#like i think i accidentally ship them now

[adara-of-the-flame]

the-name-is-hoggle

When the Spring labeled part of Selva’s example diagram is shattered, Hoggle can’t help a slight flinch at the shattering noise. And he stares at the dramatic display of the water spilling out and everything fading away. His own blue eyes as wide as Mars’ obscured ones.

Which was definitely the point of the whole demonstration. To shock them. To emphasize just how important the place of the seasons- Hoggle’s place - in Everything. The dwarf is so caught up in this mental vibe check that he barely registers Mars asking about The Butterfly Effect to Selva.

Honestly that whole concept would have simply confused him at best, so it was probably for the better that he didn’t take it in at all. He kept just staring at where the once ring of light had been, up until Selva addressed him directly once more. And then he was staring at her.

”……..no wonder you all want to make sure if I can do this job or not….“

Hoggle found himself muttering, hand moving up to rub at his face as his expression shifted to one of determined concern. He from just a groundskeeper of the Labyrinth to an exile with a mocking title to….a load bearing pillar of reality.

It was like a really weird joke, or something.

adara-of-the-flame

"Oh, that ship has sailed by now." Selva Roja's voice switched back to disturbingly chipper and casual. "'Can' went out the window when you accepted your post from Saisho No Me. Now, we're all the way to, 'Must'. You Must do the job."

Out of habit, Mars raised a pair of hands. "But, isn't he doing that just by living? He's not dead, so Spring's not dead, so nobody else in the Cycle is dead. ...Right?"

"Right. ...And, I suppose he could stay like that. Spring will definately live, and life will continue as normal. But...he still needs all the gifts of Spring for the Cycle to work properly. And...if he doesn't know how to handle all that power..."

"....Would Spring blow up? Would he blow something up accidentally?"

"I won't say, 'Yes', and I won't say, 'No'."

"Oh." Mars nodded. This all made perfect sense. And, then she turned to Hoggle, as though she felt bad about talking about him like he wasn't right there. "I think it's like my sister and our voice magic. We had to get training so we didn't accidentally scream loud enough that we turned something into red mist." ....Despite her pleasant enough tone, she seemed to be speaking from experience.

"Ew." Selva Roja made a face. "Well, you get the idea, Hoggle. You can take the Blooming Throne as you are, but great power without control is dangerous. The gifts I have for you the Gifts of Abundance and Warm Light. And, the power to call back the Southern Birds to your Realm. Right now, you only have Abundance: the awakening, growth, and production of plants." The giant Summer Queen leaned back into a lounging position. "So! Grow me some plants! Really dig deep and show me what you got."

----------------------

Meanwhile, having retreated from the hubub of dwarves, Yumika settled high into a nearby tree to send Beetleglum another message:

I hate Summer heat. Spring's heir Gifted Abundance. His power tested.

Folded and sealed, the kitsune's haiku was handed off to a messenger fairy. Yumika hoped things were going well on Beetleglum's end....

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the stench of this terrible blog…bleck!”

[lkblackham]

I want to update No Time To Apologize. But unfortunately it's Yearly Review Season over at my university. So I will content myself with this very sad but also very fluffy fic I wrote (very slowly and sporadically, over the course of several weeks) and illustrated instead.

There's a lot of hugging in it, which I think we could always use more of, even when the world isn't on fire.

I also would like to mention that I very accidentally wrote this right around the time @dragonracer's fic, The Moments Between, came to a very similar point in their story with their most recent chapters. It's really really REALLY great and it destroys my heart and makes me sob uncontrollably and I highly recommend it.

Read mine below the cut or on AO3. But also read The Moments Between. Very important. They actually have, like, a consistent long-form story. I just randomly drop chapters as it occurs to me.

*

*

*

It was a bright, sunny day in the Crossroads. But then again, it was always a bright, sunny day in the Crossroads, at least in Haven. 

“Looks like the Antaam have mostly cleared out,” Atash remarked, shielding her eyes from the sun as they walked through the deceptively serene tropical landscape. “Think we scared them off for good, or they’re just waiting until we stop checking?” 

“Until those who control them are gone, I imagine they’ll continue in their attempts to take the Crossroads for the gods.” Emmrich’s thoughtful voice drifted over from where he knelt nearby, closely examining a group of ethereal green butterflies fluttering about a small tree. “But there have certainly been fewer of them as of late.” 

“I’ll bet their resolve’s breaking.” Bellara declared. “They never liked being in the Fade, and they really didn’t like working with the Venatori. Now the Dragon King’s gone, and the Butcher’s losing steam, I’ll bet most of them are jumping ship. Only the really crazy ones are staying.” 

“You know, you might be right there.” Atash said thoughtfully, stepping through a particularly thick patch of shrubs covered in pink flowers. “But I feel like officially saying that out loud might jinx it, so we’ll stick with ‘they’re just regrouping’ for now.” 

“Wise words, in such a place.” Emmrich reappeared at Atash’s side, but was clearly ready to bolt off again at any moment. He never seemed to tire of their journeys through the Crossroads, even if they walked the same paths over and over again. It was a bit like walking with a child down an alley of sweet shops. 

Atash didn’t mind. She quite enjoyed traveling with Emmrich and Bellara. After traveling with so many hardened travel veterans like Varric and Lace, it was refreshing to be around people who got so excited over everything. Even if she didn’t understand half of what they said, despite being a mage herself.

Bellara halted ahead, causing Atash to nearly crash into her. “Rook,” she said, voice tense, “there's someone big up ahead. Behind the trees.” 

Atash looked to where she indicated. Hidden behind a jumble of thick green foliage, she could see a large, hunched figure shuffling through the shadows, about ten meters or so ahead. Squinting, she could discern the outline of a Qunari with flat-filed horns, arms bound together at the hands by thick metal cuffs, chains dragging in the dirt. 

She felt her heart drop. 

“That's-” 

The figure raised their head, suddenly made aware of their presence. Sunlight glinted off of the eyeless golden mask obscuring their face, ears twitching.  They rose to their full height, and Atash felt the energy rush around her towards them as they rose into the air, curling their limbs into their body.

In a beat, she grabbed Emmrich and Bellara and dragged them back, Fade-stepping through the air as far as she could go before the chained Qunari mage released the power he had gathered. 

She managed to get them away from the worst of it, but not far enough to escape the blast radius completely. She had the presence of mind to release Emmrich and Bellara, pushing them clear of her as the blast caught them. 

They were thrown several feet forward, Atash landing face-first into the mercifully soft sand. Ears ringing, she quickly scrambled to her feet, looking around for her companions. 

To her relief, they hadn't been thrown too far, or too hard. Bellara was already on her feet, bow at the ready, and Emmrich wasn't far behind, brushing himself off as he whirled his staff around into a defensive stance.

Atash turned back towards the origin of the explosion.

 The Saarebas.

 He was now some distance away, a large, hulking figure kneeling on the ground, hunched over his bound arms. His blast had decimated the plant life around him, flattening the trees and shrubs, dislodging massive rocks from the dirt, creating a small crater in which he now knelt. 

If they had been caught in that blast, they would have been mush. 

Atash stretched out an arm, wordlessly telling Bellara and Emmrich to stay behind her.

“Rook-” Emmrich started. 

“Wait.” She stepped forward cautiously, eyes narrowing as she looked around. “Where's his Arvaarad?” 

“His what?” Bellara's voice chimed. 

“Arvaarad - leash holder.” Atash took a few more cautious steps forward.

The Saarebas didn't move. She could see his broad shoulders rise and fall with his heavy breathing, the slight tremor in his muscles. He wasn't crouched, ready to spring up into another attack - he was sunk to the ground, arms limp, head bowed. 

Exhausted. Depleted. 

She could tell that he heard them, though. His ear twitched, and he had tilted his head ever so slightly in their direction. 

But there was no sign of the Arvaarad. And as Atash moved closer, she could see the ring on his collar, where his leash would be attached, was broken. He had no leash. 

He had no Arvaarad. 

Atash halted, still a good ten feet away from the Saarebas. He didn't move. 

“... Saarebas?” She ventured. 

Still no movement. 

“I am Vashoth.” Atash said, in Qunlat. “I am with two others. We did not know you were here. We have no wish to harm you.” 

Stillness again, for a moment. 

And then he burst into flames. 

“NO!” Atash ran forward, calling ice to her hand, throwing all she could into it, to quench the flames, to stop him before he was beyond reach- 

But the fire was too intense. Her ice evaporated in the air the moment she conjured it. Where's Neve? she thought desperately, as she leapt forward, abandoning the ice for soil that she ripped from the ground in a wave to cover him. She barely registered her companions behind her, Emmrich yelling something - 

-and then she was thrown back once again by a blast of hot, hot air, her wave of soil splattering to the ground. She felt searing pain on her outstretched palms and fingers, down her arms, on her chest and face, as she slammed into the ground. 

The sand was still soft, but with such force it might as well have been rock, as it knocked the wind out of her, leaving her gasping for air, vision blurry.

“ROOK!” 

Hands grabbed her shoulders, dragging her back. She gasped, trying to get air back in her lungs, trying to get back to her feet so she could save him- 

“Rook - ROOK. STOP.” Hands that had been pulling her were now holding her down. They were surprisingly strong. 

“Can't…” Atash wheezed, “He- I have to-” 

“Rook. Atash.” 

Emmrich's voice spoke softly, but firmly, above her head. There was a slight tremor to it, though, as he said, “He's dead.” 

Atash fell still. Her body suddenly felt like it was made of lead. 

She didn't save him. 

She couldn't save him. 

“Rook.” Emmrich's voice spoke again, tone urgent. “We must get you back to the Lighthouse. Quickly.” She felt hands underneath her arms, attempting to pull her up. 

“What-” her lungs were still struggling to hold on to air. She coughed, gasping. 

“Rook, come on!” Bellara joined Emmrich in pulling at her shoulders. With their combined strength, and life slowly returning to Atash’s legs, they managed to get her to her feet. 

As her vision cleared, Atash saw the smoking, blackened remains of the Saarebas. The fire he had conjured was so hot, it had killed him and torched his body in an instant. The sand around him had been melted into a warped circle of glass. 

She had been incredibly lucky that she didn’t get torched herself, she realized faintly, barely able to collect her thoughts amidst the sudden and intense searing pain now radiating from her face, chest and hands. She hissed, shutting her eyes tightly. 

“Here.” Emmrich's thin arm threaded around hers, guiding her without taking her burnt hands. “Bellara-” 

“Right here.” Atash felt Bellara's arm, made bulky by her elven gadgetry, on her other side. “Come on, let's go. Quick.” 

Atash was pulled forward, her companions guiding her somewhere in the direction of the Caretaker's ferry. She managed to blink her eyes open, her eyeballs mercifully intact but the skin of her cheeks and nose blistered. 

“You don't have to help me,” she said faintly, “I can-”

Emmrich tightened his hold on her arm. “You,” he said, voice uncharacteristically hard, “for once, will  listen.” 

That stilled her. She fell silent, head lowering - like she was twelve again, being scolded by her teacher, Tide. 

Tide. An ex-Saarebas. 

Her chest now ached, along with the blistered skin. 

Emmrich took a deep, steadying breath beside her. “Let’s… let’s go back to the Lighthouse, to my laboratory. Quickly.” He shifted himself a little under her weight. “Lean on us, dearest.” he said, voice soft. “Please.”

The hackles rose immediately under Atash’s skin. Her whole body tensed. Her mother’s voice spoke in her mind: don’t be a burden, Ataashri. You’re a lot bigger. They can’t carry you. 

She took a deep, shuddering breath. Her skin burned, the white-hot, searing pain radiating all the way out from her front to her spine, down to her toes. She couldn’t bear to open her eyes. Her limbs could not move properly, bound up by the agony of the skin that covered them. 

Neither can I, ‘Ma. 

He placed his hands on either side of her face, his touch light and gentle. She felt the cool, soothing touch of his magic flowing over her, taking the edge off the burning itch of her blistered skin rapidly healing all at once. 

She allowed herself to droop, her weight now held up by Emmrich’s and Bellara’s hold. Together, with surprisingly little effort, they were able to help her limp forward, towards the direction of the dock. 

***

“There.” Emmrich said quietly, running a thumb over the soft new skin of her cheek. “I'm afraid you've lost a bit of your tattoo, but there shouldn't be any scarring.” 

“Small price to pay, I guess.” Atash sighed, opening her eyes, blinking through the blurriness to see Emmrich's tall, lean form standing before her in his warmly lit laboratory. 

“Hm.” Before his face could come back into focus, Emmrich had turned away from her, walking over to one of the shelves beside his desk, which appeared to hold various herbal concoctions in a variety of mysteriously labeled bottles. “A small price, indeed, for such a dangerous act.”

His tone was even, calm, but Atash’s heart sank further in her chest to hear it. She looked down at her hands in her lap, blistered palms even more horrific looking than she had thought. 

“I know it was stupid.” 

Emmrich paused, hand on the jar of elfroot balm. He looked over at her, sitting on the stone table, hunched over, staring at the burned flesh of her palms. 

He silently took the balm down from the shelf, and walked over to the table, setting the jar down beside Atash. He sat down on the stool in front of her, and cradled one of her hands in his, barely even touching her skin. With his other hand, he neatly dipped two fingers into the balm, and with great care began to smear it over the burns on her palm.

She hissed a little under her breath, but otherwise did not react to the balm’s initial sting.  

“Then, why did you do it?” Emmrich asked, quietly.

His voice wasn’t angry, not even rough. He just sounded… sad. 

Atash closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of the balm numbing her burns, taking away the searing hot pain as he spread it over her hand. 

“I wanted to save him.” she said. 

There was a pause, as Emmrich seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he spoke carefully: “I have seen you act when lives are immediately at stake many times. I have never seen you act so… desperately, as you did today.”

Atash took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her nose. When she spoke, her voice was barely controlled, a slight tremor threatening to give way at any moment. 

“I did it because…. I didn’t see him. I saw me.” 

He halted, looking up into her face. She wasn’t sure what she looked like right then, but she did know tears stung at her eyes, threatening to fall. She was clenching her jaw, heart pounding, trying so desperately not to let out the terrible tsunami of emotions roiling within her.

 If she gave even a little, she would lose herself completely. And she couldn’t do that. Not now. Not in front of him. Not in front of anybody.

“Atash.” Emmrich’s voice was low, and soft. She couldn’t see his face, as the tears blurred her vision, but she felt his hand slide up to cup her cheek, taking care not to get balm on her face. 

“You wanna know what my greatest fear is, Emmrich?” Atash said, voice tight and rough. Don’t fall apart, don’t fall apart, don’t- “That. What - what they do to the Saarebas. I’m afraid of that.” 

She felt his other hand on her face, warmth framing her cheeks. She shut her eyes tightly, feeling shame burn her insides as the tears trickled down her face.

“Kadan.” 

The word, so familiar to her, yet so strange in his voice, stilled her tremors for a moment, as surprise briefly overtook everything else. 

“Let go.” He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “There is nothing to fear here. You are safe.” 

“I-I don’t…” she brought the back of her wrist to her eyes, trying to cover her face, “I can't… not… i-in front of…” 

He slid a hand to the back of her neck, reaching with his other around her back, gently pulling her down towards him. She found herself burying her face into his shoulder, tears now soaking into his crisp shirt. 

“There.” He whispered. “No longer in front of me. I don't see anything.” 

These words, with the warmth of his arms around her, the soft green smell of him enveloping her, cracked through her decimated defenses. She went limp against him, sobbing uncontrollably, mercifully muffled by Emmrich's shirt. 

Atash hadn't cried in over twelve years. Not since her mother had died. She had been so proud of that. Thought it meant she had moved beyond needing to cry at all. That the tears she shed at the side of her mother's corpse during the nightlong vigil had been all the tears she could ever possibly have in her body. 

But now, crying like a child into Emmrich's shoulder, getting tears and snot all over his beautiful Orlesian-made shirt, her entire body shaking with the force of her sobs… she realized she hadn't evolved out of crying. She had just been saving it up. Every disappointment, every heartbreak, every injury - it was all still there, packed away tightly in some dark corner of her heart.

But after the last year and a half - a series of near-death experiences, pain, failure, and constant, never-ceasing fear eating away at her…. there was no more room in that corner to pack away the Saarebas. It was just too much. 

It was all just too much. 

Emmrich was quiet throughout her weeping. Until she started to hyperventilate. 

“Here, breathe, darling. With me: slowly, in-,” 

“I…c-can't… b-breathe-” 

“Yes, you can, Atash. I promise you, you can.”  He brought his hand down from the back of her neck to her chest, which was rapidly going in and out with her short, gasping breaths. “Trust in me. Here, in….”

She attempted to draw in a deep breath, gasping a few times along the way - but getting the air in her all the same, following along with Emmrich as he breathed in. 

“...and, slowly, out…” 

She let the air out, her breath stuttering only a little. 

They went through the exercise a few more times, him breathing along with her, until Atash's breathing had settled. She now drooped over Emmrich, completely drained of tears, energy and fear. For the time being, anyway. 

“‘m sorry,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Whatever for, darling?” 

“Everything.” she sighed. “Gods’re my fault. Blight’s my fault. Saarebas’s my fault.” She took another deep, shuddering breath. “Brought you here to be a Fade expert, instead you got Harding needing to be stitched up every other day and me crying all over you. Pretty raw deal.” 

“Hmm.” He stroked her back in small, soothing circles. “There are, indeed, many aspects to this role I did not anticipate, and I'm all the happier for it. Hardly a “raw deal”.” He gave her shoulder a light pat. “And I have it on good authority that you are not, in fact, the one who decided to singlehandedly end the world.” 

She allowed herself to let out a small, drained chuckle. He tightened his arms around her.

“Atash… there was nothing you could have done for him.” he said, voice low and serious. “Not without his willingness.” 

“.... I know.” She let out another breath, closing her eyes. “Part of me does, anyway.” 

Emmrich's arms tightened a little further. He shifted, so his forehead rested on her shoulder. She could hear him more clearly in this small, warm, muffled space they made with their bodies, as he murmured, “You never stop trying, do you?”

Another tiny, tired tear dropped down her nose and on to his shirt. “He was alone.” she whispered. “He was so scared. He probably thought he'd been infected by demons already, without his Arvaarad.” 

“There was no sign of any possession that I could see…” 

“That doesn't matter to them.” Atash sighed. “You know what Saarebas means, in Trade?” 

“Hmm.” Emmrich gave the question serious thought. “Bas translates to ‘thing’, yes? In reference to foreigners?” 

“In reference to those who do not follow the Qun.” she said, dully. “Those who are useless things, until they accept the Qun. Unless you're born a mage. Then it doesn't matter. You're doomed no matter what you do.” She took another deep, shuddering breath. “Saarebas means ‘dangerous thing’. The second a kid under the Qun manifests their magic… they're chained up and put in a pen. They aren't taught how to use their magic. They have to figure it out on their own, just to survive. All they ever learn is how to…” her voice caught in her throat. She took a breath, tried again. “How to… blow up. Or… make things blow up. They're literally living bombs that can set themselves off over and over again. And that's why the Qunari allow them to live. They're useful. Except they're still bas. No matter what they do.” 

The sharp bitterness that entered Atash's voice surprised even her. 

“That…” Emmrich took a deep breath. Even though she couldn't see his face, she could tell he was horrified. “I… had heard rumors, read many histories, but… the stories of what the Qunari do to their mages, I had assumed to be exaggeration. Born of prejudice and propaganda.” 

“Might be true of some stories about the Qun.” Atash said dully, “But not these stories.” 

“Maker's breath.” Emmrich whispered. He hugged her even more tightly. “Atash.” He said, with grim determination, “I swear, as long as I live, as long as any of us live, that will never happen to you. We will not allow it. Even after I draw my last breath, I swear on my life and any un-life I live that I will not allow any such thing to happen to you.” 

She felt her body go stone still. Felt her usual compulsion in such circumstances, to dismiss it with a smiling affirmation that she was okay, she was just tired and overworked. Cover up that deep inner ache with a dumb joke, to make it seem like it didn't matter to her as much as it did.

Because to show that this mattered, meant showing that soft, vulnerable, weak side of herself she couldn't bear getting hurt. Couldn't bear putting it on display, to be used against her later. 

But this wasn't a display. This wasn't Gisela. This wasn't her Lords crew. This wasn’t the team gathered at the library table planning missions. 

This was Emmrich, in his laboratory, letting her ruin his lovely linen shirt with her crying. Hugging her still, even after all that. An elegant beanpole of a man half a foot shorter than her, arms wrapped protectively around her, shielding her heavily scarred, hard-muscled form from the world. 

“.... You promise?” She heard herself say, in a voice she hadn't heard in well over a decade - the small, quiet, uncertain voice of teenage Atash, the one she'd thought died and buried with her mother. 

He turned his face to her cheek, breath warm against her skin as he spoke. 

“Always.” 

She drooped against his shoulder, body sagging with deep relief. 

She hadn't ever told anyone about her greatest fear, she realized. By this point, everyone knew about her fears of thunderstorms, of drowning, of small dark spaces, but no one knew about this, about the Saarebas. About being stuck in a slaver's brig. About being trapped and alone. 

Except now Emmrich did. And he was still here. Warm and green and kind and loving and good. 

I love you.

“Thank you.” she whispered.  

He kissed her cheek. “Always.”

[rythyme]

Any good shows with secret identities? It can be superheroes or phantom thieves or anything really. I love the "omg will the other person discover the secret" stuff, I live for it

worry not my friend!! thai ql has it for you!

Not Me: The Series*** - This is your holy grail! The main character impersonates his identical twin to infiltrate an anti-fascist gang and find his brother's attacker. But oops! They're all bisexual and he falls in love with his brother's rival. This show is SO fucking good, truly show of all time. I can't recommend it enough.

Great Men Academy - Girl uses magic to turn into a boy and attend an all-boy's school with her crush. She accidentally embarks on a nuanced exploration of queerness and gender instead. Also they do school tournaments in VR where if you die in the game you die in real life.

A Tale Of Thousand Stars - Cityboy main character gets a heart transplant. The deceased organ donor had a crush on Mr. Love Interest. Cityboy decides to travel to rural Thailand to meet Mr. Love Interest and whoops! He also falls in love with him. He hides the fact that he literally has the other girl's heart and it's a big source of dramatic tension for their relationship.

Enchanté - This show makes you think it's going to be a dating sim style harem of boys who want to date the main character, but it's actually a slice of life mystery. The main character is trying to figure out which of his classmates is his secret pen pal and accidentally reveals, like, 20 other school secrets in the process.

The Shipper - It's a nuanced deconstruction and critique of the genre — and it slaps!! Remember that. Ok now I can tell you that it's about a fujoshi who bodyswaps with one of the boys she ships at school and then proceeds to pretend she's him. It's good though I promise.

Pit Babe: The Series - Ok explaining all the secret identity stuff would have too many spoilers. But anyway yeah this is the omegaverse racecar driver show where they also have superpowers and fight crime. And somehow it's good and compelling. No worries if it's not your jam though

Let me know what you think if you decide to check one of these out! Most of them are free on YouTube, but some are on IQIYI or Viki. If you have trouble finding where to watch them give me a shout 🫡

[wesleysniperking]

not to be That Anon but i read a fic recently that really rubbed me the wrong way. it claimed to "get" usopp and even said he was the author’s fave or that they understood him on some deep level... but the actual portrayal??? it didn’t reflect that at all. he came off like a frustrating afterthought who couldn’t hold a candle to the rest of the crew. just there to be corrected or talked down to. it was honestly exhausting.

then i found out the author ships zoro and luffy (which, no shade to the ship itself), but it did kind of explain the vibe. suddenly all the stuff that felt unbalanced or unfair made more sense. like, the fic wasn’t really about the whole crew, even though it pretended to be. and usopp definitely wasn’t written with care—more like a narrative punching bag tbh.

the one good thing i got out of it? it made me realize exactly how i want to write usopp. not as someone to be “fixed” or constantly compared, but as someone who deserves to just be—with all his flaws, fears, and strengths. embraced, not dissected. validated, not tolerated.

anyway. if you’re gonna say you love a character, maybe don’t write them like they’re the problem everyone else has to fix.

Hey anon! You’re kinda echoing something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, and I actually made a post not long ago touching on that same frustration—specifically how often Usopp gets framed like he’s this broken character that needs to be “fixed.” I’m really sorry you had to sit through one of those kinds of fics. I’ve started calling it the Icarus treatment—where a fic claims to center Usopp, but ends up punishing him for daring to want more or step outside his “assigned role.”

Like, yeah, post-Water 7 Usopp has every reason to feel down. That part makes sense. But then suddenly he’s drowning in guilt, going on and on about how he’ll never match up to Luffy and how he should just be grateful to be there. It’s like… where’s the balance? Where’s the compassion? Give the man some agency, please.

I don’t really ship much in the OP fandom either, but I’ve definitely noticed how certain pairings—ZoLu in particular—can quietly shift the whole tone of a fic. What starts out feeling like a nakama-focused story gradually warps into the Zoro and Luffy Power Hour, while everyone else gets flattened into the background. And Usopp? He usually ends up being the emotional scapegoat. His flaws get spotlighted, dissected, and exaggerated, while Zoro and Luffy are treated like untouchable saints.

I’m not saying I’m a perfect writer or anything, but fics like that genuinely motivate me to create more of what I want to see. I’m tired of the stories where Usopp’s lies are treated as the ultimate betrayal, while other characters' mistakes are brushed off as quirks. I’m tired of the post-Water 7 angst fics that make him cry on a rock about how worthless he is while the rest of the crew floats in a bubble of emotional immunity. And I’m especially tired of narratives that act like Luffy’s dream is the only one that matters, or that Zoro only respects Luffy like nobody else on the ship ever showed up for him.

Usopp’s not perfect, but that’s the whole point. No one in the crew is. And it would be so refreshing to see more fics where Usopp is accepted for everything he is—not as someone who needs to be “redeemed,” but as someone who’s already worthy. Already chosen. Already loved. Not pitied, not tolerated, but valued.

So yeah. I hear you, and I totally get the frustration. Writers really need to stop acting like Luffy accidentally let a liar on his ship and now the rest of the crew just has to endure him. We need more stories that give Usopp the respect and validation he actually deserves.

[oceanxembrace]

The ship moved beneath her like a living thing—quiet, steady, obedient to her hands. But her thoughts were anything but still. Riku’s voice was no longer in the air. It had already retreated into memory, but it hadn’t left her. It clung to the curve of her ear, warm like sunlight after rain. Every word he’d spoken, every subtle correction of her fingers over the controls, had settled inside her like rainwater filling an empty well. Gentle. Deep.

And now, in the hush that followed, she felt… full. Brimmed with something that wasn’t fear. Wasn’t duty. Wasn’t even awe. It was him. It was the weight of his presence without pressure. The grace of being seen without being asked to perform. The way he never once reached for her power, but instead gave her the space to feel it for herself.

Her fingers lingered against the worn, humming panel, but her mind wandered—unravelling threads she had spent so long knotting tightly, keeping herself from thinking too much, hoping too fiercely. And now, with the soft flicker of stars ahead and the memory of his breath close to her skin, it was all beginning to come undone.

What had changed? He hadn’t said anything out of place. No grand declarations. No lingering stares. Just the same Riku—quiet, perceptive, always a few paces behind her or beside her but never ahead. Never pulling. Never pushing.

But maybe… that was what had changed. Not him. Her.

Because now she noticed the way her heartbeat jumped not from nerves, but from something gentler. Something that blossomed slowly whenever his hand brushed hers—even accidentally. The way his silences weren’t voids but invitations. The way she felt a little more like herself when he was near. More whole. Like she didn’t have to try so hard to be the warrior, the princess, the girl who had waited too long for someone who always ran ahead.

Riku didn’t run. He stayed. And in the silence of the cockpit, in the gentle click of buttons and the soft whir of space stretching out before her, she realized that she had stopped thinking of him as just a friend a long time ago.

It hadn’t come in a rush. It had crept in during the in-betweens. In the way he looked at her when he thought she didn’t notice. In the way he carried her name in his voice, not as a title, but as something treasured. Kairi. Just Kairi.

Not Sora’s light. Not the seventh heart. Not the missing piece of a prophecy. Just… her. And maybe it was foolish, or maybe it was brave, but she let herself sit with that feeling. Let it settle over her like a blanket—warm and terrifying and unbelievably real. Because Riku wasn’t a fleeting wish or a far-off dream. He was here.

Breathing in the same ship. Close enough that if she turned around, she could reach out and feel his heartbeat again. And gods—she wanted to. She wanted to press her forehead to his shoulder and tell him all the things she didn’t have the courage to say aloud. That she had noticed the way his voice softened around her name. That she remembered the first time he held out his hand and didn’t pull her forward—but stood still and waited for her to take the step herself.

That she didn’t feel small around him. She felt safe. Not protected. Not shielded. But safe in a way that meant she could be strong without apology. That she didn’t have to shine like a star to be held like one.

She blinked back the sudden sting in her eyes. No. Not here. Not now. Instead, she exhaled. A breath full of things unsaid. And without turning, without needing to see him to know he was still watching, she whispered—just loud enough to cross the quiet space between them. “…I think I understand what you meant now.” Her fingers tightened on the controls. “One foot forward. Not both.”

Because the truth was—her heart had already stepped toward him. And maybe, just maybe, she was ready to find out if he would meet her halfway. "But you might need to stay close, just in case I drift." And it's a half-truth, maybe. She's steady enough to fly, but her heart? That's what's wavers. That's what is quietly crashing in waves at the realisation that maybe the boy who once chased darkness now made her feel the safest she ever had.

He feels pride swell in him like the rushing tide. Not for his own efforts, but for Kairi to truly come into her own. He's fascinated to watch her navigate the world, to look at the stars with so much clearness that those same stars are reflected in her eyes. It's breathtaking, really, and he wonders why he avoided looking into her eyes for as long as he had.

Because he knows if he stares too long she'll look back at him, and maybe see something she wasn't meant to.

Nonetheless, Riku doesn't let that shyness overtake the moment. Not when he shuts off the autopilot, and the Gummiship slows its flight, waiting for direction from the captain, who was now replaced by a girl with the gaze of a million horizons, and a brightness that pooled into every crevice of this very cockpit.

❝ The pedal is down there, beneath your feet. One for the break and one for the thrust. Try to keep only one foot on it though, not both. It's easier to switch that way without panicking. ❞

He had slipped so seamlessly into that guiding nature of his, that he didn't hesitate to lean over her -- chest pressed into her shoulder as strong arms encircled to reach around her. Both of his hands were on hers now, gently pressing, so as to make sure she still has power when he tells her, ❝ This is for steering, obviously... it's a bit stiff so you have to put force into it. And your thumbs go here, to shoot. I don't think we'll come across anything on this path but... just in case... ❞

His voice trails, realizing that when he directs her this way it puts his face at her temple, where strands of crimson brush against his pensive nose. It's not often they are this close to each other, in fact the last time he was close enough to hold Kairi she didn't have a heart in her body. But this Kairi is not empty on the inside, she is warm and he can feel the glow of her light. Color rushes to every apex of his face when he ( rather intrusively ) considers what would happen if she turned too suddenly and accidentally brushed their cheeks together.

That's enough to force a hasty retreat from the master, his hands slipping away from Kairi's, and putting space back between them. But not so much space that he's left her to fend for herself. Riku rests his palm on the headrest of her seat, remained standing at her side. He can still watch her like this, and move in if need be. But he didn't want to hover too much.

❝ Just keep it steady, Kairi. And push down on the pedal to move forward. I'm right here for you. ❞

[gala-art]

"What we did, Negan, we can never do again."

“You kissed me.”

“It was a mistake. All of it.”

"Keep telling yourself that, Maggie. Maybe, one day, it'll feel true."

[avocado62524]

[sunflowerpirateart]

“Waiting…. waiting! For you…”

[numberoneredriotfan]

How did I not know that kirimono was a thing until now. What the fuck.

[javierduffy]

is there anyone else out there who has so much respect for people who make insane, out-there aus/ships that are so far from canon that all of the content for it is supplied by their own mind and if yes do yall see ME as one of those people

[cherry-chaos-cola]

Love Ghirahim(& or /)Zelda(& or/)Link where Link sees Zelda as just Zelda, just his friend who did nothing wrong ever, but he still blames Hylia for putting them through hell and manipulating his friend opposite Ghirahim who only sees Hylia, who cannot forgive her, who knows he was wrong but thinks Hylia is worse and places all the blame on the girl that is now Zelda.

But a lot of fanon forgets the part where they're both right and wrong. It needs Zelda who is both and neither, who is "still your Zelda" but now has memories that aren't her own and has magic she doesn't know how to use outside of throwing a harp across a pit and sealing herself in a crystal. Who feels guilty that she used Link and maybe? towards how Ghirahim ended up depending on his backstory, but also she's Zelda and she didn't do anything he says she did, and she was innocent too and doesn't deserve to die like he wants her to.

So much ghiralink hinges on the two of their opinions and emotions surrounding Zelda/Hylia, who becomes nothing more than an idea or symbol. Her personhood is taken away and she gets no say in the narrative she's supposedly pulling the strings for. And I'm not saying it's always a bad thing in fic, but I wish more fan content incorporated her into the story. But then a lot could be solved if they would just talk to her

[johnbly]

WIP game!

i was tagged by @tortoisesshells ✨

so i have two fics going one rn: 1) in the boat purgatory in at world's end, james comes across gov swann and the two have a final conversation together (not using that for this since i haven't done too much but something to look forward to i guess) and 2) bolt's "what if james had a dragon" fic and subsequent discussions and questions has me now doing a "what if hornblower had a dragon" fic so here is an excerpt from that:

“Who are you?”  The dragonet is speaking French, and internally Hornblower swears. Is French the only language the creature knows? It’s no issue for him, of course, but how can it be expected to be a British dragon if it only knows French? “Captain Horatio Hornblower, most recently of the HMS Sutherland,” he replies, also in French – awkwardly so, because it’s a ridiculously formal introduction to make to a dragon, but in light of never having conversed with one before he’s fallen back on the old habit of saying more than is necessary. “That is not a French name,” the dragon says. In English. “Non – no, it is not. You speak English, then?” “I do.” Pause. “That was a long introduction. I hope you don’t want me to use it whenever I want to call on you?” The idea of a dragon wanting to call on him at all is no less ridiculous than having a conversation with one, but it – he? The voice is deep – has a point. “You can call me 'Hornblower',” he says.

i don't remember who all is writing things that hasn't already been tagged, so if you see this and are a writer, feel free to share!

[deus-ex-mona]

eat the [redacted] anime pen, kaito-kun

[mercuriart]

hmmm i want to be. a little bit controversial. but i fear this is the no nuance no critical thinking webbed site. and i don't want to start discourse on this account. ill just. tags.

[exopelagic]

realising I can and should make my dnd npcs gayer

[szilverer]

Reisz doesn't have a canon sex (simply bc i couldnt decide in the beginning, and there would be no memories of being socialized as a girl or boy anyway, so it wouldnt be particularly relevant. at this point it doesnt matter since they can have anything they want inside their pants anyway) and while that would def lead to some Really interesting transmasc/transfem & other Gender hcs, there would be dark corners of the fandom with ppl fighting each other over their interpretations 💀 oh well

What Reisz did have, however, was a lot of canon sex, so they'd prob get shoved into the crazy horny lasciviously flirty trope when they in truth have a perfectly average libido and don't even act on it much anymore

They would correctly be read as a bloodthirsty berserker creechur methinks... but there would also be occasional misinterpretations shoving them into the "aggressive, picks fights if you look at them wrong" type of character

also (somber realization) oh god. muscle mommy trope...

Hyacinthe is a gloomy, stoic woman with a strong sense of justice; so she's automatically also. Just A Bitch.

Part of the fandom would girlbossify her way too much and forget her desperate socially awkward sheltered failgirl origins 😔

Alternatively, she's mischaracterized as an obsessive yandere for sure (while even at the height of her seeking she was fully aware of how unhinged she was becoming & desperately tried latching herself onto the hinges instead! The last thing Cinthe wanted was to end up being harmful/toxic towards her [nemesis spoilers] and actually tried to give them as much space as she could. This was in fact a major factor that led things to end up the way they did so this is the worst offender lol)

On a brighter side she could have a lot of neat transmasc hcs too :3c (it's something i've considered myself- still unsure how much of her deal is just being unhappy with victorian gender roles though)

Seeing it on th dash and now I am so curious abt it...if your OCs were popular enough to be a proper fandom, how do you think they would be mischaracterized by the fans at large? What tropes do they fall into? What tropes would they be forced into? Are there things you think would be picked up on accurately?