#or 'hey remember when you were involved in a fandom community that was positive + supportive; that's dead now or you wandered away from it'

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

one reason i'm grateful a) to have been getting into treating my meta as An Art Form as much as fanfic/art/etc, and b) that there's an import function for that on AO3, is that i write very little prose these days, and Actually Having Substantial Things to Post helps me get past the stumbling block of 'well there's nothing much worth going to the trouble for anyway, is there' to the 'alright let's address all the other baggage that makes using AO3 so emotionally fraught for you bud' step (staircase.)

[utilitycaster]

Hey you seem like someone who’s not going to be an ass about this: would you be willing to get into the reasons you don’t see Caleb/Veth as a romantic ship? I get frustrated bc I often feel that peoples reasons often (subconsciously mostly) boil down to “I don’t wanna ship the short fat married woc”. I’m asking you in good faith cause I trust your historically nuanced takes and I’ve always wanted to know the thoughts of someone I trust not to just get mad who doesn’t ship WB.

Sure! I do want to first possibly disappoint you; the fact that she is married - and actively interested in reuniting with her husband once that becomes an option, and actively working on her marriage and communicating about that throughout - was, for me, a significant factor. I actively love Veth's relationship with Yeza. The reunion of the two in episode 57 remains a highlight of the campaign for me, and I think their marriage was wonderfully and realistically portrayed within the limitations of D&D (ie, in which Yeza is an NPC, with the expectations that an NPC has when interacting with a PC they care about).

Which I suppose doesn't rule out a potential three-way ship and I think the reason I wasn't into that is I'm really turned off by the weird fandom trend of "no love triangles! only shipping poly relationships" which, I am an adult, I have many friends who have opened up formerly monogamous relationships for this reason and sometimes it really works out but FUCK NO is it not some kind of universal solution to the problem of "having feelings for more than one person" and so to ship a three way thing in actual play specifically* I really need there to be like, a strong indication of everyone involved being into it to ship it, otherwise it reminds me of some really depressing conversations with friends going through divorces only a few years after getting married.

Beyond that I think it came down to the fact that for me, it always sort of felt that Veth's perception of Caleb was always heavily skewed towards her first impression. It felt that even well into the campaign, she was always trying to give him just a little push - and it was always well-meaning and from a place of love, but this still often backfired, eg: repeatedly pushing him towards Astrid despite knowing some of the backstory and potential risks because she thought it would be good for him. I should note it didn't seem like she wanted Caleb to stay in a bad place - she wanted him to become stronger and happier branch out - but it felt she had a very specific idea of what that was, and I don't know if it's what Caleb wanted. It didn't feel like she was listening to his actual desires - he ultimately had to tell her to stop calling him the leader because he didn't see it that way, and while her motivations were kind ones, it wasn't actually helping. It's been a few months so I don't remember all the cases but at the time this felt like at throughline - everything was kind and well-intentioned, but a lot of it wasn't what he wanted, and she didn't ask, she just did it.

Which I would note was also present to an extent in her relationship with Yeza! That was Veth's problem, of putting her own desires on hold for someone else who was saying "don't do this, it's not what I need and it's not what you need!" The difference is that Yeza seemed to pick up on this, but I think for much of the campaign Caleb wasn't quite at a place to be able to say this in a way that wasn't going to actually just worsen it. Caleb's attitude until fairly late in the campaign was often "why are you spending time on me, a terrible person", which is just going to make someone in Veth's position lovingly push harder which will make the person in Caleb's position feel even more guilty, unless someone breaks that cycle, and I think by the time they were able to break that cycle, it was late in the campaign, Veth was actively trying very hard to work on her marriage, and Caleb was interested in at least two other people who were (at the time) more available.

Overall, Veth's feelings for Caleb were definitely real and I think there's sufficient space to say that he returned some of them but I also think a lot of those feelings came from a time when neither of them expected much more than living on the run with only each other.

*In scripted works where the actors have more distance and it's not improvised I will happily ship something far more messy. But in the context of an adventuring party in actual play, that you are in a party together and rely on each other for survival and cannot really escape a toxic situation AND this relationship is being improvised by people trying to play a game...I have an infinitely lower tolerance for dysfunction in my actual play PC relationships than I do in other media. Brennan Lee Mulligan actually has stated this is why D20 tends to have NPC/PC ships for the most part; the NPC can leave.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / RREV / NEXT

Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.  

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights. 

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

 “Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out. 

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something.  It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.  

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.” 

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines. 

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.  

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

 It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display.  There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain. 

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy  students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights. 

Different words…different priorities. 

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end. 

...

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks. 

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and  the larger shower blocks which housed  cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

NEXT  

[sserpente]

Hello, this is going to be long, but it feels like the moment to post it. (I apologize for my grammar English is not my first language)

First I just wanted to say that I love everything about your blog, it has been such a comfort in the past 3 years of my life and has really put me through some very distressing moments. I think you are a wonderful person.

I think you are way too kind and far more decent than me spreading positivity and seeing the bright side on the whole Loki finale. I sadly can't do the same because I got so angry and frustrated with the fandom today.

I loved the show, everything about it, I love Sci Fi, and time travel related show, I even rant for an hour with my fiance about how much the show feels like Russell T Davis' Doctor Who and how incredibly clever it was.

As far as I understand the need for representation as a bisexual woman myself I hate it when people get so demanding and entitled over other people who owes you nothing, because they harass and hurt people instead of being constructive about it, thats why queer shows don't get far, because we are to focus on hating what is already there than creating something better or new.

I love the series, and I too wish for loki to end up with Mobius, which I know it won't happen as Drarry didn't happened and Johnlock didn't happened, that's why wonderful writers like you are out there to give us a chance to believe, And I will watch the next season and enjoy it even if doesn't end the way I want it to, because I care and support every wonderful person being in there, I just can't be part of the fandom right now because they are just too demeaning and cruell and I feel erased because if I dated girls and loved some of them and end up falling for a boy am I also not enough Bi? I just can't today.

But I'm so glad that you and others are sticking to positivity, I wish I could be also celebrating that I was right about Kang; (by the way did you notice that he change his time pad before taking it off? He sent loki to that other TVA for a reason.) But I can't, so I wanted to say thanks for being so amazing and doing so much for us fans who needed to be cheer up today.

Heyho there! Hey, English isn't my first language either, no worries!

Thank you so much, love! I'm so happy to hear my blog makes you happy! I've always wanted this place to constitute an escape from the real world and I'm so glad this is what it has become! 💚

I understand what you mean, completely! I was browsing the Loki tag last night to share my excitement and my heart ached when most of what I read was so negative. Like I said yesterday, if you don't like the show and you have your reasons for it, that's fine by me but what a lot of people underestimate is how much hard work went into making this show. Everyone involved and especially Tom put a lot of thought into it and there is a huge difference between posting rude comments because what certain individuals wanted to happen didn’t happen or downplaying the effort they all made to produce this show, and voicing your opinion in a respectful and plausible way.

I understand a lot of fans wanted Mobius x Loki to happen. Sure, why not? But ultimately, the writers make the decision. When I write a book, I create the ships that feel right to me as well if that is what I have planned for the story and what I enjoy writing, they’ll never be able to please absolutely everyone. It’s all subjective, that’s fine. All I ask is for people to be respectful. Real people worked on this show. Real people who poured their heart and soul into this.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I loved the show so much! In fact, with some comments claiming that Loki had no character development in this show (?!) I do ask myself if we’ve even watched the same series. If you disagree with someone, that is okay--and it’s also okay to step away from the conversation if you are getting uncomfortable. There is no reason to waste your energy on rude comments or people trying to force their opinion on you because they believe that just because they didn’t like the show, everyone else has to dislike it too. Just like they have reasons for why they disliked it, we have reasons for why we liked it!

Yes, the way certain aspects of the LGBTQ+ community were represented raised a lot of discussion, one that I do not wish to take part in but if you are interested, I responded to an ask recently that should give you an idea of what I think about the whole discourse, that is as far as I will go.

I’m so glad my post could cheer you up a little! Remember, don’t let it get to you and enjoy the show! In fact, I’ll re-watch the finale tonight. You, and everyone else, can always come here to fangirl about the series with me, anytime! ♥

[atlasira]

i’m not done talking about this and need to vent. i’ve mostly seen it on the l*velink subreddit bc it’s much easier to see everyone’s matches (as you can put their sprites next to your username and there’s weekly discussion threads and etc.) on there than it is on here, and it’s so FRUSTRATING how everytime a match of color* has a white counterpart, players always always flock to the latter. it literally almost always happens!

(*by the way when i say “moc” in this post i’ll mostly be referring to the phrase “match of color” instead of its usual meaning of “men of color”)

between emmalyn or angel guess who people praise more. between noah and antoine. sam and micheal. skylar and jaden. keanu and blake. and so on and so forth. out of all these matches with characters of color who are mirrored by white characters, guess which ones out of the pairs get chosen and praised, while the other is left in the absolute dust?

this has been ongoing the entire time the l*velink sub was up and running, and of course there’s way more aggravating posts and content besides the one i’m about to talk about, but i saw this poll going around and even tho it’s a minor thing, it felt like just a cherry on top of what i’m talking about:

do you know why this specific poll is significant to my point? because both of the characters in it have counterparts of color. “who’s your favorite artist?” they ask, completely leaving out the artists of color. keanu and blake, and alex and calum are literally THE SAME PEOPLE. so why not do the so very simple task of just going “blake / keanu or alex / calum” with a slash in between counterparts? the motive for this was that either op felt keanu and alex were less liked by the sub (which is true bc of the reasons i’ve stated) and/or they felt they weren’t as relevant to be included (which also speaks to my point of people placing white matches as more significant/interesting than matches of color).

that poll is a very minor thing that wouldn’t normally deserve much attention. but like i said before, it’s just a cherry on top for me as the sub and general l*velink fanbase keeps positioning matches of color as less relevant than their white counterparts. whether it be in the uneven amount of fan content either pair gets (like posts, edits, memes, fics, or etc.), or in how absolutely imbalanced the excitement/discussion is when new matches are released and one is a moc while the other is white (god i remember when blake/keanu first came out people barely even muttered keanu’s fucking name and only went “oh thank god blake’s not the counterpart of franz! this’ll be easy 😋” since people thought they’d be counterparts instead of with keanu. so many so many people acted like keanu was so easy to just wave away and dispose of. it was genuinely disturbing to see how relieved everyone was that blake mirrored keanu bc it made the choice “so easy”.)

earlier i said most of this criticism stems from what i’ve seen on the l*velink sub because it’s much easier to see on there who everyone loves and is excited for bc of how interactive things are, and how easy it is to communicate to users en masse. but this is absolutely not saying that shit doesn’t happen here on tumblr too. the last time i made a post about smthg involving reddit and racism, it was spammed with people constantly saying “yikes at least tumblr isn’t like that ✨” as if tumblr is some safe space that never has fandom racism. regardless of the platform, racism especially in the form of microaggressions like this are everywhere. just bc it’s not as prominent doesn’t mean it’s nonexistent.

if you find that most or even all of your l*velink matches are white or white passing (and no, i don’t mean if you only just started the game and only have like 2 matches. i mean if you already have a decent number) then you need to think about why that is because that’s actually a huge issue. what is it about matches of color thats unappealing to you aside from their features? bc the stories are literally the exact same so it’s not that. “it’s just preference dont make this about race” bitch! having a preferred race is extremely racist. “i just didn’t like their counterparts *shrug* it’s not because they were characters of color” but that’s LITERALLY the only difference between them so what the fuck else could it be.

i’m not saying for everyone to now start choosing only the matches of color. but jesus christ if you find yourself constantly thinking the white matches are “more attractive” and see that most of the matches you’ve chosen are white, then you need to ask yourself “hey what the fuck” bc hey. what the fuck.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

250 Followers: Meet The Writer

Hi! We finally reached over 250 followers!!!! Thank you so much for all your support! As usual, we prepared Meet The Writer Q&A and, this time, we have a newbie fanfic author of our fandom:

Blog: @starrystarrytrouble​ Name: Ruby Birthday: July Nationality: British Current residency: London, UK Languages you speak: English and French Masterlist: Ruby’s Fanfiction Masterlist

1. Is there a meaning behind your url name?

I love art and Van Gough is my favorite artist so the name was inspired by his work.

2. When did you start playing Choices? What's the first book you played?

I first played in January starting with TRR because it’s the default. I didn’t actually realise there were other books for a long while!

3. When did you decide to join Choices fandom?

I joined this summer.

4. Go back to your archive and tell us what was your first post on your Choices blog was about.

It was a hey I’m new to the fandom post. Everyone was so friendly and helpful that I knew straightaway I’d love this fandom.

5. How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Since about July, so I’m still new and learning with every fic.

6. Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it or would you change anything about it?

It was a short OH fic called ‘Blind dates’. It’s quite clumsy and simple but I still like the characterisation.

7. What are your favorite Choices books to write about?

I only write for OH but I’d love to branch out.

8. What is your specialty as a fanfic writer?

Probably plot-driven fluff. But I also write a lot of angsty character studies and like to get in the characters minds.

9. Do you have any abandoned WIPs? What made you abandon them?

I don’t - everything ends up written, probably because I’m short on ideas! Anything I don’t finish I chop up and repurpose.

10. Have you ever purposefully written one fandom/fic idea over another because you knew it’d be more popular?

Not really, although there are some wilder ideas I haven’t written because they’re so self-indulgent. They usually revolve around love triangles and OOC behaviour.

11. Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

I love writers who blend a poetic style with strong plots and have standout lines you remember forever. My favourite authors are Gabriel García Márquez and Haruki Murakami who epitomize this.

I read so much fanfic now and the OH fandom has enormous talent. Before I joined, I read the masterlists of @perriewinklenerdie​ @writinghereandthere​ and @aworldoffandoms​ and that really influenced my desire to write. And I read an OH fic by the brilliant @dcbbw​ that is still my all time fav - it made me realise the power of fanfiction.

12. If someone you know in real life who isn’t involved in fandoms asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

My brother writes Marvel fanfics so I might let him take a peek. I’d probably suggest they read Fight because it’s the most fun.

13. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

I’ve met the most amazing people and joined a really supportive community, the writers and readers for OH are wonderful. On the downside, posting is still stressful every single time. It literally never gets easier.

14. If you had to pick one fic/scene/chapter of your work to describe your entire portfolio to a stranger, which would you pick?

Probably my recent story Hideaway. It’s a blend of angst with lighter moments and flashbacks.

15. Do you write original stories? 

I do, I have a big project that needs a rewrite that I haven’t touched since March. I’m sure I’ll get to it again, but right now, I’m enjoying writing fics. Original writing can be lonely, I love the community fanfics bring.

Do you want to contribute with questions/ideas for the next Meet The Writer Q&A? Send us a message.

Thanks for reading! Reblog to share your appreciation for @starrystarrytrouble​ ❤️

[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 7

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

A little bit more spot the difference, but also some things that aren’t so different after all!  Interestingly, there is some tech that’s stayed the same between TOS and TAG, as Scott is about to discover (unfortunately for Scott, that doesn’t make him any happier).

This is the last chapter I’ve already got prewritten, so this may be the last chapter for a while.  I refuse to rush this just to fit to a schedule, and with uni work kicking in and now TAG Secret Santa, I have other things with more important deadlines, but I am still working on this one.  Chapter 8 is partially written, but also throwing me for some wobblies, so I don’t know how long it’ll take to finish...  Just a warning that the regular weekend updates may have come to an end for now.

<<<Chapter 6

“Tin-Tin!”  Other-Alan was just emerging from what Scott vaguely recalled was his bedroom when they reached the landing, wearing an unbuttoned striped yellow shirt over a white rollneck.  “Oh, it’s you.”  Scott found himself on the receiving end of a glower from bright blue eyes, an expression his own Alan would never throw his way.  He met it passively, not rising to the bait.  “What are you doing with Tin-Tin?”

“Oh, we were just having a chat, Alan,” she assured him before Scott could answer.  “Just some research for Brains.”

“Anything useful?” Other-Virgil emerged from further down the corridor, wearing some brown and yellow shirt and waistcoat combination and effectively shutting up Other-Alan before he could come up with another complaint.  Did Other-Alan do anything except complain?

“I’m sure it will be,” she said.  “But we should go and see your father; it’s time for the debrief and it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting.”

“You’re right, Tin-Tin,” Other-Virgil agreed.  “We can talk about this later.”  He walked through the doorway and Scott followed, to a scandalised noise from Other-Alan.

“You don’t mean he’s involved in the debrief?” the young man demanded.  “What’s he got to do with any of this?”

“Alan!” Tin-Tin chided. Scott chose to ignore him. Other-Alan had made his opinions clear and he wasn’t particularly interested in putting in the effort to change his mind.  He’d do it of his own accord or not at all.  Other-Scott and Other-Gordon were where he’d left them, and he reclaimed his earlier chair, leaning back and ignoring the way Not-Dad zeroed in on his still-undone top buttons with a disapproving frown.  In the corner, Other-John’s picture had been replaced with a video screen showing the man in real-time, judging by the way he was moving around.

Compared to his John’s hologram always materialising in the room, as though he was physically there, a simple screen on the wall made him seem excluded and more or less forgotten. That didn’t sit well with Scott, who thanks to EOS’ appearance was well aware how lonely it was to be stuck up on Thunderbird Five without any other company, even for someone as allergic to socialising as John.  No-one had made any mention of an EOS or equivalent so far, and he wondered if the differing technology meant she didn’t exist.

He hadn’t seen any sign of MAX, either.

“Good, you’re all here,” Not-Dad said, looking up from his desk as the others found seats.

“Dad, we can’t seriously be having a debrief with him in the room?” Other-Alan demanded.

“Alan,” Other-Scott interjected before Not-Dad could reply.  “If he wants to be here, he can.”

“Scott, how do we know we can even trust him?  Where’s our proof he knows anything about International Rescue?” the blond demanded.

“Did you pay any attention to the clothes he arrived in, Alan?” Other-John asked, and the younger man frowned heavily.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” he snapped defensively.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think any of us paid much attention to his clothes,” Other-Virgil admitted. “What are you referring to, John?”

Scott realised what was coming and was already on his feet by the time the space monitor looked at him. The badge on his shoulder wasn’t obvious if they weren’t looking for it.

“See for yourself,” he said, striding out of the room to a hey from the irritable young man.  One thing was for sure – Alan was not growing up to be that argumentative as an adult.  He didn’t think he’d be able to stand it.  Locating his uniform in the guest room that was currently his, and leaving everything except the flight suit in the closest where he’d stashed it, he strode back to the lounge and tossed it at Other-Alan.  “Right shoulder.”

“Right-?” Other-Alan started, making a disgruntled face.  “Urgh, it’s sweaty.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I did just get back from a rescue.” The others crowded around the two of them; even Not-Dad left his desk to get a closer look as Other-Alan finally located the shoulder in question and froze.

“What’s this?”

“What does it look like?” Scott retorted, knowing full well what he was looking at.

“Thunderbird One… International Rescue,” Other-Virgil read out.  “Well, I guess that settles it.”  He turned to face Other-John’s image.  “How did you know?”

“Brains saw it when he was looking at the equipment he had with him,” Other-John shrugged.

“What equipment?” Other-Alan sneered, lifting the flight suit and shaking it.  “I don’t see any equipment.”  Scott snatched it back.

“Aside from the built-in telemetry, it’s all still in my room,” he said.  “My gear doesn’t seem like it works here, but I’m not taking chances. I think the last thing you want is Thunderbird One trying to launch itself.”

“What?” Other-Scott yelped, lunging for his lamps.

“You have built-in telemetry?” Other-John asked as the wall section swung around, taking Other-Scott with it.  “And why would Thunderbird One launch itself?”

Scott shook his head.

“Different gear,” he reminded him.  “All our uniforms are linked to Thunderbird Five – measuring things like pulse, blood pressure, body temperature.  That sort of stuff, so John doesn’t have to wait for us to tell him if something’s gone wrong.”

“I want that,” Other-John said immediately.  To Scott’s surprise, Other-Alan muttered something that sounded like agreement.

The wall rotated again and Other-Scott reappeared, looking calmer.

“She’s not going anywhere,” he reported, before narrowing his eyes at Scott.  “What did you mean, she might launch herself?”

“I doubt it’ll happen,” Scott assured him, finding his chair again and sitting down, flight suit on his lap. “It’s coded to my Thunderbird One, so chances are the remote controls won’t do anything, especially as my communicator doesn’t work, but I’m keeping them locked away to be safe.  I don’t want either Thunderbird One responding to them when yours is different tech and I can’t see mine.”

“Your Thunderbirds can be remote controlled?” Not-Dad frowned, and Scott sighed.

“I thought we were here for a debrief, not another round of twenty questions,” he said pointedly, filing away the titbit that this universe’s Thunderbirds didn’t have built in remote control under ‘technological differences’.  The look he got in return informed him that Not-Dad didn’t appreciate his authority being undermined, but the older man returned to his desk and steepled his fingers together.

That appeared to be the signal for the rest of them to stop standing around and re-find their seats. Remembering Other-Gordon’s words from earlier, Scott settled back comfortably and reminded himself that he didn’t know enough about their technology to interrupt.  Clutching his flight suit in his hands, the material familiar under his fingers all he had left of home, he turned to glance at Other-Scott, who acknowledged him with a faint nod before directing his own attention to his father.

Scott followed suit.

“John called in an issue with Shackleton Power Plant,” Not-Dad began, and Scott started, clenching his flight suit tightly in his fist.  That was a nuclear facility – hadn’t it blown several years ago?  “The report stated two workers trapped inside – Scott?”  For a split second, Scott thought Not-Dad was addressing him and his reaction, before Other-Scott started talking.

That was going to get very confusing.

“I arrived at the danger zone at eleven thirty two, Island time.  The contact was a Cameron Agnew, the site’s Superior Safety Engineer, who informed me that the temperature had reached critical levels inside the building. Two operators had failed to get out before the blast doors closed, sealing them in, and while the external control tower could be used to lower the temperature, the method was not safe for human exposure and so couldn’t be used until the two men were evacuated.  I set up Mobile Control by Thunderbird One as there wasn’t enough security around to leave the ship secure and analysed the building schematics Mr Agnew supplied,” Other-Scott began.

It took all of Scott’s self-control not to interrupt, wondering why Other-John on Thunderbird Five hadn’t got access to the building schematics long before Thunderbird One had arrived at the danger zone.  Mobile Control was a brand new term to him – Other-Scott had mentioned it back on the trail, but hadn’t explained what it was then, and it seemed there was no explanation coming now, either.  Different technology, he reminded himself, looking down at his lap, where his flight suit – not sweaty, thank you Other-Alan – was firmly clamped between his fingers.

Other-Scott was still talking, describing how they’d had radio contact with the two trapped workers and the plan he’d devised to get them out, based on the schematics he’d had at his disposal.  Other-Gordon had said it had to have been a simple mission, for them to have been back so quickly, and Scott could appreciate that as his counterpart described the obedience of the operators do to as they were told, and how everything was organised and in position even before Thunderbird Two arrived with the bulk of their gear.

Scott found himself impressed with how smoothly the rescue had gone as Other-Virgil took up the narrative, describing how he’d landed where Other-Scott had instructed and had piloted the Mole – which had to be their version of a Mole Pod – to dig its way underneath the blast doors while Other-Alan had used a ‘Domo’ – Scott had no idea what that was supposed to be – to support them from collapsing while they were tunnelled under.

Two operators rescued successfully, temperature supressed remotely as soon as they were safe, and the structural integrity of the building was maintained after they filled the Mole’s track back in.  Practically a textbook rescue, and Not-Dad seemed pleased with the outcome.  Even though he had no personal stake in it – this wasn’t his International Rescue – Scott found himself similarly pleased.  There was no better rush than a rescue that went smoothly, without complications.  In Scott’s experience, those were rare.

“Well done, boys,” Not-Dad said after the recounting was done and Other-Alan and Other-John made their own contributions.  “A successful rescue once again; I’m proud of you.”  Scott flinched involuntarily at the words, having made the mistake of looking at the older man just as he said it.  Just one more thing he’d never hear his father say again.

“Are you okay?” Other-Virgil asked, and when he turned to face him he realised they were all watching him.

“Fine,” he snapped defensively, not enjoying being scrutinised.  Other-Gordon had a look that was almost pitying, and Scott realised he had enough of the story to realise what had caused that reaction. None of the others did, although Other-John looked calculating and if he was anything like John, as Scott suspected he was, he was well on the way to drawing the right conclusions. The others all looked to be varying levels of confused – except Other-Alan, who was frowning. Again.  Did he do anything other than frown?

“You don’t look fine,” the young man pointed out waspishly.  Scott scowled at him.

“Alan.”  Once again it was Other-Scott chiding his brother, drawing out the name warningly.  Other-Alan huffed.

“I’m just saying he’s lying,” the blond muttered petulantly.  Scott couldn’t quite believe he was supposed to be twenty – Alan had outgrown those sorts of remarks at least a year ago, for the most part at least. He was still a teenager, after all.

“And how do you suppose you would be if you found yourself in another universe?” Other-Virgil pointed out reasonably.  “Give the fella some slack, Alan.”

Other-Alan grumbled but fell quiet.

“Does anyone else have anything to say about the mission?” Not-Dad asked, dragging them back on topic.

“No, father,” the four brothers involved chorused, and he nodded his head, satisfied.

“In that case,” Not-Dad continued, “the next thing to be dealt with is clothing for Scott.  As has been pointed out, he cannot continue wearing our Scott’s clothes.”

“Or the same underwear,” Other-Gordon muttered, just loud enough to be heard by the room.  Scott gave him a half-hearted glare as Other-Virgil reached across to cuff him lightly.  Other-Alan made a noise of disgust but Scott ignored him, as did his brothers.

“Someone will need take him to the mainland for shopping,” Not-Dad continued, with only a disapproving glare directed at Other-Gordon to acknowledge the interruption.  “Normally, I would say Scott, but that would prompt too many awkward questions.  Virgil, you go.”

“Yes, father,” Other-Virgil said, making to stand.

“No,” Scott said, mouth moving before his brain realised what it was saying.  “I’ll go with Gordon.”  A look of surprise crossed Other-Virgil’s face, and something Scott didn’t want to analyse too closely.  Offence?  Disappointment?

No, Scott didn’t what to know what he was thinking.

“You realise we’re not letting you pilot, right?” Other-Scott asked, eyebrow raised.  Scott sighed, finding his way to his feet.

“Different technology,” he said blandly.  “I know. Are you telling me he can’t pilot a plane?”  He didn’t want to go with any of them – enforced one-on-one time was begging for an interrogation – but at least he’d already got the worst of it out of the way with Other-Gordon.

“Not as well as I can,” Other-Virgil hedged, although he was already sinking back down into his chair as though he could tell Scott wouldn’t be changing his mind.  Maybe he could.

It was the look Not-Dad shot Other-Gordon that cemented it.  So far, all he’d had was Other-John’s vague word and some less-hidden reactions from Other-Gordon to bring him to the conclusion that he was being treated like glass, but that look was all too much like the ones he’d seen on his own face in the immediate aftermath of his own Gordon’s crash.  The same look he had to fight whenever he sent Alan out in Thunderbird Three without him.  The I don’t want to let you out of my sight in case you get hurt look.

“Virgil-”

“I’ll go, Father,” Other-Gordon cut in, voice hard.  “Virgil’s just got back from a rescue.  Let him rest.”

“I can-”

Other-Gordon ignored his older brother, turning to face Scott with the faint ghost of a grin on his face.  “No backseat piloting from you.”

It had been a very long time since anyone had piloted Scott anywhere – occasional trips in Thunderbirds Two and Three notwithstanding.  He couldn’t say he was looking forwards to the experience, especially as he was asking the aquanaut to get behind the plane’s controls.

“No promises,” he offered, finding a small grin on his face.  Other-Gordon groaned.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said.  “Hey, Scott, you got a hat for him to wear?  Otherwise the world’s going to think you’re going grey.”

Other-Scott had been reclining in the chair, but at Other-Gordon’s words shot to his feet, glowering at his younger brother before turning to face Scott.

“Come on.”  He gestured towards the door.  “If the world’s going to think you’re me, you are not ruining my image.”

“I still don’t see the problem,” Scott shrugged, but followed.  He could at least appreciate the sort of damage paparazzi could do, and despite everything he wasn’t about to throw Other-Scott under the press bus if he could help it.

“The problem is that you’re wrecking my shirts and my image,” Other-Scott muttered, pushing open his bedroom door.  “The former we’re dealing with by getting you your own, but there’s not much we can do about the latter; seeing how the world knows I don’t have a twin and doesn’t know about your visit from an alternate universe, anyone who sees you will think you’re me.”

Scott sat down on the end of the bed as Other-Scott rummaged through his closet, scowling as a dark brown waistcoat was thrust in front of him.

“So what do I need to know?” he asked, picking up the offending item of clothing dubiously.

“More than I’ve got time to tell you if you want your own clothes today,” Other-Scott retorted. “Put that on, and do those buttons up.”

Scott grumbled, muttering under his breath about stupid fashions, but obeyed.

“Follow Gordon’s lead, don’t talk to anyone – Gordon can talk enough for both of you and won’t say anything irreparable – and ignore anyone with a camera,” Other-Scott told him; Scott would have bristled if it didn’t all make sense.  “I’m not sure why you wanted Gordon over Virgil, but I’d say it was the right call.  Virgil’s not great with the paparazzi, but Gordon can handle them.”

“What are my chances of avoiding them?” Scott asked dryly, aware that if it was anything like home, practically nil.  Other-Scott sent him a sympathetic look.

“Our cover is that we’re all lazy playboys living off of Dad’s fortune,” he informed him, and that was useful information to know, even if Scott didn’t like where it was headed. “It works wonders – even visitors to the island have never suspected we’re International Rescue – but for it to work, we need the papers.  They’ll scrutinise everything they see you buy, too.  What are you planning?”

“You’re not telling me what I can and can’t buy,” Scott bristled.  “Casual shirts, jeans, sneakers.  Seriously, how do you not have sneakers?”

“I have sneakers,” Other-Scott said, amused.  “Just not in my room.”  Scott groaned and glared at the shoes he was currently wearing.

“You mean I didn’t have to wear these?” he complained.  “Where are they?”

“You are not wearing sneakers to the mainland,” Other-Scott rebuked, before sighing himself.  “Look, I know you want your own clothes, and it sounds a lot like your universe has different standards, but while I won’t say a word about what you wear on the island, whenever you’re on the mainland you might as well be me.  If you must get jeans, at least get the expensive ones.”  He withdrew a fedora and eyed it critically before handing it to him.  “That should hide the differences in our hair.”

Feeling suffocated, Scott reluctantly put it on his head.  He hadn’t worn a hat in a long time, and definitely not a fedora.

“Sunglasses,” Other-Scott said, brandishing a pair of square-rimmed ones. “That should do enough.”  Scott put them on, squinting as the room went a few shades darker.

“Are you ladies done in here?” Other-Gordon asked, leaning against the doorway.  Other-Scott rolled his eyes.

“I’m holding you personally accountable for anything that ends up in the papers,” he told his younger brother firmly.  Other-Gordon grinned.

“Which of us don’t you trust?” he asked rhetorically – Scott knew full well the answer was ‘neither’ – before shifting his attention to Scott.  “Come on, Scott.  Sooner we leave, sooner you get to change your underpants.”

“Do you have to keep bringing that up?” Scott demanded.

“He’s Gordon,” Other-Scott said, as though that explained it.  It did.  “I do appreciate you not borrowing mine, though.”  Scott rolled his eyes.

“Let me just put my flight suit away and then I’m ready,” he replied, brushing past Other-Gordon and heading for his designated room.  Other-Gordon followed him, but to his relief Other-Scott stayed where he was.

“You look respectable, now,” the aquanaut commented, although Scott wasn’t so sure that was a compliment.  He chose not to respond as he carefully folded up his flight suit and put it back with the rest of his gear, out of sight.  “Ready?”

“You’ll have to show me another hangar now,” Scott informed him dryly, and Other-Gordon laughed.

“As if keeping any Scott Tracy from planes for any length of time is possible,” he grinned.  “Come on then, and remember you’re not piloting.”

“I know, I know,” Scott grumbled, but followed the younger man from his designated room, past Other-Scott’s still open door and then past the stairs – much to his consternation – and into the elevator, which clanged shut ominously behind him.  He didn’t jump, but it was a close thing, and Other-Gordon eyed him as he punched in a button.

“Claustrophobic?”

Scott choked back a laugh, thinking of his launch tube, which was both smaller and faster than the elevator they were currently travelling down in – and then down again, past the ground floor and into darkness. “Hardly.”

Artificial light streamed in through the metal, and Scott watched an impressive array of planes come into sight – all civilian.  No sign of the other Thunderbirds, and there was a large part of him disappointed by that revelation.  Then again, if they were keeping International Rescue secret, he supposed keeping their public craft in the same hangar would raise some awkward questions.

“Is that a Tiger Moth?” he asked, spying a plane that seemed mid-restoration. “I haven’t seen one of those in years!” Other-Gordon shrugged.

“Alan’s pet project,” he explained.  “If he’s not tinkering with cars, he’s playing with that.”  Scott couldn’t blame him – it looked like a beauty. “Scott’s banned from touching it, by the way.”  Other-Gordon sounded amused.  “We’ll take Tin-Tin’s girl – Ladybird.”

Scott tore his eyes away from the Tiger Moth to see Other-Gordon pointing at a small plane, positioned near the hangar door.  Compared to many of the other craft, it didn’t look particularly special, or fast, and he sent a longing glance over at a sleek blue plane that looked designed for speed.  Other-Gordon followed his gaze and laughed.

“That’s Scott’s baby,” he told him.  “Well, the one that isn’t Thunderbird One.  I’m banned from so much as breathing on it under pain of very painful death, so no matter what you say, we’re not taking her.  I have clearance to take the Ladybird, and only the Ladybird, so the Ladybird it is.”

The elevator came to a smooth stop, and Scott followed Other-Gordon as he made a beeline for the Ladybird, despite wanting to stop and explore the planes some more.  They looked familiar in a way so much hadn’t since he’d woken up in the infirmary, and he stopped dead at the top of the steps into the Ladybird’s cockpit.

He knew those controls.  He’d flown planes with those controls.  While none of his current planes – Thunderbirds or Tracy Jets – used those, they were just like his old training plane.  Their old training plane, the one Grandma had taught Dad to fly in, and in turn Dad had taught him – and he’d taught Gordon and Alan.  His chest stuttered, nostalgia crushing his lungs, and without thinking he stepped towards the pilot chair.

A hand jabbed him in the back.

“The passenger seat is the one on the right,” Other-Gordon reminded him. Scott sent a longing look at the controls, but the hand jabbed him again and he reluctantly moved, allowing Other-Gordon to slither past him into the pilot seat and begin pre-flight checks. Resigned to being a reluctant passenger, and realising that not doing any backseat piloting was going to be a lot harder now he could see that this technology was the same, Scott slid into the passenger seat and clipped himself in.

It was obvious that Other-Gordon wasn’t quite as used to piloting than his Gordon, or at least not this particular jet, and Scott bit his lip to stop himself from offering unwelcome advice as the younger man haltingly pulled them through the pre-flight checks.  Other-Gordon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he finished fuel checks and groaned.

“I knew you’d be a terrible passenger.  Remember – no backseat piloting.”

“I know,” Scott sighed, tearing his eyes away from the control panel and instead looking out of the cockpit window at the other planes in an attempt to distract himself.  Behind them, the engine purred into life, familiar vibrations passing through his seat, and he forced himself to stay relaxed as the hangar door swung open to reveal the runway he’d seen from the narrow corridor in the villa.

The palm trees that lined it on either side didn’t move as Other-Gordon taxied them out, but the Ladybird was relatively small as far as jets went. Scott had no doubt that Thunderbird Two also used this runway – although he couldn’t look back to see what hid the entrance – and that the trees did need to somehow lean back out of the way for International Rescue’s behemoth to pass by.  At home, the palm trees were more of a reminder of their old legacy – Operation Cover-Up, as it was called here – than any real camouflage. It would be simple enough to remove them – the only hidden entrance that was possible to remove, as Gordon would murder him if he even considered getting rid of the pool, and the round house disguising Thunderbird Three’s launch was just as integral – but they all liked the bowing trees, and it was always fun to watch people’s confusion as they wondered how Thunderbird Two fit on the runway.  More than one person had theorised that Thunderbird Two had a hidden, VTOL launch, just as they assumed Thunderbird One did.

Scott never knew if he should be insulted that everyone thought his ‘bird could only do VTOL, or quietly smug that no-one else could figure out his girl.

“Ladybird to Base, requesting clearance for take-off,” Other-Gordon said suddenly. The radio crackled temporarily, before Not-Dad’s voice emerged in response.

“Base to Ladybird, clearance granted.  Fly safe, Gordon.  Scott, keep your head down and remember you’re a Tracy.”

“F.A.B.,” Other-Gordon chirped, before Scott could formulate a response to that.  Remember you’re a Tracy?  Scott couldn’t forget that even if he wanted to, but he wasn’t part of this Tracy family.  Was Not-Dad giving him an unnecessary reminder that he was effectively pretending to be this universe’s Scott Tracy, or did he mean something else by it?

What else could he mean by it?  He didn’t belong here, with this other Tracy family.  There was no place for him here, and a gaping hole in his family, where he should be.

Analysing Not-Dad’s intentions, along with everything else to do with the man, gave him an uncomfortable taste in his mouth and he shunted it all into a box in the back of his mind to be analysed later, or preferably never.  He was going to buy – or rather, Other-Gordon was going to buy, because he certainly hadn’t been given any money – what he wanted, and not conform to expectations.  Other-Scott hadn’t seemed too opposed to his brief shopping list, so Scott was taking that as permission.

“Here we go,” Other-Gordon said, and Scott felt the familiar g-force of a jet picking up speed.  Nothing like a Thunderbird, but he hadn’t expected that.  It was still a solid kick, though, more so than he had expected from that sort of jet.  Either that was a standard universe difference, or Brains had done some tinkering. Whichever it was, Scott wasn’t complaining.

Out of the window, he watched the land fall away.  As they were travelling directly away from the island in what seemed to be a south westerly direction, from the position of the clouds and the dials on the dashboard, he couldn’t see much of the island even if he twisted around.

“You’ll see it when we come back,” Other-Gordon pointed out, sounding amused, and feeling like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Scott slowly turned back around to face forwards again, casting an eye over the instrumentation panel out of habit.  “Gee, you’re insatiable, aren’t you?  Fine, go stare out the window, if that stops you judging my piloting.”

“I don’t need to judge your piloting,” Scott retorted, although he did concede to looking out at the thin cloud layer they were approaching rather than what Other-Gordon was doing.  “You’re an aquanaut, not a pilot.”

“I still have a pilot’s license,” Other-Gordon reminded him, a little sulkily. “If you wanted a pilot, you should have gone with Virg, or even Alan.  I’m sure we could have pulled some strings to miraculously give Scott a twin and you two could have spent some quality time bonding over speed if you’d really wanted.  I really don’t have the foggiest why you insisted on me.”

Scott looked at him out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow raised.

“You don’t?”

Other-Gordon grumbled.

“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say you didn’t want to be trapped with someone you hadn’t already sworn to silence, and as that leaves me and John, there’s not much of a choice,” he pointed out.  “You know, none of the fellas would ask questions if you asked them not to?”

“And have them stewing in curiosity the whole time instead?” Scott asked dubiously.  “That would be worse.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Other-Gordon conceded.  “But this is the only time I fly you anywhere.  You want my company so badly next time, we go by boat.”

That was such a Gordon response that it should have hurt, like all those times Other-Alan had felt like his Alan, but somehow, it didn’t. Instead, Scott just laughed.

Chapter 8>>>

[xayneimagines]

The Importance of the Past

Fandom: Legend of Zelda

Pairing:  (BOTW) Link x reader

Warnings: None I think

Genres: Barely Angst, Fluff

Summary: Link and Reader talking about what little he knows of his past, specifically Mipha. Reader offers him some much needed comfort and words of wisdom. Here are some character HC this time around. -The reader is still learning how to fight. Link is mute. The reader knows Hylian sign language, though they still have some learning to do.

Word Count: 1313

Y/N had been traveling with Link for a month or so, having lost count of the days a little after a week of adventuring. Day tracking had proved to be a complicated and, for that matter, unnecessary task. Now they focused on much more useful habits such as cooking and slightly fawning over Link whenever Y/N could. Speaking of…

           Link appeared over the edge of the hill, meat in one hand and sword in the other, chopping at any vines that seemed to stand in his way. Y/N smiled and waved at him, having been left to keep an eye on the fire and let their ankle rest. Link smiled in return, sheathing his sword to take out one of his shields and use it as a resting place for the meat. He sat down on the grown beside them, glad to be off his feet for the moment. 

           ‘How is your ankle doing?’ His hands easily formed the words, slowly his usual pace to help them read along. 

           “It’s doing great. And stop slowing down on my account. I need to practice. If anything I should accommodate you, not the other way around.” Y/N smiled, moving their hands along with their own speech, finding it helped them memorize the signs easier. 

           ‘Oh, please. If I signed and my normal pace, you would never understand me. This is more me accommodating for myself so that I don’t have to repeat myself.’ He smirked lightly, laughing when Y/N thumped his arm with their fist.

“You know, you’re being a bit sassy today. What’s gotten into you, huh? Picking on me.” Y/N grinned before grabbing the meat along with a collection of seasonings and vegetables to start cooking. At this point, they were still getting used to watching him sign while doing other tasks, but they were luckily good at multitasking. 

‘What can I say? You bring the sass out of me. Plus, you’re cute when you’re angry.’ Despite the confidence in his expression, his ears and cheeks still turned a light pink at his minor confession. 

At this point they had already established their attraction to each other, though nothing was technically considered official just yet. With the threat of Calamity-Gannon and the unsureness behind even having a tomorrow, they were both apprehensive about how far things should be taken. This did not stop them from enjoying each other’s company and flirting. 

“Cute? I’ll have you know I’m a vicious warrior with a long history of violence and other...warrior...things.” Their eyebrows furrowed together while they tried to piece together their sentence, but a smile stayed just as clear on their face as it always seemed to do when dealing with him. 

‘Ah yes, warrior things. I know them well. Forgive me, oh great warrior.’

“Okay, haha, laugh it up. You know, you just wait till I’m the one saving you. Then we will see if you can keep that sarcastic face.” Y/N grinned as they flipped the meat in the pan before sitting fully back down. 

‘Alright, I’ll stop teasing you for an hour. How about that?’

“Well, that is the least you can do. So where are we headed in the morning?”

‘The Zora domain. I need to get a weapon of mine fixed…’ As he signed his expression turned into one that held despondent, though towards what was still a mystery to Y/N. 

“Link...You know...you can tell me anything…” Y/N’s soft expression and gentle touch to Link’s arm was meant to show comfort. They had genuine concern, noticing his change in demanor whenever the Zora would first come up. Granted the full conversations about the land and the people weren’t laced with sadness, positive memories involving his friend Sidon and fighting Lynels usually bringing him some joy. Still, that flicker of sadness was clearly there in his eyes, something that Y/N could not ignore. 

‘...I don’t want to worry you with my past. Not that I even remember all of it…It’s just I lost someone.’ He tried to give them a reassuring smile which was met with a shake of Y/N’s head. 

“Why don’t you tell me about them?”

‘Y/n...Um...I was...with them I don’t wan-’

Y/n grabbed his hands lightly to stop him, a smile on their face before they let go to continue their own thought. 

“I figured. Don’t worry, I’m not the type of person that gets jealous over the past. I’m sure they were an amazing person and, no matter how many years pass, they will be an important part of your life...and I want to know about your life...all of it if I can.” Their smile was sheepish as their small rambling came to an end. 

Link smiled and moved a hand to cup their face, a thumb rubbing over the skin there lightly. For a moment they just enjoyed each other’s quiet company, eyes focused on one another. Link slowly pulled his hands away, not wanting to let go but also wanting to communicate his thoughts. 

‘Thank you...That means a lot...Her name was M.I.P.H.A. She was a princess...and was kind. Ever since I was a child she was healing my wounds and doing all she could for her people. I couldn’t save her...I couldn’t really save anyone...She um...she designed my Zora armor...The women in their line do that for the people they plan on marrying...We were close.’

“She sounds wonderful. I’m sorry things turned out the way they did. You can’t blame yourself for the loss though. No matter what, it was the fault of Gannon...not you.”

‘I know, but…still...When I took on the divine beast, Vah Ruta, I managed to free her spirit...That’s how, when I fall in battle, I can get back up so quickly...But I can’t help but think of how alone she was all those years...and the fact I can only remember somethings of our past. The feelings are there, but...all these gaps.’

“Are also things you couldn’t have helped. When you freed her...what did she tell you?”

‘She thanked me...and told me she would support me in my fight.’

“Funny...None of that sounds like her blaming you, Link.”

‘Well she is kind...I don’t think she would say that even if-’

“Don’t live your life on what if’s and re-imagining the past, Link. That will only bring more heartache and pain.” Y/n turned to the pan on the fire, checking on the meat and vegetables before turning their attention back to Link. 

“Link, you’re a good man. You and the champions knew the danger and still risked it all. None of you failed. If you all failed, then we wouldn’t be working towards saving the world right now.”

‘Thank you, Y/N...Hey, when did you get so wise?’

“Well, as a child I slipped down some stairs and hit my head. I think that’s when.” Y/N joked, a wide smile on their face as they finally took the food out of the pot, handing link a plate before plating their own half. 

The food was eaten in silence, both Link and Y/N lost in their own thoughts at the conversation they just had. When the food was finished and they sat it aside, Link tapped their arm to get their attention. When Y/N turned their head, they were met with chapped lips covering their own and a sense of bliss filling their mind. 

Hands moved to bring them closer, one around their neck while the other rested gently on their side. Y/N returned the affection, wrapping their arms around the champion tightly. The kiss did not need to be deepened in order for either of them to get their emotions through to each other. The stopping of the world around them and the love that warmed their chest was proof enough of the love they felt. Link pulled away and rested his forehead against Y/N who happened to be grinning from ear to ear. 

[weaselbeaselpants]

The virgin Hazbin vs. The Chad Helluva

((hey is the “virgin vs. CHAD” meme associated with alt right or anything iffy guys I’m kinda worried it is. PM me please))

This is long. Also read my earlier post for context.

Earlier this month I was chatting it up with a friend about how Viv gets heat for her material stuff while other purposefully “edgy” or “problematic” writers get a pass. The convo made me realize another important note about why I prefer Helluva to Hazbin and that’s it’s approach to it’s own themes and humor:

There’s a spectrum of pure shock/schlock humor to biting, meaningful satire. South Park, Drawn Together, Panty and Stocking and anything by Brandon Rogers is on the schlock end. Bojack Horseman, King of the Hill and Aggretsuko are on the black-comedy-satire end. In the middle are Rick and Morty, Kill la Kill and Venture Bros, where the humor can be either basic and cruel or strive for something more.

The schlockiest of schlock still have their followings who are in on humor that’s, first and foremost, out to get under your skin and even makes fun of them. When these works are “progressive” it’s usually just through sheer representation of a minority, and if they DO strive for a message, it’s little more than a much needed hot-take pointing out how stupid something is. South Park in it’s prime was ESPECIALLY good at the former.

Another interesting about these properties? The characters aren’t really that complex. They ARE strawmen! They are stereotypes! They ARE awful people. But either through the sheer audacity of the situation or how much the plot involves them, you somehow end up caring for these miserable, one-note people.

Viv’s humor fares more on this basic “schlockynottooseriousparody/comedy”-side of things, but Helluva Boss does this better than Hazbin.

Helluva Boss -both the actual pilot and it’s promotional material- doesn’t make any promises for any “deeper” character development. None of these demons at I.M.P are good people. None of them are SUPPOSED to be good people - they are literally demons who were never human and know nothing but absolute sin. 

((yes, I know this sounds similar to the “they’re in hell” non-argument. My point is not that this defense is foolproof, but that it works better in the context of Helluva vs. Hazbin. It’s a world building quirk, even though I’m not 100% sure Viv and her audience are in on the joke))

It makes their weird bits of NOTawfulness more funny because what business do they have being polite about their work or having any emotional connection to each other(Moxxie and Millie)? But they do! Blitzo is weird, even for a demon, but again he IS ONE, so his breaking into his coworkers house is just “annoying” to Moxxie and Millie rather than, you know, stalking which is absolutely what that is <--- it’s a bit of comedy that, to me, tells you what you need to know about these demons and what somehow is and isn’t good to them, which is to say: it varies!

((The one MASSIVE exception to this is Stolas who is 100% predatory and it’s played for laughs. Beejesus no. Get  owl boy out here. ))

Different series use their mythical creatures to different affect. In Satina the joke is that this demon-antichrist really is more of a little girl with a looser dad w. the version of hell being a send up to classic, even basic depictions of demons in media. Helluva’s different, with the Hell in that world being more of a ritzy, scummy city where everyone’s a dick to everyone else, and that’s fine. Even the joke in the beginning where the imps interview one of their clients tells you all you need to know about why this guy is in Hell, how he doesn’t get the point, and what the humor and tone of the short is striving for. I guess that’s why I’m just not offended by them using the R word, Blitzo laughing at the homeless (which is more of a joke on Blitzo, I thought), or the child murder. It felt oddly in character for these awful little creatures.

Helluva knows what it is and what it wants to be. While it’s fans and creators still take it too seriously, it really doesn’t set out to do much.

Hazbin has 99 problems and good world-building aint one. What IS one of those 99 problems - just as if not more than the lackluster storytelling or world building - is it’s attitude towards the subject matter.

Hazbin wants to have it’s cake and eat it too, but it isn’t properly established and the creators/fanbase already overemphasis how our cast ‘isn’t ALL bad; deep down’ and how they’re ‘complicated’. It gets me mad when people claim Angel IS GOOD representation because I just ‘don’t know the whole story yet’.

-You’re right! I don’t. Stop building it up because as I’ve said before what we have at the moment is what we 100% get. I can’t criticize what I don’t know but I can criticize what I do know.

And what I know about it is Viv tends to promote her brand as being representive of LGBT+ people. Her fans and her act as though her works are actually a total net-positive ‘guyz we’re just being edgythey’reinhellandit’sapilotsoit’sfreefromcriticismanywayletswritefanfictionforaserieswedon’tactuallyknowyet.’

If Viv and her brand didn’t promo Hazbin as being deeper than it actually is/NEEDS TO BE at the time of this production in the storytelling - well THAT would axe a lot of the bad criticism right there. For all the discourse in the She-Ra and SU fandoms about what is and isn’t good representation, the showrunners of those cartoons don’t aim to stereotype + hit for the lowest common denominator while also insisting that their show is actually woke and ya’ll “just don’t get it.”

((As an aside, if you are any of the following: gay, crossdresser, sex worker, undead spider demon-whatever, and you DO find Angel Dust empowering. GREAT! AWESOME. MORE POWER TO YOU.

But just because you aren’t offended by it and it was made with good intentions does NOT give it a pass < that’s the point I’m trying to make. ftm even with the explaination of the infamous ‘Charcoal’ design in SU, black people still have the right to be offended))

Remember the episode of Family Guy where Quagmire’s dad transitioned? It was Family Guy so no matter what it was gonna fumble the message, BUT what made things 100000x worse was Seth McFarlane promoting the episode as something the Trans community would really like.

It’s one thing to be ignorant or trying -and failing- to make a difference. It’s another to be arrogant about it. 

If you are gonna go all schlock-humor I think it’s best to take the lead of Bltzo’s voice actor, Brandon Rogers. He makes A LOT of sacrifices for the most insanely-purposefully-offensive jokes that straddle between making fun of everyone or just rustlin some jimmies. Dude’s the modern John Waters.

He also doesn’t promote himself as a gay icon. He just is gay and what helps a lot of his characters is that he’s often making fun of gay stereotypes by giving them character or making homophobes the butt of the joke. Brandon doesn’t act like a net-positive. It’s when you hear him in interviews that you know he’s genuine and know he’s not a threat.

And it’s why I don’t have the same expectations I have for his work that I do for Vivs; Vivs works are often telling me how I should feel. ((ftm it’s also why Brandon’s approach to writing, comedy and potentially deeper elements are better than Doug Walker’s or Sam Fennah’s attempts to make awful people “moving”))

.....hey is there anyway we could give Viv’s shows to Brandon cause I would love a Brandon-Rogers-flavored Hazbin/permanent Helluva!

---

TL:DR: If Hazbin had established itself like Helluva with it’s cast just being unlikable, nothing else you needed to know about them, it could have then PROBABLY have worked it’s way up to being like Venture Bros or Rick and Morty in it’s activism. As is, it’ still only “progressive” in a hypothetical sense, and I’m sorry but that hurts it’s credibility as a joke and a thought piece, which or whatever it wants to be...

[sparrowmoth]

Psst. If you’re part of the Descendants fandom, I’ve got an idea to run by you real quick…

You’ve heard of fic exchanges, yeah? Those are great. Love those. But maybe you already have 20 WIPs and a “Marked For Later” list so long, you don’t even remember what’s on page one. Maybe you have 100 fics already published and it’s been 5 years since you got a comment on some of that old stuff you’re still really proud of. Maybe there’s a fic you’ve been dying to read and comment on, but you haven’t been able to kick your own ass into just doing it already.

Well, my friend (or total stranger), may I suggest: a Comment Exchange.

Here’s what I’ve been thinking (if you have any thoughts/suggestions, feel free to share):

♥ This exchange would define “comment” as positive and encouraging feedback. If you want constructive criticism, let your reader know you’re open to it, but understand they may not be comfortable giving crit. (Most importantly: please don’t give unsolicited criticism or advice.)

♥ This exchange would be a once-a-month event. If you don’t need all that time, no problem! You could submit your comment whenever you want to during the month. No need to wait.

♥ With a full month to fulfill your part, it would be strongly encouraged that your comment meets a minimum word count of 350 - 500 words (if you tend to embed quotes, I’d say aim for the higher range). If you prefer, you could always break that word count up into multiple comments (for example, several 100-word comments on a multi-chap or different oneshots).

♥ No surprise/forced assignments (because it’s zero fun if you have to read something you don’t like or you’re not interested in). This is an exchange though, which means we don’t want anyone left out! This is the trickiest part to coordinate. I do have various ideas for how it could work, but I think I’d like to gauge the interest for this general idea before I get deeper into it…

On that note: One thing that’d really help with pre-planning is to know how many potential participants would be flexible readers. I’ll use myself as an example… if your fic involves Jaylos and I haven’t already read it, there’s a 95% chance it’s on my TBR list (the 5% that I wouldn’t read involve pretty rare things like Major Character Death, which is a hard pass for me). How about you? Are you someone who’d enthusiastically read almost anything about X or Y ship?

♥ “What if I wanted to participate, but my only options that month were fics I’ve already read?” I have a few ideas for you. 1) If you left a really short comment in the past (or didn’t comment at all), you could re-read and comment at length. 2) If it’s an old fave you’ve commented on already? Comment again! Why not, right? 3) Create some visual media for the fic instead! Draw something, make a moodboard, that sort of thing. Heck, make a playlist. Just get creative. 4) How about writing a 350 - 500 word drabble inspired by the fic?

Okay, so that all said, I’d love to hear back from those of you who’d be interested in participating. I’ve only ever seen fic and art exchanges going on in fandom communities, so I’ve been trying to coordinate this in my head the last couple weeks. I think this could be a really fun way to keep our community tight and motivated, especially right now when I can imagine a lot of you are feeling lonely and exhausted and lacking creative energy.

Listen, I joined this fandom really late and I know those of you who’ve been here since forever lament that it’s not as active as it used to be. But hey, “this fandom is dying” is a self-fulfilling prophecy, fam. I don’t want that to happen, and I’m hoping this idea will help with that. <3

If you’d be interested in helping coordinate this exchange in some capacity, please let me know! And again, I also want to hear from those of you who’d just want to participate! Leave a quick comment if you’d like to be contacted for a potential June 1st trial-run of this exchange. If there’s at least 10 people who are seriously interested, I think that’d be enough to go ahead and give it a shot. :)

[panharmonium]

@merlinobsessionist you understand me on a spiritual level

[putting the rest of this under a cut because it just ended up being me grumping at length about fandom trends - which, yes, i am well-aware is a silly endeavour in all cases, but sometimes you just gotta have your little grump regardless, you know, for health reasons. X)  and in this particular case the grumping is probably relevant/entertaining only to myself, and you, and one or two other people here, so, tucking it away to spare everyone’s dash :) ]

the other day i was exploring the mostly abandoned wasteland that is the merlin fandom on livejournal (since that’s my original fandom home and obviously i missed out on being involved in that particular niche of lj when merlin was active, so i was feeling nostalgic and kinda curious as to it had looked like) - i stumbled over a merlin fic-finders comm and looked up my boy william just for kicks, and surprisingly, a couple of the old requests sounded like maybe i WAS involved in the merlin fandom on livejournal back then and i just don’t remember it

i think i wrote this in a past life

this is an eleven year-old comment in a mostly defunct fandom community but i felt it in my BONES

oh, my dear commenter from 8 years ago, i WISH  XD

it made me laugh, and then it made me grumpy, because obviously there were very few suggestions offered in response to these asks - the fics just don’t exist, not in any numbers.

and like, the thing is, i don’t particularly care about the shipping side of things for the most part; i always lean towards gen and that’s mostly been it, for me; that’s always been my MO in every fandom i’ve ever participated in, but - look.  if i have to witness (*checks ao3*) 23,830 (twenty four thousand. twenty four THOUSAND!!!!) instances of merlin getting together with arthur hecking pendragon, over and over and over again, in every AU configuration under the sun, then you had better believe i am ready and willing to plead the case of the only person in the merlin-verse who did not think arthur pendragon deserved merlin’s entire life.  

and of course, there’s nothing inherently wrong with arthur and merlin as an item, obviously (i mean, i can name a few things about it that don’t appeal to me personally, but that is not the same thing as a value judgment) and everybody should have fun with their own ships, always - but for me, personally, there is just...enough of that out there.  i have seen Enough.  it’s hard for me to even determine where the rest of the fandom is, under the ever-present spread of merlin/arthur content; a picture of merlin/arthur should literally be next to the dictionary entry for steamroller.

and of course, i knew it would be like this from the beginning, and i know complaining about the ubiquitousness of a particular ship in fandom is utterly silly, in the end, because it’s not like there’s anything wrong with something being ubiquitous - the whole point of fandom is to make what you love, and if that’s what everybody loves, well, hey, that’s just how it is!  that’s what people should be making - the stuff they love!  that’s what fandom is here for!  i only mutter to myself in the bubble of my own blog because the ubiquitousness makes it almost impossible for me to find what *i* love, because i don’t want to read about arthur/merlin in the first place, no matter who else appears in the fic, and also because my fave minor character, while he gets a pretty good amount of fannish screentime for someone who showed up in one episode, also suffers from the curse known as “virtually everything he features in is actually about merlin and arthur getting it on”

like - by the numbers, when you exclude merlin/arthur from will’s character tag, will retains less than 20% of his fics, some of which are already like...you know, he’s dead, or just mentioned, et cetera.  

and his poor ship tag...he and merlin have 136 fics in their tag, and at first you wanna look at that and be like - ‘hey, not bad, pal, that’s p. good for a rarepair!’  but in actuality, less than 20 of those fics are actually about him and merlin.  like...12% of his own ship tag actually belongs to him, and the rest is him being used as a plot device to get arthur and merlin together.

and i am sure that a lot of other side characters probably suffer from this, too, given the general fic distribution in this fandom, though the only person i’ve looked at for comparison purposes is freya, who is a (mostly) one-ep character like will.  she, despite that, doesn’t appear to get hit quite as hard - she seems to keep more of her fic for herself, which is nice (when i exclude merlin/arthur from the freya/merlin search, freya still retains about 65% of her fics, as opposed to will’s sad little 12%).  i’m glad for her, though - she of all people does not need to be losing fic to arthur; she has suffered enough. 

to put things in perspective, though - merlin and uther have more fics in their ship tag that earnestly focus on the tagged....hnhhmgnhn i can’t say it...relationship than merlin and will do - even filtering out every instance of dubcon/noncon.  

(and yes, i did in fact want to die when i had to actually click the merlin/uther tag on ao3 in order to check that factoid, thanks for asking.)

so, that said - i don’t generally read canon-era fic anyway, when i’m actively writing for a fandom, but since the merlin fandom sometimes feels like it consists solely of modern AU’s anyway, all i am trying to say is that it would be nice if i could pick up an AU including a character i enjoy without seeing him constantly reduced to:

merlin’s loser ex

merlin’s abusive ex (w h at)

merlin’s ex who’s kinda sorta tolerable-ish, maybe, if you squint, but just ultimately Not Right for merlin - holding merlin back, or being too overbearing, or too pushy, or Just Not Enough - or being someone who merlin stays with only bc he’s familiar and merlin’s settling for something safe and unrisky and stagnantly unfulfilling

the dude who merlin cheats on to be with arthur

the dude who cheats on merlin, bc the fic needed a reason to break up merlin and will so that white-knight!arthur could swoop in (cue me shouting ‘IN WHAT UNIVERSE DO YOU THINK WILL WOULD EVER - ’)

the dude merlin “makes mistakes with” when things with arthur aren’t going well

the friend-with-benefits who’s apparently chill with a casual arrangement, thus keeping himself conveniently out of the way of the oncoming merlin/arthur train

the friend-with-benefits who’s secretly NOT chill with a casual arrangement and who’s pining for merlin, except we all know that ain’t ever going anywhere because arthur exists, and in the meantime merlin only ever gets together with will to try and forget his problems

the friend-with-no-benefits who’s still pining for merlin (which situation, i might add, would be read completely differently if it were arthur in will’s shoes, because if that were the case then the audience would 100% be rooting for him)

the “best friend” whose only purpose in fic is to provide space for conversations/debriefs about merlin’s relationship/pre-relationship with arthur (like - i’m sorry, but there desperately needs to be some type of bechdel-esque test for will; e.g. do will and merlin have a conversation about something other than arthur pendragon?  if yes, u win, u may pass go, collect 20 dollars, congratulations)

the friend whose dislike of arthur always, ALWAYS ends up being framed as a mistake.  as will’s stubborn unwillingness to give arthur a chance, until at last will sees the light and succumbs to the irresistible beauty of merlin and arthur’s eternal love. -_-  there is vanishingly rare acknowledgement in fic of the fact that in the canon universe, all of the criticisms will makes about merlin and arthur’s relationship are not only accurate, but made in merlin’s best interests (and also, ultimately, proven right, by the end of the show - merlin tanks his whole damn life for a series of empty promises prophesying arthur pendragon’s future potential, and he gets NOTHING for his devotion.  merlin is more alone at the end of the show than he was at the beginning, when his only dream was to be loved and accepted by more than the two people who’d comprised his entire life up until that point.  and he spends at least half a decade in between the show’s hopeful beginning and its miserable end being told that he’s evil by the very person for whom he is expected to sacrifice his future.  

so what, exactly, makes will so wrong to be wary?  who among us wouldn’t be angry if we saw somebody we loved being forced to sacrifice themselves on an unforgiving altar like this?  

i don’t know the answer.  i’m not sure what it is that earns will his spot on the “destined to be shafted for arthur pendragon” list.  i don’t know if it’s an unconscious backlash to will’s refusal to hop on the arthur/merlin train, or if it’s just a superficial understanding/lack of genuine interest in his character, which, in that case, sure, i’ll give people that one, in all fairness; not everyone has spent a year picking his character apart (though i still don’t think it justifies tossing him in there just because the fic needs a random insert who can be positioned as inferior to arthur’s gloriousness).  either way, the end result is that we usually end up seeing a will who has very little in common with his source material, or who needs to ultimately step aside to make way for arthur - arthur, who never displays the same level of care toward merlin in canon that merlin shows toward him, and who actively oppresses merlin’s people for the entire duration of their relationship.  

like...it’s all just fic, obviously, and we can make characters as OOC as we want; have fun; go wild.  but at the same time, it’s impossible for me not to balk at how arthur in some of this fic is just - utterly unrecognizable.  in comparison with fic!will, arthur is the most Solicitous, Gentle, Understanding, Deeply Concerned, Invested-In-Merlin’s-Welfare-and-Inner-Thoughts creature you ever did see, and I’m just over here like - it is not like that!  it is NOT LIKE THAT!  IT HAS LITERALLY NEVER BEEN LIKE THAT.  arthur pendragon in fic sometimes interacts with merlin like - he tilts his head and listens like a therapist and affirms absolutely everything merlin says and tells him ‘gosh, i understand. tell me more. how can i help you’ - he goes about his day thinking about merlin and putting merlin first and i just - i literally have never seen this person before in my life.  who is this man?  who is this unbelievably attentive paragon of caring?  i’ve never met him before.

the entire running problem with merlin and arthur’s friendship in canon is that arthur, while he absolutely does care about merlin, tends to take merlin for granted.  merlin is just another feature of arthur’s landscape, until something dramatic happens and arthur has a little scare and saves merlin’s life, and then things go back to the way they were.  arthur doesn’t See merlin the way he should, not in the ordinary moments.  merlin goes home and spends his evenings thinking about arthur’s life; he ties himself in knots trying to help arthur develop as a person and to keep arthur safe and happy, but arthur just goes home and eats supper with his wife.  arthur does not go home and spend his nights agonizing over how he can improve merlin’s life.  he never once thinks, ‘my purpose on this earth is to serve and support my friend merlin.’  he never feels like he’s supposed to be half of some two-sided coin.  i know people like to give arthur this quality in their fic - and that’s totally fine, of course, it’s fic, have as much fun as you want - but in canon, that is just not something arthur pendragon does.  it’s not who he is shown to be.  

and yet almost every time when i go to explore fandom, i find that the person who does put merlin first in canon is perpetually elbowed aside for this extremely generous interpretation of everyone’s favorite prince.  

and i just...i always try to find the good bits in everything, and i am sometimes willing to overlook a ship i don’t personally enjoy if there’s something else about the piece that i think is great, but there’s only so many times i can read the sentence “merlin had never felt like this with anyone, not even will” in fics where merlin and will are supposed to have been dating or even married/engaged, or “will was merlin’s best friend, but he just didn’t understand” (not like arthur, of course, who merlin literally just met a week ago), or “will was great, but there was only so much of him merlin could stand in one sitting/will was great, but he was best enjoyed in small doses.”  there’s only so many times i can read a hundred different variations of that before i start to get real grumpy.  and that’s not even touching the fics where will’s portrayed less favorably than that, even.  

so, you know.  i feel grumbly about it sometimes, how this particular character is trapped in a perpetual net of always being less-than, when one of the nicest parts of fandom for me is that every character/ship can have an infinitude of possibilities, even the ones i personally think are unbelievably bizarre (which category merlin and will do not even fall into, like - it’s not an incredible leap.  merlin/mordred is a leap, okay; mordred is like seventeen years old!  leon/morgana is a leap - how on earth did that become so popular??? - but will and merlin?  that’s not a leap.)

what is it about will that makes him so tempting to trample over?  will’s only sin in canon was to look at arthur pendragon and pronounce himself utterly unimpressed.  his only crime was to tell merlin ‘this dude isn’t good for you,’ about which fact he was CORRECT, by the way - he is the first person who ever chooses to care about merlin, the first person merlin ever chooses to trust, the first friend who loves real!merlin without needing to be coaxed and convinced and taught that it’s okay.  he is the only one who ever tells merlin ‘you deserve better than this mess,’ the only one for whom merlin has always been priority number one and in whose eyes arthur isn’t even on the map.  merlin’s friendship with will (and lancelot, afterwards) is the healthiest one merlin ever gets to experience, and i wish more fannish material acknowledged it as such, as opposed to using will to set up merlin and arthur’s epic romance.  

all of this, i suppose, is just a very long way of saying that now that i am no longer avoiding spoilers and have actually started testing the waters of the wider fandom, i have come to the obstinate, utterly inflexible conclusion that will deserves his own collection of happy endings, and i don’t care if i have to write them myself.  i’ve already got the gen angle covered.  and even though i’ve never written ship!fic in my life, the fact of the matter is that spite can be a hell of a motivator, and i will bite the bullet and learn how to do it if i have to.  if people can really be out here tagging their merlin/uther fics as “schmoop” (YES. REALLY.) then by GOD, i swear, there are no excuses - this fandom can accommodate literally anything; there’s no reason it can’t accommodate stories where will wins.  let this kid have his good ending.  arthur pendragon can fall in love with merlin 23,830 times despite his and merlin’s ship flying in the face of canon, and that means will deserves his own tiny handful of stories to be actually about him, without his and merlin’s relationship being used solely as a stepping stone on the way to merlin and arthur’s 23,831st triumph.

i am just saying - if uther pendragon can fall in love with merlin and have it tagged as ‘fluff,’ then for the love of all that is good, we can give will his moment.  let will enjoy the respect he should have earned from us when he died saving both merlin and arthur’s lives.  let will be a person in his own right, instead of a plot device sacrificed to the (in)glorious altar of merthur.  let will have an inner life of his own.  let will have a best friend who doesn’t treat him like an accessory to The Greatest Love Story Ever Told.  let will himself live out The Greatest Love Story Ever Told, for once.  let will get his guy.  i may tend to focus on friendship in my own work, but there are a lot of universes out there, and when it comes to someone who has always been so alone, and so singularly focused on merlin’s wellbeing, i’m not entirely sure if friendship even feels anything different to “in love” for will at all, in at least some of these places.

let will have his happy tags.  he’s been on his own for so much of his life - let him have his simple ‘friendship’, his ‘platonic love,’ his ‘found family.’  let him have his lovestruck ‘pining,’ ‘friends-to-lovers,’ ‘angst with a happy ending,’ too, and let him keep those tags for himself.  let characters who aren’t arthur pendragon have their love stories.

i may not care much for shipping, and i would rather read gen any day of the week, but let me tell you right now, i would rather write will and merlin settling down in a haze of domestic bliss 23,830 times before i would ever want to watch merlin ditch him yet again for a dude who never matched merlin’s level of caring and investment in the canon ‘verse.

[whetstonefires]

Same anon as Seph anon, thanks for answering my ask! Ahahaha I really did go a little wild with the chance to ask one of my favorite authors about one of my favorite characters... so, here's a more restrained version of that for another one of my faves I guess cause it's just a pleasure reading your responses. Tifa Lockhart. 4 (because i see her as kind of a person who'd be into the idea of romance?), 5, 14, 18, and 20.

Oh well hey again! Glad you liked the last one. Aww, thank you. 💗 Enthusiasm is always nice. More opinions by me, then! ^^

4. Best places to kiss on their body

Haha I agree Tifa’s a romantic in both the general and narrow senses but ooh, spicy. 😆 Hm.

I think Tifa would like kissed...just below the corner of her mouth, and on the insides of her forearms, and in her palms and knuckles because her hands are so much of her, and would be so easy to see as things that don’t need or deserve tenderness because of their power. And on her hip, at the outside hinge, just below where her belt rests in her main outfit.

5. Guilty pleasures

Unlike Sephiroth, Tifa does guilt a lot. She’s also a lot better than he ever was at pleasure. Both are highly contextual. They change.

More than once, it’s been Cloud. When she was fifteen and sick with feeling trapped in this dead-end town, her promise with that awkward boy next door who’d acquired a certain mystique through his standoffishness and big dream was a vehicle for fantasy that she’d have been mortified if anyone suspected.

When they were traveling the world and she knew something was wrong with him, with what he remembered, and she wasn’t saying anything because she was too afraid to find out what was wrong with who--she was still happy to have him there. Her person. Hers. Leaned into enjoying it more than she would have, if she hadn’t felt like it was going to be snatched away, somehow.

When she first lived in Midgar, it was pain, and blood on her knuckles. She went looking for fights, in those first months after she healed up from Masamune, and the slums had plenty on offer. She knew it was a waste of herself and her training, a stupid risk and a cruel choice, but it was the only thing that felt real.

That was how she first came to the Heaven--not as terrorist, or potential owner, or interviewing for a position as a barmaid. She was looking for a brawl.

In the days after Meteor, it was sweets. She’s always been active enough that indulging her sweet tooth only twinged her a little on an internalized-weight-bullshit scale, but when the main engine of industry had just been crushed and there were refugees on every side and she was spending most of her waking hours trying to mitigate the suffering in the aftermath...spending outsized chunks of her share of the enormous heap of gil the team had accrued traveling the world on getting A Whole Ice Cream all to herself felt more like a crime than half the people she’d beaten to death in her time, but it was one she went ahead and committed.

14. Ingrained habits/forces of habit 

Tifa has many good and responsible habits. She does dishes promptly, without thinking twice. She does her kata every morning. She’s good at forming habits, and keeping them up.

She’s also good, of course, at habits she doesn’t want. Patterns of rumination that aren’t good for her. Habits of avoiding a subject or a problem that bothers her, until it’s a bigger problem than it started as simply for her habituated inability to confront it.

And if she doesn’t change contexts after she loses someone, it takes a long time for the habit of expecting them there to go away. She never quite stopped expecting to see Cloud when she was leading the team after the Northern Crater, and it took until after she’d spent a few days with him in Mideel to stop looking for Aerith.

18. Things they’ll never admit 

They’re mostly silly or obvious, or both. She thought Sephiroth was cool and Zack was hot, when she was sixteen. She really did believe Cloud wasn’t real, for long enough to matter, even though it was Sephiroth who said it.

There’s one that isn’t. She tries to be sorry, for everyone and everything that was lost and broken in the road to ending the old world, and she can’t. It’s sad, and she wishes it hadn’t had to happen, and she’d never have done it, but she wouldn’t wish any of it undone, if it put Shinra back in power.

Even the people she loved. Her town, her Midgar friends, Aerith. She’s given her heart to the future, and she’ll let go of everything from the past if that’s what it takes to build something new. Nibelheim was a cage for her anyway, dear as it was and dearly as it loved her. It’s easier to leave behind than she thinks it should be, now that she isn’t alone in the emptiness of its destruction, or strangled with a hopeless need for vengeance.

She has Cloud left, from those days, and that’s enough to live on.

But she thinks even Barret would give it all up, everything they have now, just to have the massacre of Corel unmade. And maybe Cid or Reeve would agree with her, but she doesn’t want them to. So she’d never tell anybody.

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines 

There’s a lot you could do with alternate-timeline Tifa but only three things that I’m persistently interested in.

First, she realizes she can leave town, too. Like...she clearly more than a little wanted to, and felt that she had to stay. Leaving town to seek your fortune and become a hero or whatever is only for boys. So she was living vicariously through Cloud, in canon.

The natural thing as a fic writer is for her to also try for SOLDIER, which I’ve seen done, though in character terms it’s a little less likely, assuming it’s even an option. I tend to assume Shinra only recruits men for active combat roles (which Turks technically are not even tho they actually are) because that’s what we’re shown, and while you can headcanon around that because of helmets and so on, I’ve never felt that ‘pretending the fascists aren’t as sexist as they seem’ was really a strike for women’s lib in transformative fandom? Shinra is not a positive environment. That’s a fact I’m happy to let stand.

They might make an exception if you were good enough, tho, and Tifa is very good.

Second scenario, Zangan doesn’t turn up at just the right moment to get her out of the reactor before Hojo swoops in, and she gets picked up with the rest of the survivors for the Sephiroth Copy Reunion Project. I started writing this one. It’s uh. Dark.

Third, she doesn’t wind up in Midgar. There’s suggestion in the game that Zangan brought her there to get treatment for her stab wound but it’s literally the other side of the Planet so I mostly ignore that on the basis that it’s absurd and adds nothing of value to the story, and assume she made it there on her own.

But in this AU he left her with one of his 127 other students and they bonded while she was healing up, and got into contact with some of the others who knew how to contact some of the others, and all these people knew people of their own, and Zangan-Ryu became a Mass Movement without actual Zangan’s direct involvement or support, at least not until later on.

Because I think it’s wild that this man wanders the world dropping in on his scattered collection of disciples one at a time, meaning Tifa is part of a fairly large community with whom she is not at all acquainted, and there’s potential there that I’ve never seen built into.

Tifa fomenting provincial insurrection potential. :D

[beans-shadow]

looking for the truth (pt 8)

Fandom: Naruto

Relationship: Kakasaku

Characters: Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura

read on ao3: here

part one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen

This time Kakashi got a significant portion of the message decoded.

More flowers needed for Leaf shipment, increase total by two tons ---

“Hmm,” Sakura read Kakashi’s decoded scroll. “Nothing that sinister yet, but considering it was encrypted I wonder what the rest of the scroll says. It must be something interesting.”

“I’d want to keep working on this, but unfortunately if we do not leave soon we’ll be late for the group picnic,” Kakashi sighed, leaving his post at the table. “And now I need to change, since Futoshi undoubtedly is expecting a different assortment of clothing from my breakfast attire.”

Sakura laughed. “True, true. Just throw on a nice pair of clothes and you’ll be fine, don’t worry. You look good in anything.”

“I do?” Kakashi asked, but Sakura either did or chose to ignore him as she went to look for picnic clothes as well. He couldn’t help the smile that appeared under his mask. Then an idea struck him.

“Hey, Sakura?” He walked into the bedroom, finding her sifting through a pile of clothes. The whole scene felt very domestic to him, and his heart felt funny when she turned around with a smile on her face.

“Yes, Kakashi?”

“I’m going to try and find Futoshi before this whole event, so I’m going to change quickly and I’ll meet you there. Is that okay?”

Sakura appeared a bit taken aback at the suggestion, but could not find a reason to say no. “Yeah, that sounds fine. Just, somehow let me know where you end up then.”

Kakashi nodded, and after he switched clothes, swiftly departed. A quick navigation through the small village found Kakashi at park on the edge of the main town square where Futoshi was organizing the group picnic.

With a tap on the shoulder Futoshi spun around and greeted Kakashi.

“How nice to see you! It has been so long,” he admonished, giving Kakashi a hug.

With a dismissive pat on the back, Kakashi agreed. “Yes, so long. If it is alright with you, I have somewhat of an unusual request…”

-------

Futoshi was more than happy to accommodate, and soon Kakashi found himself on a secluded part of the hill under a small line of trees with his own basket and blanket. The young Lord had assured Kakashi he would find someone to direct Sakura his way, and when a pierce of pink in the distance peeked over the mound, Kakashi knew Futoshi had not disappointed.

The young woman looked very adorably confused, looking all ways around her before spotting Kakashi. Her body stretched out as she waved in his direction, increasing to a brisk trot to reach his location.

As she drew closer, Kakashi got a better look at her. She dressed herself in a summer dress, a soft blue with white swirls knitted in for detail. It blew in the delicate wind, bellowing around her and lifting her hair, creating what looked like a painting in Kakashi’s mind.

He rose from the blanket to welcome Sakura. “You look wonderful,” he said, taking her hand to balance one another as they sat down.

Sakura blushed. “Thanks. What is this all about? Where is everyone else?”

Opening the picnic basket, Kakashi explained, “You mentioned you were done socializing for the day, and I couldn’t agree more… so I asked Futoshi for our own picnic.” Emptying the basket, Kakashi found grapes, cheese, some sake (he was NOT going to be drinking any of that), and some chocolate. There was also a small set of dishes, which Kakashi laid on the blanket and set up a display of food with. He prepared a separate plate and handed it to Sakura, who had a dumb smile on her face as she accepted the offering.

“What?” Kakashi asked, patting his face. “Is there something on me?”

“No, no,” Sakura shook her head, still smiling. “This is just very sweet of you.”

“Oh, well,” as he looked down, Kakashi found he did not know what to say. He usually knew exactly what do say. Why couldn’t he think of anything to say? “Futoshi really planned everything,” he settled on. That sounded dumb. Why was he acting like this?

“Well, thank you, Futoshi,” Sakura said, smiling as she ripped off a grape.

“Yes. Thank you, Futoshi.” Kakashi made his own cheese plate and leaned back on his elbows. He admired the landscape around them, for some reason finding it hard to keep eye contact with Sakura for more than a few seconds.

But out of eyeshot, conversation became easy again. They chatted about the food, Sakura once again giving Kakashi his space when he lowered his mask to pop a piece of cheese into his mouth. All the produce really was delicious, an attribute to the Daimyo’s claim from before about their fertile ground. Topic to topic drifted in and out, including the friendliness of the village and the contents of the scroll. After a while, they ambled into silence, but this time it was companionable. They were comfortable around one another, and neither was attempting to distance themselves from the other. It was pleasant, and Kakashi found he had never quite enjoyed spending so much time alone with one person before in such a vulnerable state.

When Sakura became brave enough to open the sake bottle, she tensed up. Kakashi felt it, but did not pry. He kept one eye on her, the other closed from habit. She kept her gaze away from Kakashi this time as she cleared her throat.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the first day we arrived here. And you were right. I don’t have the natural potential that Sasuke and Naruto were gifted.”

That conversation did not stir good memories for Kakashi. Trying to avoid the topic, Kakashi sat up on the blanket and said, “Sakura, I didn’t mean—”

The ninja cut him off. “No, it’s okay. I will never be on their level, not truly, without their bloodlines or special abilities. But I want to be remembered too. Not as a Hokage or a covert ninja, but for something.”

Kakashi twisted in place to fully face her. “You’re the best medic nin Konoha has ever seen,” he reminded her.

With a scrunch of her face, Sakura said, “People may say that, but Tsunade will always hold that title. I think I need my own jutsu.” She looked at her small hands, so dainty and precise. “I know you trained Naruto to develop his, and Sasuke developed his technique based off your chidori.” She clenched her hands into fists. "I need my own.”

Without reason, Kakashi enveloped her hands in his own. Heat raced through his arms, but Kakashi tried to ignore it. “You need only to ask, Sakura; I’ll help you once we return to our village.”

Now Sakura smiled, eyes playful. “Oh, I’m already passed the creation stage. I’m just perfecting it now.”

“Oh?” Kakashi was surprised. “And what is it?”

“It’s my turn for secrets, Hatake.” Sakura winked at him, lifting her hands from his in a manner that made Kakashi wonder if she too felt the electricity running down his fingers. Without looking away, she popped another grape in her mouth, forcing Kakashi to fight from watching her lips move tantalizingly.

“I never thought you would be so bold,” Kakashi settled on saying, leaning back fully onto the blanket.

A puff of pink filtered in his peripheral vision as Sakura lay down next to him. Her pinky finger brushed his as she said, “And I never thought I would find myself having a picnic with the legendary Copy Nin, but here we are.”

Looking up at the clouds filtering the dusk light, Kakashi replied, “Yes. Here we are.”

They ended up hanging out on the hill for a few more hours, choosing to enjoy the view of the sunset over the village from the perch. Kakashi found it hard to choose between watching how the colors of the sunset projected over the buildings or how the light made Sakura’s hair turn a golden rose. Good thing she was too captivated by the scenery in front of her to notice Kakashi’s wavering eyes.

Before the night became too dark for them to return to their rooms in relative safety, Sakura and Kakashi cleaned up their picnic to head back. Sakura passionately talked about her current work under Tsunade’s supervision involving innovative surgical techniques, and Kakashi was happy to silently listen, nodding in appreciation and smiling with his eyes to communicate he enjoyed the conversation. It truly was amazing what Sakura was doing, despite the fact Kakashi could not understand all the technical vocabulary. Medicine was not his specialty.

When they reached their inn, Sakura was describing some case that was beyond Kakashi.

“And you couldn’t believe it – what I felt with my chakra was unlike anything I had ever seen before. The complexity of the cist was more advanced than any common ones, and simply with my chakra I was able to pinpoint the solution.”

Rummaging through his bag, Kakashi said, “I am very impressed, Sakura. And not only because I couldn’t follow most of that.”

Warm laughter came from Sakura’s side of the room. “It’s nice to hear that there are some things even you don’t know, Kakashi.”

When Sakura left to change in the bathroom, Kakashi tore off his overshirt, leaving his mask on, and changed his pants.

He settled into bed, lying on his back, before Sakura returned, taking care to stay as close to the edge of the mattress as possible. Her hand, so close to his at the picnic, was on his mind. Even if they were getting closer with their friendship restored, Kakashi felt as though there was a line being more defined he could not step over. A line he would never have considered before this trip. A line, whose train of thought was too dangerous to follow.

Just as he was nodding to sleep, Kakashi felt the bed sink with Sakura’s weight. She shimmied until the perfect position was achieved, and the room filled with a deep sigh. From his periphery, he could feel Sakura’s eyes flutter on him every once in a while.

Sakura studied him, but Kakashi flipped around to face the wall. Pulling his mask up, he tried to return to his comfortable state and fall into deep slumber. But all he could feel was the kunoichi's gaze like feathers on his back.

[gotmeringinghellsbells]

Next Day Giggles

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Characters: Adam, Curtis, and Takashi Shirogane

Warning: Contains mention of mature themes

A/N: The idea for the Shirogane fur babies names came from @kwaiipootato, as did the idea for the title. 

Description: After a night of yelling, Curtis tries to cheer Adam up from his fight with Shiro. 

_ 

He wasn’t even involved but…. Curtis couldn’t help but to keep his distance from his husbands. An upcoming mission, one both Shiro and Curtis had to go on, sparked a nasty conversation the night; One that left Curtis unjoined in bed…. Reliving parts of his past. 

People fought, it was normal, but childhood trauma had caused an impact on how the young man reacted to it. When voices, hands, or any objects around him and the person fighting the boy would cease up and go quiet as he watched the other in fear.

 Hearing it was just about the same. He felt like a child every time, had been belittled and called one too for his reactions. It wasn’t his fault, but…. This isn’t a story for now. For now, he just wanted to put his family, the only one he considered to be family, back together. He held himself slightly as he walked down the stairs, hungry munchkins following ad passing him by as they wanted to be fead. Before that, Spice needed to be let out.

Entering the kitchen to get to the back door, Curtis nearly jumped at the sight of Adam. He looked like hell. Dark, baggy, and blood shot eyes. His hair looked a bit greasy, skin paler, and he seemed to be drifting off into someplace else. “Morning,” Curtis hummed as he passed by the older. He wasn’t met with a reply. Looking over his shoulder, he turned the knob to let the dog out as Coffee hopped onto the counter. 

“Adam.” The professor blinked a bit before looking up. “Oh, morning.” The functioning eye glanced over to see a familiar kitty staring at him. Smiling faintly, he scratched behind her ears. “You didn’t come to bed last night,” Curtis stated hesitantly. He was working on the cat food as he tried to communicate. 

Taking a spoon, he put half of the wet food onto a small cat plate before passing it to Adam. The shorter placed his mug of coffee down before taking his daughter's food and giving it to her. “I know you both have to go,” was the only response Curtis got from his husband. Unsatisfied with this, the taller looked over the older. “Yes, we do. But even Iverson said you could come with us and still receive the same amount of pay. Your classes could be covered.”

He kept his voice low as to not stir anything. “He said the same thing last night,” Adam exhaled while bringing his mug to his lips again; Staring into space. “Oak isn’t that interesting Adam. Why don’t you want to do it? Someone can’t teach your students like you can? 

“That’s true but,” Curtis paused. What to say: “Remember what happened last time?”, “You never know what could happen.”, “It would be nice to have you on board again. Last time things went a lot smoother with your two’s team work.” 

They all sounded bad. It seemed that Adam was just upset over past choices, mistakes. He loved space, so did Shiro, but it was such a sour and painful topic now. Curtis was surprised they hadn’t quit and moved away from the Garrison. They lived in the same town as it, just further away from the actual town. Theri closest neighbor was about twenty minutes away by foot so it wasn’t too far but still. 

“It’s not oak Curtis, it’s mahogany,” Adam corrected. “Also, I know others can teach these kids, I’m not that crazy. I just…. I don’t want him going back out there.” Trying not to take offense to the lack of his own name being mentioned, Curtis let Spice back in before giving her a third of her own wet food can. 

“You couldn’t stop him the first time. It’s his dream to be out there, or it used to. He went forward with his dream and now is part of something even bigger than the Garrison. We can’t stop him from going.“It’s like negotiating with other countries now. Well, I don’t need to explain that to you but I’m just saying,” the male paused his rambling when a hand lightly rubbed his arm.

 Adam snorted a bit, he was really tried. He seemed slightly loopy from his reaction. “Curtis, breathe.” Crap, right. The taller took a breath before letting it out. “I’m saying he doesn’t have a choice. Allura is trying to run a planet, otherwise she’d probably be out there. But seeing as her people are trying to revolt against her husband, her hands are tied. 

“The coalition needs to be reminded of Voltron. It’s just a few shows and some care supply runs and any distress calls we get while we’re out there.” Curtis paused to look into Adam’s eyes. The scarred one seemed dull as normal, the life within was un known, but the other looked at him with a pleading no. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be out there…. That’s why we want you to come. We don’t want you to be alone. Well…. You and Coffee alone.” 

Like hell Curtis was leaving his baby Spicy-kins on Earth while he was in space! The eye feel back to the mahogany table before the other started to rub his wedding band. He wasn’t about to pull the same stuff from when it was just him and Shiro with Kerberos was he? 

The anxious hand was taken by another anxious one as Curtis offered a small smile. His thumb brushed along the scarred knuckles softly and lovingly. “We’re not throwing anything away. Our home will still be here when we get back. 

But we just don’t know when that will be and you know that. Your not putting your life on pause for us, or well… maybe you are. It’s your choice if you want to go.” He gently let the hand go before heading up stairs. 

He and Adam had the day off and the youngest figured Shiro was either in a meeting or had stormed off the night before or this morning. Climbing back into the white sheets, the male snuggled down for a nap. His mind had kept him up the night before and frankly…. He didn’t sleep much either. 

But, lips on his cheek and a gentle touch on his arm kept him from fully doing so. “I’m…. sorry,” Adam sighed softly. “Your right. It is putting my career on pause but looking at what happened last time, I think I’d rather be in space with you two.” Loving, sun kissed hands combed through chocolatey brown locks. 

“Hey, don’t apologize to me, but I’m glad you’ve calmed down. I know your upset and tense and you have all the right to be. But in the end it’s not in your control or power. Don’t worry about it too much.” Besides, Adam had the jobs of cocaption, and an assistant for Colleen Holt; But it wasn’t the same as his actual, paying job. 

The look of guilt on Adam’s face was rather devastating. He was normally always so well composed and just over all a mother like person. But this conversation seemed to have just broke him like that. Setting his husband’s coffee down, Curtis pulled the shorter onto him before rolling them over so he was laying on top of the other. 

Gentle kisses were scattered about, trying to take away the guilt that was eating at the man. “I love you,” he hummed softly. “I love you so much.” It wasn’t working too much as Adam still felt tears threatening to leave his eye. “I love you too,” the professor said weakly as he sat up more just to hug Curtis. Shiro had stormed out after being couch bound last night, after the two took a painful trip down memory lane. 

Curtis said nothing as he leaned forward so that Adam’s back was on the mattress. He didn’t know how long had gone by that they were in this position. Adam pinned between Curtis and the mattress, legs straightened and pinned between the younger’s open ones, arms wrapping around each other as chests touched. Lips found Adam’s face, neck, ears, anything they could as the other tried to soothe his love. 

It felt like hours before the small pity party ended. Then Adam became self conscious of acting like a child and started to try and squirm away. “Thanks,” he mumbled as he tried to compose himself once more. But his glasses were removed and placed on the same nightstand that held their morning beverages. 

“Kind of…. Need those,” the professor protested softly before leaning to grab them. He let out an unhuman noise before freezing, daring to glance up at Curtis. Oh no. “Your always so serious and hard on yourself. Maybe you need to relax, huh?” Adam didn’t need his glasses to see the smirk growing on the younger’s face, nor the clawed hands coming in to strike at him again. 

Curtis was easy to take down in a tickle fight as he was a living tickle spot, but maybe Adam had been a bit too slow to stop him and fight back. His reflexes kicked in as he threw himself back into the pillows and started laughing hysterically. 

“Nhahahahaha! Sthahahop, Curtis sthahahop!” Long limbs twisted and turned in an attempt to escape. Kicking out, alternating attempts to grab, cover, and distract, all from some skilled fingers working on his stomach. 

“You know, I heard some royalty used to actually have sessions like this before greeting their husbands. If I recall correctly it was to put them in a good mood? It’s been a while since I saw the post but who knows if it was real.” Of course, Curtis would just talk so casually about this topic while freaking destroying the other. 

It was like when Adam and Shiro were starting to get intimate. Curtis never really had much interest in intercourse so he’d either watch a movie and the other two would start or he’d be down stairs. But he was so casual. He would just start talking to them about theories, head cannons, writing qualities, etc., as if the two weren’t beside him. 

Adam fucking loved him. “Ah shahahahit! C-Curtis sthahahaop it!” Some hiccupy snorts left the older’s mouth as finger climbed up his ribs, vibrating each one softly. A spazzing torso started to twist and turn more, desperate to escape. Never once though had Adam tried to fight back this time, maybe it was helpful?

He did want Adam to be in a better mood, especially for when Shiro got home, but that didn’t really have to do with his motives. He wanted him to relax and just feel happy. The professor was always serious and stressed. Shiro would tell him about how Adam used to be and frankly he wanted to meet that Adam. But the only time he ever could was when they were having like a tickle fight or something silly. 

“C-Curtis,” the professor shrieked as he tried to use the mattress to hide his ears. It wasn’t working as his hands weren’t helping to protect them. They were trying to shove at the other’s face, hide his own face, or cover his mouth as he bucked and jerked about. It was a rotation of sorts but this was rather fun. 

“Nhahahaot thahahahere! Okay, okay!” His voice sounded a little off which caused the younger to quickly let up. Knuckles gently traced up and down the flushed cheek as the poor, older man tried to catch his breath. “You alright?” Curtis couldn’t hold back the shit eating grin, even after he’d given Adam his glasses back. Okay, put them on the man’s face again. 

He was met with a glare before a roll of the eyes from a soft kiss on the cheek. Such sweetness, Adam wasn’t even going to reward him with the warning of an oncoming danger behind him. Okay, that wasn’t true. He waited a moment before nodding up with a tired smirk. He would be avenged! “Hm?”Curtis glanced up at the last second and uh oh. 

A scarem let out before shrieks and cackles of laughter. Curtis thrashed about harder than Adam and the sides that weren’t attacked weren’t even a bad spot. Shiro snorted a bit, looking equally if not more shitty than Adam had before. The professor sat up, still trying to compose himself before he was greeted by his fluffy kitty. Smiling, he pulled her into a hug and leaned against the pillows. Let his man children fight their own battle. 

The worst came soon as Shiro seemed to not fully be feeling playful. He gave a faint smile before letting i fall as he trapped ankles under his arm. “No, no, no, no! S-Shiro!” Curtis was honestly too cute for this world. The shortest male chuckled before looking over his shoulder. “Say my name and I might stop.” What?! No fair! 

“Shiro!” This had Curtis feeling a bit upset as well now. Married for five years and he still couldn’t pronounce “Takashi”. “That’s a little much,” Adam hummed as he set his precious baby aside. “Maybe you should be a bit nicer to him, huh?” Shiro squeaked before leaning down. He kept his arm around Curtis’s ankles as his blue tooth hand found Adam’s side. 

It was more or less a three way tickle fight until the three were in a large cuddle pile on the messed up bed. Pants and left over giggles escaped all before Curtis snuggled more into Adam’s chest. Shiro, who was on the brunette’s shoulder, opened his eyes a bit before smiling. Adam repeated the action before they leaned down to share a few sweet kisses. 

Shiro wanted to keep going as he just needed reassurance after their fight, but he was too tired. He plopped his head back onto Adam before being met with a slight pout. “Sorry, sorry. Come here.” He went to pull Curtis forward but the other moved back. “No, no. It’s too late now,” the youngest teased. 

“Shut up and take your kiss,” Adam groaned before giggling from two hands vibrating on his stomach. Here they went again.

[abkdkzine]

Important Message About Recent Concerns

Hey there! Thank you so much for tuning in. This is Mod Ari. I want to apologise in advance because I wrote most of this around 3 AM and didn’t finish most of it until around 9 AM on Wednesday, so I’m afraid I may not be as articulate as I probably would have been hours beforehand. Since then, I’ve been trying to sort out all of the information I’ve gathered from people as well discuss everything with my mod team. I also apologise because this message is going to be very long. But, I come to everyone to address a concern that has been present since the very beginning of this project, and that is the presence of our finance mod Fiama/Fif.

Now, before I delve deeper into this topic, I want everyone to know that the issue I spoke of in a Twitter post I made a while ago isn’t exactly a true issue because it is more of a heavy concern found among a few people. I hope to defuse that by the end of this long message. The real issue is that I have failed to communicate to everyone about my decision to let her stay and that I have let these concerns grow until people have become uneasy with our zine’s management. In this message, I will discuss about the steps my team and I has taken in order to (hopefully) clear everyone’s doubts. Please bear with me and know that I speak with certainty, utmost honesty, and with respect to many people’s feelings about the matter.

First of all, I want everyone to know that this zine is the first one I have ever started on my own. I dove into this project while only being in the BNHA fandom for around 7 or so months, absolutely enamoured with the KatsuDeku relationship, and with no online zine modding experience other than being an artist in a few. The only experience I have comes from real life volunteer work as well as from my part-time job, so I opened moderator applications in hopes of getting some help and advice while being open to letting a few newcomers learn with me. But please do not think I was not capable of organising small projects and reviewing finances before this project because I was and I am. I learnt a little bit of financing from my own mother who is excellent at budgeting (as she has been through many hardships as a result of living in poverty), from my schools and classes throughout high school and current college career, and retail job (which is also where I learnt how to ship lots of packages and keep up with orders). It just never hurt to have another person, or a few others, who have previous experience help me along the way because zines are run very differently and I didn’t know how financing in zines usually worked. So, I joined other projects as moderators to see if theirs were done similarly and I wasn’t disappointed.

If I recall correctly among all of the mod applications, only two people had experience with handling finances, so I chose the one whom I thought was the better choice, which was Fif. Now, please remember that I was very new to the fandom especially in this ship (wherein back then, I only knew a group of people who I was comfortable talking to, and now I know whole communities!); and so at the time, I had no idea about who Fif is and the history she has with the zines listed in her application. This is relevant because when I revealed that she was a part of our team, two people immediately came to me and warned me about the zines she used to be a part of, what her behaviour is said to be like, and what is said she has been known to do.

I humbly ask everyone to understand that I was blissfully ignorant to the happenings within the zine scene because I was brand new to it all, but please know that I still heeded their warnings with high regards and proceeded to tell my editor/beta mod, Maj, about it (who was the first person I appointed as a co-mod and is a dear friend whom I know I can trust with everything). Both of us became cautious, but because I wasn’t sure what to believe (and I partly wanted to see for myself if the behaviour they warned me about is true), I allowed Fif to continue being in my team—but not without strongly reaffirming my position as the head of this zine. I asked for everyone’s cooperation with as much honesty as they can give me, and I told them they will receive everything I have to offer and more in return.

I believe it was at that point that everyone developed a sense of respect for one another because while we work in different areas, we all have the ability to interfere with each other’s works without needing immediate help from other people. We all had initiative and enough individual skill to make up for someone else’s errors. From then on, we communicated very often, and everyone follows the tasks I give them. We’re an efficient team with good communication, but the only unfortunate situation that had us scrambling about is that our schedules started to get out of sync due to us all being college students, which has caused us to delay completing the feedback emails (of which I personally apologise for because I am in charge of writing them).

The reason why I let Fif stay is because she has done nothing suspicious or has said (or done) anything to affect this fanzine in any way to make me believe that she is everything that people have been warning me about. I say this with complete honesty: I have seen nothing but genuine intentions on her part, and while I find it true that she is sometimes inactive, I never expected her to do any of the work I had already assigned to the rest of my team and she has always communicated to us all about the reasons why she has to be away for certain periods of time. She’s done as I have told her, answered anything I asked of her, gave her opinion when I needed it, completed the financial sheet decently, has explained to me her thought processes, let me review and check the numbers on my own, and that is all I needed from her. The rest is under my and the other mods’ control. Madin, Maj, and Grim can all attest to this, and if need be, we will provide evidence to anyone who does not believe it to be true. But after a long discussion with all three of them, we have come to a conclusion with an extremely difficult decision.

Fiama will no longer be a part of our moderator team. We have asked her to leave our project, not without remorse, and she has been removed from the server and all of our accounts.

I’ve thought about the necessary precautions in case we decided to keep her, with all the initial warnings in mind, but recently an acquaintance of mine who I also co-mod with in another zine has come to me about his experiences and is extremely worried that this zine will also be affected by so many possibilities. He has given me enough information about the zines Fif used to be a part of and how they were all handled, so I respect his opinion very highly because he was in the direct line of fire when Hallowzine happened. 

A few of our contributors has also expressed their worries to me, and now that a potential customer has also done the same, I wanted to assure everyone that we have already discussed our decision with Fif herself. The information I gathered from my own research and from talking to a few sources held enough weight for all of us to become reasonably wary. So, I have communicated my own suspicions to Fif herself, and she undoubtedly understands, and I hope that everyone currently reading this message does as well, that I do not tolerate malicious intentions of any kind and that I am a woman of my words—that while I may be an amicable person, I am not weak and I will always persist in my decisions.

That being said, I want to give everyone some insights, and although small as it is, I hope it brings anyone who reads this message a sense of comfort that we are running our zine as smoothly it can.

For starters, I had established in the beginning that I will be the one handling money in this project. The payment systems I have created are both connected to my personal bank accounts, but I am allowing my entire team access to it so that they, as well as everyone else involved in the zine, can have the reassurance that I do not hold any malicious intent with the money sent to those accounts. However, if anything suspicious happens to the money at anytime during the pre-orders period, rest assured that anyone in the team or I will be closing the accounts immediately and freeze this project momentarily until we find a solution to whatever issue that may arise. I highly doubt that any of my moderators have the desire to steal money for personal and evil purposes, but I want everyone to know that I can be trusted too.

Secondly, I have contacted an acquaintance and a colleague from my part-time job, both of whom are accounting majors, to help me look over the financial sheet. My acquaintance and I have reviewed it together a few days ago, and we did not find anything suspicious or wrong with it; and before that, I had reviewed it several times myself to see the progress made on the sheet. My friend has done so as well yesterday and shares the same thoughts. So, I believe it is safe to say that the budgeting is done correctly, but because we have officially removed Fif from the project, we will have to make slight adjustments to the sheet. It is still under discussion, but one of the options I presented to my mods is that we can invite my acquaintance and help us out for a bit, at least to re-organise the sheet. It’s only an option however because we have yet to see if she’s needed or not. As previously mentioned, the team and I are all capable of handling the job ourselves, but we’ll definitely give out more information about what we’ll decide on doing.

Lastly, in an ask I had answered previously, an anon wanted to know if there were any funds saved for emergencies or for the contributors, and I want to relay what I said in here too: I have $800 saved up for this project, or more specifically for the contributors, but I can and will use it to cover anything lost should there be any unfortunate events in the future. This $800 is my investment and testament as to how seriously I treat this project, and I know that the rest of my mods (as well as close friends) will do their best to pitch in with anything they can offer.

In the end, we have done all we could to ensure the safety of this project, our contributors, and our potential customers. I support the absolute validity of all their concerns just as I fully respect everyone’s opinions. The rest of the team has their own reservations about Fif’s zine history, but we were absolutely prepared and had precautions set just in case we decided to let her stay. Either way, even without her aid, Wanderlust will continue to run strong because I believe that the team I chose is capable on their own feet and are versatile enough that I believe they can handle everything even without my presence in this project. 

It shakes my morality to the core knowing that Fif did not do anything wrong during the course of this project, that it is not entirely fair of me or the rest of the mods to do so; but we will always hold the safety of our contributors and future customers with the highest priority.

To end this long and arduous note, I can only humbly ask everyone to place their trust in us—in Madin, in Maj, in Grim, in ME. Because while I know we have our own faults to improve on, being in this team has already helped teach us things we need to know in any future projects. We will continue to be as transparent and honest as we have been since the very beginning. We’re just so, so sorry that this has and is causing so many people to doubt us, but I cannot blame anyone for it. I can only place that blame onto myself for not knowing her background when I should have been more responsible and researched it. For that, I want to apologise for ever causing such a feeling to surface. To the people who has seen and felt the consequences of the fallout regarding Hallowzine or any other zines that ended in a similar light, I want to apologise as well because I’m sure that those situations must have been incredibly difficult to deal with, and it must have been uncomfortable knowing that the possibility of history repeating itself again was plausible.

I hope that you all may have the heart to forgive my oversights and that you do not place any blame onto my team. Know that I will take full responsibility and accountability in the event that our project fails for any reason—however, I am absolutely certain that it will never happen because I trust my three co-mods with all my heart. It’s only up to you now to decide whether we are still worthy of your trust, and whether I am worthy of that trust. 

I’ll end my statement with this: Wanderlust will remain strong so as long as I or the rest of my team are here to run it. 

If there is anything else we can do to reassure you, please let us know and we’ll try our best to address this.

In behalf of my moderator team and with great sincerity,

Mod Ari

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 21 (Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

"Again, Lenny?" old Mad Magpie cackles when Len limps up to her at her usual post near the CCPD. Most members of the cardboard brigade wouldn't care to be so close to so many cops, or wouldn't dare, but Magpie is an old homeless veteran who lived in Gotham before coming to haunt the streets of Central, and she doesn't fear much of anything. Len's been sending Danvers over with hot chocolate on a regular basis, though, so Magpie's usually willing to talk to him. "Don't you have any self-preservation?"

"Don't mention it," Len says. "Really. Don't."

"You can fool that secretary of yours -"

"Admin assistant," Len interjects.

"- and you can fool that new boytoy of yours, but you can't fool old Magpie," she says. "You've ripped those stitches again."

"Like I said," Len says, suppressing the wince of pain at the mere mention. He's pretty sure he's bleeding - getting thrown around by a murderous speedster was definitely not on his physical therapist's list of approved activities - but he's wearing enough layers and stayed in lurching forward movement enough that no one has had a chance to notice it yet. "Don't mention it."

She laughs. "I knew it," she says. "Can't fool an old bird of prey like me! I don't tell people things till they ask. But if anyone asks, I ain't promising nothing. Now, I see you're back to your wicked old ways, hanging around with that Allen boy - back together now, are we?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, good on you. He's cute. And I bet he goes pretty fast, if you know what I mean."

Len arches his eyebrows. He knows exactly what she means, and she's not advising him on how long it'll take to get Barry into bed. "You selling that info?"

"Hell no," Magpie cackles. "Like I said - he's cute!"

"Good. Lemme know if anyone does start selling that, will you?"

"You'll get first word, Lenny. You've been a good enough customer to us all these years, paying more than your fair share and never turning us in for vagrancy; we can do you that much."

"Much obliged," Len says. "Hey, if I manage to surprise even you, do I get a bonus going forward?"

She arches her eyebrows at him. "I'm listening," she allows.

"Mick's better."

"I already heard that he's awake," she sniffs.

"Not awake. Better. See?"

She squints around him in the direction he's gesturing at. Len can see the exact moment she spots Mick standing there, looking healthy as a horse (well, with some nasty burn scars, but those look years old already) and arguing cheerfully with Iris and Danvers about something or another.

"Well, I'll be," she marvels. "Yeah, Lenny, you get a bonus for that - assuming that being healthy means he's gonna be cooking up his usual free-for-all July 4th bash this year. News of that getting uncanceled'll buy quite a lot."

"It's definitely on," he assures her. "Assuming we haven't all been murdered by the Families, of course."

"True that," she sniggers. "Now, what're you going to do to stop them?"

"As much as I can," Len says honestly. "But for that I need help - you remember when I was looking for intel on speedster stuff?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to find a speedster. The bad one, in yellow; he was at STAR Labs, but we don't know where he is now -" Danvers checked STAR Labs and reported no success. "- and we need to put him down if we're gonna put any of this down."

"He's the one doing the disappearances?"

"He's the one doing the hits," Len agrees, since technically Barry caused some of the disappearances. Though he supposes that if you think about it a certain way, Wells was behind those, too, in an indirect sort of way... "Can you yank your chain and get me an answer?"

"Don't need to ring up the community, Lenny," she says, grinning. "You know they used to call me the Oracle, back in Gotham? Always knew what was going on, I did, and it's the same now: I already know where he is."

"And I'm guessing I won't like the answer?"

"Come now, you robbed him of his revenge or whatever; where else is he gonna go other than Central’s home away from home for the criminally inclined?" she asks, amused. "The place where everyone knows your name - and record."

Len experiences a distinct sinking feeling in his stomach. "Ah," he says. "Iron Heights."

Central City's one and only maximum security prison.

Len's been in a few times, to ensure his cover was appropriately legit. He doesn't remember it very fondly.

"He's getting jealous, he is," Magpie says complacently. "You've got an army, the Families've got an army, who doesn't got an army? He doesn't. But he can fix that."

No kidding.

Especially since - and Len is remembering this with a wince - the metas from Barry's secret prison have just been transferred there pending trial, along with the specifications of the Accelerator needed to maintain the anti-meta-powers effect of their cells.

They'd even recruited Ramon to advise on the process of transferring the tech, with the recommendation that his cooperation in converting one of the wings (now dubbed the Metahuman Wing) would go some significant distance to reducing his eventual sentence.

Len hadn't been involved with that personally, being busy with Mick's recovery at the time, but he'd set one of the DAs he'd always liked - an ardent prisoners' rights advocate in her previous life - on the task of making sure Ramon gave adequate thought to how what they already had in place in STAR Labs could be expanded such that the metas could enjoy their constitutional rights, however limited.

Len’s not entirely clear on the details, but whatever it was, it was only a temporary solution. Ramon is reportedly working furiously on developing some sort of meta-dampening cuffs that seem significantly more humane.

All well and good in theory, yes, but it's now occurring to Len that what he saw as a grotesque human rights' violation, and the so-called Team Flash saw as a temporary convenience, Wells saw as more of -

Well, as a useful storage container.

As in, where you store things for later use.

(The image of tiny metahumans being placed into a pantry and pulled out at need by a giant Wells is deeply disturbing. Len sure is glad that no one's invented some sort of shrink ray...)

"Thanks, Magpie," Len says, shaking his head to help him get rid of the unwanted mental images. "Appreciated as always."

"I'll let my people in Iron Heights know to expect you," Magpie offers. "There's always a few old cardboards in there for some reason or another. If you need something pulled, you just ask. You've got that bonus to spend now."

"Hopefully not necessary," Len assures her. "But thanks."

The resources of Len's task force, as they stand, are quite few in number, but fairly decent nonetheless: Len himself (mostly useful for tactics given the current state of his body), Mick (and his heat gun), Barry (and his powers), Danvers (and her powers), Detective Thawne (who Wells won’t kill), Iris, Snow and Ramon.

Of the latter four, Thawne and Iris are trained in conventional weapons, and Ramon has invented some sort of vibration-based gun he claims can stun people in a humane matter (he emphasized that three times over - whatever that DA told him has clearly stuck). Snow doesn't have any offensive capabilities, but she's a doctor with some emergency care training, and Len's not about to turn that down.

Especially given the fact that if his side doesn't stop bleeding soon, he's going to need some of that training to be employed on him.

"You good?" Barry asks when Len rejoins them.

"Peachy," Len tells him, and ignores the way Mick suddenly focuses in on him. Stupid tell, using a word he only uses when things are not, in fact, good; he should've remembered not to use it around Mick. "We have a location for Wells: he was last seen in the vicinity of Iron Heights."

"Wait," Ramon says. "Where we just put all our metas?"

"He was keeping them on purpose," Snow exclaims, realizing. She's not slow, that one; just a bit naïve. "They were always going to be Plan B - except now they're in Iron Heights, not STAR Labs, so he needs to go get them."

"And the rest of Iron Heights if he can," Len confirms, shifting a little bit to a more comfortable position on his crutches. "Barry, Danvers - can you take us all to the little hill right outside the Heights? One-by-one should be fine."

"Boss and I go first," Mick suddenly says. "Then the rest. Let's go."

Before Len can say anything, they're in sudden transit.

It takes about twenty seconds to reach their destination, which Len suspects is a polite attempt to go nice and slow by the speedsters but which only makes his side and leg throb.

Then he and Mick are alone, standing in the overarching shadow cast by the hulking hexagonal pit of despair that is Iron Heights.

Everything seems quiet from here, but that could be an illusion.

"Mick -" Len starts.

"You're injured but don't want to sit out the fight," Mick says. "I know."

Mick always does. Best partner ever.

"S'not why I wanted to talk to you, since I know I won't be able to change your stubborn-ass mind on it," Mick continues. "I wanted to check in on what I said earlier."

"What part?"

"About us still being partners. I mean, now that you're a cop and all that."

"Mick, as long as you still want to be partners, we're partners," Len says firmly. "I wasn't kidding about not picking the job over you again. If you don't wanna be partners with a pig, I get it. It's fine. I'll just quit my job."

Mick snorts. "Twenty years undercover and you'll just quit? Now?"

"Hey, it means I've got a decent resume, don't it?"

"Ex-thief, ex-cop, please hire me -"

"I'm sure that set of skills appeals to someone -"

Mick's laughing.

Len likes it when Mick laughs. He's missed it.

"Nah," Mick says. "Don't quit, not unless you want to. Hunting down bad cops is perfect for you. And I'll figure out some way that I can still be your partner."

Len grins at him. "Sounds like a plan, partner."

"Just do me a favor and don't die, boss."

"Says the guy who just woke up from a coma?"

"Hey, I got magic-future-tech-healed by the bad guy, I'm fine. You, on the other hand, are doing your healing the good old fashioned way, except you keep tearing your stitches."

"Shut up before anyone else gets here and hears you."

"I heard him," Danvers says, floating a few inches above them and still holding a dangling Ramon in one hand. "And I'm very disappointed in you."

"Crap," Len says. "Listen, Snow can give me a patch job, but there's no way I'm letting you guys go into Iron Heights without me, got it?"

Snow gets dropped off next. By Barry. Without another word.

"You're in trouble now," Mick crows. "Skirt's got moxie."

"Traitor," Len says, but it turns out Snow can in fact patch him up pretty quickly - a staple gun, some bandages, and a dermaplastic seal, plus instructions to keep from twisting too much if possible so that his back brace can try to keep his spine from popping out of place or something - so it turns out all right in the end.

While they're doing that, though, the rest of the team stares at Iron Heights.

"God, I hate this place," Mick says.

"It's - quieter than I thought it'd be," Danvers says.

"Have you never been?" Barry asks. "I - well, you know, with my dad - I've been plenty of times."

"Hate to break it to you, but you're the odd one there, Barry," Ramon says. "I'd never been here before I came to help install the meta dampening tech."

"Really? You invented…?"

"No, no," Ramon says, looking embarrassed. "I haven’t had time to come up with something new. What we did was basically just port over a mini-Accelerator, looping around the walls of the place – luckily the hexagonal hallways around the outside that the guards use for patrols is close enough to being round to work. It works on the same set of principles as the Particle Accelerator in STAR Labs does."

"Any chance that it'll block Wells' powers, too?" Iris asks.

"No, not unless he goes into one of the cells and closes the door. The entire system's not even noticeable until everyone's locked away - not enough energy. We're just running electrical energy through it, not accelerated particles, so it doesn't quite have the same effect."

"Probably for the best," Thawne says. "One Particle Accelerator explosion is more than enough."

"Yeah, that's true..."

“Does Wells know about what you’ve done?” Danvers asks curiously. “With the mini-Accelerator, I mean?”

Ramon frowns, considering it. “No, I don’t think so,” he says slowly. “This was after the whole chest-in-hand – er, that is, hand-in-chest –”

“Her eyes are up here, buddy,” Iris jokes.

Ramon flushes. “It was just a slip of the tongue!”

“I bet you want to slip someone some tongue –”

“Iris, leave him alone,” Barry says, hiding a smile. “Be nice. You’re making poor Kara blush.”

“He’s not my type,” Danvers says primly. “Sorry, Cisco.”

“I’m not actually interested,” he says crossly. “I like my women a bit more – dangerous.”

“You know Kara can lift cars, right? And fly? And probably crush your head like a nut? How is she not dangerous?”

“An aura of danger, you know what I mean…wait, how’d we get on this subject?”

“I don’t know, but I want off,” Thawne says dryly. “You were saying about whether Wells knows about the mini-Accelerator?”

“Yeah, right. No, I don’t think so. When the police showed up to STAR Labs, he wasn’t there, and they had me shut off the surveillance system before we started moving tech around. I certainly didn’t tell him, and I don’t think Caitlin did –”

“Wasn’t even aware of it,” Snow says, still focusing on Len.

“Right. So, yeah, no. I don’t think so."

"Okay, you're as good as I can get you," Snow tells Len. "Now up you go; we need you to tell us what the plan is."

"There is no 'plan'," Len says, getting back up. The painkillers Snow had brought with her are amazing. "We've gone well into the stage of the plan where everything goes off the rails."

"Len," Barry says, mildly censorious.

"What?" Len asks. "It's true. You want a plan? Okay. Plan is: we go inside, find Wells, subdue Wells. If necessary, fight other people in the process."

"I think I was happier without knowing that that was the plan," Ramon mutters.

"Second door forward?" Mick asks, focusing on practicalities. "That's the least guarded - though I gotta admit I never thought I'd be using that to break in."

"Yeah," Len says wryly. "We live in interesting times."

Getting into Iron Height isn't hard - they know where the door is, they know how it's opened, and Len can pop it in under thirty seconds (how's that for "out of practice", Danvers?) - but the lack of any security on the inside is a very bad sign.

"Dead?" Thawne asks, his face set. He's taking this ancestor stuff very seriously.

"Maybe, maybe not," Ramon says. "He's got superspeed and this is a prison, right? He might've just put the guards in the cells."

"Probably the only way they're going to survive a massive prison riot," Mick says. "Speaking of, I hear noise - main hall's this way."

"Is that the riot?" Iris asks. "Not to borrow Kara's words from earlier, but that's a lot quieter than I expected."

"It is," Len says, equally puzzled. "Let's go find out why."

Sure enough, the main hall was full to bursting with prisoners - far more than get let out in any one shift - but they're not really rioting. More like milling around confusedly.

Len and Mick share a perturbed look.

Still, there's only one way to find out what's up, so Len hobbles over to the first prisoner he even vaguely recognizes and smacks him on the leg with his crutch to get his attention. "What's going on?" he demands.

"Snart?" the guy - a con called Joey Monteleone, but mostly nicknamed Tarpit for reasons Len has never wanted to learn - asks, blinking at him. "Ain't you a cop now?"

"One with no sense of self-preservation," Mick growls. He might be right; Len'd totally forgotten that he can't just ask people (well, criminals) things anymore. "That a problem?"

Tarpit considers for a second. "It true you got a job fucking up corrupt cops for a living? Instead of snagging cons?"

"Yeah, it's true," Len says cautiously. That doesn't sound like the prelude to a call for lynching. "Not really interested in a job snagging cons, not unless they're doing something real bad where I can see 'em. Same rules as before, really."

"Cool," Tarpit says, then suddenly turns around and shouts, "Hey, everyone! Snart's here! He'll know what's up!"

And suddenly everyone is turning to look at him, the room breaking out into whispers.

Len sees Barry and Danvers both tense up, ready to run him away, but he waves at them to hold off. No one seems violent - yet.

In fact, most of the whispers that Len can hear don't concern the fact that he is (and was) a cop; they're more focused on his career as a very good freelance thief.

A very good thief that was pretty well known for not being affiliated with the Families.

"Listen, Snart, it true what they're saying about the Families taking over?" one of the cons asks.

"I mean," Len says, nearly falling over with surprise when Tarpit pushes him up onto one of the tables so as to better see and be seen, "I don't plan on letting 'em, but they’re certainly trying their best."

"And there's riots in the streets?" another one asks. "Anti-Family riots?"

"Well, yeah -"

"And they're calling in their cards? All of 'em?"

"Whatever they can, sure. But there's an amnesty -"

"An amnesty?"

"Only for anyone manipulated by the Families in the lead-up to this," Len warns. "Or, I guess, involved in the riots afterwards."

He's a little bewildered by the fact that everyone keeps looking to him for answers in this impromptu little Q+A.

Luckily, in his time of need, Mick is there for him.

"Hey, assholes!" he bellows. "You know what that means? That means no extra sentences for anyone fighting against the Families, and the Families too busy to call in any cards they have on you. So tell me - who wants to go fuck up some Families?"

The roar of enthusiasm is very near enough to flatten Len backwards.

Ah, Central City.

Where even the criminal underworld hates organized crime.

Len's never felt more at home.

It helps that the whispers (not really whispers, now) are about Len's recognized skill at prison escapes that don't end badly.

There are also, here and there, some comments about not wanting to work for that, quote, "yellow Family fucker".

Right.

"Can someone point me to where the asshole in yellow is?" Len calls. "And in the meantime, let's get you guys outta here - we've popped one door, but let's try to avoid a riot - nice and orderly exit, that's the trick of it - and while we're at it, does anyone know where the guards have gone..?"

The guards, it turns out, are in fact locked into the same cells the prisoners have been liberated from, in what Len assumes was meant as a cruel bit of irony but which probably ensured that they weren't murdered by vengeful criminals.

The rest of the exodus is pretty swiftly organized - Len makes them pair up in the buddy system, using their cellies as buddies, in order to make it a bit less chaotic, and it works like a charm - and before anyone really understands what's happening, he's being helped off the table and whisked off back to his task force to focus on their Wells problem as the criminals file out of the prison.

"We've been discussing the issue," Iris tells Len when he rejoins them. "The prisoners don't know where Wells is, but we're pretty sure we do."

"Oh? Where? The meta wing?"

"No," Ramon says. "We figure he won't want to risk being stuck in any of those cells, just in case; he probably got the metas out of there and took them with him."

"Took them with him - where?"

"Wing C," Barry says, voice unusually grim. "The low-security wing."

Len frowns.

"That's where Barry's dad is," Iris says, equally grim.

Ah.

Old Doc Allen. The good man, who was framed and sentenced to prison for a crime he did not commit - by Wells.

Who is obsessed with Barry.

Not good.

"Right," Len says. "So this is probably a trap, but we're going to have no choice but to spring it. All agreed?"

"With any luck, Wells won't be expecting all of us, and not this fast," Thawne says. "He's a planner, but we've thrown his plans off the rails; he's playing it all by ear now."

"Just means he's desperate," Mick says. "Desperate men are dangerous."

"Still, I don't see that we have a choice," Len says. "Let's go - er, in the interests of speed, Danvers, could you..?"

He ends up getting a piggyback ride from her while Mick carries his crutches.

It's humiliating.

"I could probably carry you bridal style," Barry offers oh-so-innocently. "If you wanted."

"Just because Mick has my weapons -"

"Crutches aren't weapons," Ramon objects.

"You'd be surprised," Danvers and Iris chorus.

"- doesn't mean I'm taking any lip from you," Len finishes, ignoring them. "So shut it."

Barry proceeds to mime zipping his mouth shut, though that doesn't get rid of the grin.

Getting close to their destination does that.

"His cell is this way," Barry says, looking down a deserted corridor. "Supposedly. But -"

"He's definitely not there," Danvers says. "Sorry, Barry. The only people here are in the main hall."

"How do you know that?" Ramon asks.

"Uh," Danvers says. "Would you believe me if I said X-ray vision?"

"What," Len, who knows what Danvers sounds like when she's being evasive, says. "Really?"

"As it happens..."

"We talking medical level x-rays," Mick asks interestedly, "or can you peep under peoples' clothing -?"

"No!"

"Quick denial," Mick says wisely. "You know what that means, right, boss?"

"Boss! Make him stop!"

"It means 'leave off teasing until we’re not in the middle of a firefight', Mick," Len says mildly. "We're checking the main hall next. Everyone got weapons out?"

"Except you," Snow says. "You're not fighting - no, not even on the crutches!"

"I'll keep that in mind in the event I have a choice," Len says dryly, getting off of Danvers' back and leaning back on his crutches. "But I'll try to stick to the back. We ready?"

"Ready," they chorus.

And then they walk into a trap.

Wells is lounging on an impromptu throne constructed shoddily out of prison tables, smirking at them, and all around him are the metas Len vaguely recognizes as being part of Barry's kidnapping.

They probably all bear a grudge.

A very reasonable grudge, but perhaps a less-than-timely one.

All but one of the current inhabitants of the main hall are metas. Only one exception: a cage, constructed out of twisted cell bars, placed immediately to Wells' left, and in that cage sits a terrified but defiant-looking Doc Allen.

Definitely a trap.

"Welcome, my friends, to my little hell on earth," Wells says. His smirk fades. "Kill them! Kill them all!"

The metas charge forward.

As the guy bringing up the rear, Len can see the battlefield unfolding almost immediately.

Barry disappears, replaced by a streak of yellow lightning, and a second later Wells, too, disappears, and the yellow and red lightning bolts zip around the room in perfect tandem.

Mardon - Len recognizes him - summons balls of ice into his hands, grinning meanly and throwing them at Thawne. Not a surprise, really; Thawne's Joe West's partner, and Mardon would know that. Unlike Iris, Thawne's a policeman; Mardon would consider him fair game. Thawne ducks away, shouting something about them not meaning any harm and coming in peace, but Len doesn't lay high odds on that approach actually working.

One of the metas turns into poison gas - Len remembers hearing about him - and flows forward, gaseous tentacles reaching out to strangle them all, but Danvers takes a deep breath and literally blows him back away from the others, flying forward to confront him one-on-one. It's still a little discordant, seeing his secretary (admin assistant) floating a few inches off the ground, still wearing her red skirt and mesh leggings and that ridiculous puppy-getting-ice-cream sweater she likes so much, her hands balled into fists and a fierce expression on her face, but Len can't help but grin in pride.

A second later, Mick steps up to join her, shouting, "I got this guy, go help the others!" and aiming a burst of his heat gun at Nimbus.

"But -"

"My gun only kills, Skirt, and the boss wouldn't want me to murder prisoners. But this guy's got a death sentence, so he's fair game for me."

Danvers nods her understanding and backs off, turning back to the fight just in time to snag Ramon out of the way of the guy shooting lasers out of his eyes.

Len wonders what name Ramon gave him.

"Deathbolt coming in hot!" Ramon shouts, solving that mystery. "Caitlin, watch out -!"

Snow, who was 'Deathbolt's next target, disappears.

Literally disappears - Baez, the only female-presenting meta (Len hadn't noticed the gender disparity before, he wonders why that is), appears next to Snow in a burst of smoke, grabs her around the waist, and they both disappear and reappear elsewhere, out of the line of fire.

"You saved me!" Snow exclaims.

"You gave me all your old medical textbooks and talked to me while I was stuck in the Accelerator," Baez says. "I'm still pissed at you, but you don't deserve to be - wait, Deathbolt? Why does he get 'Deathbolt' and I get 'Peek-a-Boo'?! What the hell, Ramon?!"

"He has laser eyes!" Ramon shouts back from where Danvers has dropped him off and where he's aiming his vibration gun at Deathbolt. He shoots off a burst, which Deathbolt ducks. "What was I supposed to call him?!"

"I don't care what you call him," Baez says indignantly. "I care what you call me! Peek-a-boo is a kid's game! Or a stripper name! I want a badass name!"

"Is now really the time -" Snow starts.

They seem to have Baez well in hand, and Ramon is now exchanging vibration blasts with Mr. Laser Bolts in a game of stalemate.

Iris -

Iris is fine. She has her hands on her hips and she's scolding a guy three heads taller than her, with steel skin, and much to Len's surprise it's working surprisingly well.

It helps that she clearly tasered him first - he still looks groggy.

Danvers, meanwhile, has flown over to confront the last meta, a relatively non-descript man in black with sunglasses; Len's not sure what his powers are, but he has no doubt Danvers can handle him.

That's all the metas handled.

Barry -

Barry's still not winning. He's keeping pace, barely, and he's keeping Wells' attention on him, but that's it.

Wells is still faster. Wells is still stronger.

Wells is still going to win, and then he's going to murder everyone else in the room at a speed that ensures no one but Barry and maybe Danvers even knows it's happening.

They won't be able to stop him.

This isn't a television show, where Barry could use the power of romantic love (Len), familial love (Iris, Doc Allen), or even platonic love (everyone else) to inspire him to greater speeds to squeak out a win.

Even Danvers' help can only do so much - she's admitted that she's out of practice, and now that Wells is anticipating her, he'll have thought of something.

They have to find another way to stop him.

They need something creative.

They need something out of the box.

They need -

What the hell is Charlie doing here?

He's peeking in through the door, barely visible, but to someone who knows him as well as Len does, he’s unmistakable.

Len hobbles himself over as quick as possible. "What the fuck, Charlie?" he hisses. "Get outta here! Get - why are you even in here?"

"Attempted assault," Charlie says, unperturbed. "Someone I invited home overreacted."

"You tried to eat them, didn't you."

"They didn't say no until we got there," Charlie replies, as if that makes any sense at all. "Anyway, I've got a message for you, from the cardboard brigade. Magpie said it's your bonus."

Len's eyebrows go up. "I'm listening."

"Magpie says to tell you that while most of what the Accelerator did was give people powers, but that there's a few people - joined the brigade recently - that seem to react badly. Like something's been taken away."

"Well, yeah," Len says. "That makes sense, I guess; you win some, you lose some -"

"She also said to tell you that Hartley Rathaway did or reviewed almost all of the construction on STAR Labs' version," Charlie continues. "Along with Francisco Ramon. All the hardware and tech, they knew it all in and out, just the two of them."

Len's about to ask why he cares when it suddenly hits him.

You win some, you lose some.

There's a mini-Accelerator built into Iron Heights. They already know that it dampens meta powers. If they get both Rathaway and Ramon on it, could they jury-rig it to try to undo the grant of powers it gave before?

Len has no idea if that's even remotely possible, but what the hell, it's worth a shot.

"Thanks, Charlie," he says. "Now go away, get somewhere safe."

Charlie disappears down the hallway.

Len turns back, but before he can do or say anything, a giant dining table comes crashing into the wall only a few feet away from him.

Danvers is standing there, her eyes bright red, her expression furious and deadly and aimed at -

Well, mostly aimed at the guy currently cowering at Len's feet.

Non-descript meta man of the unknown powers, now no longer wearing sunglasses indoors like an idiot.

"What did you do?" Len asks the guy.

"My powers," the guy squeaks. "I cause people to become enraged, which distracts them."

"You...you realize there's nothing else here for her to get distracted by, right? And that the major target of her rage would be you?"

"I realize that now!"

"Well, stop it! I need her for something."

"I can't stop it! She'll kill me!"

"At this rate, she's gonna kill you anyway," Len says dryly. "Here, listen, how about this: you undo it and I'll arrest you. Nice, safe police custody pending trial -"

"Deal! Deal!" the guy yelps as Danvers tears another table - longer than she is tall - off the ground, where it had previously been screwed down hard enough to resist the strongest felons' joint attempts to lift it up.

A few seconds later, Danvers is bright red with embarrassment, but not with metahuman-inspired rage. An improvement.

"Can you take him and that Deathbolt guy back to STAR Labs for the time being?" Len asks her. "And then bring me Hartley Rathaway. The cardboard brigade will know where he is."

"Sure," Danvers says, then flies up behind Deathbolt to pop him one on the head - rough, but effective - and disappears a second later.

"I had him on the ropes," Ramon, who most definitely did not, protests.

"Whatever," Len says, gesturing for him to come closer. "Listen, question: can we use the Accelerator here to create another dark matter pulse? Preferably reversed or something, to try to drain people's powers?"

"It doesn't work that way," Ramon objects. "This isn't Back to the Future, you can't just reverse the polarities and -"

He pauses.

"What?" Len asks.

"I mean, you can't do that," Ramon says slowly. "But you can cause another pulse, if you had enough energy. As much as I hate admitting it, Wells built the original Accelerator with the intention of it blowing up with dark matter the second it had enough power, and we didn't have any choice but to use that same design here."

"Wouldn't that just give them more powers?"

"It might," Ramon says. "But the original explosion put Barry into a coma for months, remember? That dark matter's a real shock to the system. Even if it would be giving him more powers rather than cancelling them out - which it might, who knows, dark matter's weird - it still might disable Wells for the time being. That's what you're thinking, right?"

"It is, yeah."

"Good idea, in theory, but two problems. A, I don't know everything about the system -"

"Danvers is going to get Hartley Rathaway," Len tells him, and has the amused pleasure of seeing Ramon pull a face.

"Yeah, that'll work," Ramon says through gritted teeth. "That guy was a total jerk, but he did know his stuff. Stupid, pretentious -"

"You can sue someone for torture and kidnapping, you know."

"- extremely intelligent person whom I'm going to be very nice to and work well with?" Ramon tries.

"That's better," Len says, suppressing a laugh. Now's not the time. "You said two problems - what's the second one?"

"We don't have enough energy to cause a pulse," Ramon says. "It's like I said earlier, we're only running electricity through the system, not -"

"Extremely fast-moving particles?" Len asks archly. "Like, say, those?"

He jabs a finger at the streaks of lightning still bouncing around the room.

One of which is his boyfriend.

"Oh," Ramon says. "Uh, yeah. That'd work. I - wait, wasn't that Wells' plan all along, though? For Barry to run through the Accelerator and power it for him to time travel with?"

"I have no idea," Len says, because the technical aspects of Wells' time travel plan mystify him. "But even if so, he was planning on STAR Labs, not the mini version you installed at Iron Heights - which, according to you, he doesn't even know about."

"Okay, that makes sense," Ramon says. "But - if they're both running through the system to power it, then there won't be any way to stop both of them from getting hit by whatever new pulse we create. Whatever happens to Wells will happen to Barry: they might both lose their powers, or get hurt."

"Yeah," Len says, all humor fading. "I know."

He swallows.

He doesn't want to say it, but he knows it's true.

"That's a risk Barry's just going to have to take," he says. "You know he'd agree, if we asked him. If it meant saving the city -"

"And stopping Wells," Ramon says. "Yeah. You're right."

He squares his shoulders.

"I'll do it."