: The sound has to fit with the whole album so I couldn’t incorporate that feel into BTS songs, but the songs I’m listening to most lately have been Korean. Songs like P-Type’s “Don Quixote,” Dead’P’s “Spread My Wings,” Soul Company’s album The Bangerz. The impressions the songs from back then have left on me, the lyrics from back then and the lyrics from now, they’re different. So BE is both Korean and pop; it’s very unique, in my view.

I think that’s especially true for “Life Goes On.” It’s got a pop melody, but compared to “Dynamite,” it has a very different feel. It doesn’t slip deep into the sentimental, instead allowing the melody to flow naturally. RM: Exactly. The chorus is totally pop, and one of the writers was also American. But the song doesn’t really follow American music trends, weirdly. So I don’t know how “Life Goes On” is going to be received. It’s really calm, almost contemplative. So there’s lyrics, like, “Like an echo in the forest,” and, “Like an arrow in the blue sky.” The song kind of feels like that: It could just float off and disappear. It might even come off as bland next to “Dynamite.”

If nothing else, it seems the song will stick around for a long time. Maybe kids now will listen to it later on in the future. RM: I hope so. That’s the one thing I really hope for, people in the future, thinking back and saying, “Oh, right! Remember that one song?” That’s what my favorite artists and other people who leave a lasting impression on me have in common. One thing common among the songs that have affected me a lot, like Lee So-ra’s seventh album, is that the lyrics they utter in their voice along with the overall sound stick with me. I hope when people look back, my words uttered with the sound of my voice, echoes for a long time in an auditory or visual way, or even throughout their entire lives. But that’s the dilemma: We have all these bling-bling symbols of our success, but we’re not that kind of team.

And yet, BTS’s career path is even more “bling-bling” than ever. “Dynamite” was the top song on the Billboard Hot 100. RM: I was the first one to check our position (laughs) but I didn’t want to get too excited about it. I was scared of facing disappointment so I put the brakes on out of habit, and restrained myself. But on the other hand, I feel like I should relish this moment. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing; shouldn’t I enjoy myself a bit? But I disliked that sensation of only feeling elated so I tried to be as objective as possible. I was just one small part of everything that made this happen.

It reminds me of that part, “Running faster than that cloud of rain / Thought that would be enough / Guess I’m only human after all,” from “Life Goes On.” RM: “Only human” sounds so appropriate for me right now. One time, I saw a dark cloud over the N Seoul Tower while I was walking along the Han River. I was with a friend and we talked about where the border between where it’s raining and where it’s not might be, and suddenly, we came up with the idea to run and find that spot. But after running for 10 minutes, the cloud was even further away than it had been. At that moment, the puzzle pieces snapped into place. You think you can go faster than that dark cloud? No. That’s what I realized then. And I just like what Whanki Kim said, that maybe I can’t do anything not Korean, because that’s what I am. I used to work late and then stay up all night when things weren’t working out, sometimes walking from Samseong to Sinsa station, thinking everything through. But now, like the saying, I realize that maybe I can’t do more than what I am. 

On Weverse, you said that you gained some muscle from working out. Could the change to your body improve your creativity in the long term? RM: I started to think I better change myself a little, physically or mentally. I’m talking about being steady. I used to bombard myself with challenges and worries and just get over them, but now I think it’s time to find that one sturdy thing and plant myself there. The best choice was working out, and I think it’s changing my behavior a lot. I’m hoping that, if I keep working out for a year or two, I’ll become a different person.

Music is your job, but also your life. Like you expressed in “Dis-ease,” how would you say you feel about your work? RM: This is my job and my calling and I feel a great sense of responsibility. I think I’m lucky and happy that I can solely worry about my creative process. And I feel very responsible to those people who put their trust in me, so I try not to cross any lines, judge myself honestly, and always be professional. Those are the responsibilities that come with the job—the things I have to do and the promises I won’t betray. But if I’m going to do it, I’m going to be happy while I do it. That’s not always going to be possible, but that’s generally how I feel.

Well then, how do you feel about BTS at the moment? RM: BTS is … Well, it’s really hard to tell. (laughs) When BTS started out, I thought, “I know everything there is to know about BTS,” but now it’s, “I don’t know a single thing about BTS.” In the past, I felt like I knew everything, and that anything was possible. Call it childish or ambitious. But if I were to ask myself, “What is BTS to me?” I would say, we’re just people who met each other because we were meant to. But it feels like the stars aligned and a startup company became a unicorn, with perfect timing and lots of smart people. Looking back, there were a lot of ironies and contradictions in this industry. I thought I figured them out one by one, and then finally understood the whole thing. But now I feel like I don’t know anything at all. Anyway, to sum up: My young, reckless twenties. The events of my twenties. There were a lot of contradictions, people, fame, and conflict all tangled together, but it was my choice and I got a lot out of it, so my twenties were an intense but also happy time.

And what about you, as one individual person? RM: I’m a real Korean person. (laughs) A person who wants to do something in Korea. I think millennials are charging into society stuck between the analog and digital generations, and what I chose is BTS. So I try to integrate myself into our generation, try to understand what people like me are thinking, and try to work hard to capture that feeling without being a burden on them. This might be another kind of irony itself, but this is who I am. I’m a 27-year-old Korean. That’s what I think.

© source

[blazehedgehog]

Do you ever think of yourself as being on the ASD? Up until the past few years (I'm 25 now), I never considered the possibility but as I delved deeper I identified with a lot of common behaviors (obsession, preferring isolation, social issues/anxiety, pickiness) and explained why I found it so difficult to assimilate in high school.

I’ve occasionally wondered, but there are a lot of things that kind of go against the grain of that kind of diagnosis. The few symptoms I exhibit of ASD also overlap with something that’s far more likely, and that’s that I probably have ADHD.

I had two or three teachers growing up try to convince my Mom that I had ADHD and that I needed to be medicated for it. My Mom refused to believe them, because back in the early 90′s, the traditional definition of ADHD included hyperactivity, and I was not a classically hyperactive kid. The image of ADD kids back then was being unable to sit still, unable to stop acting out. ADD kids were loud and grabby and uncontrollable, which I definitely was not.

We understand a lot more about the condition now and even though you should never self-diagnose, I’m 99% sure I have ADHD. My inability to focus on one singular hobby (hi, I’m an artist, game developer, sound engineer, youtuber, streamer, and writer), my extremely selective and poor memory, my inability to switch tracks and get motivated on something else after my mind is already set, my utter impatience for certain things, etc.

My isolation and social issues can be explained simply by my depression more than ASD, I think. I’ve talked about this before but I fell apart in high school. Things happened to me in middle school; I had bullies that acted like my friends, they did some deeply horrible things to me, and it completely destroyed my ability to trust anyone for decades. To some degree, it still persists to this very day. It just... wrecked me, in a way that’s hard to describe, and harder to even comprehend. I stopped showering. I stopped brushing my teeth. I just gave up on taking care of myself. I’ve blocked most of the memories out because of trauma coping mechanisms; I only know some of these things because other people have told me they happened. It really was that bad.

I had a really bad stretch of like, five years, from around 13 years old to 17 or 18, maybe even 19. I did eventually get away from those bullies in high school, but the combination of self-loathing they left me with combined with my ADHD and the mounting anxiety problems I was developing meant I coasted through an entire semester of algebra class absorbing absolutely nothing and I got a failing grade. Friends (new ones) dared me to skip one class with them for fun, and I figured “Well I’m doing bad in algebra anyway, so yeah, I’ll skip with you and go to the bowling alley.”

And that started the snowball. I became unmoored from the routine of school, which can be a big problem when you have ADHD. Skipping algebra every now and then became always skipping algebra. Then I started skipping gym too, because getting undressed in front of the other kids in the locker room was an introvert nightmare. Skipping two classes turned in to skipping three. Then four. Then all classes. Who cares, right? I couldn’t muster up the interest, especially when I realized I had no idea what the current lesson plan was anymore.

My girlfriend dumped me. The school waited until the start of my senior year to pull me aside and inform me that it was impossible for me to graduate under any circumstances (the first and only sign of disapproval they had shown me in three and a half years). My internet friends were yelling at me. I lost touch with my real-life friends. I had massive, gigantic, reality-ending panic attacks that left me too paralyzed to leave my room even to go to the bathroom. I teetered on the edge of having a nervous breakdown. I lost over 100lbs, leaving me nothing more than skin and bones. The mountain of stress I was feeling was taking a toll on my health.

I shut down. Closed myself off to the outside world. Ryan did not exist anymore. And for something like a decade, that’s how I lived. My only human contact was with immediate family (when they could drag me out in to the sunlight against my will) and with a core group of shrinking internet friends. The few that did not lose respect for me, anyway.

That does things to you. The parts of your brain that knew how to socialize atrophy and you forget how to hold a conversation. When I was still going to school, my cousin and I told each other we should become therapists, because we were excellent at listening to people and being mediators. We could fix anyone’s problems. Now, those skills died inside of me. I went from being able to make anyone feel better to constantly sticking my foot in my mouth. Being a nuisance, even when I wasn’t trying to be. I lost all sense of what was appropriate to say, or how to convey my feelings. Or convey anything outside of a keyboard, really. I made a lot of people angry and upset totally by accident, or pushed them away without realizing what I was even doing.

And all of these bad habits fed in to each other like an endless loop. It was a slippery slope that steeply went down, and down, and down. The more isolated I became, the more I wanted to isolate even more. The shame and embarrassment for who I was becoming kept getting stronger. I was caught in a spiral.

I was getting close enough that I could see where the bottom of the barrel was. I call myself introverted, but I’m also the guy who, completely of his own volition, downloaded the Shoutcast Server software in September of 2000 and hosted an all-night live internet radio broadcast. Alone. I was livestreaming myself playing video games for the internet four years before Twitch.tv was even invented. Whenever it came time to read aloud in class, I was always one of the best, clearest students, never needing to sound out words or pause for anything. Nowadays I'd never say I was anything but an introvert, but deep down there’s also been a voice inside of me dying to get out, and at some point I woke up and realized I could be better. I just need less fear and more confidence.

The person you see writing this blog today is the result of finally starting to become aware of what I was doing to myself, and forcibly dragging myself back out in to the world, inch by inch. I don’t think it’s going very well, but at least I’m still making an effort. I fell apart in to many small pieces, and they’re taking a long time to reassemble. I finally graduated high school about five years ago. (I re-read that post a few months ago and started crying.) As you may pick up on from the differences between that post and this one, I’m still learning a lot about myself and what’s wrong with me. The picture is always becoming clearer by the day.

But knowing the problem means you can find the solution, right? That’s what you’re doing, too.  It’s a slow process, but I continue the fight to heal the damage I’ve done to myself.

Anyway, sorry for getting so randomly heavy and spilling my guts out like this. I appreciate people looking out for me like this. And who knows, maybe I am on the spectrum after all. Just because I have my own theories doesn't mean they're necessarily right.

[becauseanders]

top five fics of 2020

i was not legitimately tagged in this but @tikmasjiens said if one saw their post to take it as a tag which i feel only slightly weird about pretending is a real thing since i am highkey intimidated by them but still, and i would not normally do that from a non-mutual since such a thing still feels like it just, like, wasn’t meant for me? but i am currently hating on my writing real bad since i’m feeling the writer’s block attack and kudos and comment numbers basically make the perception of quality into something quantifiable and i try my best not to get the Big Sads about comparing numbers but this…does not work, like, ever, so fuck it i’m just going to do this to try to hype myself up right now, lol

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

(spoiler alert: this will be 100% atla fics)

Where I Want to Be

sokka/zuko modern au. actor zuko, artist and craftsman sokka. very disability and trauma centered, huge on found family. i was terrified to post this initially but it’s actually been pretty decently received and i still cannot believe it has gotten fan art (ily @ethemreal). i initially posted it on a complete whim after having come up with only a tiny handful of details while chatting and brainstorming with my bestie @kayth1 and i really didn’t expect this to be anything that mattered but i have put a lot of my heart into it and the people who like it seem to really love it and that is just so…wow??

Come Marching Home

sokka/suki/zuko (my #1 atla ship) in-universe post-canon hurt/comfort. when i say i was terrified to post wiwtb, which i was, that had nothing on how scared i was to post this. not only was it my first atla fic and my first fic in such a large fandom, but it was also my first ever non-bioware fic. and i’ve loved atla for years but the renaissance renewed my fervor just like it did for everyone else so with all these new people jumping in at the same time i jumped back in and the first time i jumped this far in…whew. this was also my first fic to make it even as far as 200 kudos (and it has over 600 now) and i never, ever, ever, ever, ever thought anything i wrote would ever get numbers like that (ignoring all the atla fics i read with 1,000+ kudos but…anyway), so posting this and getting the responses i did was just so amazing and this has to get a mention based on it being The Beginning™.

Mine, Ours, Always

sokka/suki/zuko in-universe post-canon non-linear assassination attempt madly jumping tenses and perspectives. found family-centric. mai/ty lee and izumi are important. this is actually my favorite of my atla fics. like, by far. definitely one of my very best from any fandom, in fact. i am just legit really proud of this one.

All I Ever Wanted Was Everything

sokka/suki/zuko in-universe post-canon betrothal fluff. this was a challenge because no matter how fluffy i try to make things, i often still end up inserting way too much angsty bullshit because i am Sad™, and this is by far the fluffiest thing i have ever written and was therefore largely a success in the goal i set for it. and with massive thanks again to @geneticdriftwood for literally providing me with the ending.

True Family Means Never Having to Say You’re Sorry (For Kicking Your Friend’s Terrible Father’s Ass)

sokka/suki/zuko in universe post-canon. protective katara. gaang finds out about the scar. gaang fucks around with ozai. to be completely honest, this is not one of my personal favorites of mine. i was actively drunk when i wrote most of it. it started off and was intended to be serious and emotional and rapidly devolved into utter crack. however, at 725 as of right now it is my most kudos’d fic by quite a bit, and it is the first and currently only fic i’ve ever written to have a related work on ao3. so i guess it kind of has to go here.

i am tagging @foyal, @hawkeykirsah, @faith-less-one, @punkzukka, @wasp-that-never-misses + all the lovely people who have received tags in this post prior (but there is, of course, no pressure to do this, it’s only if you want it to!)

[robhorninginternalexile]

story machine

In this piece on GPT-3, Stephen Marche suggests that using the AI-driven text generator could be likened to ancient invocations of the muse:

The oldest poems in the Western tradition, the Iliad and the Odyssey, begin with an invocation to the muse, a plea for a mysterious, unfathomable other to enter the artist, taking over, conjuring language. GPT-3 is a mysterious, unfathomable other, taking over, conjuring language. It is a muse you will be able to access for fifteen to twenty dollars per month.

The idea seems to be that all writing is at some level just channeling pre-existing bits of comprehended language anyway, so why not use a tool that gets us further along in the processes — instead of a blank page, a few parameters fed into the machine will generate a block of text we can then carve like a sculptor. As one of the entrepreneurs associated with GPT-3 puts it, "The writer’s job becomes as an editor almost ... deciding what’s good and executing on your taste, not as much the low-level work of pumping out word by word by word. You’re still editing lines and copy and making those words beautiful, but, as you move up in that chain, and you’re executing your taste, you have the potential to do a lot more."

It's interesting that writing is conceived here as an industrialized value chain that end users of GPT-3 move up while the people whose writing has been fed into it (not to mention the labor for all the energy that powers it) are driven further down into economic immiseration.

I'm not entirely convinced it would be less work to massage the machine to produce and rework text that aligns with your intentions than to just start writing your own words out of your own thoughts and experiences with language and how you like to use it. Trying to coax it into saying something you want to say would turn self-expression into an indirect, oracular project, sort of like trying to infer your own personality from what a platform's algorithms recommend to you.

GPT-3 produces text that it deems probable based on the collected corpus of English language texts; the more one depends on it, the more one is merely ventriloquizing or normalizing one's thoughts to how the model's interface characterizes or periodizes different kinds of writing. Perhaps eventually the billions of parameters it uses to calculate the next most probable word will be personalized, and there will be a billion parameters that offer what your most probable next utterance will be in an situation. But that sort of thing always seems self-negating to me — your digital double will insist you want to say one thing and you'll know to say something else if you want to continue to be a person and not an algorithmic function. (That's basically what Kevin Munger argues here.)

What GPT-3 seems good for is producing text no one wants to have to write (imagine it will be great for ad copy, as well as for student papers, as is often noted) or to produce surprising text that is fun to read precisely because it seems unintended. This Vice article details how the GPT-3 app AI Dungeon is used by lots of people to generate bespoke interactive porn. Marche imagines GPT-3 completing unfinished works by canonical authors.

"Sudowrite was relatively effective when I asked it to continue Charles Dickens’s unfinished novel “The Mystery of Edwin Drood.” I assume it will be used by publishers to complete unfinished works like Jane Austen’s “Sanditon” or P. G. Wodehouse’s “Sunset at Blandings.”

Not only that, it will be able to produce endless versions of those novels, a million different possibilities. Combined with algorithmic personalization, it can create a completed version that's presumably perfect for you (which should mean that you will detest it for being so on the nose). The whole thing with GPT-3 is it dispense with the idea that any text has to be a particular way; it's all just probabilities, and processes that can be immediately executed again. But there are no novel possibilities here; just raw repetition. There won't be any new thoughts generated out of this processes, just millions of moments of recognition from millions of audiences consuming the surplus of text.

GPT-3 will like accelerate the turn away from text as a middlebrow artistic medium, much as photography made oil painting a recondite, elite practice for connoisseurs only. Most people won't bother being creative in text; they will continue to refine their video-creation skills, their podcasting voices, and so on. These will continue to appear as a much more saturated and direct way of conveying oneself.

[welllpthisishappening]

Where You Can Still Remember Dreaming (1/35)

Killian Jones, former crime reporter, was not happy to be home. It hadn’t been home in a very long time, after all. Home was an abstract construct that existed for people who didn’t know as many adjectives for blood as he did. Home wasn’t New York City, but it certainly wasn’t Boston or New Orleans either and he’d always gone where the story was. And he was positive Emma Swan was one hell of a story.

Emma Swan, pro video game player, desperately wanted to find home. She thought she had, a million years ago in the back corner of a barn and a town and faces she trusted. But that had all blown up in her face and it didn’t take long for her to decide she was going to control the pyrotechnics from here on out. So now she was in New York City and a different corner and she kind of wanted to trust Killian Jones.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 9.1 this chapter. Lots total. Lots.  AN: Ah! Hey, hi, hello there! The thing is happening! After sitting in my Google docs for way too long, AngstFest2k17 is finally seeing the light of internet day. I’m super psyched for you guys to read this and fingers crossed that my video game knowledge is not too obviously lacking. I asked my husband a lot of questions. This is real different than anything I’ve written, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Tuesday and Friday updates because I am who I am. A million thank you’s to @madelainespetsch for reading this over.  Also on Ao3 & FF.net if that’s how you roll. Tag List: @jamif @alicerubyfloyd @kmomof4 @bmbbcs4evr @courtneyshortney82 @jennjenn615 @artistic-writer @onceuponaprincessworld​ @nikkiemms​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

What was that thing Darwin said?

Survival of the fittest? Evolve or die? Something a little less harsh, probably. Or maybe not. The guy was, after all, obsessed with turtles. Tortoises? Maybe.

Killian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push thoughts of Darwin and turtles and how much he absolutely despised the island of Manhattan from his mind. None of those things mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to the office in one piece with some sort of almost-believable smile on his face and a can-do attitude that everyone in a ten-foot radius would probably be able to see through immediately.

So maybe he needed to come up with a slightly better list.

And learn how to breathe through his mouth.

What was it about summer in New York that made everything smell slightly like sewage? It was probably a test. Survival of the fittest or something.

He’d circled right back around to Darwin.

“God damnit,” Killian mumbled, trying to weave his way through a crowd of tourists, all of whom had decided that the middle of Broadway was the perfect place to just stop and take photos.

They didn’t move. Even when he started muttering more curses under his breath and, maybe, didn’t turn his shoulder when the light turned green and the whole lot of them started pushing across the crosswalk and, well, they just deserved to get hit in the side at that point.

Rational. Reasonable. Survival.

Killian Jones was, at one point, at least two of those things and then he turned ten.

And then he wasn’t really any of those things anymore.

And, now, several decades removed from watching that very particular bubble burst right in front of his eyes, Killian Jones was nothing short of angry, frustrated and visibly fed up with just about everything.

Including tourists in downtown Manhattan.

Especially tourists in downtown Manhattan.

“The sign says walk, that means you’ve got to walk,” Killian grumbled, only to be met with the wide-eyed stare of a woman who, very clearly, had never seen a building taller than two stories before in her life.

“What?” she asked. She’d stopped walking. This was not going according to plan. He was going to be late. And maybe get hit by a cab. That would, at least, get him out of this meeting. But then he’d probably drop the coffee in his hand and that was just a waste of four dollars he couldn't really rationalize anymore.

“The sign,” Killian repeated, nodding towards the post on the corner of the block. “See that light-up person on there? It means you can walk. He wants you to walk. Or her. I’m not here to determine gender for a crosswalk sign.” “Just to be an ass.” He shrugged. He wasn’t really expecting that from the very-obvious-tourist with her I Love NY plastic bag, but she wasn’t really wrong. “Welcome to New York or something.” She might have muttered dick under her breath, but she did pick up the pace a little bit and they both managed to get across East 8th without a major traffic incident or possible hit-and-run, so the whole thing seemed like a bit of a victory.

That was, however, until Killian stepped back onto the sidewalk to find himself face to face with an enormous set of doors and a building with far too many windows and the heating bill must have been insane during the winter.

He probably didn’t have to worry about that.

He assumed he wasn’t in charge of the heating or cooling of the building. Just the writing. Maybe. Regina hadn’t been all that specific. And he absolutely hadn’t been listening.

He’d been far too worried about being pissed off at the entire world – her words, not his. She was right. Killian just wouldn’t ever admit to that.

Regina knew anyway. That’s why she’d called in the first place and offered him the job. Offered was generous. She’d demanded his presence in New York a week before, quick to remind him that he didn’t have anything else to do and, as much as it pained Killian to admit, she was right. That’s what he got for telling Robin anything.

Killian sighed, taking another sip – gulp – of coffee and wincing when he burnt the back of his tongue. It was way too hot out to just be standing there, staring at The Daily Caller emblazoned on the two glass doors he still hadn’t managed to open.

God, fucking damnit.

His phone rang in his pocket and Killian might have actually jumped at the sound, taking him by surprise and nearly leading to another dropped coffee incident. He moved the cup into the crook of his elbow, trying to pull his phone out while still keeping the bag on his shoulder from falling on the ground and, somehow, another tourist managed to bump into him.

“What?” he snapped when he finally managed to get his phone out and pressed up against his ear.

“Do you always answer your phone like that? That was incredibly aggressive.” Killian’s shoulders slumped and he heard the thud of his bag hitting the sidewalk. It was probably covered in garbage now, just by default. He’d blame New York. And Robin was practically cackling on the other end.

“Maybe I just knew it was you,” Killian said. “Trying to make jokes. Badly, for what it’s worth.” “Not much. I know my jokes suck. What I don’t know though is why you’re camping out in front of the door when you were supposed to be sitting in a chair in front of Regina’s desk five minutes ago.” “She’d let me sit in a chair? That’s awfully generous of her majesty.” “Don’t be a dick.” “You know that’s not the first time I’ve heard that today.” “And that doesn’t surprise me at all. You should really come inside though, you’re freaking out the receptionist. She wanted security to call the police because she thought you were a really well-dressed loiterer.” Killian scoffed, but he could feel the sweat starting to pool at the base of his neck and the bottom of his spine and maybe he should have taken the jacket off. Or not worn the jacket at all. Or ignored Regina’s commands completely.

That last one was, absolutely, impossible.

“How come you need security to call the police?” Killian asked, delaying the inevitable meeting and not even doing a very good job of hiding it.

Robin laughed again. “They’re security, Killian. They can’t actually arrest you for whatever lewd activity you were doing to scare our receptionist.”

“Lewd, huh? When’d you swallow a thesaurus?” “When I married a reporter.” “That whole being editor thing didn’t help then?” The laughing stopped. Killian smiled and took another drink of the now luke-warm coffee. “See, I want to call you a dick again, but if I do that, you’re going to make another quip about my vocabulary and its limited uses. So, how about you stop being a complete and utter bastard, actually find some kind of unspoken courage and show up to a meeting we’re only having in order to save your ass?” “Did you practice that?” Robin groaned and Killian couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed that easily, probably the last time he’d been in New York and with Robin and Regina and...whatever. That wasn’t important. He’d started breathing through his nose again and he could smell whatever it was that smell was – possibly just the scent of the questionable steam that was actually coming out of the ground at the end of the block, funneled up with city-provided equipment and he’d never understood that.

He’d probably look it up later.

“Dick, ass, bastard, idiot,” Robin listed off, each insult sounding a little less insulting.

“I’m a little hurt by idiot, I’ll be honest.” “Come inside, Killian.” The doors in front of him actually buzzed and he had to admit, he was kind of impressed by that. Killian grabbed one of the incredibly ostentatious handles, kicking his foot back to step over the threshold only to be met by a pair of bright green eyes and even brighter hair and an incredulous expression.

“So you actually came in then,” she said slowly, resting her elbows on the top of the desk in front of her.

Killian narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips slightly and nodded. “So it seems. You guys have air conditioning. That won out.” “Robin said you were late.”

“Five minutes. The subway sucks.” “They’re calling it ‘summer of hell’ for a reason, I guess. Where’d you get stuck?” “Excuse me?” The woman’s expression didn’t change, but she sat up a bit straighter and brushed her hair off her shoulders. “Stuck. On the train. I’m assuming that’s the reason behind the five minutes.” “Well, it’s more like seven minutes now, but that was really Robin’s fault. And, no, had to transfer. He also said you thought I was loitering.” She shrugged. “You’ve got a look to you. And it wasn’t just me. Our security guy agreed with me. He’s the one who said I should call Robin.” “A look,” Killian repeated slowly. Another shrug. He glanced at the desk she was still leaning on, elbows just a few inches away from a nameplate that proclaimed her Ariel Golven. “What exactly constitutes this look?”

“Tall, dark, brooding. You kept staring at that coffee cup like you thought it was going to give you up for murder. Have you murdered anyone recently?” Killian quirked an eyebrow at her and she grinned in response. “Not that I’m aware of, although I can’t be held responsible for anything I do to tourists in the middle of crosswalks. Why, are you trying to turn me into a murderer?” “No, I don’t really want to deal with murderers,” Ariel said. “I’m assuming you’re Regina’s eleven o’clock? The one she and Robin keep talking about in hushed tones?” “Yes to the eleven o’clock, but I refuse to acknowledge tones hushed or otherwise.” He paused, licking his lips and downing the rest of the coffee. Ice cold in ten minutes, flat. “You have a garbage can back there, Ariel? And any idea what was discussed in those hushed tones?”

She laughed. Loudly. Enough to draw the attention of the previously mentioned security guard who, at first glance, appeared to be seventy-two years old and absolutely should call the police before deciding to do anything, if only for the sake of his health and probably several different joints.

“Here,” she said, holding her hand out expectantly and wiggling her fingers when Killian didn’t move immediately. “That’s a yes to the first question,” she continued. “And a vague sense of impressed that you know how to read and an absolutely not to gossiping about the people who sign my paychecks when I know you’re here for some great, big important reason.” “I don’t know about great and important,” Killian argued.

Belittling and just a bit trivial, maybe. Survival of the fittest, it seemed, meant agreeing to things you absolutely, positively would not do in any other situation – like agreeing to come back to New York and be Regina Mills’ eleven o’clock on a Thursday morning in August.

Ariel clicked her tongue. “Ah, but those hushed tones say otherwise.” The phone on her desk rang, a loud, shrill sound that cut through the lobby and seemed to shake off the glass doors and directly into the very center of Killian’s soul.

Darwin probably hadn’t been that emotional. The turtles wouldn’t have allowed it.

“Yeah, he’s here,” Ariel answered, some unspoken question that could only be Regina if the demanding tone of voice on the other end was any indication. Killian still hadn’t handed over his half-empty coffee cup. “Uh, no I don’t think so.”

Killian widened his eyes and Ariel rolled hers, mouthing dead at him. She wiggled her fingers again, finally just leaning over the top of the desk to grab the empty cup and dump it into the trash can behind her. “Thanks,” he muttered, just a bit stunned by the show of kindness and he was a jaded asshole.

Regina was still talking a mile a minute, what sounded like a very detailed list of demands that were only serving to make Killian even later than he already was.

The elevator at the other end of the lobby dinged and they needed to do something about the acoustics of that building because everything just seemed to sound louder, or maybe those were the nerves he’d resolutely refused to acknowledge in the last two weeks, and Killian didn’t even want to think of all the reasons he knew exactly who was walking towards him as soon as the footsteps fell on the tiled floor.

“Killian, seriously, what the hell?” Robin shouted, striding towards him like he was eighteen again and breaking curfew. “We, literally, just went over this.” Killian waved his hands through the air, the silent gesture more than enough to warrant the scowl on Robin’s face and maybe he was eighteen again because he’d absolutely done it for the reaction. “You told me to come inside,” he corrected. “I am inside. And I’m also a guest in your delightfully large office building. You want me to break protocol by not signing in or whatever you do with guests?” “Cretin.” “Oh, that was a good one.” Robin sighed, rolling his whole head in frustration, but there was a hint of a smile on the edge of his mouth and Killian knew he’d won. Ariel slammed the receiver back into the mount, mumbling a few words under her breath and she nearly fell out of her chair when she realized who was standing in front of her.

“Oh, Mr. Locksley,” she stammered. “I, uh, I didn’t realize you...I didn’t see you there.” “It’s fine, Ariel,” Robin promised, elbowing Killian when he couldn’t quite stop himself from laughing. “Killian’s not a guest. He should have a keycard, actually.” “What?” Killian snapped, turning on his friend and, maybe, mentor and pseudo parent-guardian in some sort of sign your permission slips kind of way. Robin brushed him off. “That wasn’t part of the deal. There was no deal.” Robin clicked his tongue, tapping a knowing finger against the strap of Killian’s bag. “Exactly. You gave her an in, Killian and now she’s got her tenterhooks locked in. If you tell her I said that I will push you off the roof.” “I wouldn't dare. “You would. I fully expect you to say something anyway.” Robin took the card out of Ariel’s hand with a smile on his face and promptly pushed it into Killian’s chest. “Take this. Guard it with your life. It’s the only way you’ll be able to get into the building from now on. Come on.” “Wait, what?” “You stop understanding English at some point?” Killian shook his head. “Come on. Gina’s pissed you’re late.”

“Right,” Killian muttered, following Robin back towards the elevators as Ariel shouted welcome aboard as soon as the doors clicked shut.

It took some kind of eternity to reach the twentieth floor, Robin’s smug smile making Killian reconsider every single decision he’d ever made that led him to that moment. Regina had the whole floor to herself. Of course she did.

“God, spare no expense, huh?” Killian asked, running a hand through his hair as they walked towards another set of glass doors.

Robin rolled his eyes. “You really have no sense of self worth at all, do you?” “To be fair, I have no idea what’s actually going on, so I guess I’m just stringing along for the ride at this point.”

Regina Mills looked older than she did when Killian first met her. The band t-shirts that had been some kind of uniform when she was twenty-four and a cub reporter on the entertainment beat were long gone, replaced, instead with a seemingly ever-growing pant suit collection that cost more than Killian’s last apartment in Boston. The curls were gone too and her hair was short, cut straight and business-like, a no-nonsense attitude that seemed to permeate every single inch of the expansive office.

The lights on her desk phone probably never stopped blinking and the pile of paperwork a few feet away from her right elbow probably never got smaller. She looked a bit like her mother.

Killian wouldn’t ever say that out loud.

Robin was absolutely wrong – he had, at least, a little self worth.

“Where have you been?” Regina demanded, not even bothering to get out of her chair. She just glared at Killian.

“And hello to you too, Regina,” Killian answered. “It’s super great to see you. Long time. Or something. How’s everything? How’s Henry and Roland?”

He nodded towards the few frames sitting behind her, decorating the tiny shelf and Killian couldn’t look too long – certain he’d get vertigo from staring out the massive window back towards Broadway. Liam would have made fun of him for that.

Oh.

Oh, well, shit.

He shouldn’t be surprised – jumping back into the deep end of memories and emotions as he was, it only made sense that, eventually, he’d think about Liam. He just wished it wasn’t in front of Regina when he was fifteen minutes late and she was absolutely doing him some kind of enormous favor.

“Can I sit?” he asked. “Or is that against the rules?” Robin groaned, flopping into one of the chairs in front of Regina’s desk and stretching his legs out. Regina might have smiled. “Yeah, you can sit,” she said. “After you answer my question.” “You know I think that’s referred to as aggravating your sources.” “An answer or I’m actually going to get Robin to move that other chair into the hallway and you can stand for the rest of this discussion. Your call, Jones.”

She was definitely smiling and Killian felt some of that ice he’d built up in the very center of him shift just a little bit, the nickname sparking just a hint of feeling. “An ancient callback, your majesty,” he muttered. “And I had to transfer trains. It took fucking forever.” "Why are you taking the train? Aren’t you staying downtown?”

Killian shook his head, sitting down and nearly sighing in contentment when his knees bent. There’d been no seats on the train – either one. “No, it’s too...downtown.” “That doesn’t even make any sense,” Regina countered. “Hip. Is that better?”

“That just makes you sound old,” Robin said. “You could have told us you were staying uptown. We would have sent a car or something. Avoided this whole thing.”

“And not done this get-to-know-you-again banter?” Killian asked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Robin laughed in agreement, but Regina pressed her lips together – a thin line of judgement and red lipstick and understanding that Killian didn’t appreciate at all. “Why are you torturing yourself?” she asked. “He wouldn’t want you to stay up there.” “Straight to the point then,” Killian muttered and Robin stopped laughing immediately. “It’s not like I’m staying in the apartment. It’s just quieter up there.” And maybe Killian wanted to torture himself a little bit.

It was easier to do that when he wasn’t living on Astor Place with 24-hour pizza places and several dozen bars and the incoming freshman class at NYU exercising their first few weeks of freedom from adult supervision.

Once upon a time, Killian Jones lived in a tiny shoebox of a Morningside Heights apartment in upper Manhattan with his brother and it was a mess. They barely paid the rent every month and God knew how Liam managed to feed them every day and, at one point, he only owned two pairs of socks.

It had been an unqualified disaster.

It was, easily, the happiest Killian could ever remember being.

But happiness, it seemed, was not something that was ever meant to be consistent. It was fleeting and easy to lose and, eventually, Killian just decided to stop expecting much of anything from anyone.

Which was why he wasn’t quite sure why he was reacting to Boston the way that he was. He wasn’t just mad – he was pissed off. And yelling at tourists about it.

Print was dead. There was no future in it. Or, more importantly, no profit in it. And he had the metaphorical pink slip to prove it.

An email. Years of work and bylines and ignoring everything else to get the story and the best The Herald could do was send him an email informing him that he was part of a round of staff cuts and he needed to have his desk cleared by the end of the week.

He did one better. He cleared out his entire apartment.

“There’s not really any sense in beating around the bush,” Regina said pointedly and shit she sounded like Cora. Killian rolled his eyes. “Liam wouldn’t want you up there. You’re not the ghost in this situation.” Killian let out a low whistle and even Robin mumbled something that sounded a bit like jeez, Gina, he was ten minutes late, no need to actually ruin his entire day. She just lifted her eyebrows and stared at Killian, waiting for him to argue and smiling slightly when he didn’t.

“What do you want me to say, Gina?” Killian asked, certain if he fell back on nicknames and familiarity maybe he wouldn’t be tempted to run out of the office screaming.

“Why you’re being so difficult about all of this?” Because my brother’s dead and I’ve avoided New York for the last decade and the one job I thought mattered very easily informed me that I was mistaken, again, and your windows are freaking me out.

It sounded absurd in his head, he could only imagine what it would sound like if he actually said any of those words out loud.

“I’m not being difficult,” he said, ignoring whatever strangled sound Robin made next to him. One of Regina’s eyebrows moved. “I’m not! Why are you so mad about ten minutes?” “This is a fairly important website, in case you haven’t noticed,” Regina said evenly. “Strangely enough I do have other things to do besides waiting for you to grace us with your presence.”

“This was your idea.” “And you’re being an ass about it.” “Robin already used that insult, come up with a different one.” “Bastard.” “Nope.”

“Dunce.” Killian grinned and Regina’s shoulders seemed to settle just a bit, spine not quite as straight and the tension in the office not quite as thick. “Winner winner,” he mumbled, ancient games matching up with ancient nicknames and Liam absolutely wouldn’t want him to stay uptown.

“Did Robin give you the keycard thing?” she asked.

“Super articulate, your majesty. And yes, he did. Before he actually coughs up a lung in a misplaced attempt to argue with both of us.” Robin snapped his jaw shut, glaring at Killian again and kicking at his ankle for good measure. “Although I don’t understand why you’re giving me one of these things if I’m just going to write breaking stuff for you.” Robin made another noise – it might have actually be a moan and Killian twisted in the chair, a wooden arm colliding with his side. “What am I missing?” he asked.

“See, this is why you should have gotten here on time,” Robin said. “Then we could have gone over all the reasons you shouldn’t freak out without having to rush over them.” Killian glanced back at Regina, an unreadable look on her face and the phone was probably going to explode at some point if she didn’t acknowledge all of those flashing lights. “Am I not your top priority, Gina?”

“Obviously not,” she responded easily. Robin was going to choke on air. “And you’re not going to do news either.” “What?” Killian’s eyes darted between the two other people in the room, desperate for some kind of contradiction or explanation and all but growling when he wasn’t provided with either.

This whole thing really was Regina’s fault. Not that she’d ever admit to it.

He was eighteen and a freshman in college, working two jobs before and after class and it had been a Saturday afternoon when a twenty-something woman with black hair and bright red nails strode into the coffee shop just off campus and ordered a large Americano with whipped cream and an extra shot of espresso.

She’d been on her phone and there’d been a pen stuck in her hair and a notebook gripped tightly in one hand.  

He thought she was crazy. Whipped cream on an Americano was disgusting. Years later, Killian asked Regina about it and she claimed it was for the sugar, but he got the distinct impression it was some kind of rebellious act because Cora refused to admit that anything good in the world, like whipped cream, existed.

Regina could have done things easier – she could have lived up to her mother’s plans and demands and expectations and she probably could have gotten an above-the-fold story in The Times before she was thirty without having to do much more than mention her last name.

She didn’t want that.

She wanted to earn it. Or so she explained to Killian after she started showing up in the coffee shop  several times a day, saying that she’d moved uptown on her own and graduated with a masters in journalism and was covering music because she loved it.

He never forgot the way her eyes lit up when she started talking about it – the emotions and the feeling and the want and when she told him to come along to see her boyfriend play in Alphabet City that weekend, Killian wasn’t sure he’d seen anyone love anything as much as Regina loved her beat, literal and metaphorical.

He declared the week after, marching into the Dean's office at Hunter with a sense of determination that made Liam ask what he’d done with Killian Jones and it only took a few minutes to lock into some sort of future.

And Killian Jones, reporter was born.

“Explain, Gina,” Killian said sharply, doing his best to get the Mills demand into his voice. It didn’t work. “I don’t know how to do anything except news.” She didn’t look impressed. “Ok, that’s not true at all. You have a degree. I know you took a features writing course once. I fixed your grammar.” “If we’re just here to walk down memory lane…” “Obviously we’re not or I wouldn’t be so pissed off about you being late and screwing up my entire schedule for the day.” “Guys,” Robin cut in, actually standing up to move in between them and Killian didn’t remember shifting to the front of the chair until he was nearly falling off it. “There’s no space in news,” he said, staring intently at Killian. “We don’t have the byline.” “You’re a website,” Killian accused. “An enormous website mostly made up of freelancers. I’m not asking for a staffer job.” “Too bad,” Regina mumbled and Robin shot her a look over his shoulder.

Killian took a deep breath, sliding back until his shoulders collided with the top of the chair. He pressed his tongue against his cheek and stared back at Robin. “Alright,” he said slowly. “I’m listening.” Robin tilted his head slightly – an exasperated move Killian was fairly certain Liam taught him – and balanced on the edge of Regina’s desk. “I’m not even going to acknowledge that with an insult,” he mumbled. “And I don’t care about your reservations as a staffer. That’s why we got you the keycard. You already are one.”

Killian opened his mouth to argue, but Robin just widened his eyes and he’d gotten very good at that look. It probably had something to do with raising two kids. And Liam. Liam definitely taught him that. “This is not up for debate,” Robin continued. “You, Killian Jones, are now an official staff writer at The Daily Caller and, now, an official employee of Mills Media. There’s a shit ton of paperwork for you to fill out later, but we’ll get to that. You’ll be full-time, you’ll get benefits, you should move out of that hotel you’ve been staying in for the last two days. And while we can’t tell you not to live uptown, we can both strongly suggest that you consider moving down here to make the commute easier. And,” he said, eyeing Killian with a look that left little room for argument, “you should forget whatever misgivings you have about a beat that does not revolve intrinsically around death.” “Ok, breaking news isn’t just death,” Killian reasoned. Regina made a dismissive noise. “It’s not! It just ends up that way a lot because people are awful.” “And this kind of involves death,” Regina muttered.

Robin almost looked defeated. “Virtually.” “What the hell are either one of you talking about?” Killian asked, half shouting the question in the hope that, maybe, it would get him some answers.

“Video games,” Robin said. “A whole string of feature stories about video games. Or, well, one video game. And one team of...video game players. Is that what they’re called?” Regina shrugged. “I have no idea. Ask Killian in a week. He should know by then.”

Killian’s head was spinning – and he was fairly certain it wasn’t because of the vertigo he may or may not have been experiencing. He was breathing through his mouth again. And that time wasn’t on purpose.

He pushed out of the chair, walking back behind Regina’s desk and ignoring Robin’s quiet gasp of surprise that he even dared to move over whatever unspoken barrier he’d just crossed. Regina’s eyebrow shifted again. “What the hell is going on, Gina?” he barked. “The truth this time.”

And just like that, the facade cracked a bit – eyebrows returning to their biologically determined place and glare softening just a bit and for half a second Killian was almost convinced she was going to move her fingers to try and brush towards his left hand before she stopped herself.

“You called Robin,” Regina started. “And told him about The Herald and, well, you couldn’t expect that we wouldn’t do something. We had to do something. He would have wanted…”

“Stop it,” Killian warned, but she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Regina Mills wasn’t concerned with empty threats. Or ghosts.

She moved again and, that time, she did reach forward, wrapping her fingers around his left forearm and tugging forcefully like she was trying to get him to understand.

“We had to do something,” she repeated. “And it’s not like we’re not without money here. The problem is that the money isn’t in news. We’ve got that covered. There is, however, a staffer spot open in lifestyles.” “Lifestyles!” “Killian, if you interrupt me again, I’m going to cut your keycard in half.” “That doesn’t really mean much to me. And I can’t be official yet, I haven’t filled out a W-4. Nothing’s official until there are taxes involved.” “You’re very frustrating when you’re sarcastic.” “Charming.” “And it’s a defense mechanism,” Robin mumbled.

Killian shrugged. “That too,” he admitted. “Why lifestyles? Honestly. I’m not really qualified to write fluff.” “You’re qualified to write,” Regina said. “And I resent the implication that anything we publish is fluff.” “Is that you or your mom talking? And there’s a story in your lifestyles section today questioning the merits of merlot over other wines.” Regina’s eyes flashed, the mention of Cora having its desired effect and he’d absolutely done it as some kind of glorified defense. If he got her mad he wouldn’t have to talk and he could ignore the idea of what he’d wanted when he got into all of this.

Jaded.

He was jaded and angry and news was all of those with some homicides occasionally thrown in.

“I think what you’re trying to say is that you’re reading the lifestyles section of the site,” Regina said, bypassing any mention of her mother. “Did you click on the story? That’d help with hits.” “I did not,” Killian laughed. “Just skimmed headlines.” “You’re the worst kind of reader.” “Make me pay for content then.” “Don’t say that out loud, that’s like muttering Bloody Mary in the mirror three times. Any mention of the money automatically summons my mother.”

Killian barked out a laugh, leaning against the windows behind him and crossing his arms. Regina smiled. “Ok, Gina, I’ll bite. What am I supposed to be doing here?” “Lifestyles,” she answered, waving a dismissive hand through the air when he rolled his eyes at the repetition. “But not really lifestyles. It’s only going there because it doesn’t really make sense in entertainment and it’s not really sports, although they’ll probably argue with you on that front.” “It is called e-sports,” Robin said, twisting to join the conversation again. “It’s, technically, a sport. A tournament if you want to be specific.” “I thought you said video games,” Killian said. It sounded exactly like the accusation it was. He wanted the truth. And maybe another coffee.

“I did. What I didn’t say because you were too busy throwing a temper tantrum over what section your story would fall under was that the video games are insanely competitive and insanely popular which is why there’s even an interest in stories about them.” “There was no temper tantrum. There was...confusion.” “Temper. Tantrum,” Robin grinned. “It doesn’t matter. I knew you’d take it anyway.” “Because of the aforementioned health benefits?” “No. Because it’s going to be a good story and that’s all you’ve ever really wanted to do.”

Killian licked his lips, tilting his head back until he hit it against a pane of glass and that was good, if it hurt it meant he was actually there, in that office, with the only two people in the entire world who would dare say anything like that to him. It would have been kind of weird if that whole morning had been a dream.

“And trust me,” Robin pressed. “This is a good story. Plus, apparently Henry and Roland are thrilled at the idea of you covering it because they play this game and think you can get them insider info on how to level-up or something.” “And you said I was the old man before,” Killian muttered. “You already told Henry and Roland I was going to do this? That feels like coercion.” “A calculated bargaining technique.” “Ok, so what exactly does this entail? Didn’t you say it was a whole bunch of stories?” Robin nodded. “A year. With benefits. And the potential for job growth. Outside of lifestyles. So, you know, consider all of that. Plus, Rol and Henry are super excited.”

“Why?” “Why are Roland and Henry excited? It’s a super popular game.” “No, no, no,” Killian said. “Why are you guys doing this?” Robin and Regina stared at him like he’d suddenly grown sixteen heads and suggested that the Earth was flat. Or like they’d offered him a year-long gig covering an e-sports whatever he’d never heard of – with benefits – and probably ignored Cora’s objections to even the idea of him setting foot in that downtown office.

And the answer was so obvious it was like it had grown legs and then proceeded to smack each of them in the face.

Because Liam would have wanted us to.

“How come you wore a jacket to a not-real-interview that you didn’t even want to come to?” Regina countered. Killian glared at her.

Because Liam would have wanted me to.

“Fine,” he said, tugging on his hair again. “I’ll probably have to ask Rol and Henry how the game works.”

“They’re banking on that,” Robin smiled. “And you’re sure? I mean, contrary to popular belief we’re not actually forcing you to take a byline. Or benefits.” “You’re really pushing that benefits thing aren’t you?” “It’s a good plan.” “Sure it is,” Killian scoffed. “And, yeah, I’m sure. You already gave me the keycard anyway, seems a waste to have to cut that up or whatever you do to returned keycards.” “Probably cut it up.” “Then, yeah. I’m in. Let’s cover video games like that’s something people do.”

He spent the rest of the day signing paperwork and learning systems and actually reading that merlot story and by the time Killian made it back uptown to the overpriced hotel he was paying for, he all but collapsed on the over-starched sheets.

And he was fairly positive he’d only just shut his eyes when he heard the phone ring, jerking him out of a dream he couldn’t quite remember. Killian reached out blindly, refusing to give credence to the sunlight filtering through the curtains, and he nearly knocked the phone off the nightstand, mumbling a scratchy hello into the receiver.

“Mr. Jones?” a perky voice on the other end asked, as if expecting to find another person in the room registered to Killian Jones.

“Yeah.” That gave the perky voice pause. “Uh,” she stuttered and there was laughter in the background. Killian resisted the urge to groan. Loudly. “There’s a gentleman down here. Says he knows you and you’re expecting him.”

He hadn’t actually opened his eyes yet, but Killian squeezed them tighter anyway and the perky voice might have gasped when he did actually groan at her. He should have figured. If Robin and Regina were plotting, then it only made sense that Will Scarlet was in on it too.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” Killian mumbled, finally opening his eyes and immediately regretting that decision. “You can send him up or whatever.” “He, uh, well he says to tell you he would have come up anyway, but he was…” “Doing me a solid,” Killian finished. “Yeah, I bet he was. Thanks.” “Of course.” They were back to perky. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Jones?”

Scarlet was hysterical and Killian would have bet several thousand dollars he absolutely did not have that he was also resting on the lobby desk and possibly clutching his stomach in some kind of dramatic motion that he came up with when he was nineteen.

“No,” Killian said. “Thanks.” “Have a great day!” Not likely. He’d signed all that paperwork and agreed to dinner with Robin and Regina which also meant dinner with Henry and Roland and that meant several hours in some sort of whirlwind video game crash course discussing the rules of some game called Over...something. He should probably remember the name of the game.

And he’d fallen asleep quickly and easily, but only because he was told, in no uncertain terms by Regina, that he had a ten o’clock appointment in Midtown with this video game team that he absolutely, could not miss.

She must have sent Scarlet to make sure he didn’t.

Or...no, it couldn’t have been that. Even Regina wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t trying to drive him insane.

Probably.

Oh, shit that’s totally what was happening.

Will must have sprinted up the stairs or taken the quickest elevator in the history of the world, already knocking on Killian’s door. He groaned, resigning himself to whatever plan for his life was, apparently, being formed without his explicit consent, and managed to grab a shirt off the top of his bag before swinging open the door. Will was mid-knock.

“Hey, Hook,” Will said, a picture of sarcastic chipper nonsense that made Killian clench his fist. “Welcome home.” “You’re an ass,” Killian muttered. Will laughed again, pushing his way into the room with, at least, four different cameras slung over both of his shoulders. So, that was definitely happening.

Will sank onto the corner of the bed, a knowing smile on his face as if he’d just feasted on an entire table of canaries. “Dynamic duo or something,” he said. “I hate that, so don’t use that again.” “I’m only going to use that now,” Killian said, slamming the door behind him.

“Pot and kettle.” “What?” “You called me an ass, which is a great reintroduction after ignoring the city for the last ten years, by the way. So, pot and kettle.” “That’s not how that cliché goes,” Killian pointed out. Will shrugged. “And I saw you at Christmas.”

In retrospect, that was probably when Robin and Regina first started plotting this whole thing – he’d shown up to the Mills family estate in Vermont just a few hours before midnight on Christmas Eve, exhausted with bags under his eyes that were big enough to check, and complained about fewer bylines and a lack of ink and a lack of ads which all circled back to the fewer bylines thing. No one wanted to print the paper if no one wanted to buy the paper.

Will had tried to get him to take some photos, certain if he’d just expand his skill set he’d be more appealing to a wider variety of publishers and printing syndicates.

Killian had not-so-politely refused. And then called Will an ass.

“That doesn’t count,” Will argued. “You were in and out in, like, a day and a half. You’re in this for the long haul now, right?” “Because I’m being plied with an admittedly pretty good benefits plan.”

“C’mon. Don’t be like that. This is going to be fun. You’re telling me you’re not actually interested in professional video game players?” “Only in so much as finding out how they actually make a living.” Will made a face. “You wound me, Hook. This is a cool story. It’s totally in your wheelhouse of interests. Or, you know, it should be.” “Don’t do that,” Killian growled.

Will didn’t back down. And he shouldn’t have been surprised. Regina wasn’t going to put up with any of Killian’s shit, but Scarlet was a close second in being decidedly unamused by any of this. It probably had something to do with living together – answering a CraigsList ad because Hunter didn’t provide housing and Liam had already been sent overseas and Killian wanted out of the shoebox.

The apartment he and Will lived in wasn’t much better, didn’t even have an oven in it, but they were eighteen and it felt like some kind of palace at the time.

It also left Will positive he knew Killian better than anyone.

“Regina thinks you’re up here because you’re wallowing,” Will said, shifting so his half a dozen cameras were resting on the bed as well.

“Regina needs to stop gossipping.” “It’s the journalist in her, she can’t help herself. At least you’re not living in the Mills-Locksley household. Imagine all that talking.” “Terrifying.” Will grinned, shoulders shaking slightly with the force of his laughter. “All that support and mutual adult’dom,” he chuckled. “The worst. Plus those kids adding the adorable. It’s just disgusting.”

“No one needs that,” Killian sighed, running a hand over his face and he’d slept for what felt like days, but he was, suddenly, exhausted. “So, dynamic duo’ing, huh? She give you a choice of gigs or you volunteer to follow me around for a year?” “Please, I’m not following you around. I’m following a good story. Although watching you rejoin the human race is some kind of unexpected bonus.” “Did I evolve into another species without realizing it?” Will nodded. “Killian Jones, suddenly very good at coming up with adjectives for blood.” “Lacerations.” “See.” “How come you brought all that gear?” Killian asked. “I thought we were just going to meet with these people. Background or whatever.” “Yeah, but you never know when the mood’s going to strike and we’re going in the middle of a practice. It could be pretty good stuff, actually.” “Practice?” “What part of professional athletes are you not understanding here?” “See,” he shook his head. “That’s just not right. It’s not like they’re burning calories or anything. This is...this is not a real thing.” “I would suggest you don’t tell them that. And then do some basic research in the cab. Because they may not be running sprints, but they’re making money like they’re professional athletes. You know what the base salary for this league is?”

“It’s a league?” “Tournament’s probably a better word, but that’s also a question you should ask the athletes. Killian, did you even listen to a single thing Regina told you?” He hadn’t. He’d listened to what Roland and Henry said about the rules and the character sayings that were, admittedly, just a bit annoying when he heard them several dozen times in the span of a few hours at dinner, but he hadn’t really paid attention to the angle, fairly positive he could, at least, come up with his own in on a story.

“Idiot,” Will muttered, but there was a familiarity in his voice that sent a very specific pang of something down Killian’s spine. “Go shower, you look like shit and you don’t want to offend the sources as soon as they lay eyes on you.” Killian kicked him, blaming old habits or something that didn’t make him feel like he was a teenager. “They’re professional video game players,” he reasoned. “I highly doubt they’ll be offended by much of anything.” “You got to check those assumptions at the door, man.” “What do you know that I don’t?” “Trust me, it’ll be more fun if you just go in ignorant.” “For you maybe,” Killian accused, pushing away from the set of drawers he’d been leaning against. Will hummed in agreement. “Hey, what’s the salary? You said there was a base.” Will grinned like he’d suddenly found another canary he hadn’t stuffed in his face already. “Fifty thousand,” he answered simply. Killian felt his jaw drop slightly and he wished he was still leaning on something. “Yup,” Will said, popping his lips on the syllable. “Seriously, go shower. I wasn’t kidding about you looking like shit.”

Killian wasn’t sure what he expected when he heard professional video game practices, but he was fairly positive a Midtown Irish bar was fairly low on his list of ideas. He glanced skeptically at Will who hadn’t stopped grinning the entire time they made it downtown, even laughing once when Killian started grumbling about tourists in midtown.

“You’re an old man,” Will chuckled, pushing on Killian’s shoulder to move him towards the door of the bar. There were voices coming from inside – screams might have been more appropriate.

Killian swung open the door, closing his eyes when a blast of air conditioning rushed towards them and the screams were actually shouts of something that sounded a bit like triumph.

No one can hide from my sight!

Will was barely staying upright, arm wrapped tightly around his waist when he noticed the look on Killian’s face. He shook his head, not sure what to focus on – every screen sitting on the bar was hooked up to the game, six stools pressed up against the far wall with half a dozen women sitting there, each one wearing headsets and feet propped up on even more stools.

Their fingers were moving a mile a minute on actual keyboards and one of them – a brunette with bright, red streaks in her hair – was yelling at the woman three seats to her right, leaning forward to bark orders. “Don’t move,” she shouted and the other woman, another brunette, rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Belle. Do not move!” “I know how the game works!” “Oh my God, Rubes, shut up,” someone else screamed, kicking at air and Killian hoped she wasn’t aiming for the woman next to her. She didn’t really come close. “Belle knows how to play. We all know how to play.”

Rubes – that couldn't be her name – stuck her tongue out, but she didn’t pull her eyes away from the screen and something must have happened because there was more yelling and more orders shouted and a string of sound effects that came pouring out of the five TV screens above the bar.

“What is happening right now?” Killian whispered, leaning back towards a still-amused Will who already had one of his cameras pointed at the line of women in front of them.

“See, I told you it’d be more fun if you came into this ignorant. You’re going to want to come up with something good if you don’t want me to give Regina this picture of you reacting to that one blonde lady screaming.” “What?” “Phone camera. On silent. Deceptive.”

“No, I don’t care about that. What blonde one?” “The one you’re staring at. Still.” Killian blinked – he had been. He hadn’t even turned towards Will when he asked his initial question, not quite willing to pull his gaze away from the woman a few feet in front of him. There were spots of red on her cheek and a piece of hair flying across her face, moving every time she jerked her forehead and mumbled a string of curses under her breath and he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

That wasn’t part of the deal at all.

This wasn’t what he expected at all.

“They were supposed to be professional video game players,” Killian hissed, finally pulling his eyes away and glaring at Will like this was, somehow, his fault.

“They are,” he said slowly. And then he took another picture. “I’ll call this one, lovestruck Killian Jones. It’ll probably win awards.” “Shut up. Why are they…” “Women?” “Shut up,” Killian repeated. “But, well, yeah.” Will stuffed his phone back in his pocket and Killian was glad – until Scarlet used his now-free fist to punch him in the shoulder. “You know they still have opposable thumbs, right? I don’t think gender dictates an innate ability to play video games. And you seem suddenly very interested in your subject matter. Don’t say shut up again, I’m enjoying this way too much.”

“Shoot, shoot, shoot, Emma, God, shoot,” the red-streaked brunette yelled, elbowing the woman next to her and drawing back Killian’s attention.

Her name was Emma.

“Ruby, I know how to play the game,” Emma groaned, smashing a string of buttons. Bomb’s away! “Ha,” she shouted in triumph, punching the air as soon as the shot hit and, according to the sound effects, exploded. “Take that fucking assholes!”

Will laughed, not quite able to turn the sound into a cough or the silence it probably should have been since they’d been lurking in the doorway for the last five minutes. Emma spun at the noise, gaze sharp and shoulders straight and Killian couldn't see anything except how green her eyes were and how blonde her hair was, curling lightly at the ends that were draped over the front of an NYPD t-shirt.

“Can I help you?” she asked. “The restaurant doesn’t open for another couple of hours.” “No, no, we’re not here for the restaurant,” Killian said quickly, elbowing Will when he didn’t stop laughing immediately. “I’m Killian Jones and this is Will Scarlet. We’re here from The Boston... sorry, The Daily Caller. For the story?” Emma twisted her eyebrows. “Was that a question?” “Only in the realm of politeness. You know, ease our way into the conversation.” “Yuh huh.” “Did you not know about the story?” “I knew about the story,” Emma said, just a bit sharper than her original greeting had been. This was not going well. Killian ran his hand through his hair. “Did you say Boston?” “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Force of habit.” “The city of Boston is forcing you to mention it? Are they sponsoring you?” “That was funny. You know you haven’t actually told me your name yet.” “Ruby shouted it two seconds ago.” “First names are only half the story, love,” Killian said and he was an asshole because he was smirking at her and his hand was still stuck halfway through his hair and Emma was staring at him like she couldn’t quite believe he was actually standing there. Neither could he, really.

“Absolutely not your love,” she said, practically snarling out the words. “And my last name is Swan. I’m assuming you need that for the story.” “It does help with quotes when you can identify who’s talking.” “You didn’t give me an answer about Boston.” “Are you always so demanding?” Killian asked. “I feel like I’m the one being interviewed.”

The peanut gallery behind them snickered slightly, headsets pulled to one side so they could hear and Ruby had moved in front of the other brunette she’d been shouting at before. There were three other women – a petite blonde whose feet barely reached the bottom rung of the stool she was sitting on, another blonde with hair that was so light it was nearly white and an auburn-haired woman whose face looked a bit similar to the white-haired blonde and this was all very confusing.

Emma’s eyes were very green.

“When it’s my team, yeah,” Emma said, crossing her arms over her shirt and rocking towards him. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. That was, decidedly, dangerous thinking. “Why the Boston sponsorship?” “I used to work for a paper in Boston,” Killian answered. “I only recently started at The Daily Caller.” “How recent is recent?” “More demands, Swan.” She pressed her lips together tightly, rocking back on her heels and Killian regretted that far more than he should have. “You’ve got a nickname thing,” she accused. “That’s weird.” “You’re a professional video game player.” “And?” “And in the realm of weird…” “You know this is a pretty shitty first impression.” “Yeah, I’m getting that,” Killian admitted. “Backtrack?” Emma shrugged. “Ok,” he said, pushing his right hand towards her and that was the first time her eyes had dropped away from his. And landed, quite quickly, on his distinct lack of a left hand. Will made some kind of strangled noise in the back of his throat and the unnamed auburn-haired lady might have gasped.

Killian tried to smile, fairly certain it didn’t work as soon as he saw the look on Emma’s face. “Killian Jones,” he said, twisting his wrist slightly and he didn’t think he imagined the idea of a smile flash across her lips. “Lifestyles writer at The Daily Caller, here to profile your pro video game team for the foreseeable future. I think we can tell some really good stories.”

Emma’s eyebrows shifted, darting up her forehead as she glanced over her shoulder towards her teammates. They all smiled. Ruby nodded towards Killian’s outstretched hand, grimacing in what looked like pain, but might have been some kind of unspoken code.

“I thought we were backtracking, Swan,” Killian continued.

She scoffed, turning back on him and she was all green eyes and the headset was threatening to fall off her head, but she met his gaze straight on and he wanted to know everything about her. He couldn't remember the last time he wanted to do that with someone who wasn’t covered in several different adjectives for blood.

He probably shouldn’t say that out loud.

“See, that nickname again,” she muttered, but she was smiling. Honest to goodness smiling. And her fingers were freezing cold when they brushed across his. “Emma Swan, team captain. And we better tell some goddamn great stories.”

[aroworlds]

Aro-Spec Artist Profile: Luthyx

Our next aro-spec creator is @luthyx​, who also goes by Petrichlorine and MUSE-42. They’re better known on this blog for sharing snippets from an in-progress work called Sanction the Skies, celebrating all things a-spec and dragon!

Luthyx is a transmasculine, agender aro-ace creative with mental illnesses, specialising in speculative fiction and digital art, the latter both original and fancontent (primarily for How to Train Your Dragon). You can find their gorgeous art on their DeviantArt account and their writing at @sanctiontheskies​, currently featuring artwork, maps and a wealth of worldbuilding and characterisation teasers. Lastly, if you enjoy Flight Rising, you can check out their dragons under the name Luthyx!

With us Luthyx talks their confidence in their aromanticism, the need to live an authentic life on their terms, the way their characters and worlds become part of them, and writing spec fic as an aro. Their determination to craft and make as they need sparkles in every word and dragon scale, so please let’s give them all our love, encouragement, gratitude, kudos and follows for taking the time to explore what it is to be aromantic and creative.

Can you share with us your story in being aro-spec?

My tale is a fairly straightforward one. By the time I was of the age that most people started experiencing their first crushes, I’d moved to a different state and begun taking an online school, free of the peer pressure that lies ever-present in most traditional classrooms.

Even then, as I began to develop my skills and passion for writing, I’d already begun to see the influence of the omnipresent Romantic Subplot. It was everywhere: books, film, music, poems. I couldn’t so much as flip on the radio without hearing a disillusioned, autotuned cry for help healing a broken heart. I hated it. I still do.

It quickly became apparent to me that I wasn’t like the others. Every once and a while, my mom would drag me to her church, where I’d be forced to endure the company of undisciplined tween boys and catty, Twilight-obsessed girls. It was the girls especially that caught my attention: the sheer passion and fervency with which they discussed who they found hot, what Hogwarts house they were in, and their critiques and praise of The Hunger Games. I found it absurd to objectify people, fantasy or real, like that.

I think this was probably about the time I began to realize that I was agender, too, but that’s a story for another day. Thankfully, I’d already become a headstrong, independent teenager, and I was proud to say that I was different, that my interests were in something that, in my head, was much more important and much more intense than those of others my age.

I can’t recall the first time I heard the term aromantic or the first day that I applied it to myself. I think, deep down, I always knew, and I’ve always been astoundingly proud of it. To me, romance isn’t the be-all-and-end-all of things, but just another life experience I haven’t had, like owning fourteen chihuahuas or going on a warm summer vacation to the Middle East. Not everybody wants to experience those things, and society is completely fine with it - I see no reason as to why they should feel differently about romantic relationships, but I suppose they do. Dealing with the fallout of that bias is their problem.

I am me, and the me I know will not be held down by stereotypes, will not conform to any sort of life script I am handed, will not feel sorrow or remorse for a single experience lost. I’m here for a good time, and my idea of a good time involves doing what I love. Romance is not on that list.

Can you share with us the story behind your creativity?

My creative streak started young. For as long as I’ve known it, I’ve been drawing characters and writing stories. Mind you, the first stories were about Littlest Pet Shop figures and were written with the help of my parents, but it was a start nonetheless. Art, in its many different forms, has always been my form of self-expression. I often wandered off into my imaginary world when I got bored, and when I went to sleep every night, I’d often spend hours just imagining characters doing as they do before drifting off to sleep. I still do that every night - like clockwork.

I think it was when I was in my early teens - thirteen or fourteen, maybe - that I decided I wanted to be a writer. I recall turning to my mother one night and saying, “I wish I could write a book,” still believing that I was too young to attempt such a thing yet. “Nobody says you can’t do it right now!” were the words she gave back to me, and then off I started.

The project I started then is one that’s still ongoing now - a series of books I call Sanction the Skies, featuring dragons, wars, and a good hunk of divine intervention. I’ve worked and reworked it ever since that fateful day, improving the lore, changing the characters, watching my perspective of them evolve and change alongside me. They are a part of me, through and through.

It hasn’t been the easiest journey, but I’m still chipping away at it, ever-determined. It’s been doubly hard to follow my dream because of all of the messages about how impossible it is to be a writer in this day and age, and that you can’t do it without a well-paying side job. My stubborn self says, “To hell with you!” and works on it anyway. I want to write, to draw, to forge, to craft, and the world be damned if it tries to stand in my way.

Are there any particular ways your aro-spec experience is expressed in your art?

The only way it’s expressed is in my writing, where almost all of my characters are explicitly aro. The Romantic Subplot is a tiresome, often badly-done trope, and I’d like to steer away from it altogether. I want to show that a friendship is not worth less than a romance, and that a good story can still be told without the boy getting the girl - or the girl getting the girl for the sake of progressiveness.

What challenges do you face as an aro-spec artist?

Honestly? Not much, at least not yet. I think I may face a bit of pushback in the future because my novel features no romance, but overall, I’ll probably be fine in that regard.

How do you connect to the aro-spec and a-spec communities as an aro-spec person?

I rarely connect with them at all, honestly. Most of the discussion I see is either people screaming about amatonormativity or people asking, “Am I asexual/aromantic if…?” Alternatively, there’s people discussing their experience being partially a-spec or aro-spec, none of which I can relate to. All I want is a place to revel in my identity, to be able to talk about anything BUT romance, to form strong friendships.

Sometimes it hurts me to think that the friends I have now will soon find romantic partners, and I’ll be left behind in the dust as a third wheel. I hope my friends won’t do that, that perhaps I can still make myself heard - but who knows? I’ve had no luck with finding any other aro-spec people in my region at all, unfortunately, so the internet is all I’ve got in that regard. I’ll just have to wait and see what the future holds!

How do you connect to your creative community as an aro-spec person?

I find I connect somewhat decently. I write fantasy and sci-fi, which generally seem to be more acceptable genres to have a lack of romance, especially when a pair of dragons are the main characters. It is alienating from many fandoms, though, because they often focus so much on the romantic partnerships and shipping. Almost every blocked tag in my dash concerns ships, kissing, hugging, romance, children, and anything related to those.

Can you share with us something about your current project?

Ohoho, this is a fun one! Well, right now, I’m working on re-writing Chapter One for the trillionth time after giving the town it takes place in a complete and utter overhaul. I’m also working on making a short comic that takes place in the universe of the book but is unrelated to the main plot, though it features characters and locations that may be explored in future books. I want to do the comic in the hopes of gaining some traction and interest in the books, since I’m rather horrible at advertising at the moment.

Have you any forthcoming works we should look forward to?

Again, the comic! It’s about a con artist who incurs the wrath of the demigodess of misfortune after a con resulted in the death of a sick hatchling. There’s also some stuff with an ancient, precursor species of dragons and one of their final remaining sanctuaries.

[neo-shitty]

toffee!

no dont apologise! i didnt check until just then so np :)

mmm yeah it is a bit trippy. hehe ITS TRUE THO. yeah sadly i think ur right, and tag blocking is probably a good idea. sometimes smut written well or not in excess is okay but goddamn when its abt 01 line and thats the whole fic... *silently blocks tags*

hehe i do that all the time lol this conversation is carrying on threads from a month ago :) mmm yeah ur probably right sadly, same. HA HE DIDNT HAVE A CHOICE and now i have someone to talk to abt them, so thats good! I KNOW felix was actually the one who got me into skz with his iconique gods menu line so i guess i have a soft spot for him. i always tell myself my bias is chan but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ guess im more whipped than id like to admit. mmm yeah that does make sense dw i hope they do that as well. YES king seungmin hIMSELF. GODDAMNIT DONT GET ME STARTED ON MINHO IN GODS MENU I DIDNT EVEN KNOW HE WAS PART OF THE GROUP UNTIL I STARTED GETTING MORE INTO THEM. BITCH (affectionate) THE LINE DISTRIBUTION HAS BEEN UTTER DOG SHIT but *deep breath* its better now so were moving on adn hoping it stays that way. sis same but i may or may not have gone thru a rlly depressed phase and actively sought out the elimination episodes so i could actually force some tears out of my emotionless shell of a heart but what cna you do? lmaoo i feel that irl, binnie deserves more vocal lines. yesss channies accent is rlly prominent then, i think also the way he structures his phrasing? is more english speaking than korean? but yeah i totally get what ur saying. AJKSAL lmao

okay then! im excited for whenever it gets done! (maybe tag me?) ahh the cold shrivelled heart of a dark au writer beats again at the thought of torturing another poor characters very soul (/j) :(( yeah that would suck not being able to see them. ohhh ur on the other hemisphere to me! were just going into spring rn. mmm smth to look forward to! YES you put it into words. they rlly are pretty independent from the company (remember how jyp rejected that other dudes songs after like 3 seconds and then how he was apparently nervous to show the song hed written to chan cos chan was so good at writing hits ahhh sweet revenge) mmmYES we rlly need a mute and remove notifications button for our brains dont we?

YES CORRECT i totally agree. some people jsut dont give it a try, adn assume its bad cos its korean smh racist assholes. yes! im coming up to my 6 month anniv actually! sis sAME, i feel like theyre being tugged into appealing to the western american market and theyre not staying as true to their artistic flair as a group, especially with only writing english songs atm. *sigh* ah well, at least theyre bringing recognition to the kpop world. AHUH dead on, theyre going to be discarded pretty soon and then where will bp be? theyll prob go solo paths which is rlly sad but what can you do when the company is run by a prideful asshole? yg is not going to last much longer in the big four if they keep this up.

hehe you get it. oooh very cool! whos ur ult? (sorry if youve said this before) mmmm yeah good decision, i feel liek thats probably a wise decision. this is my first album release as a kpop stan (not counting mixtape oh) so i think ill get it for sentiments sake. yeah! im excited for the new music! mingi was the one who got me into them, but atm my bias is seonghwa followed by san, wooyoung and ateez but jonghos high notes man *swoon* he, yeah atm ive got jake, jay, nikki, jungwon and sunoo down so just trying to get the rest :) heh, yeah kard i rlly only got into cos of bm, ive seen him like interacting with a lot of idols and he seemed nice so i decided to check out the group. ikr gunshot man *another swoon*

no noe! i didnt know what it was until i got it lol. thx toffee ill try and take that to mind :) yeah lol im on a waiting list thats not going to be free until late september so hopefully i can hold on until then. hope ur okay, that sounds like it sucks, hope you can find someone. maybe ill just take you along on my phone and the therapist can get a two for one patient deal lmaooo. mmm, sorry no i havent mentioned it before, i dont rlly talk abt it much. uhhh basically hypermobility? if you google it, it doesnt seem bad, jsut joint flexibility but ive got the severe end of the stick, leaning towards ehlers danlos syndrome so thats fun. basically it just makes it hard for me to exercise, run, jump, stand or just walk for long periods of time and gives me a lot of joint and muscle pain so... thats fun! but obviously so many other people have it worse than me, so i try not to complain. normally in young people it will improve as they get older, but my doctor said bc its severe in me, its unlikely to get much better. but again, i dont have the worst lot in the bunch, so its all g.

oh its good that its not the bad type of rain, a light sprinkling can be relaxing sometimes. aww thx darl, the concern is appreciated but it went pretty well and i managed not to cough too much on stage or kill myself trying to run around to the other side of the stage in the pouring rain so thats good! oooh tea buddies! my dogs a labradoodle, but shes a bit more of a feral poodle lol not much labrador in her at all, unless its her relentless urge to hunt down every bird that has ever walked this earth smh :((( hopefully they can come back on soon, does uni have dances?

ahhh a mood if i ever heard one. hopefully things will get better for you soon, ik anxiety sucks ass. ooh thats always good! when its sunny here, its always melt ur thongs to the pavement hot so the nicely cool sunny days are a lovely change. hehe impatience is not so good for you, but good for us that get to see ur beautiful theme early. ahh no worries, itll come eventually hopefully. and if not, then just things that make you not anxious are good. it doesnt have to be black or white, sometimes gray is good. mmmmm sames i have midterms this week to catch up on and then two weeks of end of terms so thats fun! i hope u can overcome that a little, heres some channie to be ur motivation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8LWyNjzOww. hah! i hear that all the time, he seems to be everywhere. did you see that tiktok of hans slowed back door rap, i stg it sounded EXACTLY like namjoon, it kinda scared me. also teh beginning of another day, sounds so much like joon i swear.

that reminds me! idk ur biases! i feel like this should be smth i should know so please! feel free to elaborate!

ahh im glad, i was worried it is. mmm same, so no hard feelings if either of us misses a day or smth. ill start worrying if weeks/months have gone by, but if its just a little while thats more than fine. ill just picture you studiously completing notes and i wont worry lol

<3 w.a. 🐺

at some point i really think i'm going to start blocking accounts because blocking tags won't be enough. i saw ask tags the other day and it just made me want to bleach my eyeballs.

i could talk about god's menu felix for hours man. the teaser for god's menu that featured his part on the bridge made me look forward to the mv release. you: biases chan, also you: lixiesbabyhands. yes you are more whipped than you think. i can't believe orange haired minho was given NOTHING during that era but they kind of made up for it in the b-sides. i also hope it stays that way. the distribution for this era was pretty fair.

"torturing another poor character's soul" in all honesty, i used to live for this. 2017 me leading up to early 2020 wrote nothing but angst. i have another aussie friend on twt and tbh i'm still really (O.o) about the seasons! jyp should be terrified skz could easily take over that company. heck if skz grow old and start their own company, they'd probably do a great job at running it. PLEASE. i have issues on muting/notifications both mentally and in real life. sometimes, i just wish to disappear.

some people in my country are just disgusting tbh. not only racist but homophobic too. they label kpop as 'gay' and it DISGUSTS me. it's a problematic behavior/mindset people in my country need to fucking get rid of. anyway, HELP ME 6 MONTHS??? and i've been in this shit for like a decade eye. tbh, i’m not fond of kpop groups trying to appeal to the western audience :// it feels like they’re losing their identity in a way. yes recognition but at what cost? yg has my favorite groups but that’s one shitty company when it comes to promoting.

okay my ult! it’s haechan from nct but i consider chan an ult too. like a close second above my whopping list of kpop boys. oh yes! you should get the album just for like a keepsake? remembrance? how did mingi appeal to you? omg did you start getting interested in ateez back when he was still on hiatus? NOT YOU BIASING THE SAME PEOPLE I DID WHEN I FIRST STARTED STANNING. the infamous ateez thot-line. jongho is easily one of the best fourth gen vocalists out here, no one can change my mind :( good luck with memorizing the rest of enhypen! just in time for the comeback too. i hope i’ll get into kard soon but i’m pretty content (and a tad bit overwhelmed) with the amount of groups i stan right now.

please hold on though, feel free to vent here if you like. thanks for the offer tho HAHA but like i’ll try to get checked here too when the cases die down a bit. i’m sorry to hear about your condition though :( please don’t ever overwork yourself to the point that your joints/muscles would ache. it’s completely valid to complain about it tho. i get that you have others in mind but keeping that mindset really doesn’t do you (like you internally) any better? so if you need to, vent your frustrations out and don’t keep it in.

oh my god, about your performance last sunday. was the stage out in the open? glad you didn’t cough too much and did well on your concert. i’m proud of you! i can never understand dogs and poor birds T_T uni doesn’t have dances unfortunately. i think there’s just one party at the end like a graduation ball. what year are you in anyway? if it’s something that you’re fine with sharing. if not, it’s cool.

good luck with your exams! and thanks for the link! AHA what a cutie. i think he does this motivation thing once in a while during his lives and it’s just comforting. yeah joon and han my irl just freaked when we made that discovery. ult crumbs for her. oh god not me forgetting about every biases when you asked. you can ask for my biases in a few groups just list down the one’s you’re interested in knowing. 

i missed yesterday because i was grinding and finishing what if we stay + school work. finally did it today. i’m sure i’ll reply in like a day or two, definitely not a month unless i state otherwise. if i ever decide to abandon this blog, i’ll let you know.