#and they just...snark each other into good life advice

[putnamcapital]

Some love for the YR writers, and their OCs

As a small gesture of thanks to the incredible creativity and generosity of fanfic writers, during this time of holiday excess and the AO3 YR tag being just lit!, I thought i’d pull together some favorites to share. Hopefully if you’ve haven’t read these fics yet, they might entice you. I know we all know and love the endless iterations of Wille and Simon, and Sara, August, and Felice, but did you know there are some truly incredible original characters in the YR fanfic library? Here are just a few of the characters that have stayed with me. Made an effort not to spoil in the descriptions! I’ve tried to spread the love across lots of writers and have tagged you if i know you're on Tumblr. And i mostly read AUs. If you’ve got other OCs you just love, please add to this!

So, in no particular order … Part 1 of ?.

Chetna from Tis the Damn Season by littelbluefish, (M, 15/15) - “in a near-constant state of dancing readiness” (i love her for that alone), also witty meddler, dispatches unwanted men with savage accuracy, pitch perfect level of snark, loves Simon to pieces.

MJ and Mario from And that’s how you make history baby by waybeforeyourtime (T, 16/?) - it’s difficult for me to choose between the two, but i think maybe the author would agree they are inseparable. MJ and Mario run Benders, a bar where Simon ends up performing. They literally jump off at the page at you. MJ, appearing as Mary Jane, gets one of the best entrances i’ve seen in a while. (“Mary Jane sat in front of the door of Benders in a crudely made replica of the Iron Throne from Game of Thrones, except it was dildos that adorned it, not swords. She wore a pale pink strapless dress, white fishnet stockings, and black patent-leather Mary Jane platforms.”) His partner, Mario’s, first words to Simon: “"I don't have time for games. Violet, kill the light.”, but it was a match made in heaven. The dialogue between these two!!! Read this fic! Run! Don’t walk!

Melvin from Simon Eriksson: Just some guy from biology (G, 1/1) by fandom_commitment_Issues (@zee-has-commitment-issues) - good student, considerate partner and father. On this list because he does deadpan so well. He kept a straight face when W huffed “I’m getting married to an idiot”.

Alba from Taking me Back (M, 6/?) by wilmonlibrarian - for being one of those too smart for your own damn good teenagers who sees straight through her own father, Simon. (Alba isn’t buying it. “So, you’re saying nothing I experience in the next few years will matter to me in the future?”) and yeah karma really is playing a terrible joke on poor W & S in this.

Luis from All the Places we’ve been (M, 10/10) by This_time_its_just_me (@in-amor-veritas) - Simon’s roommate in New York, Simon who has his own life and successful career as a singer. Gives Simon essential advice on what to wear to meet his ex (yes, you know the ex). (“Oh please, none of your clothes fit you correctly, Simón”) He works at one of NYC’s biggest fashion magazines. Think Devil Wears Prada, friends. Just the absolute funniest and most loving wingman, takes absolutely none of Simon’s bullshit or his polyester. Has entirely the correct reaction when he finds W in his bathroom.

Lotta from Heart and Homeland (M, 33/ ) by @bluedalahorse and @heliza24 - An intrepid, loyal, and revolutionary woman with a heart of gold, who holds the key to a major plot twist in this masterful AU set in the early 1800s, where Wilhelm is at the center of a fight for Sweden’s future, and everyone writes each other a lot of beautiful letters. (“Lotta sighs and giggles like we are best friends and says we should tell one another romances or fairy tales and I want to tell her that princes are not the same in real life as they are in stories.”) Don't miss this fic!

[thisliminalspacedaydreams]

hi mar! i hope it's okay to send an ask your way. i have two questions for you as a human person in the hp fanfic/fandom arena if you want to answer. you do not have to and i apologize now if i'm being annoying or bothering you!

(1) what drew you to the jegulus pairing? what is appealing about it to you that makes you want to write it? (this is a genuine question with zero judgement or snark. i am new-ish to fanfic writing and i am genuinely curious as i'm not too familiar with this pairing!)

(2) can you recommend a good started mauraders fic that is not all the young dudes cause that is so many words i don't feel ready for lol

thank you for taking the time to read this and i hope again i have not been a bother!

Hellooo bonjour of course, I love a good ask, and your questions are so cool and I really want to answer them <3, so you're absolutely welcome!

(1) what drew me to the jegulus pairing? what is appealing about it to me that makes me want to write it?

I really connected with Regulus, because how can a character with such good intentions fuck up so bad? He's a really interesting character with a lot of flaws, yet you can't help but feel kind of sorry for him? I think it's interesting that we know so little, but what we know is full of contradictions? Homeboy supposedly proudly took the Mark but then tried to destroy the horcruxes? What makes a person do such a 180? It kind of forces us to think about what makes a person turn to evil, and what are the levers of evil (family pressure, depression, not feeling like a worthy cause, etc...). And James spoke to me because he's kind of sensible and easily hurt and I visualize him as having a very deep and rich inner life, kind of like Regulus. When he gets hurt, he'll try to get over it, he'll be confrontational, he'll forgive... but he won't really forget? I don't really write James as a happy-go-lucky guy, I tend to give him a more serious vibe, but I like how many characterizations you can find of him!

The both of them are really similar, they just externalize it differently. They both want to be loved for who they are, both are misunderstood as being either always mean or always happy, and both are tired of being put into boxes. They can be themselves with each other, put all the ugly and unlovable parts on display...and still find ways to be loved by each other.

Obviously they're fake characters that don't exist, this is just my interpretation of them and why I like writing/reading them.

I like the idea that someone unlovable can be loved, despite. Maybe it gives me hope.

(2) can I recommend a good starter marauders fic?

I have never read all the young dudes, so you're not alone.

I think my first advice is, you don't have to read the popular fics. There are a few I have read, a few I haven't, but just because everyone raves about it doesn't mean it'll hit for you, so give yourself the freedom to pick and choose your own adventures.

I'm going to go on a little tangent here, but ao3 really is an archive, and every damn day I find gems that have less than 10K hits, sometimes less than 10 comments, that are the bees' knees.

I urge you to just go in ao3 and dig, my friend. Pull your ao3 tags and go on a rampage. Try all the tags you think would interest you.

Don't only trust the comments or the hits. Low or high hit/low comment means nothing. One of my fav fanfic ever sits at a cool 40K hits from 2017 and I believe God wrote it, I can't imagine a human out there in the world wrote this stuff.

My point is every single comment/hit is deserved, and you have "popular fics" that are fantastic and got a lot of love (and deserve them), and unknown fics that are fantastic and deserve a lot of love (and you're gonna need to dig to find them).

My advice is: search tags, start reading chapter 1, see if you feel it. Either click out, or enjoy your meal. Take chances. My god, the things you'll find.

That being said, here are a few recommendations that I really enjoyed, from different registers, so you can have a little pick and see if anything tickles your fancy:

ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking by inthesquare  and really any fics by @aboutnavi. The way she writes tickles a part of my brain that I really just--*sighs in love*. Ladies and Gentlemen is a fic she wrote for me, but I got to know her through : living in border lines (one of my absolutely favorite fics for no reason that I can pinpoint, just that it hits and I cried a lot). I recommend living in border lines to anyone with a pulse. It's sad and depressing, and it just takes 4k to get you there. But it's like, beautiful? ALSO in the ether, there is a website by her made me sob but in a positive, lovely way. She really said, I'm going to write something the way no one has ever written anything before, and did that.

Cat and Mouse by MissAmericanBi. I'm friends with @hihimissamericanbi but I can say without bias that this fic rewired my brain chemistry. I was blushing and I think Celine has 36 pics of me in shock as I read it. O.O. It's smut. There's a cat. Her Regulus won my heart. 10/10 reading experience.

It's a question of where, not when by Idontthinkthats_pumpkinjuice realllllyyyy took me there. I don't know there's something about the CONCEPT that I just thought was really cool and fun and original. It has become a sort of comfort fic for me. It's so weird, I love it.

Tarte Tatin by veryinnovative (@veryinnovative) I started reading this when I was in Japan and I was experimenting with strange and wonderful food, and the story sucked me in. I've never watched the media it was inspired by, but the fic is chef's kiss.

Choices by MesserMoon (@sophsicle) was the fic that dragged me kicking and screaming into the fandom. It's not really fun, nor happy (but it has light-hearted moment. Like, they really try to be happy you know?). I loved everything about it. All their fics are great--just know you'll suffer reading most, but you'll be happy about it.

quite like us by alarainai was the fic that dragged me out of the deep dark hole Choices put me in. It's fun, it's fluffy, it's cute, it healed me. All their fics are great if you want to be happy and have a good time and look at life and think "Thank god I'm alive".

The Mystery of the Pears by sonwar. I'm currently reading this one, and I've been having a lovely time.

If I had to recommend one fic to read from my collection, it would be Le Mange Dieu et le Dévoreur de Mondes. I think you can really tell from the writing how much fun green and I had writing this. I'm extremely proud of what we did there, enough that we both got the name tattooed on our bodies last summer (don't do that. We both have lots of tattoos so we weren't bothered, but don't do that. don't tattoo fic names on your body. It's madness)

Anyway, I urge you not to take these as the gospel truth. It can be a starting point, but there are thousands of amazing writers out there with fics updating, or completed, just waiting for you to find them. I'm mostly writing, so I haven't read any fics from the Marauders fandom in a while. I don't know what's been thrown out there in the past few months, I'm sure there are so many gems!

Enjoy your adventure!

[bg-brainrot]

WHaBFHtLA - Astarion x GN!Reader - Chapter 3: What it Means to Love

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence

WC: 2.9k words, 3/?? chapters

Summary: Now 29, you're still trying to piece together parts of your past. In particular, what exactly was your relationship with Astarion?

A/N: Spoilers for the Pale-Elf quest end, also an fyi that I didn’t want to just retell the quest, so it focuses a lot more on present-tav looking-in.

Ao3 | [Ch2][Ch4] | WHaBFHtLA Masterlist

Despite your best judgments, you’ve begun acting against your parent’s advice. They’ve told you on more than one occasion, learning too much of your previous lives can lead to heartbreak, to suffering. It can affect the course of your current life in ways that you won’t understand until it’s far too late.

You’d listened for a few good years, of course. But every time you enter a trance into one particular past life, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to it. The previous life in question is, of course, the one where you met Astarion, the silver-haired vampire. So you caved and did what you find easiest in this life: cracked open a book.

General information was surprisingly easy to come by, as you were apparently incredibly famous– saved-the-realm famous.

After finding this out, you’ve taken to calling this life the Hero’s life. You had, allegedly, saved the city of Baldur’s Gate almost two and a half centuries ago, alongside the companions that appear in your memories. Even Astarion, with his snark and sass, seemed to be part of the credited heroes.

As for the vampire in question, that man wouldn’t leave your waking or trancing thoughts, no matter how hard you tried. You’re not sure if you find his persistent appearances annoying or endearing at this point. 

You’ve learned a lot about him over the years. Useless facts, like his favorite poetry, his love of embroidery, his preferred wine. One night you spend all four hours of your reverie quietly sitting next to him, tending to your weapons. Every once in a while you’ll think, Surely, there can’t be any more memories with this man? But somehow he will always appear to you again a few nights later.

What bothers you is that so many of them are aimless and mundane, joking, traveling, sitting together. They aren’t helpful, which frustrates you endlessly. The point of your reveries is to help you live your new life, and you’re simply not seeing how these fit in. They certainly feel out of place given the other things you’ve learned of that particular life– the dangers that seemed to lurk behind every corner, the constant feeling of a life on the edge of death. 

You also find that, no matter how many times you meet him, spend time with him, you are never certain: were you in love?

It’s a question you aren’t really equipped to answer. You don't suppose you've ever been in love before, and at 29 years of age, it seems a bit too early in your long-lived life to bother. What you do know is that second memory in the woods, it was not love. 

It all feels so ludicrously fake until a few moments begin to change your mind. Once, he cries your name, charging into combat to save you. Another night, he quietly holds your hand, surrounded by a world shrouded in shadow. A separate encounter, you expect things to escalate to another desperate attempt to get lost in each other, but instead you lay down together, entering your reveries side-by-side. After these moments, the memories feel like they take a turn: all lingering looks, soft touches and, above all else, real, genuine conversations.

After a while, you’d learned of his time as a vampire spawn under a cruel master. You’d learned of his scars, his family, and his hopes and desires. Seeing the man behind the smile felt like a sucker punch to the gut, to both you and your past-self.

For your past-self’s part, you see them open up around him– certainly more than they have in any other memories. As a result, you learn more about them than ever. They tell him their worries: about facing an incredible evil, about not making it out of the whole ordeal alive. They’re a relatively young elf, they still have so much life ahead of them, and apparently this is all being ruined by a worm in their brain.

As if they didn’t have enough to worry about with that looming over them, each of their companions seems to have their own troubles that seemed to need your attention. You only live their life a few hours every week, and you can’t imagine bearing the burdens that they do– it’s clear that you possessed a strength you can only dream of now. They seem willing to make any number of sacrifices for these people and it makes you feel strikingly inadequate, easily overshadowed by their spirit. If I’d lived through their hardships, you think. Would I be this strong?

After a time, your trances surrounding Astarion turn to more concerning subjects– of devils and profane rituals, of the truth behind the machinations of Astarion’s master, Cazador. Gods, you hate Cazador. Everything you’d learned of that man made you want to meet him and give him his comeuppance. You hope at the very least that your past-self ensured he died without mercy, that the man’s wicked life finally caught up to him.

Tonight, you get your wish.

When your eyes open in your former self’s body, the first thing you notice is Astarion. The pale elf is ahead of you, his back turned, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

The second thing you notice is the amount of worry you feel. Your past-self seems frozen in place with it, and you can feel your body barely resisting the call to jump into action. Not sure what you’re witnessing, you wonder if you’ve stumbled into a lover’s quarrel.

Then you hear his voice. “Do not slouch before me, boy! Have you no respect for yourself?”

You’re certain that the instinctual rage you feel at that voice is something that defies lifetimes. Your past-self is brimming with it, their blood pumping in their ears as they watch the scene unfold before them.

Distantly you register him goading Astarion, Astarion responding with a fury matching your own. Despite the anger burning in both of your bodies, through your very soul, you can’t help but look at the man and balk. Wait, is that him? you think. That’s Cazador? He looks pathetic.

He looks like nothing more than a sniveling aristocrat, a dime a dozen in large cities like Neverwinter. You wish you could take control of your memories and tell him as such. Perhaps you’d spoil his outfit and sneer at him or ruin his standing among the rest of the nobility. More permanently, you’d like you just rain sunlight on him and watch him burn. Unfortunately, you’re only along for the journey, so you watch as your past-self and Astarion confront the man.

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts,” the man says, his words harsh, his tone belittling. It reminds you of one of your old Evocation teachers. He’d act mighty, tell you all that he’d done for you, then leave you to the wolves come examinations. That man ended up blown to bits in a miscast spell, and you hope you’re about to see a similar fate befall this vampire.

You’re in the midst of your musings when the pale elf recaptures your attention. Astarion’s response is passionate, holding the unfettered hatred of two centuries of torment, “NO. No. Fuck you. And fuck everything you’ve ever done to me!”

The words snap you out of your own thoughts, forcing you to focus on the scene before you. This isn’t for your enjoyment, and the villain isn't here to give you failing marks. Cazador is far crueler than any man you’ve met in your entire waking existence and this is a life or death situation. You suddenly feel so small in the middle of this, woefully out of your depth.

Your past-self is more than prepared for the situation though. They say that you’ll make the man pay, and their voice is colored with a righteous fury that you can only feel second-hand. Your own anger seems petty in comparison.

“I will not speak to cattle. This is between me and the boy.” Cazador sneers as he dismisses your words.

“You son of a bitch!”

Then Astarion is charging at him, your arm is outstretched as if to stop him, but he’s long gone and your fingers grasp at nothing. Dread fills you as you see Cazador stop him in his tracks, a glowing red magic emanates from his staff.

Cazador spits more venomous words at Astarion, all the while bathed in the red glow of the ancient ritual. You can feel your body straining against every impulse to rush forward and attack the vampire lord where he stands. But they hold back, and you can sense that it comes out of concern for Astarion– an odd reasoning in your mind. Surely Astarion would want you to focus on killing Cazador. 

Before your past-self decides on a course of action, Astarion is being flung, tossed like a ragdoll across the cavernous room that Cazador calls his lair. You watch, helpless, as magic envelopes him, stripping him down to be a mere component for the ritual.

“No! Stop him! Get me out of this!” you hear Astarion shout.

He’s about as far away from you as the ritual circle will allow, trapped by a flick of a madman’s wrist. So you’re surprised to feel a calmness come over you as your past-self assesses the situation. You’re not privy to their thoughts or considerations, but, having seen so much of their past now, you’re reassured that they will get out of this alive and well. Hopefully with Astarion in tow.

Cazador either doesn’t care about your calm confidence or is simply too self-absorbed to notice. He raises his arms in triumph before beginning the profane ritual, “Witness the birth of the Vampire Ascendent! Ecce dominus!”

All hells break loose as the pact magic of Mephistopheles binds each of Cazador’s sacrifices to sigils on the floor. Several creatures of the night come forth, ready to do the vampire lord’s bidding. Werewolves bear their teeth at you, bats fly up onto the platform, and ghouls flank Cazador on either side. It’s a frightening sight to you, and unlike anything else you’ve witnessed in your memories or life. For once, you’re glad you’re not in control, because you’re not certain your legs would be willing to move.

Defying all logic, the first thing your past-self does is run for Astarion. Past each and every one of these creatures, past Cazador himself– they sprint like there’s no one else in the entire world. Perhaps to them there isn’t. Because you feel it now. You feel adrenaline, panic, fear, but, smothering all the rest with its strength, is pure love.

You hadn’t known what it might feel like, but now that it hits you like a wild Bulette, you can recognize it clearly. It had been there in those small moments, an underlying feeling that never quite reached the surface. Looking back, it’s almost as if your past-self had been trying to stifle it, an unruly bud of emotion that couldn’t be trusted in their fight for survival. Here, faced with the possibility of losing Astarion, there was no use in trying to hold back the flood. And there is no possibility of them leaving this place without him.

“Astarion!” they call out once they reach him. He’s bound by those same red bindings that Cazador used earlier, floating above you.

“Help me!” he cries, and the desperation in his voice is piercing. Your eyes look back and forth, inspecting his restraints in seconds, before you simply grab him and pull. 

It’s not the most elegant solution, but it certainly is effective. Astarion falls atop you, and you distantly hear Cazador’s angry shouts. It hardly matters to you now. “Are you alright?” you hear yourself ask him, relief and concern fighting for precedence.

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” he says, lifting himself off the ground. He looks at you, red eyes filled with determination, and your relief wins out. “Let’s go stab that bastard.”

The rest of your reverie is spent in grueling combat. You feel your past-self fight to their limits, fueled by equal parts anger and love. You’ve learned plenty from them in terms of how to fight and what a real fight feels like. But this? This was revenge. It was messy, it was brutal, and it filled you with an odd sense of awe.

After Astarion deals Cazador a near-lethal blow, you think to yourself, thank the gods, it’s over. You reverie didn’t end though, because it was anything but over. Cazador hid into his damnable coffin, Astarion followed, and you watched.

Watched as Astarion tore Cazador out of hiding, threatened him with his own blade, taunted him with his own ritual. Watched as your past-self pleaded with him, tried to assure him that he didn’t need to sacrifice anything to be worthy. Watched as Astarion tried to convince you that this was necessary to be truly free of Cazador.

You could feel your past-self’s emotions, tumultuous as they are, settle on understanding. You don’t understand– how could you, ill-equipped as you are– but you’re glad that they do. They reason with him, try to persuade him to give up on the ritual as only they know how. 

Both of you breathe a sigh of relief as he says, “You… you’re right. I can be better than him. But I'm not above enjoying this.”

Then a torrent of emotions you hadn’t realized were being held back finally burst through the dam. As Astarion stabbed Cazador, delivering blow after blow, you felt sorrow, comfort, joy, sympathy… pain. The pale elf cries, knelt before his former master, your former-self weeps with him.

You wake up in tears. You’d been looking forward to Cazador’s demise, but something about it leaves you feeling hollow. You’re exhausted by how utterly out of your depth you had been. It was every bit of your energy to hold on to the memory and bear it witness, all you could do to try to comprehend the hurt that Astarion felt.

Despite being out of your reverie, a deep pain in your chest remains. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this before, but you’re nearly certain that this is what heartbreak feels like. It’s almost as if his pain was your pain. Seeing him break down like that was akin to you breaking down, and even now, the tears keep spilling.

You don’t like to admit when you’re wrong, and you’d like to believe that that happens rarely enough that it doesn’t matter. However when it comes to this man, you might need to admit that you didn’t always have enough context to make judgements.

Now that you do, you understand your past-self more than you expect. They were willing to sacrifice anything for him, put their life on the line for him. Something about Astarion makes your heart race, your mind spin, and your very soul weep. What it is about him hardly matters, what matters is that your past-self is trying to push you toward him and for the first time, you think you’d like to listen.

You’d like to begin even more extensive research. This time not about who you were, but about what happened after the events at Baldur’s Gate– More importantly, what became of Astarion after this. You’re too far from Baldur’s Gate to properly investigate or understand what’s mere myth or actual history, however you do know that, as a vampire, he wouldn’t die of natural causes. You’ve yet to dream of his death, so he could very well still be alive.

I should at the very least find out what happened to him, you think. Another, more sensible side of you thinks, Wait. You don’t even know how this life ended. Things could have ended poorly between you, he may even have killed you himself.

Even if you did find him, even if he did love your past-self, you also know that it’s not you who he knows or would care to see. Despite all of that logic, a dangerous, near-taboo thought comes to you, Should I just go find him?

You’re still young though and you understand that this is likely a foolhardy idea– that the exact thing that your parents have warned you against is happening right now. So you decide to consult with them before you make any decisions.

They indulge you a bit, willing to help you with some research, encouraging you to maybe even write a letter if you find the right words. However, they come with a clear warning: no good will come of it if you meet with anyone from a former life. You’re not the same person. It’s been decades, maybe centuries since they’ve last seen you, and they may not be the same person they once were. Don’t ruin your current life by chasing a previous one. Don’t go to Baldur’s Gate.

You nod, figuring that they’re correct. They have centuries of experience, seen countless elves go through what you’re going through. This is only sound, mature advice. That advice carries you for quite a while, staying your hand when you go to practice a divination spell or when you think to seek a teleportation circle to Baldur’s Gate.

However, after decades and decades of dreaming of this man, you find your will wavering, crumbling into dust. One reverie in your 99th year of life finally breaks through the last of your resistance.

[bestworstcase]

One thing that I've not been keen on in hindsight, is just how much what you call "pop writing advice" is not that helpful to me. Or how they get used by people in critique.

Because most of them tends to be exceptionally vague borderline nothing bits. Like a series having "good dialogue" or "bad dialogue", and unless it's the most incredibly obvious lowest common denominator kind of thing that anyone who listens could tell is bad dialogue, it's never properly elaborated on.

For example, they describe good dialogue as "witty, subtle, etc" or something else. Like okay, can you tell me what that even constitutes as? Any examples you want to provide? Is witty supposed to be two characters bantering with each other with MCU styled dialogue, or is it something else entirely? Is your definition of good dialogue supposed to just be empty snark that you jingle in front of people like keys while being devoid of any actual value? What is bad dialogue then; something you consider boring or you just not caring for that particular style of writing? Give me context dammit!

Like, maybe my mind just latches onto the weird things, but I'm always left with more questions than answers because of these kinds of advice and critiques, because there's never anything concrete to work with. Just a vague nothingburger that I'm expected to dissect without any clear context as to WHAT I'm supposed to get out of it.

mmmmhm. in general pop writing advice tends to approach stories as a product you intend to sell as widely as possible as opposed to, like, art, and when it's about dialogue or plot structure it often presumes a target audience of indifferently distractible readers/viewers who need to be spoonfed witticisms and action to get them to stick with a story. which is frankly insulting to readers and viewers as well as to writers.

anyway. i don't know if you were trying to fish for this but here's some actual advice, or at least how i think about some things:

dialogue -> what characters do not say is often just as important as what they do. if the character in question is lying or an unreliable narrator or otherwise untrustworthy, what they don't say is more important than what they do. it's almost always worth thinking about what a character might hold back in a conversation, and the things they might circumlocute around, and why. even scrupulously honest people can be forgetful, and nobody can say everything that's on their mind all the time.

dialogue -> is characterization. how a character speaks is one of the single most effective ways to make characters feel distinct from one another; if everyone sounds the same it's much harder for the reader to keep track of who is who. rhythm is everything. you can slow a character's speech down by using fewer contractions and using 'longer' syntax (not necessarily longer words, but longer sounds; 'moment' is a longer word than 'minute' because of the vowel sounds) and longer sentences; or speed it up with the reverse. no contractions at all can make a character sound stilted, overly formal, or very careful depending upon rhythm. try reading dialogue out loud to figure out the natural cadence of the words.

characterization -> i swear by this

plot -> is what happens when the circumstances of the world interact with character choices. 'deus ex machina' (and 'diablus ex machina') are not bad per se; the trick is to prepare the audience ahead of time by subtly establishing the possibility of such an intervention. the term deus ex machina derives from a convention of ancient greek theater, wherein divine intervention was a regular an unremarkable feature. to the audience of these plays, the sudden appearance of a god at the end of the story would not have felt abrupt or random because the gods were intricately intertwined with and present in day-to-day life.

thus, when translating this device into a story for modern audiences, it's important to develop a similar sense of immediacy and presence. deus/diablus ex machina is unexpected (so you don't foreshadow it) but should be explicable (so the audience already knows this kind of thing can happen) and ideally thematically cogent. i find that it's helpful to think of the world itself as a sort of 'character' participating in the plot in the same way the actual characters do.

theme -> think about theme the way visual artists think about color palette and cohesion. theme is what binds the story together into a unified whole. what purpose does a character's arc serve to the greater narrative? how does it rhyme with other parts of the story—or if it doesn't, is there a reason for breaking the pattern? do all the pieces fit together in a coherent way? you don't need to have an Idea or a Statement or a Concept necessarily, though it is helpful to be able to say in very broad terms what a story is "about" thematically, e.g. bitter snow is about liberation. because that gives you something concrete that you can use as a reference when thinking about what a character's arc is about and whether it fits or not.

[autisticandoddlyspecific]

Spinel x Touch-Averse AND Touch-Starved Reader

Except I missed the point of these bullet point type headcanon-y posts and went ham.

There are some small details about "reader" here because spoiler: it's also author. lmao. But it shouldn't be too much if you're already down for this post based on the title.

SFW, 2nd person(you, your, yours), gn reader but it wasn't exactly intentional. gender was just never relevant in any of these points. No pronouns except for the 2nd person ones used for reader.

Spinel is careful with you when you tell her you’re touch averse. She’s used to expressing affection physically, and pretty often. It took a little getting used to when you two became more than just casual acquaintances, but she got the hang of it eventually.

You had a bit of an understanding. While neither of you just dumped your life story on the other when you first met or anything, she made a comment hinting at being inexperienced with friendships and you told her you could relate to an extent.

She understands when you just stick by her side or stay in the same room as her when she’s not feeling great, but sometimes she feels she really needs someone to hold her or to hold onto.

She cried when you handed her your favorite plushie to snuggle one of those evenings. It’s yours. Not just that, but it’s your favorite one. It was almost sort of a piece of you, and you let her hold it!

It makes you consider bringing around that plushie in your bag whenever you hang out with her, even if it wouldn’t be needed every time.

That being said, there were more ways you were there to comfort or bond with Spinel than just physical proximity. You’d listen to her, talk her through her emotions when you knew what to do, and give her advice. You’d even play music or sing, even if you’ve never done that for someone before.

Spinel also grows to know a bit about being there for folks, even if some of it came from you.

To be fair, she also went and talked to gems at Little Homeworld to see what she could learn about emotions so she could be a better friend to you. She ended up getting a lot better at listening from it.

Sure, you aren’t the only person who benefits from her newfound skills, but you are the main benefactor and reason for this.

You eventually make something like a friendship bracelet you’d expect to give or be given in middle school, but sized up, and made to be held at its ends by two people.

You can’t help the warmth in your chest as she visibly gains more spring in her step after grabbing it, even if she tries not to react too much, still not wanting to make it seem like the limited touch isn’t enough for her.

To be honest, by that point you and Spinel are super close, and she couldn’t imagine any lack of touch making her not want to hang out with you.

The feeling she gets when you’d smile, or when you two would tease or snark at each other until the both of you were literally on the floor laughing– well, it almost worries her for a second, remembering back when she’d idolize Pink and want nothing but for her to smile and be happy, but Spinel can tell it wasn’t quite the same. You were real friends. You are equal and you both knew it, and treat each other as such. You both stick by each other. This is mutual, and it makes Spinel feel so full of love and life that she feels she could poof(fortunately she didn’t).

The feeling you have is maybe a bit more. You didn’t really expect to start crushing on her, but now you can’t escape the often elated and fuzzy feelings you get whenever she says or does just about anything. It’s like you’ve always known each other. You figure it’s best to wait and figure out your emotions, and wait for a good time to mention it, if you ever even want to. Only time will tell.

One day, you and Spinel are hanging out, and you can’t stop staring at her hand. You’d had a bit of a long week, but it was nothing too serious– still, you’re some kind of tired. Her hand is just on the table. She moved her hands occasionally but right now her hand’s just resting on the table.

To say you grab her hand is a bit of a stretch, as it’s just your fingertips on the back of her hand with what feels like a literal featherlight touch… at first.

Everything stops. Spinel stops talking and just stares, but doesn’t move. With a look of what mostly reads as aggressive concentration, you grab her hand and examine it like it’s some kind of science project. The touch isn’t painful, but you feel it just as intensely.

You hold her hand in your own hands almost like it were a child. You haven’t made eye contact since you reached your hand out.

“Hey, uh… what are you doing?” Spinel sounds uncertain. “Are you okay?” You can feel your eyes starting to burn.

“It’s not burning,” You answer, making no eye contact and speaking low in a smoother voice than you usually did; it seems like if you aren’t careful and slow with your own emotions you’d just burst into tears and be incoherent. Spinel seems to get what you’re referring to.

“I think…” You croaked, “Even if touch was uncomfortable with almost everyone, that doesn’t mean I didn’t need it. That I can’t be touch starved.” The tears are blurring the edges of your vision. Your hands are shaking. You think you can hear Spinel make a sharp inhale or something similar.

“It’s okay,” She stammers, at your volume, “I get it. The touch-starved thing, I mean.” You knew that. “You can hold my arm.”

You’re not sure the way you cried seemed “normal” but that was never an issue with her. She’s safe enough to touch. You’ve no reason to care in that state, really.

“So, what feels comfortable to touch?” Spinel asks. For now, it’s hands and lower arms, or her hand cupping your face if you have her arm in your hands, but that tends to be a bit emotionally overwhelming.

From that moment, you could never be fed up with her touch – even if it’s pretty much just hand holding and hand holding but weirder – but you’re not ready to do much of that in public. It feels like your trademark almost, like seeing you touch somebody was weirder to people than literally any of the gem related stuff that’s happened since 6,000 years ago.

It’s not the most logical thought, but you’re both willing to take whatever time is needed.

Whenever you two are alone, you’re practically attached to each other by your arms.

You hold her hands in yours. Just standing facing each other in your home, her left hand in your right and her right in your left. It was a pretty normal day just a minute ago. Looking in her eyes, the tears welled up in yours.

“I know I don’t have to be normal,” You sniffle, “But it just feels… refreshing.”

Her face is dusted with a darker fuschia, you’re blushing up a storm. When you look at her, her eyes show understanding and fondness you never see from people. But even moreso, you feel like you see more than her. It’s like seeing the whole universe in her eyes. That’s when you realize you’re in deep.

She makes a playful jab at you “being normal” as your new career path, and you act offended like you, and it’s back to having a normal day. But you know you should seriously consider this.

WOW! I don't think I've ever got the ideas out of me head with such efficiency while still liking what came out. I noticed how much longer and bulkier it is than the normal xreader post but I can't rely on myself to make it into an actual story that I enjoy writing and that I feel reads well, and I figure that there's no real harm in just throwing out these ideas even if I do end up just taking this whole thing and making it into a fic as is, just with more plot/words/idk lol. Fun fact: the google doc that I wrote all this down on is titled: "ZOMG SPINEL KISSES!!!! <3<3<3 >~<"

I might make a continuation, I might not. Who knows, really. Also, should I post this on AO3 as is, without "fleshing it out" more? Would that be alright? And should I keep the bullet points or get rid of them. I'd love any feedback on anything in this post!

[yourneighbourhoodtraumatisedkids]

FAVOURITE FANFICTION FROM EVERYONE!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!!!!!

*camera being set up by Clotpole and Dollophead*

Dollophead: *looks on clipboard* So... who's going first?

Clotpole: *fixing camera and computer* It's... Toby this time, I think.

Dollophead: What happened to Jim?

Clotpole: Well, after he hacked into the system to play Shameless on the speakers, the Dark Raven and Queen of Maids agreed that it wouldn't be good for him to go first since he had more time to hack into the speakers.

Dollophead: *groans* And why exactly are we taking my girlfriend's advice on this?

Clotpole: Simply because it's best to. No one messes with the Dark Raven, and you know that very well.

Dollophead: *snorts* Oh, so she gets Dark Raven as a name, but I got stuck with fucking Dollophead-

Clotpole: Toby, get in here!

*Toby enters, smiling nervously*

Clotpole: Sit. Now.

*Toby sits down on the chair*

Clotpole: Now, what is your favourite fanfiction, huh?

Toby: I cannot believe you shadow portalled us all the way from Arcadia at 4 am-

Clotpole: Do it, or I'm dropping you in Gatto's mouth.

Toby: Fine! Umm... Your Future Hasn't Been Written by @sakon76. 161 chapters so far, angsty, but honestly a good read. But I want to kill Arthur. For sure. But there are so many things I don't understand- all because Jim doesn't explain them. Such as the Green Knight-

Dollophead: Okay, that's it. Next!

*Toby jumps out of chair and goes to stand next to Dollophead*

Toby: Dude, how do you deal with her-

Dollophead: I've known her since she was 3. That's how.

*Darci enters the room, and sits down on the seat, smiling*

Clotpole: *smiles* Hey, Darce. If you don't mind telling me, what is your favourite fanfiction?

Darci: *thinks* It has to be... A Secret's Worth by @rosemaidenvixen. It's way too good. I literally just finished it the other day when she posted the last chapter. I really like how she took to writing Jim's and Barbara's problems with the CPS and that one scene where Strickler was combing through Jim's hair and showed that he actually worried about him because Jim was losing hair because he was stressed.

Dollophead: *ticks name on clipboard* Thank you, Darci. Next!

*Darci gets up and walks over to Toby*

Toby: How is she so nice to you?!

Darci: Because I don't make Clotpole angry.

Dollophead: Well, I don't make her angry-

Darci: D, that's simply the dynamic you have. She bosses you around, you snark at her. But we know you guys are like brother and sister-

Dollophead: I have a sister and she has a brother-

Darci: But you guys still care about each other. We can all see the bromance. And you respect her rules- like no touching her and making sure to tell her when to pray-

Clotpole: *giggles* Guys, please, we can talk about D's and my dynamic later. *puts on serious face* NEXT PERSON, C'MON- WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!

*Eli enters, stumbling over his feet*

Eli: Sorry, sorry, I'm here.

Clotpole: Did Steve push you?

Eli: *nods* Yeah.

Clotpole: I'll deal with him later- or Hairdo Guy will. Anyway, Eli, what is your favourite fanfiction.

Eli: Probably the series Tear Me in Two (The Moonlight will Anyway) by @avirxy. I really like how they turned our life into a monster hunting AU, with Claire as the werewolf and Mary as a banshee. I think it actually really fits the concept, and it's so well written as well.

Clotpole: *nods* One of my favourites as well, if we're being completely honest. I'll read it at midnight for no reason- just when I want to see some angst. But their Arcane Blight is by far my favourite. Anyway, thank you Eli, AND NEXT!

*Eli gets off the chair and Steve comes into the room, and sits on the chair*

Clotpole: Favourite fanfiction, Steve?

Steve: Through the Veil by @pinkytoothlesso11. That's a good one. I- I really don't know what to say, apart from the fact I'm glad that some of us got a happy ending. It makes me a little hopeful.

*Toby raises an eyebrow*

Toby: Didn't I die in that one-

Dollophead: Shut up!

Clotpole: Thank you Steve, and NEXT!

*Mary walks into the room, filing nails*

Clotpole: *rolls eyes* Mary, c'mon, we don't have all night- I need to get back home before my mom finds out I'm not doing Chemistry revision for goodness sake! Now, what is your favourite fanfiction.

*Mary sits on chair*

Mary: Probably... There is a lot about me you don't know by @generalallxsanjishipper or Killian44peeta on ao3. They're good at writing Douxie and his trauma. Also Jim being scared by the bathtub gives me the feels but also makes me kind of laugh because of that one time when he tried to move that one bathtub in that store and pretty much-

Clotpole: *stops smiling* Okay, okay, we get it, Mary, and thank you. NEXT!

*Claire enters the room and sits down on the chair*

Clotpole: Okay, favourite fanfiction, Claire?

Claire: I think I've said this before but Mirrored convictions by @albentelisa. It's too good- it just fuels me whenever I read a chapter. I especially liked that bit with Jim and the Gravesand and Mrs Shen, and then that bit after where Jim stabs Barbara in the thigh. I don't know why but it gave me this weird feeling that this would escalate later on. Can't wait for Chapter 67!

Clotpole: *grins* Honestly, I can't wait either. And finally, last but not least- JIM, GET YOUR ASS INSIDE HERE!

[charmixpower]

About the comics:

I'll be redoing the early comics as well because I didn't pay all that much attention to them the first time and I have a new style

The Comics are weird about being in character

Tecna is the most ooc of the Winx in the comics, followed by Stella as a close second, and Musa third

Tecna is made more like the rest of the Winx and is like the second most boy crazy, and the quickest to anger and annoyance

Stella is straight up fucking mean a surprising amount of times but it's always really funny

Musa has her snark filed off, and her insecure energy at Stella for being the opposite of her is completely absent

Flora and Aisha are the most in character, from what I've seen, and Bloom the second most

Flora and Aisha just act like their show counterparts

Bloom acts like what I've heard her 4kids counterpart is like with s5 Bloom levels of insecurity and unhinged behavior about her relationship with Sky

Sky is like a much worse version of his 4kids self and I hate him

Brandon is still Brandon

Riven has skipped his s1 era and has gone straight into s2. Which gives me good food of what s3 Riven should have been like, but is very ooc for s1

Helia has enough screen time to have a personality

Timmy is a more useless version of himself. I don't know how the comics managed that. He's completely worthless in like most situations, it drives me insane

The Trix have more screen time outside of being pure evil to show off their personalities

There is WAY more hetero bullshit in the comics

Tecna's attitude towards Timmy is the most straight "your not a real man" fucking nonsense and it's the only reason I don't hate Timmy. I'm too busy being offended on his behalf

Rivusa is.... amazing. It's so funny. Musa will shoot her shot at any opportunity she gets and Riven always sits there like 😐 while he internally has a huge fucking crush on her it's amazing. Neither of these idiots can communicate to save their lives

Flora gives Musa the WORST FUCKING ADVICE

Brella is normal but fights a little more often than s1-3 for drama

Florelia is SO fucking cute in the comics. They are on another fuckin vibe

Comics Skloom deserve each other (it's so awful and weird on both sides)

Driven is barely touched upon, I don't think it even exists really in the comics. They just skipped it, which is funny but disappointing

Icy/Darko is the most toxic relationship I've ever seen and they're kinda perfect for each other

The girlies feel a lot more like normal friends. Like seriously it feels a lot less rushed and after they become friends they are so silly!! They fuck with each other constantly

There is a very obvious real life thing that comes to mind the first time you see someone in the comics pour a love potion into an unsuspecting person's drink, but the comics are very clearly unaware of the implication and love potions are treated more like a dick move of a prank than how terrifying they'd be in real life. So I'm going to keep my thoughts about these actions strictly within the confines of the comic's logic. But yes, I am aware and do address my thoughts without intentionally not making the comparison, it's really fucking weird that not a single person of in the writers room didn't see the glaringly obvious analogy and they just keep using it as a plot line for some unholy reason

[seventeenlovesthree]

So I just finished Good Omens season 2 and while I obviously share the sense of longing that left most of the fandom devastated at the end, I must say... As a 32 year old woman who just started a new job after having been stuck in a profession that made her feel mentally unwell and stuck for the past 5 years, all I want to say is that this season left me with a huge appreciation for the silliness of life as a whole.

"Wait and see" is actually the best advice I'd want to give to anybody, whether they are kids, teenagers, young adults at the beginning of figuring out their lives - but also to people much, much older than me, wiser, more experienced, basically to everybody who, like me, felt lost and in despair due to the state of the world, their own lives, their purpose, whatever it may be. There may be spoilers ahead now, but I simply feel the need to summarize my feelings in regard to what I saw:

Life can be incredibly unfair. You may be seeking that promotion at work, aiming to get the recognition or the salary you feel you deserve - or maybe you just want to make a difference, make a change for things to get better. You know how difficult that can be, y'all are terribly understaffed after all, people have developed a certain sense of resignation, there is snark and sarcasm, some are doing the bare minimum, others are simply trying their best and remain positive, dealing with either imposter syndrome or have been thrown into positions they may not even be suited for. Heck, even the higher-ups may not be suitable for the positions they have ended up at...

There are times when you're asking yourself what's the use in all of this. You don't know if karma or fate have been betting against you, a lot of unpleasant things have happened and there have been many times you just wanted to give up. Feeling inept, not enough, never enough, unlovable even. It's all so frustrating and unfair. So what really is the point of all of this?

I'm telling you what it is: Sometimes you really just have to "wait and see". It may not fix everything right away, and some things may actually never change for the better, but... Chances are you may encounter something, someone that will make it all worth it.

You just need to open your eyes and mind - and stop taking things personally. Or even seriously. Humans are such silly little creatures, the older you get, the more you realize that interpersonal interactions are not exactly what we were taught they would be. There is no handbook that can give you every answer you are looking for, because people just are inherently weird. They are quirky and silly and difficult and fun and that is perfectly okay. There may also be people that have (and will) hurt you, so deeply that you think you can never trust anyone ever again - but you need to learn that not everyone is out there to get you. Because people also tend to be so focused on themselves and their own issues that they may actually not be paying attention to you. We may misunderstand each other, we may not be able to get each other, some people are incompatible and others just fit together in ways that are literally ineffable. Love comes in so many shapes, so many ways, so many colours, affection, fondness, relatability, friendship, comradeship, romance, you name it - and that's why it's so important that you actually go for the things that make life worthwhile.

Sometimes you have to dance that silly little dance, either on your own or with a person you cherish.

Sometimes you have to get that terribly over-priced coffee, because it warms your heart and soul - and without taking that moment to enjoy it, you may not even have noticed that the sound of the pouring is so much nicer to listen to than grumbling over it "ruining your day".

Sometimes you have to ramble about that weird, obscure hobby you have, because it makes you happy and, even without realizing it, listening to you may make other people happy too.

Go read that silly little book, go listen to your favourite song, go learn about a skill you've been fascinated about in a while, even if people may roll their eyes at you.

Sometimes we need to take the time to heal from the wounds we already obtained. Not everybody will remain by our side forever, some may not understand why we do the things we do. The love we feel for one person may not be enough to make them understand our ways and sometimes, separation is the only solution for the time being - to take a step back, to think, to evaluate, to process. Because it simply wasn't the right time, the right moment, no matter how long (or little) we have waited already. There will be change - because not everything will last forever. But that doesn't mean that things cannot change for the better either.

If we wait and see.

[mickmundy]

thinking about the "merc cliques" in my medic x sniper fic. since this is set in post-comics, i think the mercs would just kind of... silently acknowledge that they're... all closer now? like not as much "drama" between them happens etc. they've all Grown Up a bit. so at this point i hc that they hang out together all the time so this is more like who sits with/near who and casual/niche things like that. not in any order!

as usual, Elaboration under the cut!

i think for the most part this is pretty Average/To Be Expected, but i still enjoy slightly veering away from the "two-merc-matchups" that exist in a lot of fics out there and exploring other potential dynamics..!

technically spy and pyro could also be down there with solly in that they kind of Drift, but spy prefers heavy's company above anyone else's (because they're dating) and pyro likes baking, reading and drawing while listening to heavy, medic and spy talk. solly is free-roaming!

i also think pyro likes getting their Zoomies alone (values their own private time and personal space), then going and decompressing around their friends :) so sometimes heavy and spy's energy is just something they Gel with. i also think heavy, spy, demo, engie and pyro have a book club together that meets up once every two weeks!

spy hangs out with sniper semi-regularly but only one on one, usually giving advice or having some kind of much-needed heart to heart.. they sit on the hood of sniper's van and smoke together and Tell Nobody about their meetings or what they talk about LOL

heavy and medic meet up for tea fairly often; mann co's tea is horrendous but they enjoy each other's company and the "ritual" of it (it's important to heavy). medic and spy obviously hang out together because of heavy and enjoy each other's company too! medic really brings out spy's playful snark and heavy often has to reel them both in!

scout and spy are starting to try and navigate their "newfound" relationship as father and son so typically this is the time spy will do something with scout.. usually playing pranks on solly (that spy teaches scout) or the two of them baking with pyro (who is Quite Capable when it comes to culinary arts!)... their relationship is an Eternal work in progress but... it's in progress!

sniper likes having some beers and playing pool with engineer and demo (scout will join in if he doesn't have plans with another merc)..... if they can get him out of his van to do so! but once they do get sniper to hang out with them, sniper has a great time! he likes their energy and enjoys losing himself in a good billiards game now and then.

aaand obviously medic and sniper hang out together! their relationship progresses throughout my fics from awkward conversations in the infirmary to watching their birds fly together at sniper's van and talking about death (and life), and now flirting and baking together in medic's lab! :-) and we can only hope they'll get even closer...! hehehe!!!! <3

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Quark

By Ames

Do you have the lobes for business? This week, we’re putting our knowledge of the Rules of Acquisition to the test with one of our favorite Ferengi characters: Quark! He really does it all: he tends bar, he runs a profitable casino, he romances ladies who you’d think would be way out of his league, he snarks with a certain gooey chief of security, and he schemes! Boy, does he ever scheme.

The Ferengi overall are a bit of a mixed bag, what with their ultra-capitalist, extremely misogynist society, but Quark proves throughout Deep Space Nine to be a complex and well-written person, full of contradictions and character growth. So read the full contract below and listen to this week’s podcast episode (jump to 55:53) as A Star to Steer Her By takes a seat next to Morn to try to catch the ear of the bartender. Come to Quarks, Quark’s is fun, Come right now, Don’t walk: Run!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Make him an offer he can’t refuse Ferengi-centered episodes are typically goofball comedies and worth a laugh or five, and “The Nagus” gets us off to a quite funny start. Quark’s performance as Zek’s successor is full of funny little touches, and the allusion to The Godfather with Quark stroking a gilvo as if it were a lapcat is a good joke indeed. Quark would make a fine nagus, I say. And a decent godfather.

Who wears the clothes in this relationship? Quark may start out as a typical Ferengi, but we see glimpses of his development to becoming a better person due to hanging around all these hoomans. In “Rules of Acquisition,” he’s prepared to pay Pel ten bars of latinum to set her up in a new life, and then outthinks the Nagus when she reveals herself as a female. It’s a small step, but a big one for a Ferengi!

Being with you was the happiest time of my life Somehow, Quark is at his best when paired with reciprocating love interests. In “Profit and Loss,” (not to be confused with “Profit and Lace”), he earnestly attempts to get Natima Lang to safety when the Cardassian government is after her for being a dissident. Sure, it starts off one-sided and creepy, but Natima and Quark’s love turns out to be mutual and really sweet!

Behold the power of math! Yet again, we’re highlighting an episode in which Quark is romantically paired with a kickass female and he comes out looking swish! Not only does Quark battle D’Ghor in “The House of Quark,” but he also exposes the fraudulent bookkeeping D’Ghor had done for Grilka’s house. Quark allows Grilka, one of our favorite Klingons, to realize her agency and be her best.

If they want their money back, give it to them? People give Sisko all the credit, being the Emissary and all that, but in “Prophet Motive” we get to see Quark go into the wormhole to talk to the prophets himself! To save Zek from whatever personality rewriting the denizens of the celestial temple had done to him, Quark takes it upon himself to ensure that Rule of Acquisition #10 remains true: Greed is eternal!

The bigger the risk, the bigger the win Quark’s lobes might only be rivaled by his spine, as he demonstrates an absurd amount of bravery when he disarms the bomb that had Kool-Aid Manned into the ship in “Starship Down.” The thrill of gambling with their lives is perfectly captured in the scene and you feel both the relief and exhilaration when Quark and Hanok don’t explode into little bits.

For a minute there I thought you were talking to me as a friend As we said in the Odo post, the relationship between the constable and the barman is one of the best explored in the series. We can read between the lines how much they respect each other but just can’t say it. So when Quark (in his jammies!) goes to Odo when he’s hurting over Kira in “Crossfire” and pretends it’s just for his business ventures, we all know what it really means.

I claim the Right of Proclamation One good episode with Grilka deserves another! When the ever-glorious Grilka comes to Quark seeking financial advice in “Looking for par’Mach in All the Wrong Places,” Quark goes above and beyond to win her favor. He even practices how to fight with a bat’leth and learns some of the basics of Klingon culture, all while remaining true to his Ferengi identity! Qapla’!

Let me pour you another By the time we get deep into the Dominion War, Quark is keen to play both sides, but he does his part for the little resistance band too. In “Behind the Lines,” he slyly gets Damar shitfaced enough to spill all the information he has about taking down the cloaked minefield. Like another good bartender I could name, Quark’s main role is to tend the bar and to listen.

Nobody moves except you Soon afterwards when everything in the resistance is going headlong downhill in “Sacrifice of Angels,” Quark practically single-handedly (okay, with Ziyal’s help) saves the day! He tricks a guard using a hasperat soufflé and then straight up shoots two Jem’Hadar goons and rescues everyone from the brig. If it’s not the first time Quark has deliberately killed, he sure plays it that way.

Ferengi can be just as tough as Klingons Quark’s choice to assemble an all-Ferengi elite squadron to rescue Moogie in “The Magnificent Ferengi” may seem hare-brained (it’s a goofy Ferengi episode, after all), but it also speaks to his pride in what Ferengi can accomplish. There’s also a pure familial love for Moogie that is worth all the latinum in the Nagus’s reward (minus the finder’s fee, of course).

My, what big ears you have Finally, Quark would want to flaunt how he turned out to be right in “The Siege of AR-558” when the standoff with Jem’Hadar soldiers results in massive casualties, including costing Nog his leg. But Quark staunchly protects his nephew and uses his superior Ferengi hearing to detect incoming Jem’Hadar soldiers and blow them away before they can finish Nog off.

—

Worst moments

A contract is a contract is a contract We could really, really, really have done without this detail. Sarda, one of the Dabo girls, reveals in “Captive Pursuit” that Quark has sexual favors written into their contracts. It’s one thing for the Ferengi to be misogynists and kinda sleazy, but it’s a whole other level for him to engage in sexual manipulation, harassment, and assault. And for the writers to play it as a joke!!!

You Ferengi, you think you’re so clever but you’re stupid We gave Bashir a pat on the back the other week when he saved Jadzia’s life in “Invasive Procedures” when Verad and his hired goons kidnapped the Dax symbiont. But remember that it was all Quark’s fault that these worm snatchers got onto the station in the first place! In his greed to make another illicit deal, Quark let them through the docking ring. All for a little latinum.

I’ve been waiting for you Can we all agree that it’s a bad idea for the holodeck to be able to create holo-images of real people because it will always get gross? Geordi did it in “Booby Trap,” Barclay did it in “Hollow Pursuits,” Odo did it in “His Way,” and in “Meridian,” Quark violates Kira’s privacy to create a sex object for that creep Toran and make a little profit, which is a running theme with him.

No nephew of mine is going to disgrace our family name by joining Starfleet The way Quark scorns Nog for wanting to follow his dreams and join Starfleet is also a pretty bad look for the boy’s uncle. First he tries to forbid Nog from applying to Starfleet in “Heart of Stone” and then he rigs up the holodeck to ensure he’ll fail his exams in “Facets.” Quark just comes across as an overstepping asshole when it comes to his nephew in these cases.

Quark’s Treasure, ready to depart Shocking no one, Quark is looking to make another deal in kemocite which he couches in generosity while bringing Nog to Starfleet Academy in “Little Green Men.” And of course this gets them stranded in the past in Area 51 for a while, breaking the Temporal Prime Directive and perpetuating the trope that Quark will put profit over his family members at any cost.

Great Exchequer, take me now! I like to call “Body Parts” “Missed Opportunities: the episode!” When Quark learns he owes his desiccated remains to Brunt, Quark just… gives up on life and plans to get himself killed by Garak. And this is supposed to be a comedy! This is so not in Quark’s character and I lament that we didn’t get an episode of Quark faking his own death, which would be infinitely funnier and better!

Why, Quark? Why did you kill my baby? While most of Quark’s schemes are just typical goofy Ferengi shenanigans you’re meant to roll your eyes at and accept with a snicker, Quark actually sidles up to committing atrocities when he gets into the arms racket in “Business as Usual.” When even Jadzia, who’s the most forgiving of his Ferengi ways, won’t talk to him anymore, you know he’s gone and done wrong.

Oo-mox for Fun and Profit After years of development into a slightly better person, and just when you start thinking “maybe that episode in which Quark put sexual favors in his Dabo girls’ contracts was a fluke,” “Profit and Lace” comes along. The teaser shows Quark asking Aluura to consider giving him oo-mox or he’ll consider firing her. And by the end when he should have learned better, he’s right back at it. VOMIT.

You’re the worst thing that ever happened to the entire Ferengi Alliance Speaking of “Profit and Lace,” there’s more to hate in this deplorable episode. Quark gets into a screaming fight with his mother, blaming her radical feminism as the cause of all their problems with Brunt dethroning Zek as nagus. It’s an ugly fight in an ugly episode, and Quark cruelly goads his own moogie until she has a heart attack, jeopardizing their plan to reinstate Zek. And nearly killing her!

The REST of “Profit and Lace” I’m not done shitting on “Profit and Lace.” It should be obvious why we rated it hands-down the worst episode of Deep Space Nine, and Quark’s depiction of Lumba is at the heart of it. It’s like Quark has never seen a woman before and concocts the most demeaning caricature. The hormones are inexplicable. The walk is atrocious. The whole thing flies in the face of any message of equality the show might otherwise champion, all for the sake of a Ferengi joke.

I loved Jadzia as much as anyone in this room After pining for Jadzia in season six almost as much as Julian, Quark weasels his way onto the mission to get her soul into Sto-vo-kor. Throughout “Shadows and Symbols,” it feels like all he wants is to one-up the grief of the actual widower in the room, Worf.  Quark makes Jadzia’s death all about him and whines that Worf isn’t gracious enough that he’s there being underfoot.

Someone has to speak up and I’ve decided that someone is me As if all the ogling of Jadzia wasn’t enough, poor Ezri gets targeted by Quark once she arrives on the station. Quark butts in and advises her not to get involved with Worf in “Once More Unto the Breach,” and it’s none of his damn business! The scene plays it off like it’s romantic and funny and cute, but it’s all self serving because he fancies her. Ugh, why did only men largely write this show?

—

All bets are final and there will be no reimbursements. That’s it for our Quark chat, but we’ve got more Ferengi characters to spotlight on the way (save me). So make sure you’re following along here, keeping up with our watchthrough of Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, place your drink order over on Facebook and Twitter, and you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

[pynkhues]

I know you're a fan of Joey/Pacey as well. If you were to write a one-shot where are they now episode, what's their relationship situation / status?

Oh man, I love Joey x Pacey, anon! They were such a formative ship for me, and I rewatched the series at the start of lockdown, and while parts of the show have aged, I don't think their relationship has? If anything, it almost feels more modern than ever, particularly with the way it's such a satisfying slowburn, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers that builds on genuine chemistry, mutual respect and empathy. It's just!! So!! Good!!!

Overall, I actually liked where they ended up in the finale too. I loved that Joey was working in publishing in New York, and I liked that Pacey was successful as a chef, even if he was unhappy in it and in being back in Capeside, and I, of course, haha, loved that they ended up together in New York.

I think if I was to write a fic, I'd keep Joey in publishing, but have Pacey struggle with working in restaurants in New York. That the pace and the people and the culture of those kitchens would grind him down and that he and Joey would find themselves circling these conversations of what his future looked like more than what their future looked like, because the latter they just know. They're each others now, after all, have made that choice over and over and it's Joey who reminds him, now, then, always, that she loves who he is, not what he does. That they'll figure it out, and Pacey doesn't know how he got this far in life without her.

Doesn't know how he struggled through school and work and life without the room Joey gives him, without the space to figure things out with unwavering openess and empathy and support, and maybe he starts to try and bring that to the junior chefs. Tries to offer them what he never got - little bits of advice, but also room for trial and error, for them to figure things out on their own, and these kids balk and try to one-up each other (and sometimes him) and snark, but slowly maybe they warm to it. To him. Start to bring him their ideas first, start to tell him what they want to do, their goals, their hopes, and then they even let him help them, and it's that that surprises him most of all, because somehow it just fits on him.

And he's expecting Joey to be as surprised if not even more so when he comes back to their dinky little apartment and tells her he thinks he wants to be a highschool teacher, be for some kids what no one in Capeside ever was for him, but Joey just smiles at him, that bright, rising sun one that always cleared the dark, and when she kisses him breathless, says Mr. Witter has a nice ring to it, he falls in love with her all over again.

And I think it's hard work, but I think Joey and Pacey always make it work. I think they choose not to have kids, because they spent too much of their lives fractured by their relationships with their own parents, and in Joey's case, too long helping raise her nephew, and they have enough kids in their lives to get their fix where they need to. Instead, they shift into adulthood in a world surrounded by books and learning and growing and always each other and the freedom and support of a life that's theirs, and one day they'll sail again on a ship called True Love, because that much, at least, has never changed.

[dancergurl3000]

A word about California an essay.

I’m only 85 pages into Bill Mahar’s memoir and I am already seriously over it. While I appreciate his comedic talents of snark his book begs the question: what are the actual “solutions” to what you believe are Americans problems? Because in this book there seem to be a lack of answers to many questions. I have many questions of native Californians. They seem to be a group of humans who are very delusional. I’ve studied past history of other countries and Californians seem to be behaving very much like the Romanovs: very much in their own bubble and insulated from the larger problems at hand: they now call homeless people “unhoused”, they only drink cappuccinos, and find themselves wondering but not doing literally anything about the fact that no one goes into the city for work anymore after the pandemic ended. That’s all fine and everything: but it isn’t for me. I grew up watching “Sex & the city.” “Shopping is my cardio” Carrie stated at lunch with her gal pals once.” Agreed Carrie agreed! And while I am no perfect adult, I find it odd that people I know who live out there seem to be on one hell of a high horse: looking down at other people who have less than them. I went to a high school where this was the norm. Rich parents who were invested in their kids lives. My parents worked two or three jobs and drank virtually every holiday and on weekends. There was no time to come to our cheer practices or swim meets. But I knew people like this and I gotta say it’s not who I want to be. And maybe because these people indeed get their news last and on Facebook that it is the way it is out there, I just have no use for it in my own personal life. Don’t be like this in your adult life is my advice. It’s hard to be a person anyways. Like it’s hard to be an adult no matter who you are and where you are in life. Why look down on people who actually might need help in life? It’s not a good look. And I’m glad I don’t live in that world. It would drive me insane to fit in to not have any empathy for others. I can’t do it. I hope we native New Yorkers use the lessons we all learned after 9/11: that if we needed to come together and help someone out we did. I hope we can come together as a country again. Because at the end of the day all we have is each other. I hope we come out the other side stronger for it.

[theteej]

Seven Small Thank Yous

So much has gone on this year, but it’s very easy to forget the quotidian, the day to day experiences of building life.  And so to end this reflection on 2022, I wanted to thank six people (and a whole coffee collective) who invited me into day-to-day life, let me share joy and sorrow, hilarity and heartbreak.  I can’t thank you all enough, so I’m going to try to just say how much you meant to me this year in a few short paragraphs.

Debra Bass appeared at the most unexpected point of my life.  As I sat down to do a critical reading of my story for my first Vamp story showcase there she was, the only other Black storyteller.  We immediately did that one nod that Black folk do to each other, the one of mutual recognition, survival, and commiseration. Then we heard each other’s stories, and knew we had to be friends.  After Vamp Debra and I went on long walks, had ridiculous laughs together, and grew into that easy space that only true comrades can have.  Debra has an effortless sense of style that ranges from eclectic bohemian chic to effortless glamour.  Her locs are beautiful, her smile is radiant, and she speaks a mile a minute, her words only punctuated by wandering asides, observations, or critiques of the five words that came before.  Debra was the first real friend I feel I made after covid here in San Diego; she became my immediate ridiculous Black travel companion, because we’d both find that the other one was game for just about anything knowing we had company.  So we went to Jewish sabbath suppers, meandering art crawls, museum galas, and seasonal Black group exercise events.  We push each other to try new things—write new stories, try new art practices, examine unseen parts of ourselves.  I am also deeply delighted that she is the one who frequently wants to drive on our adventures; and I compensate by being the person that makes choices on anything from food or drink or destinations, as Debra is not super keen on making any decision that hasn’t been consulted for hours in advance like the quintessential Virgo she is.  Debra is not only brilliant, she makes me feel like I can meet any adventure head-on, as I have a friend and confidante.

Nick Dutton is an absurd human with excellent eyebrows.  Beyond that, he was my one of my students when I taught tenth grade Honors World History in 2007.  Fifteen years later, the two of us are peers; Nick is in his early thirties and trying to navigate what life means back here in San Diego, and I continuously reject the idea that I am his “Black Mr. Feeny” offering him continued life advice.  What started as a hilarious and occasional meet up has turned into a friendship that I genuinely appreciate.  Nick is hilarious and conventionally attractive in a slightly frat bro way, but he’s also a dedicated athlete who runs far more marathons than any human should, and manages to pull off some particularly devastating and clever comebacks and snark.  Nick and I have managed to meet monthly for the last year and a half, but 2022 became a year in which I cherished our get togethers.  We’d always try to find a different vegan place in San Diego, and I have grown to genuinely appreciate Nick’s honesty and thoughtfulness, and he puts up with my occasional teasing and snide rejoinders.  It’s a rare gift to watch someone grow from student to peer to friend, but my life is infinitely better for the silliness and joy Nick brings every time we meet over food without animal products and conversations with good cheer.

Arianna Haut may be one of the best things to ever have come out of winning on Jeopardy aside from meeting Alex Trebek and…you know, the cash.  Arianna and I met through the wider Jeopardy contestant community in 2021, but 2022 was where our friendship really came to shine.  She lives in L.A., and I’m often able to plan hangouts with her when I’m also up visiting my family.  More importantly, she’s someone I check in with daily, exchanging memes, anxieties, and general ridiculosity.  Having a friend who grounds you while also being utterly nonsensical themselves is such a gift, and I don’t know how to express enough gratitude for who Arianna is and what she does.  She’s a brilliant tutor and organizer, an amazing community member, and generous spirit. Some of my best moments with her have been laughing uproariously in the Museum of Jurassic Technology, eating the best tacos ever, wandering the gardens of the Huntington, or exchanging roughly eight million voice notes on facebook messenger.  She, more than anyone else, reminds me that I’m a tightly compressed ball of anxiety in a human meat suit---and that is OKAY.  There’s a depth and a kindness that I cannot fully encapsulate when I think about her and I’m endlessly grateful that she’s someone I can check in with and process and make sense of my life and vice versa.

Paul Binnie is an artist of terrifying skill, a Scotsman with a genuine mischievous charm, and a dear friend of several years.  But in 2022, he became a close and wonderful compatriot.  He joined me on long walks around town, we talked about anxieties, and we held forth on so many different topics each more fun than the last.  Paul has forced me to look at my body in new and incredible ways as he uses his keen eye to draw models, myself included.  He’s also done the impressive work of creating a community of drawing afficionados.  I look forward most weekends to attending his queer drawing group, and I’m incredibly grateful for the friendships I’m making among the people assembled there.  Paul does more than just sketch—he also draws people into community, and I’m very grateful to have been able to see him as part of my wider family in San Diego.

Mark Kurai has been my closest friend in San Diego since both moved back in 2018, and this past year was no exception.  We’ve worked together on art projects, survived the worst of lockdowns as friends and confidantes, but more than anything, Mark is simply there. There is an incredible freedom in knowing that you have a friend nearby that you can rely on to process shit, to vent, to go for walks or coffee, or just to exist with.  Mark is a quintessential introvert, and I could not be any further from such a thing, but he does the considerably difficult job of reminding me to be quiet sometimes, to sit and think, and to be okay with mess and discomfort.  In turn, Mark lets me cajole him or push on occasion, and I am so much more balanced for being around his creativity, his patience, and his discerning eye for dialogue or photographs.  The world is a better place with a comrade and friend like him, and I’m constantly challenged by the way he methodically thinks through and processes the world around him.  I can’t think of the year without picnics or cocktails or phone calls or muddling through life—his friendship is the most quotidian and constant and I’m better for it.

I’ve known Robert Valiente-Neighbours now for nearly two decades; hell, I was his best man in 2008 at his wedding.  We both left San Diego after that, but found ourselves back a few years ago, and our friendship continued with the strength unchanged.  Robert is deeply contemplative—there’s a reason he’s a Quaker after all—but it’s more than that; he brings a quiet and meditative strength to everything he does, from his gorgeous and evocative painting and sketching and collage, to his equally dedicated pursuit of fitness.  This year Robert officially got his license as a personal trainer and with his background in nutrition, and after he launched his business, became a formal consultant for me in my strange and continued relationship with my body and strength.  Robert is aggressively disinterested in self-loathing or body transformations so en vogue in “fitness journeys.”  He emphasizes mobility and strength, and joy.  His dark eyes furrow under his brows often as he looks at me with a soft smile and says simply, “so…what do you want to be able to do with this?” Robert challenges me to think about capacity, about joy, about hope in my body. With Robert, discipline is not a product of denial or abnegation; rather, it’s an invitation to think about new ways or relating to yourself and the world around you. I think freely with him about what I want to do when I eat or move, and why I’m doing it.  I don’t think about hating or changing myself, but instead, about inviting in joy.  Likewise, meeting with him as a dear friend is one of the deepest joys I’ve experienced. Robert asks piercing questions, but also asks the same of himself.  But more than that, Robert is the definition of praxis—when one’s ideals come into practical engagement.  Whether it’s working out or prayer, eating or movies, I’m encouraged to think about what every day looks like simply with my friend, and how to be more meaningful in it all.  It’s a gift and a joy.

It’s not every day you get adopted by an entire fucking coffee shop, but Mystic Mocha is not a regular café.  Helmed by the hilarious and kind Izzy—who bears more than a passing resemblance to an everyday Jason Mamoa, hence the ‘Jason Ma-Mocha’ moniker we give him—the crew at my local café are the best and kindest people. Tuuli brings sass and wit sharper than her brilliant catseye wings. Adrian, hilarious and wildly observant, is clearly a background character on the queer pirate comedy Our Flag Means Death.  Kendall’s wide-eyed kindness belies a brilliant mind. Alyssa offers nothing but joy and chaos in equal measure and invites us to celebrate with her.  Miko is a devastatingly talented artist and cook who radiates a constant cool that you can’t help but want to be around.  Each of these amazing people invited me into daily community with coffee and chats, smiles and vegan breakfast burritos.  I wrote them a postcard from Fiji, specifically because I missed them so much, and wore a long-sleeve with the café on it when I wandered Aotearoa’s winter streets.  They came to one of my story telling events with Vamp in October. They invited me to parties and get togethers, and insisted that I was part of their little community, and I cannot say enough how much it meant to me to be seen by some of the coolest people I know.  I still think how fucking lucky I am to have met people who are not only super cool in a daily café, but also want to hangout after work, and I can’t help but smile at feeling like I’m building a community with people I genuinely think are incredible.

[nuked126]

Chapter 2 - Pon, The Sicilian Dragon!

Days have passed on our journey towards North City. Our heroes walk through the steep, snowy mountains, When suddenly this green bipedal dragon quickly descends in front of them, putting fear into Maze’s soul.

“Well, this is a nice surprise. I wasn’t expecting my food delivery to be so soon.” the dragon exclaims mockingly. The dragon shoots flames from his mouth that Cliver quickly wards off using his shield. Then he quickly rolls in front of him and slashes him with his sword. The dragon is faster though, and quickly away from reach. “Humph! The insolence! Do you even know who I am?!” The dragon exclaims. “Not really.” both of them say. “My name is Pon, I am one of the six Sicilian Dragons! Be grateful that your names will be added to my kill list.” The dragon shouts proudly. “But how would you know our names when we die?” Maze asks. “We are not going to die!” shouts Cliver at Maze. 

Pon prepares to shoot his flames again, but as he sees that Cliver raises his shield, he quickly feints as he backflips to dive into Cliver. “I got you!” Pon says. He clashes fangs first into the shield and takes it off as he flies upward. “We don’t need this cumbersome thing getting in the way of your death.” he says as he rips the shield in half. Cliver and Maze gasp seeing this. “Let’s see you parry this then.” He begins heating his mouth, looking like a furnace that’s just been fed coal. Then suddenly, a bang is heard. It was Mace, who shot one Pon in the chest. He feels not only a sharp pain but also a great imbalance in his flying, which makes him fall into the ground face first. Cliver runs to execute him as Maze keeps his sights on him.

“Shit, I forgot the other guy was there. I could’ve stopped that bullet normally but he took me by surprise and I couldn’t protect against the blow. I only wanted to give them a good scare.”

“Wait, stop! I give up” Pon screams. “It’s a trap, don't listen to him,” Maze says. “If you keep me alive, I can help you.” Pon says, hurt. “How?” Asks Cliver. “You may have been able to defeat me, but there are a lot of dangerous things out there. You might benefit from some teaching to improve your strength and techniques. And I know someone that could teach you.” Pon pleads

The guys look at each other, and they sigh as they holster their weapons. “Fine.” Cliver says. Maze runs towards Pon to stop the bleeding using the medical kit he has in his backpack. Pon laughs. “You are too trusting” Pon snarks. “And you’re too arrogant for someone that’s just been shot.” Cliver replies. 

Pon leads them through the mountains. “So, you're some type of dragon right? So that means you must be related to the Dragon balls.” Cliver says. “You can’t say that, it’s rude to make such generalizations!” Maze replies upset as he elbows Cliver on the arm. “The Sicilian Dragons are not directly related to the divine dragon shenron. However, My old man brought us into life in his image by the use of the Dragon Balls, as he was the sole survivor caused by a mass extinction we suffered” Pon replies. Maze pulls some beef jerky out and offers it to Pon. “Are you hungry?” He asks. Pon accepts it, a bit bewildered. “T-thanks.” Pon says to Maze. “So that means it’s true; the Dragon Balls can grant any wish.” Cliver thinks. “A lone survivor…I’m sorry to hear that, I understand how it feels to be isolated in such a way.” Maze says to Pon.

They Arrive at a cave and enter inside. The cave goes into a bridge as we find ourselves in a cozy home made of stone. With a portable TV, a sofa, and what it seems to be a stove and a fridge, currently being used by an older bluish green bipedal dragon. “I’m home.” Pon tells the other dragon. “Pon, Your constant disrespect towards my advice will lead you to getting hurt someday.” The dragon says disappointed in Pon. “And he did get hurt, he should probably listen to you more.” Cliver says sarcastically. The dragon turns around, seeing two humans in his house. Just from this image, he quickly assumes a fighting position as both of them raise their hands. “I understand that you’re not on good terms with humans, but we promise we don’t wish you any harm.” Cliver tells the dragon. 

“Why are you humans here?” he determinedly asks while keeping his stance. “Pon told us that you could help us train us.” Maze replies. The dragon lowers his stance into a more comfortable one. “And why would you offer that, Pon?” He asks Pon with a cold stare. “Well…” Pon says. “Well I can’t tell him that I was trying to terrorize humans, he will have me doing heavy training for weeks!” he thinks while trying to come up with an answer. “You see, they saved my life! I was going outside when this dinosaur caught me by surprise. I could’ve been done if it wasn’t for these guys. I understand that I did wrong, and I’m willing to take 4 days of hard training as punishment.” Pon says bowing to the dragon as hard as he can. “You’re too reckless. You should not leave the cave unless it is something necessary, let alone if you’re unfocused to danger. You need to train more and concentrate on your senses.” The dragon says with a cold demeanor. “However, I’m glad that you’re ok thanks to these men. I’m sorry if I startled you, my instincts came first. Greetings, My name is King. I can sense that you have a kind heart.“ King says. “That’s ok, we understand. We are Maze and Cliver, please don’t write them on any list.” he says.” Maze says as he introduces himself. “you’re the old man who can train us?” Cliver asks. “Perhaps. I am a master of martials arts, and possibly one of the few that can understand the control of Ki. However, to master your ki, you need to train your body, your mind, and your spirit. I shall train you both alongside Pon'' King tells them. 

An opportunity to reach greater power from an unlikely friendship has been given to our heroes that will help on their journey to collect the Dragon Balls.

Next Chapter

Previous chapter

[terrainofheartfelt]

why is s3 dair so good??? honestly, what is it about them (both as individual characters and relationship-wise) that makes it so... good, for lack of a better word?

it's the Narrative Foils, babe!

no, but really, this plot had EVERYTHING: there's first the setup that they're both at nyu even though they didn't want to be - it's where the ended up after their respective Yale dreams fell through.

then, there's the role reversal of Blair, who's always used to being on top, sure she was caught up in power struggles at Constance but there people still cared who she was, and now, nobody does. she's just another freshman. and Dan, who was used to a certain invisible kind of existence, is noticed on his very first day for being a Writer - and a good one! and he makes friends who actually like him as a person! it's him with the social capital now, and the first thing he spends it on is to help out Blair. (insane. they are insane. they should kiss.)

🪑 aside, this is also the first time in the show ever that Dan is unattached narratively to Serena. I mean, they're friends and on the verge of being family, but they'd been given real romantic closure in s2, so they start off the college arc truly as just friends, which means for the first time in the show, Dan's romantic arc prospects are openended, which in my unexpert opinion, pours a little extra sauce on his loaded interactions with Blair.

also he and Blair's roommate fuck and Blair sees him shirtless in his post woodchuck todd glow up and idk how a girl doesn't have strong feelings about that ya feel me?

AND (I think Nads has touched on this before?) Constance/St. Jude's was pretty...partitioned, I guess you could say, so with the exception of The Essay Contest, I don't think Blair and Dan were put in the position for any competition, but at a fully coed school? And with their similar interests they were bound to end up in classes together, and I swear it is such a CRIME that we didn't get any classroom hijinks with these ding-dongs. competing for top grades and rankings, fighting over a TA position, checking out all the material in the library on a topic to sabotage the other's research, it could have fed us Damien Darko vibes a season and a half earlier and I am BITTER.

I think ultimately it's how the beginning of college presented a twist on their previously perceived social standings (and understandings of each other), and that the sheer potential of starting over in a new place opened up windows of story that didn't/couldn't exist in the high school ecosystem. was it ultimately underexplored and underutilized? absolutely, but at least we have that s3 dair FWB fic on ao3...

[stark-illerbase]

Listen Here and Listen Well, Wally

(Mini Fusehound Fic, in which Maggie gives surprsingly good advice during a Game) SFW !!

Read below OR Now on AO3:

The game could not have started off worse. Fuse was assigned to a squad with Mirage and Maggie- and Elliot was Jumpmaster. The kid decided to hot drop them right into the center of two other teams got himself eliminated within the first 30 seconds. Leaving Walter and Maggie a long road ahead of them to make it to zone.

His head and his heart hurt, thinking about his earlier conversation with Hound...If it could even be called that. There wasn't many words exhanged between them since Vantage had put them on the spot. Walter knew that they needed time and he was willing to give them all the time in the world if they asked...but it was hard.

It was hard not knowing where they stood, not to mention awkward. He had stumbled over calling them 'mate' several times because that's just what he called EVERYONE but now it had a different meaning, and it left a bad taste in his mouth to think he could ever make Houndy uncomfortable.

It was hard to dial back the smug flirtations. Keeping his mouth shut was never something he was good at... and most of it started off as jokes- it was so easy to flow into that kind of banter with Hound, they had been friends for so long now it felt like Fuse had known them for years, like they were kids back on Salvo together....like he and Mags used to be.

"Oi! Wally!"

His squadmate's voice cut through his thoughts.

"You gonna stand there staring at the clouds all day? Or are you gonna put those frags to good use?"

Fuse stopped walking to glare at her. "I could think of a few good uses for em' actually."

The Salvo women laughed, loud and obnoxious and clapped her former friend on the shoulder, rougher than most would find appropriate.

"There's the Walter I know."

"Piss off-"

"Well! Whats got YOU all up in a tizzy?" Maggie snickered. "Things go south with your little pup?"

When Fuse didn't respond Maggie's smirk grew, but was quickly replaced by a look of faux sympathy.

"I thought you two seemed less snuggley than usual last match. Poor Fusey It's not fun when your best mate gets tired of ya is it?"

"That's NOT-" Fuse erupted only to cut himself off and hold the bridge of his nose. He wouldn't let her rile him up like this. Not here. Not now in front of the all the cameras.

"Its none of your buisness what goes on between me and Houndy. You lost that right years ago."

"Oooh. Struck a nerve did I? Ol' Maggie can see right through ya. Just like old times. You scrunch up your nose when you're down in the dumps"

"I do not!"

"Do too" She echoed childlishly

"Mags-" Fuse began, his good eye twitching with bubbling annoyance. "We have better things to worry about."

"Oh Rubbish. Theres seven squaddies still here! Let them duke it out while you blubber about your crumbling love life"

Walter took a deep breath. He hated that Maggie was the genuinely best option he had to open up to. Maybe Chey would listen over a drink after the game. She'd probably have pretty sound advice too but... they weren’t mates like that.

"For starters-" He flopped down against the rock they were using for cover. "Houndy isn't-...We're not-"

"Not shagging in the drop ship when nobody's around eh?"

"Bloody Hell Mags- No!" Fuse could feel his cheeks flush at her obvious teasing. "I've barely ever seen them without their mask- We've never-" He shook his head, red as a beet.

"So if you're not swapping spit-" She paused when Walter glared again. "Not... seeing each other 'IntIMaTely"

"The other day that new Vantage pup showed up while Houndy and I were packing things... said Witt had sent her on a quest for friendship and she wanted advice"

"She went to the wrong place for that" Maggie snarked, but Fuse continued.

"She made a point to say that she wanted PLATONIC advice, not... 'Whatever me and Hound had going on' "

"-Get to the point Wally."

"Houndy got all jumpy- Swearing up and down that we were 'just' What the hell does "just" Mean?"

Fuse felt all the panic of that moment come flooding back, he ran his mechanical hand through his hair then down his face.

"I thought we really had something...If Houndy doesn't see it like that-"

"Well did you ask them about it? You bloody Walnut." Maggie yelled with a dramatic wave of her arms.

"I tried! They told me...told me they needed more time."

"Thats it?"

"Thats it. I know they're still figuring things out after their last partner and thats all well and good but-"

"But nothing-" Maggie turned and gripped both of his shoulders tightly. "Listen you big idiot. They didn't say NO. They said not yet. And don't you do what you always do and run in bombs blasting and screw the pooch you hear me?"

"I-...what?" He genuinely wasn't expecting her to have such a strong reaction- or to offer any sort of legitimate help either.

"If what you said is true? That pup has a lot to sort out before they are ready to let someone else in again. Between their own feelings and everything Hammond's been doing to Talos they've got it twenty times worse than your sorry sack"

"Mags..." Fuse spoke gently then shook her arms off and punched her just as hard as she had done before "Now who's going soft?"

The Salvonian woman's expression turned to a snarl and she lunged forward pushing Fuse into the dust. She wrestled herself to her feet and stood over him threateningly, her boot on his chest. "You listen to me Walter Fitzroy and you listen bloody well- If i hear you do that pup the way you done me I'll rip your tongue out your head and hang you by it myself. They don't deserve that."

"Maggie..." Walter stared up at her with his eyes getting wet. "I'm sorry-"

She shifted her boot higher to shut him up. "And if you ever call me soft again. I'll add your other arm to my collection."

Then she stepped off of him and stuck her hand out to him as the ring timer went off a second time. The automated announcement sounded above them signaling 4 squads remaining and Fuse couldn't help but chuckle.

"I believe you."