#sides of fandoms that are dead. the general fandom and fanfic sides of the fandom usually stay booming for many years onwards. if you miss

[rebelcliche-archive2]

reminder that the s/t fandom is dying bc we have to wait forever for s5. this is a common thing that happens in fandoms. not getting as much interaction as you used to get is bound to happen. it doesn’t mean that people don’t like you or your muse. it’s literally just because people are lacking the muse for their own characters in this fandom bc there’s no new content to go off of. this, too, is a common thing that happens in dying fandoms, so remember that it isn’t bc of you or your muse being disliked, even if you may feel disheartened by those intrusive thoughts.

[pro-sipper]

"Dead Dove: Do Not Eat"

About the tag, the origin, and why I think no one on either side of the fandom divide knows how to use it

First of all, I'm crosstagging because I think it's a general issue, not just something for pro or anti shippers. I see the tag get misused on both sides and I just wanted to throw my two cents in

So, where did the term originate? Like all culturally significant things online, it started as a meme. More specifically, a meme from the television show Arrested Development. Character A has put a dead dove into a brown paper bag to store in the family's fridge. On the bag, he has taped a sign that reads, in big bold letters, "DEAD DOVE. Do Not Eat!"

Character B comes across the bag, reads the warning, and opens it anyway. When he's met with, you guessed it, a dead dove, he proclaims "I don't know what I expected".

This is an example of (and has since basically become the spiritual successor to) the "Exactly What It Says On The Tin" trope.

If you want to check out the full history and countless examples of the trope, please check out the page on tvtropes. But for a slightly shorter history - it originated in a British commercial for Ronseal's Quick Drying Woodstain, which the tin claimed "dried quickly". And in the commercial they told you "It does exactly what it says on the tin!" So, the tin says what the product does, then the product does it. You get the idea.

In fandom spaces, the trope just means that the title of Thing (be it movie, show, fanfic, etc) tells you exactly what happens IN Thing. If a show is called "Buffy The Vampire Slayer", you already know it's about a girl named Buffy who slays vampires. If the movie is called "Cocaine Bear", you can bet a bear will get into some cocaine at some point. If there's a fanfic called "Fluttershy Has Tea With Jesus"... you get the idea.

While both tags started out with the same intentions and meaning, I don't think it's any wonder that "dead dove do not eat" has been so easy to misinterpret. For one, "exactly what it says on the tin" sounds more straightforward. You don't have to understand the specific reference to infer it means to check the label (in this case, tags) before purchasing (opening) the product (fanfic)

But dead dove is harder to understand if you don't know the reference. And at a glance, it sounds much darker. Doves have symbolism in multiple religions, and are seen as a symbol of peace. A dead dove evokes images of gore, violence, general unpleasantness. It must only apply to something sinister, right?

The thing about "exactly what it says on the tin" is that the tin needs to say something. You can't point at a blank label and say "here's what you can expect". People would be much less likely to engage with your product if that were the case

In the same vein, slapping "dead dove do not eat" on a fic with no other tags can lead to confusion. In this tag's case, it's a warning. But what are you warning about if you don't also put it in the tags? It leaves people's minds to conjure up only grim and upsetting images of what might be in your fic. Especially when, as it's also common to do, the tag gets shortened to simply "dead dove".

And while, yes, the tag is most likely to get slapped onto fics with dark or upsetting subject matter, that means something different for everyone who comes across it.

Most people seem to think it only applies to inappropriate relationships (age gap, incest, etc). But I've seen it applied to a variety of things, from potentially triggering material (like suicide) to things that simply may not be everyone's cup of tea (like excessive gross-out toilet humor).

In the end, "dead dove do not eat" is a tag that, in my opinion, should not be used as a descriptor as to what type of content your story contains. But rather, a gentle warning to say "hey, I'm specifically telling you what you're about to encounter, so whatever happens next is up to you".

After all, if you read the warning and still open the bag to find something you don't like...

I don't know what you were expecting.

[olderthannetfic]

I always see people who have never been antis, talking about/questioning how some antis even ARE antis when you look at their taste in media - ie the ever famous joke of "Hannigram is #problematique" "but it's a show where he eats people" or whatever.

I thought I'd weigh in as someone who could, hypothetically, be called an ex-anti (which, thankfully, nothing ever really came out of it - it was just very 2014 keyboardwarrior-esque behavior of me being a chronically online young adult who would share posts in a group chat making fun of certain shippers, or reblog posts about how 50shades is The Most Problematic Media Ever to exist -- basically I was an anti with anti-lines of thoughts, but i never, like, a ran a Shipping Discourse Blog or whatever)

For me, personally, it was a few different things. I can now see how it's incredibly hypocritical that teenaged me shipped Light/L, while still thinking that Dramione was Bad And Abusive. It ultimately boiled down to a) being pretentious, and b) just not understanding media or what proshippers REALLY believed, with a side of c) not realizing that nuance exists. like i was pretty late to join tumblr, I think I immigrated here during PEAK "yourfaveisproblematic" era which definitely did have an impact on my opinions and my tastes.

to elaborate, a.) being pretentious. i mean this one just kinda goes without saying. "I engage in media in a way more intellectual way than you do, don't you know that? You're a filthy and disgusting person who writes Snape/Hermione because you're an actually disgusting pedophile IRL who would probably date your own student that you're abusing if you could. Meanwhile, I'm a very smart, good, and pure person. When I read Uncle Vernon/Harry, I'm doing it in a G-d honoring whump way that clearly condemns abuse, incest, and rape. Unlike YOU who only writes harmful stuff as a way to get people off :/"

(as an aside, i think this line of thinking will ALWAYS be present in fandom and popculture in some way, sadly. ie the recent trend of people hating on booktok bc the books are 'trashy' and how these porn addicts should read real classic literature instead.)

as for b.), not understanding media - i cannot emphasize enough that i was GENUINELY stupid and disconnected enough to think that proshippers REALLY WERE pro-All Of The Degenerate Dead Doves That They Wrote.

why did i feel this way? why did i understand that Lolita clearly isnt pro-pedophilia, but for some reason i thought that someone shipping weecest was? well, first of all, i think that fanfiction is (generally) seen as Less Serious than classic literature, and fandom is a fun place, so i guess i somehow thought that every fanfic/fanartist who wrote Problematic Things, especially Problematic Things that they portrayed as Sexy, really DID enjoy the thought of that Actually Happening To Real People.

and i think THIS is the bulk of why antis ARE antis. i'm not calling them all stupid - i do think BEING an anti is stupid, but at the same time, there are people who are truly smart and good-intended people who just have some really off color opinions about, like, homestuck ships or whatever. Lawlight is okay because notebooks that kill people don't exist so it's IMPOSSIBLE for the Harmful Aspects of Light/L to be romanticized! but schoolyard prejudiced bullies DO exist and are a REAL problem so Drarry is BAD (*truly completely unaware of the fact that there's 'realistic' aspects of the Light/L dynamic and 'unrealistic' aspects of Drarry - such as, for example, Hogwarts arguably being even MORE of a fantasy setting than DN is.*) I know that media literacy is the hot buzzword of the year to throw around in 2024, but, like, i really did not have media literacy.

as for c.), not realizing nuance exists - ok "nuance" might not be the best word here, but i dont know how else to describe it. like, each time ive typed the word "problematic" out in this ask, i've done so in a very tongue in cheek/ironic/retroactive way, but, like, those posts about how Everything Is Problematic, Including Your Fave ARE true. and i didn't like the fact that my favorite media or favorite person might've Made A Mistake! i need to Talk About Its Issues Because I'm So Betrayed That My Dear Sweet Comfort Media Would Do This To Me. I Need To Prove I Clearly Condemn It.

like, i legit morally could not justify reblogging a twilight post without adding in the tags '#this is my guilty pleasure it sucks that the books were so racist though' or whatever. Most people were lucky enough to avoid that line of thinking, but there was an actual group of people who felt a genuine need to virtue signal all the time, partly bc, hey, they WERE passionate about talking abt #issues in media, but also bc of a subconscious fear of If You Reblog A Singular Piece Of Hetalia Fanart, You're Literally A Nazi And Will Get A Callout Post Written About You.

and during all of this i was at the tail end of my high school experience (yes i know im younger than most of your audience, ha). i was going through A Lot emotionally, going through a lot of life changes, and lived in a very . . . interesting household/place where i couldn't do ACTUAL good in the world that i was passionate about. so to make up for the fact that i was genuinely in no place to do legit activism, clearly i had to save the gay community by arguing about johnlock queerbaiting or whatever.

^ and honestly i do think that is the position of most antis. theyre isolated and cant seem to do Enough in the Real Scary World so they have to resort to talking about how bad of a person someone is for "shipping abuse", bc theyre not in a situation where they could, for example, ACTUALLY fight the good fight to end abuse or raise awareness for it.

There was way more to it and way more that I could say, if I wanted to, but this post is long enough as it is and probably doesn't make much sense.

I feel bad for antis, honestly, or at least the ones who are antis in the way I used to be.

--

Oh yes, passionate young fools who think they can at least fix the internet if not their lives make up most of the cannon fodder. Some of the ringleaders are just mini dictators and wannabe cult leaders, but most anti-leaning types are just traumatized or clueless, even a lot of the ones who do serious damage and don't just mock shit in private with their friends.

[ktwritesstuff]

Into the Fire (a Game of Thrones fanfic, sort of...)

Title: Into the Fire Fandom: Game of Thrones, with all due disrespect :D Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Oberyn Martel x Targaryen!reader (with a side of Ellaria) Word Count: ~4,000 Summary: Prince Oberyn saves your life and eventually does what Oberyn does with you. Beta-read by the illustrious @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Content Notes: I don't know that much about Game of Thrones and most of what I do know I don't care for. But I do like Prince Oberyn. Expect a bit of violence, first time, light breeding kink, oral, poly-dynamics, unprotected p-in-v, probably a bunch of other tropes I've missed. It's Oberyn, "dead dove, do not eat" applies.

Into the Fire

You had escaped the madness at King’s Landing (in part thanks to the belated arrival of Ned Stark’s troops and the ensuing confusion among the enemy’s forces.)  You did not make it five miles–on foot at night–before being set upon by slavers, opportunists taking advantage of the chaos.  At least they saw more value in you alive than dead.

You were frightened when the soldiers came, thinking they must have been sent by Baratheon the usurper.  From the wagon at first all you could see was the flash of a golden spear in the firelight.  A whole troop of men fell upon the bandits, but there may as well have only been one.  He moved so swiftly and so well, like a tongue of red flame wicking through the forest.  

He was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen, even before they pulled you from the wagon and you saw the banner emblazoned with a red sun.  These men were of House Martell, not Lannister, and if your luck held you might live to see another day.

“What is this?” asked the man in red.

“A Targaryen bastard by the looks of her,” one of the soldier’s growled, seizing a handful of your corn-silk hair and turning your face toward the fire.  Your looks were not so other-worldly as your cousins, but at least you bore a close enough resemblance that he did not mistake you for a Lannister.    

“I’m nobody,” you pleaded.  “I’m nobody.”

The man in red drew close enough that you could make out the features of his face.  You had seen Prince Oberyn only once before, at Rhaegar and Elia’s wedding feast, but his looks were unforgettable.  You were surprised it had taken you so long to recognize him and even more surprised that he seemed to recognize you.

“I know your face,” he said.  “You were a maid to Princess Elia; you were at King’s Landing.  Tell me what you saw.”

“I hid–” you whimpered as the soldier pulled your hair.  

“You abandoned your lady,” he said.  

“No,” you cried.  “When Lannister turned on us, the guards took her.  I hid in the servant’s passages.  I heard Tywin Lannister give the order to the one they call the Mountain to murder Elia’s children.  I went to the nursery, but the children were gone.  I searched for them–”

You admitted to all that you had seen.  The gore, the horror.  Elia cleaved in two from root to navel and her children smashed.  The anguish that would never leave you.  All the while Prince Oberyn’s face remained still as a stone, but you could see the sorrow and rage behind his dark eyes.

“You lie!” The soldier accused.  “How could a mere girl escape such chaos unspoiled?”  

“The same way anyone does,” you said.  “Blind luck.”

The prince paced alongside the wagon, assessing you, sizing you up.    

“And you’re sure it was Tywin who gave the order?” he asked.  

“I swear,” you nodded.  “On my life.”  

The prince wanted to ride for King’s Landing immediately and dispatch Tywin himself, but ultimately his generals dissuaded him from such rash action.  In the meantime, they gave you bread and wine and allowed you to rest in the first safety you had known in days.  It was dawn before you saw the prince again.  Even with a frown and deep lines etching his forehead, he was still the loveliest man you had ever seen.

“I can leave you a mount and a bit of gold for your journey,” he said.  “But I cannot spare any of my men to return you to your people.”

Over time the sacred words of your house had become twisted.  The life-giving warmth of fire and the sacred blood of kinship and covenant had turned to violence and ambition.  Was it any wonder that Aerys’s reign had festered?  But sweet Elia, a gentle princess and devoted mother, you would have followed her anywhere.

“I loved your sister,” you said.  “Her people are my people.”  

“Very well,” Prince Oberyn said, and for a moment a look crossed his face.  You would have sworn he was pleased.  “We sail for Dorne first thing tomorrow.”

 

You had passed six long years in Prince Oberyn’s harem, wanting for almost nothing.  The court at Dorne was filled with carnal delights you have never before experienced: music and dancing, glittering jewels, perfumed baths, and the finest food.  All of it available to you.

And the prince’s other concubines doted on you.  When you first arrived in Dorne at 19 they considered you a baby.  Meanwhile gossip at court held that your young cousin had been married off to a Dothraki warlord across the sea.  Not that you would have traded places with young Daenerys, but in six years Oberyn had not once invited you to his bed.  Besides the occasional chaste kiss on the hand or cheek he had not laid a finger on you.  

Ellaria counseled you to be patient, that your time would come.  But after so much time you were beginning to think Prince Oberyn had only taken you in as a matter of duty–that he had no desire for you at all.  Like all the prince’s lovers, you were free to have any man or woman you desired, but you didn’t want another lover.  You wanted the prince.

For your twenty-fifth nameday, the prince’s concubines plaited your hair, painted your face, and dressed you in fine silks.  You felt lovely and terribly grownup, despite your lack of experience.

“Come,” Ellaria said with a conspiratorial grin.  “Let’s go bathe in the southern garden, where the prince will see you from his window.”

The southern garden was a lush oasis tucked inside the palace walls.  There was a clear saltwater pond surrounded by dry grasses and desert flowers.  You disrobed in the shade of the palm fronds and slid into the water.

The lack of modesty among the prince’s inner circle had of course taken some getting used to after the formalities of King’s Landing.  But ultimately you came to realize, there were many worthy admirers of your particular pale softness among the hard and tanned bodies of Dorne.  Why should you deny them their pleasure, when those who didn’t appreciate your form were free to look away.

“Aren’t you coming?” you called to Ellaria, who was sunning herself in a chaise.  

“I’m quite happy to enjoy the view,” Ellaria said as you swam.  You chuckled at her playful flirting.  You could understand, despite her low birth, how she could command so much of the prince’s affection.  In all of Dorne, her beauty knew no equal and her charm was irresistible. 

You loved to swim–floating, mostly–especially when the water was so cool and inviting.  It was still early, the sun had not yet reached its apex, but the air was already hot and dry.  You could see the prince’s window, watched his curtains moving in the warm breeze.  You saw the prince come to the window, looking as if he had just roused from sleep.  He leaned on the sill, watching as you stroked your way lazily across the pool.

When the sun had warmed your belly, you turned over to paddle your way back into the shade.  You lost sight of Prince Oberyn, only for him to reappear on the steps down to the garden in his splendid red robe with a sheet of fine linen draped over one arm.  

“You should keep this one out of the sun, Ellaria,” he warned.  “She wasn’t made for it.”

You frowned as Prince Oberyn beckoned you to him.  You rose from the pool reluctantly and he wrapped you in the sheet.

“I’m not afraid of being burnt, my Prince,” you protested as he draped the fabric over your shoulders and rubbed your arms to dry them.  

“I’m well aware, my little dragon,” he said, touching your chin gently.  “But how would it look for my prize to wander through Sunspear as red as a berry.”

You tucked the sheet under your arms and tied it off to secure it.  

“Isn’t she beautiful, my love,” Ellaria said, rising from her chaise to join you in the shade.  

“Very beautiful,” Oberyn agreed.  He rested his hands on your shoulders, looking past you to gaze at Ellaria.  “All the more reason to keep her from burning to a crisp.”

“Hair like spun gold,” Ellaria noted, gathering your damp braids in her hands, wrapping them back into your gold hairpin. “Skin so smooth, just like fresh cream.  And so soft.”

The prince hummed to himself, watching her work.  

Ellaria pressed her front against your back, she was almost a head taller than you, and you could feel the warmth of her sex against the small of your back.  Her hands moved down your neck, her fingertips brushing the tops of your breasts.     

“You like her soft, don’t you, lover?  I’ve seen how you enjoy a bedfellow who gives.”  

“I do,” said the prince, dipping his mouth toward Ellaria’s lips, perched beside your ear.  “Why do you think I keep her so well?”

A jolt of excitement raced up your spine from your core as they kissed. You realized you enjoyed hearing them talk about you, around you, like this.

Ellaria slid her hands around your waist to the prince’s hips, pulling him into your body.  You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing into your belly.  

Ellaria moved one hand to the side of your head, turning away from the prince to catch your mouth in a kiss.  Her lips were impossibly soft against yours and she tasted like honeyed wine.  Then Prince Oberyn bowed his face toward yours and you didn’t know whose tongue was in your mouth.  You felt dizzy with pleasure.  

Ellaria pulled away and you moaned for the loss, but Prince Oberyn was holding your face in his large hands and his tongue was moving past your teeth, delving toward your throat.  Your body felt like soft clay, molding into them.  Ellaria kissed your neck, taking your hands in hers, moving them into Prince Oberyn’s robe.

“Like this,” she whispered, guiding your hands over his chest, fingernails scraping against his nipples, palming the hard muscles traversing his abdomen.  

The prince’s skin was nearly as smooth as yours, until your hands reached the wiry hair trailing down to his swollen cock.  The prince moaned into your mouth as Ellaria positioned your hands around him.  

“Gently,” she instructed.  “You’re doing so well.” 

As you carefully stroked the prince’s shaft, Ellaria’s hands moved across your body, kneading your breasts, traveling down the soft curves of your belly to grope at your mons, assessing the wetness of your inner folds. 

“She’s ready,” Ellaria said.  “Take her.”

Prince Oberyn pulled away from you panting.  Your own chest heaved with exertion and your head swam.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

“Not today, lover,” Ellaria said, running a perfectly shaped fingernail down your nose affectionately.  “Today is for our little dragon.”    

“Come,” Oberyn instructed, leading you by the hand up the steps to his bedchamber.  “There’s another nameday gift waiting for you yet.” 

You hesitated, turning back toward Ellaria, looking for assurance or permission.

“Go,” she said, shooing you along with a friendly smile.  “Go!  Enjoy yourself.”

You followed Prince Oberyn up the stairs, full of uncertainty and excitement.  His bedchamber was the finest you had ever seen: the heavy wooden furniture was ornately carved and polished to a mirror-like shine, hand-woven rugs stretched nearly from wall-to-wall.  At the very center of the room was an exquisite canopy bed with silken drapes of red and gold.

“Sit,” the prince urged, motioning to the bed.  

You took a seat at the end of the bed, leaning back on your forearms, anticipating your long-awaited ravishing with something akin to glee.  Instead, the prince retrieved a lidded basket from the table and brought it over to the bed.

“For you,” he said.  “A gift; be gentle with it.”

Your lips parted in surprise.  You lifted the lid of the basket, gazing down into its contents:  armor-like scales, writhing, and hissing softly.  You counted three pointed, perfect heads with shining black eyes. 

“Oh,” you sighed, reaching into the basket, allowing one of the serpents to coil around your fingers.  “They are beautiful, my prince.” 

You lifted the first creature out of the basket; its scales shining copper in the sunlight as its forked tongue darted out to catch your scent.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Only if they bite,” Oberyn said, reaching into the basket to retrieve another snake for you to examine.  

“Are they likely to bite?” you asked, the snake in your hand coiled its tail around your wrist.  You marveled at it, reaching for its final companion, a tiny, emerald-green thing which wove its head in and out from between your fingers.

“Not these hand-raised babies,” Oberyn said, pressing his face toward the snake’s in a show of faith.  “All they want is to be kept warm and safe and fed on the finest rats Dorne has to offer.”

“Like me,” you laughed.  

“Are you partial to rat, little dragon?” Oberyn smiled, returning the snakes to their basket.  “I will have to inform Cook!” 

You laughed, leaning back in Oberyn’s bed as he set the basket aside.

“Thank you, my Prince,” you said.  “I adore them.”

“I am glad,” Oberyn said, returning to the bed.  “Rumor has it your cousin has added three dragons to her command, but this is the best I could do.”

“They’re splendid, my Prince,” you said.

Oberyn leaned over you, placing a hand on the base of your throat as he kissed you.  

“I can’t wait to show the others.”  

“Catalina is afraid of snakes,” he warned, his mouth trailing down your neck.  You cradled his head in your hands, tilting your chin back to expose your throat.

“Then Catalina will learn to stay out of my room,” you chuckled.

Oberyn paused as his mouth reached the space between your breasts, curling his fingers under the sheet that still covered you.  His eyes darted to your face.

“May I?”  

“Please,” you gasped, arching into him.  

Oberyn opened the sheet, taking each of your breasts in his hand, pressing the flat of his tongue against each nipple one after the other, nipping and sucking until they were swollen and sensitive.  You could feel your arousal coiling like a snake at the base of your spine.

“So beautiful,” he breathed against your skin.  “So sweet.”

“Now you,” you pleaded, touch the collar of his robe.  “Please, my Prince.”  

Oberyn grinned, rising from the bed to undo his robe.  His body perfectly lean and hard and golden stood in stark contrast to yours.  His cock thick and long, sprouting from a nest of dark hair fully erect; you thought he must be large, though you didn’t have much to compare him to. 

You turned over on the bed, crawling to him on hands and knees.

“Can I taste you, my Prince,” you asked.

Oberyn took your face in his hand, playfully squeezing your cheeks until your lips pursed.

“How could I deny this face,” he said, settling onto the bed.  

Oberyn turned onto his back, supporting himself on his forearms so he could watch as you moved over him.  You took his shaft in one hand, lapping at the tip.  It was different than you expected, a heady, earthy musk, salty and sour on your tongue.  Oberyn made a soft, satisfied sound from deep in his throat.

“More,” Oberyn instructed, placing a hand on the back of your head.  

You opened your mouth wide, wrapping your lips around him.  Oberyn sighed, letting his head fall back against the cushions.  Try as you might, you could not reach to his root, surfacing for air only to gag yourself in the next attempt.  As you moved up and down Oberyn’s length, the sounds of pleasure turned to something more like discomfort.

“Stop,” he ordered through gritted teeth, silk sheets bunched in one hand.  “Stop.”

You sat back on your heels with a frown as Oberyn sighed with relief to have his cock freed from your toothsome maw.  

“I’ve displeased you, my Prince,” you said, horrified that the unbreakable prince of House Martell would lay down his weapon rather than suffer your untutored enthusiasm.  

“No,” Oberyn beckoned you to him.  “Never.  You need more practice, that’s all.”  

You stretched out on the bed beside Oberyn and his hands explored the curves of your body.  

“You shall have your pick of my men as a bedfellow,” he assured you, interlacing his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to his lips.  “And once you’ve had sufficient preparation, we can try again.  You’ll have many more opportunities to amuse me, little dragon.”

Oberyn’s fingers wandered, tracing each of the pale lines adorning your breasts and belly.  If one didn’t know better, they might have assumed you had already had a baby.

“I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” Oberyn explained.

“On my honor, I am a maid, my lord,” you said as his fingers circled the sensitive jewel at the peak of your folds.  The serpent in your belly that had lain dormant for so long coiled tighter.

“On my honor, I care not,” Oberyn teased.  “Though it is a special pleasure to be the first to delve into this cave. I don’t know what tales are circulated by Targaryen oldwives, but in Dorne our women are taught never to suffer inattentive lovers.  Maid or not this should be quite pleasurable for you.”  

You bit your lip as Oberyn probed one finger past your entrance, then a second.  A little tight, a little stretched, but not uncomfortable.   

“More?” he asked, probing deeper.  You gripped his shoulders and shook your head.  

“Not yet,” you said.  

Oberyn waited, pressing his thumb into the peak of the wishbone between your legs.  The serpent writhed.

“What are you doing to me,” you moaned, clutching the silk sheets.

“You’ll know soon enough,” Oberyn said, his fingers curling inside you.  You shrieked as he touched a place inside you that sent a lightning bolt of pleasure racing up your spine.  

“There,” Oberyn chuckled, withdrawing his hand to hold your face as he kissed you.  “I’m sorry to report you are too small to take all of me.  There are, of course, other avenues we can explore.”

Oberyn reached around you to squeeze the globe of your ass and you gasped in excitement.  

“But that is for another time,” he said, moving over you.  “Today is yours to enjoy.  When I press into you I want you to close your legs so I can fuck your thighs while I fuck your cunt.”

You nodded, spreading your knees so that Oberyn could settle between them, aligning his cock at your entrance, rubbing against you spreading the slickness of your arousal over himself.  You felt a sharp tug as you closed your knees around him.

“Pain?” Oberyn asked, slowly pressing his hips into you.  

You shook your head.  “It’s not bad.”  

“Breathe, little dragon,” he said, bowing his head to kiss your breasts.  

Oberyn’s movements put pressure against that sensitive spot and as he flicked his hips into you, you could feel the serpent in your core coiling tighter and tighter.  You moaned with abandon, letting your head fall back against the cushions.  

“Good?”  

“Yes,” you panted, clawing at his arms, his back, scrambling for purchase. 

“My little dragon has a fire in her belly,” Oberyn teased. “So hot for me, strong and eager.”

You moaned, arching into him. 

“Tell me,” you pleaded, reaching to pull him into another kiss, hot, wet, and hungry.  “Tell me more about what you want to do to me.”

“Such a needy little girl,” Oberyn panted, gripping your thigh.  “Already drunk off my cock.”

You purred in agreement, biting down on Oberyn’s lower lip, your pupils blown so wide your pale eyes were nearly as dark as his.    

“I’ll make you mine,” he said.  “A finer mount than any dragon. My love, my plaything.”

“Please,” you mewled. “Anything…anything you desire.”

 Oberyn ran a hand down your body, arching his back like a cat, his gaze settling on the space below your naval. 

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” he said. “I want your breasts to swell and your belly to stretch with my child.”

You moaned, dragging your hands down his sweat damp back to grip the hard muscles of his ass.  The snake coiling in your belly finally struck, every fiber in your body crackled like hot coals.  You gasped as Oberyn fucked you through your climax. 

As his thrusts slowed to a desperate grind, he withdrew from you and spent his seed on your belly and chest.  He rolled off of you, onto his pillows, dragging one hand through the mess he had made of you. 

He pressed two fingers to your lips and you took them into your mouth, suckling his spend from them like a newborn kitten after cream. 

“You’ve done me wrong, Oberyn,” you sighed, turning onto your side to meet his gaze. 

Oberyn reached over you to strike your ass with the flat of his hand once, hard, and you yelped. Another thrill of pleasure raced through you. 

“You forget yourself,” he warned. “I am still your prince.”

He grabbed your face and kissed you, claiming your mouth with his own.  You panted as he finally released you, resting your hands on his chest. 

“You promised me a baby,” you said. “And all you’ve made me is a mess.”

“In time, my sweet,” he said, gathering your body into his. “I’d like to have you to myself a while longer.”  

Oberyn brushed your sweat-damp hair from your face and kissed your brow. 

“You need another bath,” he warned. “To freshen up for the feast.”

“What feast, my prince,” you asked, tracing the neat line of his beard with your fingers. 

“We could not let a 25th nameday go unmarked,” he said with a wry smile. “Just a small celebration, little dragon.  My brother has graciously allowed us use of the great hall to mark the occasion, or at least he will.”

“You spoil me, my lord,” you sighed.

 

Prince Oberyn escorted you to the great hall himself; there was already a fire raging in the very center of the room filled with wine and laughter and gaiety.  You didn’t even notice Ellaria until she managed to slink up behind you to whisper in your ear.

“You are glowing,” she said and you laughed as her arms trailed around your waist.  "I take it you enjoyed your time together."

“Very much,” you said.  “Truthfully I’m surprised I’m still standing.”

“Then sit,” she said.  “Lover, we’re going to sit.”

She leaned over to kiss Prince Oberyn on the mouth–the same mouth that just hours before had transversed every unspeakable place on your body.  You took a seat on a cushion at one of the low tables surrounding the fire and Oberyn summoned a page to bring you wine and sweet date cakes, before running off to make merry with a handsome young courtier.  

“Did you put him up to this?” you asked as Ellaria draped one arm around you.  

Ellaria scoffed.  

“Hardly,” she said, twisting her fingers through your hair.  “A nudge, that’s all.  Just a little reassurance.  Even princes know to fear dragons.”

You took Ellaria’s hand in yours and placed a kiss on her palm.

“Thank you.”   

End Notes: Ta da! Thanks to all who voted and all who've read this far. What do you think? Are you interested in more?

[hisshiss-bitch]

GUESS WHO JUST REACHED 123 FOLLOWERS!

follower celebration post here :) (includes special interactions for followers and moots :]) everything related to this (moodboard requests, asks, etc.) will be tagged #anas 123 follower celebration

INTRO POST TIME

by the way this thing is LONG

like it'll take like 10 minutes to read everything

just a warning :3

lets start with the basics:

☆ hi, my name is [redacted]* and i'm a minor, i go by she/they (demigirl), canadian, i'm pansexual and demiromantic, i use way too many emoticons and usually type in lowercase letters (for the aesthetic), and i am always so veryvery excited to meet new people on here :D ☆

*i go by a new online fake name every so often and right now i am using one that @m0ngrxl bestowed upon me: anastasia (after my succulent who is currently dying :')

GO CHECK OUT MY SIDE BLOGS: @random-thoughts-uwu and @astraea-pixels :3 i'd be very grateful

also: look at this moodboard that the lovely @mister-dirty-hands made for me!!!!

☆ fandoms: good omens | the vivzieverse | all of em studio ghibli movies (mainly howls moving castle and my neighbor totoro) | the osemanverse | pirates of the caribbean | all of those delicious tim burton films, beetlejuice especially (and the musical!) | sorta in the heathers fandom but i haven't actually watched the musical, just the soundtrack ;-; | night at the museum but only for the tiny gays lol | DEAD BOY DETECTIVES :D ☆

☆ favourite books: anything by alice oseman | coraline | good omens | the book thief | percy jackson | harry potter* | honor | a good girls guide to murder | the graveyard book ☆

*not supporting she-who-must-not-be-named by any means (ew fuck her)

☆ favourite movies/tv shows: howls moving castle | inside out | helluva boss | hazbin hotel | good omens | coraline | night at the museum | monty python and the holy grail | matilda | my neighbor totoro | ponyo | the harry potter series ☆

☆ favourite visual artists: @hg-aneh @cliopadra @crystallizedtwilight @dingledraw @greykolla-art @gleafer @hattersarts @honestlynotgonnalie @libbyframe @mrghostrat @marsipanart @plumbum-art @ufofrommarss | my best friend who i am trying to convice to get a tumblr account | vincent van gogh ☆

☆ favourite MUSICAL artists (in no particular order): girl in red | tv girl | queen | abba | bon jovi | britney spears | taylor swift | conan grey | musical soundtracks lol | beyonce | cavetown | laufey | lemon demon ☆

☆ things that make me happy: meeting new people online | doing puzzles | doomscrolling | the sound of keyboards | reading | my cat <3 | the color of bubbles ☆

i'm trying to get better at tagging things so

my thoughts: #ramblings

interactions with moots: #[name of moot] [emoji] and #moots!

masterlist of moot tags: here! (if i missed you PLEASE let me know i want to include everyone don't feel bad for asking <3)

ask games, tag games, and asks will be tagged as such

for when i'm feeling very gender-y: #anas gender issues

MY ASK GAME: :D

❤ - can we be friends?

🧡 - socials?

💛 - top 3 places you'd like to go on vacation

💚 - favourite plant/flower?

💙 - favourite type of weather?

💜 - top 3 favourite animals

🖤 - ___ or ___ (fill in the blanks)

🎨 - last thing you created? (art, fanfic, music etc.)

🎧 - last song you listened to/currently listening to

📚 - last book you read/currently reading

🍎 - did you eat today? if so, last food you ate?

📸 - last thing in your camera roll?

🍄 - make me a moodboard!! (please i love doing this so much) send some objects, a general aesthetic, maybe some weather, adjectives perhaps and honestly anything else that comes to mind, i'll pick my favourites. moodboards will consist of 6 pictures :)

my numerous aesthetics i am flipflopping through always:

currently listening to: (new song every week if i can remember)

look! userboxes! :D

sorry they're all one thing 😔 i wanted to fit as many pictures in to this post as possible (i use the app on mobile and there is a 10 picture limit per post)

i think i'm gonna ramble on at you for a bit more

and here's one i snatched from @themortalityofundyingstars! isn't it pretty???

anyone else hate the sound of styrofoam? makes me want to shed my skin and shiver until mushrooms erupt from my pores

that was weird. sorry.

y'know i think i'm gonna ramble on about one of my special interests to you now.

listen up pals because i'm gonna tell you some stuff about pompeii.

ALRIGHTY so getting right into it, pompeiis eruption was mainly just ash and dust falling down on the city, along with some pumice etc. it covered the city so thickly that even people who stayed inside died.

but that's not all. the dust rushing down the mountain, called the pyroclastic surge, got superheated. i can't remember the exact number but it was big. think burning upon impact.

speaking of the heat of the pyroclastic surge, it was so hot that the people standing in the streets immediately evaporated all the water in their bodies, and that's why they were all curled up on the ground, the heat caused their muscles to contract. cool, huh?

yeah. i think so too.

...

why are you still here?

...

i've recently been getting into the sort of fourth-wall breaking dreamcore stuff.

PANPLOSAURUS, BAM!!

bet you weren't expecting that, hm?

...

i'm gonna go now

psyche! as if. i've put too much work into this post now, i can't stop.

i love space. not the sort of purple and blue and red galaxy thats on every piece of edgy wolf art, but the way that you look up at the sky and think you see a star, the first star of the night, but no its just an airplane.

but then you realize it was a star, your vision is just swimming

and you suddenly see all the stars

and look, there's a constellation

and you stand there under the flickering streetlight for a bit, just looking up

up

up is a funny word.

what was i talking about?

oh right, the stars.

i like the stars.

this is a long post.

d'you think i can make a text post longer than "do you love the color of the sky?"

"which one?"

i love the color of the sky.

unfortunately, i live in the city

too much light pollution to see the stars or the color of the sky.

my friend wrote me out this poem and the last line was "like a spider trapped under a cup, you wish you could just float up."

at least i think thats what it was.

that word again. up. up. up.

i'd like to float up, i think.

i'd take my phone with me, so we can stay together.

remember the panplosaurus? good times.

how long has it been?

...

...

sometimes i want to

thats sad. what do i want to do? i looked through my autocorrect suggestions to find something i might want to do

i don't know what to do

well, this is getting depressing. i'm getting tired. sorry.

whenever i think of the word sorry i think of heartstopper in the one panel with nick telling charlie to stop apologizing.

"you know, you say sorry a lot."

...

"don't you dare say it!"

"i kinda want to say it"

"don't!"

i like that part.

anyways, i'm gonna edit most of my spelling mistakes in here and go to bed.

i love you

<3

[mcytblr-archive]

Early MCYTblr Interviews: tack-tick

today's interviewee is tack-tick, a pioneer of the "phistin" ship and DSMP fan since before the first election! below is a transcript of the interview.

Q: What was your overall time in MCYTblr like?

A: I'd say my overall time in Mcytblr could be described as finding diamonds in the rough. This fandom is defined by finding your group, sticking to them and if you're smart not really looking beyond that. I did look beyond that and saw a lot of discourse and such. I had a good time with my friends but I did get negatively affected by the discourse at times. It was kind of a toxic shithole but by God mcytblr was our shithole lol

Q: Do you remember any specific discourse that affected you, or was it just the overall culture around you?

A: As a Technoblade main, it was the discourse surrounding his character that messed with me. At the time, I was mutuals (none in the phistin palace dw guys) with some people who hated his character. I, as an anxious teenager, was very worried it would cause drama if I unfollowed them and my dash became a lot of those long negative essays about how he was an awful person and yknow the drill. It was mainly my own fault and my dash became signfigantly better once I realized no one would be offended of I unfollowed, blocked a bunch of tags, started up my own discord server and focused more on writing fanfic instead of doomscrolling. A good lesson in curating your dash of anything else. (Btw those former mutuals are fine people, we just had radically different tastes in what we liked and disliked about the Dream SMP)

Q: You mentioned the "phistin palace"-- before we get into that, would you like to explain the "phistin" rarepair itself?

A: Now we are cooking! So, Phistin is the ship of Kristin and Philza. It's main focus was on the scraps of lore that we had about their relationship which was Kristin was the immortal goddess of Death and they couldn't really see each other often but loved each other very much. I'd say it's main appeal was being one of the few ships that was just really stable in the Dream SMP compared to the Karlnapity polycule and whatever youd call Quackbur. Fun fact, I can't find the post now but if i remember correctly me and tumblr user Demonadelem helped name the pair Phistin. Although, that was ages ago so I could be misremebering

Q: Was the ship entirely within the SMP, or was it just the general ship name for the real-life couple?

A: It was both. Since Kristin didn't really stream on the dream smp, a lot of her personality had to be based on what Phil said about her and her other streams. Basically, lore about the ship was pulled from the SMP but the dynamics and personality was from both. You could play around with the dynamic if you focused on Kristin being a goddess

Q: With that basic information laid out-- what was the "phistin palace"?

A: The Phistin Palace was a discord server I founded in August of 2022. Phistin was a ship that was basically a side thing I did in fandom because my main focus was Technoblade and emerald duo stuff. I think if you're a Technoblade fan you're legally obligated to be a Philza fan and vice versa. I don't make the rules. So Phistin was something I did when I wanted a break from Technoblade as a way to practice romantic shipping.

Then Technoblade passed away and I didn't want to do anything with his character for a while so I focused completely on Phistin. However, when I tried to find any fics they were either a background ship with only one line or Kristin was already dead from a tragic disease who's main symptoms were lying daintily in bed. While I was writing my own long form Phistin focused fic, Two Birds if anyone read it, I got a comment that complimented me for "giving her an actual charatcer" and maaaan that is a very low bar to be praised for. So, I started the palace as a way to find other Phistin fans who actually cared about them beyond Kristin being angst fodder for SBI.

Q: Do you have any fond memories in specific of the "Phistin Palace" discord server?

A: Oh so many. During the Syndicate finale, three of us all liveblogged and freaked the fuck out when Kristin showed up for the first time in a minecraft skin on the server. I made on of those AI chatbot things that was popular for a bit and the bot was supposed to be the Kristin character. I asked if she had a pet and she said she has a gecko named Tim. The entire server instantly decided they would die for Tim and he's now an emote. The general chat is also named Tim Time Fucker. A mermaid AU that was made that the majority of the server contributed a lot of lore to we named it the Communist Mermaid AU because the server collectively owns it now. Many good moments there

Q: Beyond the Phistin Palace, are there any large community events that you remember/took part in, or did you mostly stick to your friend group?

A: I remember The Penis SMP of course. I never really took part in large community events but I did watch them happen. I read the Passerine chapter where Tommy died becasue my dash flipped out when that dropped. I'd also try to watch Sad-ist animatics live when I could. At most, Id make a meme during a stream that would rack up a couple hundred notes or one thousand if I was lucky A thousand was like once or twice I think

Q: You mentioned that you were also a Technoblade fan before you became more focused on Phistin-- was your experience in that side of the fandom any different?

A: It certainly had more content than Phistin did lol. I was never really in any Technoblade discords or anything but back in the day it was focused on emerald duo and being funny. or angsty. Nowadays, it's way less lively unfortunately. It's not as bad as in 2022 but Technoblade fancontent seems to be less foucsed on the character and more on memorials/remembrance. At some point, you run out of things to say and not a lot of people wanted to stay in a fandom that just felt weighed down by it all. I did leave so things could perk up someday but I don't think that's likely

Q: We've talked about the fandom and how it responds to content-- let's talk about the content itself. What were some of your favorite moments from the Dream SMP as a whole?

A: The Red Festival Technoblade stream was the first one I ever watched live so that's a good one. The stream where L'manberg getting blown up at the end of The Manberg Arc is iconic for an underrated reason. I don't know how many people remember but Phil was highly speculated to be on the Dream SMP someday. On the day of that stream, he started on his hardcore world, then stopped his stream and did his dramatic switch surprise entrance to enter the Dream SMP for the first time. Also Technoblade escaping the anvil and then killing Quackity with a toothpick was great. I've never liked watching Twitch streams on my Ipad so most of my favorite moments come from YouTube

Q: Were you sad that Phistin wasn't a more popular ship, or did you enjoy the tight-knit community?

A: I was sad Kristin kept friggin dying, the poor woman lol. Sometimes I wish it was a bit more popular but the community was nice. The main issue is Phistin stuff started tanking hard on Ao3 in terms of numbers and tended to get misstagged quite a bit

Q: You've brought up a few times that Kristin was often fridged, disregarded, or replaced (on several notable occasions, by an actual Samsung fridge). How did you feel about it? Do you think there was any particular reason for it?

A: I mean, I really don't like it but I understand it. A lot of people loved that SBI angst but also wanted to write all the SBI. So the obvious solution is to kill off Kristin for free angst and keep all the SBI in the story. Passerine is a fic i respect a lot but it also kickstarted this trend to be honest. Kristin herself also didn't physically show up in the lore a lot so it was really tricky to write her. When I first wrote her, it was intimidating because I didn't have many fics to look at as good examples.

Was it shitty and a bit sexist? Yes but I don't think sexism was the only reason. Kristin's character was in a unique situation compared to the others. I have no problem with Kristin dying in a fic. The main issue is that often came with her personality being reduced to good mom and that's it. I'm not gonna call a bunch of probably first time writers evil sexists when I know what it's like to not know how to write her and being scared you'll get her completely wrong.

Q: Since it's come up, would you mind giving a quick rundown of what exactly the fanfic "Passerine" is? (As well as any memories you have relating to it!)

A: If i'm being honest, I only read the chapter where Tommy got murked. What I know from osmosis is it's an SBI royalty AU that had some kind of meta twist at the end and it was very sad. It also got a sad-ist animatic made out of it which jesus christ I'd give for that. I tried it but the writing style was too wordy for my liking. It's mainly important for Phistin history even though Kristin wasn't in it. No, The Fridge died in it but everyone just kinda assumed it was Kristin for long enough it got the ball rolling. Also I think Niki read it on a stream

Q: Before we wrap up, is there anything else you remember about MCYTblr/the DSMP that you'd like to talk about?

A: The DSMP sure was the minecraft server of all time that is defined as a server that was doomed from the start. Whoever makes a video essay on it is gonna have a hell of a job. 10/10 experience would not recommenced. Hello to the Phistin Palace if any of you read this :D

Mcytblr is getting more chill with shipping from what I've seen. Thank God, keeping making Philza Minecraft kiss those men and his wife.

Also SUBSCRIBE TO TECHNOBLADE

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  MuseumGiftShopEraser! They have 9 works on AO3 in the Stranger Things Fandom, and 6 of those are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @museumgiftshoperaser:

Paint the Devil on the Wall

Conversations About Love

Now I'm A Stranger

An Exercise In Denial

Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me

Her fics are BEAUTIFUL. When I first read Paint the Devil on the Wall I was so obsessed I immediately recced the fic to everyone I knew who would be vaguely interested in a steddie fic. -- anonymous

Below the cut, @museumgiftshoperaser answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I stumbled into it immediately after season 4 came out. I’ve felt very attached to Steve as a character from the beginning of the show and I think I was subconsciously waiting for someone to pair him up with. I think they’re both such great characters to explore themes of dealing with expectation (either by conforming, or fighting against it) and that’s something I always love to write about.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Absolute sucker for fake dating. Can’t get enough of it.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Enemies to lovers! Though now that I’m looking through my AO3 I haven’t actually written that much of it. It doesn’t have to be very intense enemies, though. I just like it when characters don’t immediately get along.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

My brain has been forever rewired by took you for a working boy by pukner. It’s such a gentle, nuanced queer story. It feels vulnerable to me in a way that really only fanfiction can be. Can I sneak in another one?? Because everyone should also absolutely read the shame is on the other side by scoops_ahoy. It taps into this very specific kind of queer compartmentalizing, that I’ve never seen written this well. It broke my heart and patched it right back up.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve been stupidly busy with my masters lately so there’s probably not a lot of writing on my horizon. I do have a wip called Doll that I’m slowly chipping away at. It’s a little darker than stuff I’ve written before. I know ‘dark’ isn’t really a trope, but I’m excited to see if I can push these characters a little further. 

What is your writing process like?

Absolute chaos. I write non-chronologically, without an outline, all in the same document. I keep writing snippets and scenes until the whole thing slowly comes together. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

Italicizing words for emphasis. I love it so much, you can rip it from my cold dead hands. It accidentally makes its way into my academic writing for my degree sometimes which is a little embarrassing, but I just love the flair of it. 

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I don’t really do schedules, it doesn’t work for me at all. I try to make sure I have a decent amount of the story written before I start posting to give me a bit of a head start, but forcing myself to finish something by a certain date is a surefire way to kill my motivation.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Probably Paint the Devil on the Wall. It was the first time I’d written the entire story before I started posting so it went through way more rounds of editing than normal. I think you can really tell. It’s also the longest story I’ve ever written (in general, even outside of fanfic). The whole project gave me a lot of confidence as a writer.

How did you get the idea for Paint the Devil on the Wall?

I knew I wanted to participate in the Bigbang and the deadline was coming up, but I still didn’t have an idea. I decided to work backwards and try to think of something that would be fun for the artist(s) to draw. I had a vision of Eddie wearing dungarees without a shirt, absolutely covered in paint and I knew I had to write something to make it happen. I set the story in 80s New York because neo expressionism is really the only kind of art I could see Eddie making. I think it suits him very well. I do actually have a background in art, though! I’m currently getting my MFA, but I’ve worked full time as an artist for several years before that. I had a lot of fun working my passion for art (and all those art history classes I had to take) into the fic.

When writing Paint the Devil on the Wall, what was something you didn’t expect?

All of Steve’s character, to be honest. The fic is written from Eddie’s POV and for a large part of it he has a very hard time figuring out what Steve’s deal is. Right alongside him, I also had an incredibly hard time figuring out his character. It wasn’t until I was working on the final chapter that he finally clicked for me. I realized very late, just like Eddie, that Steve liked him from the very beginning. Most of the enemies to lovers premise was all in Eddie’s head.

What inspired Now I'm a Stranger?

Oh boy, that was forever ago! I remember I started writing it while I was camping with friends because I liked having something to do after everyone went to bed at night. I think I had the idea for that very first scene where Steve doesn’t remember Eddie and it all sort of spiraled from there.

What was your favorite part to write from An Exercise in Denial?

That was the very first fic I wrote, right after season 4 came out! I’ve never written something that fast, I think the whole thing took me less than a week. My favorite part was probably Robin being completely exasperated with both of them. They’re such complete idiots in that fic.

How do/did you feel writing Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me?

Ahhh… I never got around to finishing that one. I probably never will, to be honest. I wrote the first two parts quite quickly and then the idea I had for the plot spiraled out of control and I realized I didn’t actually feel like writing the rest of it. There were going to be a lot of misunderstandings and I learned that I find that an incredibly frustrating trope to write (when done for drama at least. For comedy, I’m a sucker for misunderstandings.) So I guess I felt a little in over my head.

What was the most difficult part of writing Conversations About Love?

The ending! That fic is so incredibly personal to me and I knew from the beginning that I wanted it to have a very sappy, happy ending. It was important to me to write an aromantic character getting everything they wanted, but I realized as I was writing it that I don’t actually fully know what that means. So it took a bit more soul searching than fics typically do, but it was very much worth it. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I still think the short little prologue for Paint the Devil on the Wall is the best thing I’ve written. “You don’t draw on things that aren’t yours, baby” is probably the best summary I have for that story.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Not really!

Thank you to our author, @museumgiftshoperaser, and our anonymous nominator! See more of @museumgiftshoperaser works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fanfic chapter banner in the style of the achievement icons. Pyro stands against a dark background in front of a very large, stylized bonfire. Its body is turned to the side, facing more toward the fire with its back more to the viewer, while it looks back toward the viewer. Pyro's form gray and backlit by the fire. Its lenses are the same orange as the fire. The logs at the base of the fire are yellow-white. The entire image is flipped 90 degrees on its side. On the left is the chapter title in yellow-white text on a transparent gray rectangle. The text reads "CHAPTER FIVE: CAMP FIRE" /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Sniper, Demo, Soldier, Scout, plus others in smaller roles Warnings: General references to trauma, TF2-typical violence Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason. Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve

---~~~---

Chapter 5: Camp Fire Summary: In which Pyro starts a fire.

---~~~---

"The cart is supposed to move forward!"

"Oh, really? Yeah? Woulda' never guessed! Not like we've been tryin' to do that for the past six hours now!"

Growling, Spy flipped open his disguise kit, grabbed air, and sighed heavily at the reminder that he'd run out of cigarettes. While the earlier break he'd taken, resting cloaked in spawn, had eased the stress of the situation slightly, his body still craved nicotine. And food. And aspirin.

When was this hellish match going to end?

Of course, he knew the answer, and hurried up to the cart, pushing against it to stop it from wheeling backward. But as they were on a slope, gravity was not on his side, and the bomb pushed back against him. "Scout—" he began, only to realize Scout had already run off in pursuit of the enemy.

"'M not Scout, buh I c'n give ya a hand," came Demo's slurred voice, followed by a belch, and the shattering of glass. He appeared at Spy's left side, throwing his own weight against the cart.

Spy glanced back at the shattered bottle of scrumpy behind them and suspected the Demo might be using the cart to keep his own balance, but bit back the urge to comment on it. So long as they finished this stupid match, he did not care.

Slowly they coaxed the cart up the hill, and tension left his shoulders both from physical and mental relief as the track finally leveled out, and they no longer had to fight gravity. They were growing tantalizingly closer to the final lift. Maybe this time would be it, they would reach the final terminus and end this awful—

A shot rang through the already noisy battlefield, and Demo screamed, his legs buckling.

"Mon dieu!" Spy shouted, seeing the blood cascade from Demo's left thigh, and looked up to see the enemy sniper on the tower across from them. He was reloading his rifle, but even from here Spy could see the man's hands shaking—that would've been a headshot, had it not been for the attacker's exhaustion. Said exhaustion was also making him fumble with his own bullets. A very small advantage to the race going on for as long as it had—the enemy was just as exhausted as they.

Grimacing, Spy tapped Demo on the shoulder. "Try to keep going," he whispered. "I'll take care of the sniper." Releasing the cart, he hurried around it, only to stop dead at the sight of the BLU heavy standing directly in his path. "Merde."

Stars exploded in his vision, and he found himself on the ground with what was sure to become a brilliant bruise on his left eye. Before he could say another word, he was yanked to his feet.

"Push that cart, men! That's an order!" Soldier growled, shoving Spy next to the sobbing, limping Demo and joining them at the cart. The enemy heavy had been knocked off his feet—probably from a hit from the rocket launcher Soldier was slinging back over his shoulder—and was off the track.

"Oui," Spy mumbled, blinking wearily. The cart was swimming in front of him, but he threw himself into pushing it forward, willing this agony to come to an end. A glance at Soldier told him that the merc wasn't looking much better himself, but Soldier was always the last to let his injuries get to him. The cart was at least moving somewhat faster, and—

"BONK!"

Soldier's helmet clanged against the bomb as he stumbled into the cart with an animal-like growl, nearly drowned out by the enemy scout's taunting laughter. "Keep... pushing...!"

Demo's bad leg buckled again, and he gripped hard onto the cart, letting out a wail: "MEDIC!"

Squinting, Spy looked back, barely managing to spot their Medic stumbling toward them from the far edge of the field. Meanwhile, the BLU scout joined the heavy, as well as an enemy soldier, and the sniper had surely reloaded his rifle by this point. There was no way they were going to make it.

Spy shut his eyes, hoping their death and respawn would at least be a quick one.

It was not.

In fact, it didn't come at all.

There was a noisy sloshing followed by a hollow metal bounce, and a few cries of confusion from the enemy mercs. This was then followed by a soft click, and Spy opened his eyes just in time to witness the BLU mercs erupt into a fiery blaze. They ran screaming off the building to their agonizing deaths, revealing Pyro standing behind them, tilting its head.

Spy laughed, nearly collapsing against the cart as Pyro joined them, silently pushing it onto the lift.

"Excellent work, Pyro!" Medic gasped as he scrambled onto the lift, turning his medi gun onto the others, much to their relief.

The Pyro nodded.

"Did we... make it...?" Demo mumbled, looking down below the lift. He would have fallen had Soldier not grabbed his arm.

"Just about." Spy watched as the respawned BLU scout scurried up one of the towers and leaped toward them, but the Pyro merely lifted its flamethrower, letting out a powerful air blast that sent the scout sailing backward and crashing into the tower. Looking back at the lift, Spy grimaced upon noting that they were nearing the top. "Well, gentlemen. See you on the other side."

Finally the elevator stopped, and the mercs exchanged pained, yet relieved, glances. It was the last thing they saw before their vision was replaced with a blinding light, and a deafening explosion roared in their ears.

—

The deafening roar after the match was from the mercs themselves.

In spite of their exhaustion, everyone cheered and whooped and howled as they returned to their vehicles. They were traveling in the dark, after how long the match had lasted, but none of them complained. Pyro took the lead, keeping the pilot light on its flamethrower lit and occasionally emphasizing it with a burst of flame to light their way. Normally the behavior would turn the rest of the mercs away, but not tonight.

"Excellent work, private!" Soldier exclaimed, giving the Pyro's shoulder a hearty punch. While before Pyro had been startled at any contact, it did not flinch.

Demo slurred something completely unintelligible, but evidently in agreement. He slung his arm around Pyro, leaning against it.

"Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but you saved the day, there," Scout said, stretching his arms as he walked.

Even Spy couldn't keep quiet, and shrugged. "I'm not easily impressed, but... that was a fine show." He stiffened when Pyro looked back at him, its blank lenses unreadable, but it only turned forward again.

Others shared their agreement with various hoots and hollers, which did not stop when they finally arrived back at their hidden vehicles, and later, at their base. If anything, they kept up for several hours as Scout called for a pizza delivery and Sniper—who had stopped briefly in town—arrived with beer. No one turned down the opportunity to celebrate a hard-won victory.

Not even Pyro.

Spy had fully expected it to sulk off to its room again, but this time it remained during the festivities, sitting quietly off to one side of the mess hall. Occasionally it was approached by other teammates, who thanked it for helping them end that hellish match, and Spy, at one point, glanced over to find that it had been given a can of beer and a few slices of pizza on a greasy plate. Later, the food and drink were gone; if it had consumed the items, Spy hadn't witnessed it.

The party could only last for so long, and soon Heavy was nodding off at the table, Demo had passed out (more from exhaustion than alcohol consumption), Sniper had slunk off to his van, and one by one the others retreated to their quarters. Spy would hit the shower first, but as he left, he spotted Pyro calmly heading back to its own room, and he hummed in interest.

He still didn't know what had happened to it, back when they were in the hands of the enemy mercs at Gray Mann's base, but maybe that didn't matter now. As the Engineer had proposed, it indeed seemed to be coming around.

Spy shook his head.

Maybe it was time to abandon this silly mission.

—

The battle was deafening.

Screaming, gunfire, clashes of metal, explosions, and over everything else rang distorted music that he could not make out. An enemy disorientation tactic, perhaps?

If so, it was working. He kept rushing through the field, and yet he could not find his teammates or the enemies. Acrid smoke filled the air and his lungs, making navigation near-impossible. Even when it cleared slightly, he kept finding himself in impossibly different places—a cave, outdoors, a base, a courtroom. The battle always sounded as though it were around the corner, yet he could not find it.

At the same time, he wasn't ready. He needed to be cloaked or disguised, but every time he looked down, he was himself, exposed, out in the open. So he would cloak or disguise himself again, only for it to wear off faster than he could comprehend.

The battle was deafening. It was close. He was not ready.

He turned and ran in a different direction, trudging through knee-deep water he didn't remember encountering.

Red stood out within the gray water, and he gave a start at seeing Tavish lying against a wall, his face pale, the red coming from more than just his uniform.

Abruptly he remembered there was no respawn here.

Without a second thought he reached down, helping Tavish up to limp alongside him. He was mumbling dazed nonsense, but he caught something intelligible among the gibberish:

"You're carryin' somethin'... heavy..."

"No kidding," he growled, only for Tavish to fall limp against him. His own body seized up and he quickly adjusted his grip so as to not drop him. "No. Stay awake, Tavish." He turned him to get a better look at him, but the man's skin was pale, impossibly so for his complexion. How could it be so—

Tavish's head tipped back, and it suddenly was not Tavish.

It was Jer—

Spy awoke with a jolt, scrambling in his bed for a moment before realizing he was holding one of his own pillows.

A headache pounded behind his eyes as he sat up, squinting at the room around him. In the dim light, his eyes could barely make out a shelf with a few books on one wall, a full-length mirror, and a desk with a nice leather chair—his room in the barracks, not his house. No light came through the window, and a glance at a nearby clock told him it was four in the morning. This wasn’t exactly where he'd prefer to be when recovering from a hangover, but he wasn't about to head back home in the middle of the night. Even so, he wasn't about to go back to sleep with a headache like this, and his tongue was clinging irritably to the roof of his mouth.

With a groan, he slid out of bed, slipping into his usual balaclava and gloves, as well as a comfortable robe and slippers before creeping out of his room and into the barracks hallway. The doors muffled snores from a few of the sleeping mercs, and occasionally a nonsensical mumble made its way out of one of the rooms, but nothing indicating that anyone else was awake. Good.

As Spy made his way down the stairs and into the mess hall, his foggy, headache-addled mind still echoed with the cacophony of battle—memories of the day prior, or perhaps echoes of his nightmare. He shuddered, and nearly tripped over a chair that hadn't been shoved back under the table—the whole room was in disarray, it seemed. Shaking his head, he passed through the mess hall and into the moonlit kitchen, where he threw open a cabinet in search of painkillers. No need to focus on those nightmares. He just needed some water and aspirin. And a cigarette.

He soon found the bottle, and washed a few pills down with a bottle of water from the fridge. (He was tired, but not so tired as to accidentally give himself lead poisoning.) But even as the water and aspirin worked to clear his mind, he could not rid it of the roar of the battle, or the vision of Scout's pale face—

Gunshots rang out through the night, and Spy abruptly realized the roaring was not in his head.

Heart pounding, he scrambled for the door—which he found already open—and reached for a pistol concealed in an inner pocket of his robes. Upon stepping outside, he immediately identified part of the source of the noise: a large bonfire piled up a short distance from the base. He was confident he knew what had started that, but as for the gunshot...

Scanning the desert landscape, he spotted Sniper in front of his van, holding his SMG limply off to one side. Spy crossed the distance as quickly as his slippers would allow, cursing the fact that he hadn't changed into his usual outfit before leaving the room. Upon reaching the van, however, he immediately noticed the autopsy scars that riddled Sniper's bare chest, which yanked his mind back to territory he was very, very much past at this point. At least Sniper was wearing boxers this time. The Sniper did not look up at Spy's approach, however; his gaze was fixed on the ground.

Spy cleared his throat, returning his pistol to his robes. "Mun-dee?" he asked, and Sniper raised his head. His eyes were wide, his face pale. "What happened?"

"Woke up to somethin' tryin' to steal my tires," Sniper said, gesturing vaguely to his truck before looking back at the ground. "Wasn't expectin' it to be..."

Spy followed his gaze to a spot on the ground where a small pool of blood was still soaking into the dirt. There was no corpse. "...Respawn?" he guessed. Hoped.

Sniper nodded slowly. "Headshot. I feel bad for the poor bugger, but I..." He grit his teeth and shook his head. "I didn't recognize the bloody thing! Usually I'll hear it hummin' or mumbling something, but it's been—"

"Silent," Spy finished, sighing. "I've yet to figure out its behavior myself."

Raising his head, Sniper frowned. "Well, here's your chance."

Spy looked back toward the base to find Pyro, in its usual outfit, marching toward the bonfire, a wooden chair in its arms—one of the ones from the mess hall, in fact. Upon reaching the fire, it slammed the chair into the ground, shattering it, and with sharp, agitated movements tossed the broken pieces into the fire. It stared at its work, wringing its hands, then began to pace before the flames, back and forth, looking repeatedly from the fire to the ground.

"It must've been at this all night," Sniper remarked. "Guess that party wasn't enough for it."

"I'm not so sure that's what's happening," Spy said, brow furrowing. He watched as the Pyro finally stopped, holding its head in its hands, almost seeming to claw at itself. Though he couldn't tell from this distance, he was willing to bet it was also trembling. "It doesn't seem to be celebrating."

Just as he took a step toward the fire, the Pyro threw its hands down and charged back into the base.

By this point, some of the other mercs had woken up as well: Demo was leaning out his window from the second floor, scratching his head at the blaze outside, and Soldier was shouting somewhere in the building, no doubt waking even more of them. He chased out Pyro, who was now carrying a cushion from a lounge chair. "Turn that blazing beacon off, maggot! No one wakes up the rest of the team before I play reveille!"

Pyro ignored him, running up to the bonfire and chucking the cushion onto it.

Spy approached Pyro as calmly as possible, keeping his distance from the flames. "As much as I shudder to agree with him, he's at least partially right." When the Pyro's head snapped toward him, he gestured toward the fire. "This signal fire you've created is making it hard for everyone to sleep. Not to mention, you're destroying half the base to create it."

For a few seconds Pyro stared at him, and then pointed at the fire, its finger inches from the flames. Its whole form was backlit in a hellish orange glow.

"Yes, that fire." Spy bit back the urge to spit insults or sarcasm. "You can play with fire somewhere else, and burn things other than other people's—er—" And he broke off as the Pyro took several quick strides toward him. While normally quite agile, he found his foot catching on the back of his expensive robes when he tried to back away.

Pyro lunged at him, grabbing him by the wrists and yanking him closer to the fire.

"Let go of me!" Spy cried, struggling against the creature's grip. "Unhand me, you mute freak!"

But Pyro did not oblige, only pulling him closer. Its breathing was heavy and ragged.

The smoke burned his eyes, and a few embers were getting dangerously close to his robes. Desperately he kicked at his attacker, to no avail, and his thoughts were suddenly consumed with how long it would take for him to burn to death atop that bonfire. "L-let me go—help—help!"

A large hand clapped against his shoulder, and another grabbed the Pyro's wrist.

"Pyro lets Spy go. Now."

Relief coursed through Spy's veins as he looked up at the Heavy. His ridiculous red pajamas did not lessen the effect of his hardened stare, which was focused on Pyro.

Pyro shook its head.

Heavy's hand tightened against its wrist. "Now."

Though Pyro relented, releasing Spy, it immediately turned its attention on Heavy, grabbing at him in quick, furious motions. In response, Heavy lifted Pyro off the ground, holding it up at an arm's length while it writhed and clawed at the air with its free hand.

"Merci," Spy breathed, holding up the hem of his robes and taking several steps back from the fire. He rubbed at his wrists.

Heavy merely grunted, still watching Pyro's squirming. It took what felt like far too long for Pyro to finally give in, hanging limp in Heavy's grasp. When it did so, Heavy tilted his head. "Pyro will behave?"

It nodded lamely.

Finally Heavy set the Pyro down and took a step back. It stood still, arms limp at its sides, head hanging.

Spy took a few more steps back, glancing toward the base and trying to judge how long it would take him to sprint back toward it in his slippers.

Slowly, slowly Pyro lifted its head, facing Spy once again, and began to walk toward him.

Spy looked up at the Heavy in alarm, but Heavy stayed put, crossing his arms.

Pyro's movements were sluggish as it approached, and its hands trembled as it reached for him. Though Spy cried out and tried to back away, it did not grab his wrists again, or try to pull him toward the flames. Instead, it grabbed his shoulders firmly, and lowered its head, burying it into Spy's chest.

It was shaking.

"Um..." Spy stared down at the Pyro. "What?"

"If Heavy were to guess," Heavy said, cocking his head, "Pyro is asking Spy for help."

He looked up at Heavy desperately. "Why me?"

Heavy shrugged. "You were first to notice, da?"

Spy blinked, and looked back down at Pyro. It had not moved, but its trembling had intensified, and once again he could hear its breath, which was hitching and shuddering.

Awkwardly he reached a hand around, and placed it on the Pyro's back.

[thebeanofdoom]

Fanfic recommendation time!

I know its way past Christmas already but I found this fanfic while scrolling through AO3 and oh my God, even though its "only" 13 chapters, it felt like an entire novel! I love how you could slowly see Soap and Ghost falling for each other, even if the two didn't notice yet. Do prepare some tissues for the last chapter though ｡･(つд`｡)･｡ (also, featuring SimonRiley'sFatherFigure!Price and JohnMacTavish'sBestFriend!Gaz)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen, M/M

Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)

Relationship: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley

Characters: John "Soap" MacTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty), Kate Laswell, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Aftermath of Torture, Injury Recovery, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, No Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Nightmares, Christmas Fluff, Christmas, Angst with a Happy Ending, Religious Guilt, it’s happy ending i swear, Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley, Simon "Ghost" Riley Loves John "Soap" MacTavish, John "Soap" MacTavish Loves Simon "Ghost" Riley, tagging is KILLIMG me will update l8er, Internalized Homophobia, Getting Together, see individual chapters for content warnings!, Medical Inaccuracies

Language: English

"There was only so much you could do to a dead man, you see, before he became more of a liability than an advantage. In theory, the idea of not killing Ghost— of keeping him alive, taking him back to the base and torturing all the information they could get out of him was a good one. However, in practice, the issue became more complicated.

Or— Ghost is sent home to recover after being victim to cartel torture, and then Soap shows up."

Side note: there will be added warnings in the notes of the fanfic, so be sure to check those out if mentions of s*xual abuse/r*pe are a trigger for you!

[ajarofjavelins]

hello! i've never actually used tumblr before, but i'm beginning to grow desperate in my search for roleplay partners, specifically in the overwatch fandom!

so, my preferences:

18+ — NO minors.

advanced literate to novella style.

discord preferred.

no nsfw-based roleplays, though in the story is fine.

characters:

i'm willing to try anyone.

ships:

again, willing to try nearly anything with the exception of romantic ships involving orisa, sigma, winston, wrecking ball and echo — though platonic is fine.

despite being open to anything, some i particularly enjoy:

dva / ramattra

max / ramattra

hanzo/cassidy

baptiste / lifeweaver

reaper / mercy

moira / lifeweaver

please don't be shy and feel free to leave a comment if you'd like to start up a roleplay.

writing sample from a fanfic i'm writing:

Our race is only a single generation — finite, and dying all too quickly.

Empty words that had amounted to nothing. So many of his people were dead, scattered throughout the cities they had attempted to claim, their intentions thwarted by the humans who’d had the resilience to not only survive, but to fight back. It should have been easy, and yet…

His head lulled to the side, staring up at the sky. His body had given up a long while ago. Even if he could physically move, Ramattra did not think he’d have the energy to do so. They had done more damage to him than he’d initially thought, and though one could not label him as a poor fighter, having the entirety of Overwatch’s field group coming at him at once had quickly become overwhelming. The old crusader had not hesitated with his hammer, and he could smell the scent of his own blood sticking to his gears. Railguns were not to be trifled with.

His siege was over.

It had been over the moment the last ship had fallen, but in stubborn fashion, the omnic hadn’t admitted defeat until he could no longer stand. Having practically dragged himself to safety, he was left alone with his thoughts, which was crueler than any punishment that the vigilantes could concoct. What had become of his people, the ones who had sought refuge and liberation? Those who had agreed with his ideals without partaking in the violence? Would they be jailed for crimes they did not commit, simply for association? After all, humans did quite enjoy their assumptions.

A soft hiss escaped his mouth, and he wondered exactly how long it would take him to die.

[anorexic-alcazar]

Guide to fanfiction tags

Has anyone ever seen a fic and wondered "hmm I wonder what that tag means?" And then end up getting traumatized halfway through reading? well worry not, here we have the guide to fic tags!

Ps: read certain fics at your own risk on AO3.

—————————————

Fluff- Stories that will have the overall theme ensuring cheerful and lively moods, usually a gentle and peaceful tone set between characters, this category is very wholesome.

Angst- Set in themes of sadness and despair, mainly tragedies such as certain things like character death, depression, miscommunication, etc, things that get the reader on edge or evoke empathy.

Smut- a separate term for porn, contains scenes or detailed descriptions about sex.

Crack fic- fics that are absurd, ridiculous and have the most unexplainable things that happen in them, generally has an illogical plot that doesn’t have correct spelling or grammar sometimes, mostly on purpose written by authors.

AU(Alternate Universe)- Storys where the the plot or setting is deviated away from canon and makes an alternative storyline.

Wlw- Short for "women loving women" particularly used in lesbian romance stories.

Mlm- Short for "men loving men" particularly used in gay romance stories.

A/B/O(Alpha/Beta/omega)- A sub genre of erotic fiction, A trope In which humans have more animalistic traits. This genre is called Omegaverse. Omegaverse is an alternate universe following the hierarchy of wolves. People are divided into 3 categories Alpha, Beta, and Omega. Alphas are the top of society and considered leaders, betas are just about regular humans and on the middle of the hierarchy, Omegas which are last on the hierarchy are at the bottom of the barrel meaning they’re frowned upon by society. This genre is very Kinky and mainly contain a lot of smut.

Modern AU- Fics where characters are placed in a more advanced or futuristic setting instead of their normal setting.

Oneshot- Fics that are one chapter. Usually not related to any other fics the author may have.

OTP(One True Pairing)- A ship between characters that is mainly preferred by the fandom.

OFC(Original Female Character)- An original female character created by the author.

OMC(Original Male character)- An Original male character created by the author.

Y/n- Stands for "your name" and inserts you into the story, this can have many uses as there could be romantic relationships, side characters plot, etc.

X reader- Makes you the main character In the story and involves getting In romantic relationships with characters.

——————————————————

Alright let’s get to the complicated tags

Warning proceed with caution ⚠️🚧

—————————————

Pro ship- notoriously problematic ships for instance MinorxAdult, Incest, Abusive relationships, bestiality, etc.

Non-Con(Non-Consensual)- This refers to non-consensual sex.

Dub-Con(Dubious Consent)- Sex scenarios that lack clear consent, The characters might be enjoying themselves while at It but the circumstances are relatively shady.

Mpreg(Male Pregnancy)- In the instance where a man gets pregnant instead of a woman.

Watersports- *Oh If only watersports was actually related to sports involving water well that isn’t the case here* Watersports in fanfics Imply Sexual activity involving Urination.

Dead dove: do not eat- Fanworks that contain morally reprehensible or unpleasant aspects, A way of an author telling you to read at your own risk.

Vore- A fetish involving consuming of another person.

"Inappropriate use of___"— using items not how they were supposed to be used, mostly used sexually

Oviposition- A kink that involves laying eggs into someone.

Emetophilia- A kink involving vommiting.

Necrophilia- Sexual intercourse or an attraction to dead bodies.

Gun play- Likely involving using guns in a sexual setting.

Knife play- Likely involving using knives in a sexual setting.

🚥🚥🚥🚥🚥🚥🚥🚥🚥🚥🚥🚥

Guys bare with me this my first post

But now with our guide to fanfic tags hopefully no one opens opens up a fic and halfway through realizing "HOLY SHIT I FORGOT THE SCAT KINK TAG" or anything like that

Anyways have a great day.

[uc-fan-events]

Helloooooo! During the uc hiatus, I thought it would be fun to run a event for the fan community, celebrating the podcast we love and the joy we have gained from it, and figured having a side blog for it, and any events that happen in the future, would be a good idea. So here we are!

Wait, who is "we"? Isnt there just one of you?

On this blog, there are two mods: Mod Vic (hi!) and Mod Quill (hello~)!

Hi! I'm Mod Vic, I use they/them pronouns, and you would know me from my main blog @wall-e-gorl, where (amongst other things) ive been drawing fanart and generally fandoming about UC since it started! I'm represented by the sketchbook!

And I'm Mod Quill! I use she/they pronouns, and I run @uc-beepboop. Feel free to check out my main @igniting-quill! I dove into fandom around Arc 8: The King is Dead (my beloved) and haven't looked back. I'm represented by the feather!

I'm confused. What's a fan event?

A fan event is a event run by fans of a thing to boost the amount of fanworks for that thing! Our first event here will be for the whole of Unprepared Casters, but usually fan events are centered around a ship or a character or an au, ect.

As for what an event actually entails, there's usually two types. A Big Bang, where artists and writers sign up in advance and release fics with illustrations on the event date, or a Themed Week, where prompts are shared for each day of the week and anyone can make fanwork for it. Themed weeks are usually promoted before they actually take place, so that people are aware of it and have time to make any fanwork in advance if they want to.

You keep saying fanwork. Is that not just fanart and fanfic?

Fanwork includes art, fic, moodboards, meta, playlists, baked goods, anything and everything that fans are inspired to create!

So this blog is here to do, what exactly?

We'll be hosting and/or promoting any UC-centric fan events that happen, as well as reblogging all the fanwork that is created for the events!

Icebreaker! Mods, what class would you want to be in real life? Level 5, subclass included?

Mod Vic: Rouge 3, Arcane Trickster, Wizard 2, Order of Scribes. I'm cheating a little by doing a multiclass, but as much as I want to be a wizard, I am too much of a rogue to not be one. Lets just say I started as a rogue, found out i could do magic and then decided to focus magic

Mod Quill: Bard, College of Creation. I dunno, I think it'd be cool to make things with my words. I always found that sort of power, when it showed up in media, pretty awesome.

[loosingmoreletters]

1. Thank you and That One Anon for making the English speaking fandom for Weapon Creator!

2. In the name of bullying Yun Taeheon, I need his reaction to Mun Doyun- aka the B rank assassin that was Shin Junseo’s guild leader. Cuz objectively, Yun Taeheon knows a lot can happen in a year and stuff, but also he’s an S-rank leader of a top guild that is willing to give Shin Junseo just about anything and he still cannot recruit him. And then there’s this B-rank nobody (to him) who specifically hired Shin Junseo - as a D rank weapon creator who could only make an average knife every 20 seconds - BC HE HAD A SKILL THAST DESTROYED THE BLADES HE USED. Literally the same reason!! But no, somehow Yun Taeheon is losing this race.

Even better if he somehow gets more backstory or through some time shenanigans he meets the other Mun Doyun, who is basically the reason Shin Junseo is even as good as he is. Like, the reason sjs learned all he could and stuff. Anyway, yth being objectively, obviously on a higher level than this dude and yet still absolutely seething at the very idea of how much he apparently is not measuring up. How do you think that should go?

also, looking at the firsts chapter and think the first chapter and I think Sjs could be the little kid at the very beginning? Meaning that he has grown up in he world of hunters and gates, giving some cool world building to how this is a whole generation of ppl growing up with gates and magic.

However, for the sake of getting more of your sugar daddy au, I am ignoring that. Or maybe it could be incorporated, like- yth was trying to figure out how to ask sjs for just, an actual relationship. And sjs had stopped their contract after signing onto the guild. Extra tension!! Cuz obviously yth wasn’t gonna reach out and be like, “Hey, so that didn’t work out…”

glad to be of service!!!!! taking it from the bottom here, you mean this kid?

Huh! Now that you mention it, that could track! Would be rather interesting too as I'd put this kid somehwere between 8 and 12, which implies dungeons have been a thing for much longer than just a couple of years. Tho I assumed the adult in the next panel was YTH, so hmmm. But also what does this say about the state of his family. where the fuck are they. I need answers. And also I'd love some worldbuilding around growing up in such a world. In SCTIR, one of my fave things is to linger on like, the first weeks after the dungeon breaks. how did legislation change, the government, the way people reacto to this-

"In the name of bullying YTH" man we really all just took a look at this guy, who is probably meant to be like a cool badass character and decided we shall treat him like our sibling's new boyfriend and thus make fun of hinm. huh. god given right to bully the man.

But yeah, do you think YTH assumed just a little bit that SJS had like weird trauma. and also like- okay full confession time. when I started reading this, I assumed this guy would be our love interest second protag. I mean. look at him and SJS reaction to praise

and the way SJS also thinks of this guild in the future memories he receives? a place where he was accepted, found friends, where they kept pushing forward together- Listen. also the way it lingers on MDY's body there. I'm just saying, the vibes are accurate. to me.

Anyway, YTH does have the vibes of somebody who is incredibly understanding but privately also has beef with a dead man. he knows it's unfair and stupid, but also he could buy SJS a god damn pent house apartment. he would. that and any item he wants. actually I just realized while typing this would've been really fucking great to insert into my little soulmate fanfic given I did toss in like one sided bonds existing there. something to consider for the future.

But man, I think it would be interesting if SJS is confronted with him again also in the context of like, SJS not recognizing MDY's brother despite his future memories, which sure has some implication. I told a friend that like my assumption is that Mun Dojin died in the other timeline and I desperately need him and SJS to talk because even if the memories SJS has never actually existed here, that still sort of makes him the only person MDJ can talk to.

actually, man. this would make anything SJS/YTH even funnier. here's your crush. there's your crush's vampire familier and his ex guildmaster's (former bf's??????) little brother. god I need MDJ and Elizabeth to show up more often. slkdfhsldkh sorry got entirely off track here.

OKAY BACK TO SUGAR DADDY AU- I just realized how fucking hilarious this would also be because like. SJS manages to bag one man and it's this big shot guild leader. and instead of signing up with his guild, he goes to these small nobodies. like, it probably just makes sense to SJS. This was a job, now here is another, newer job. Life goes on.

YTH meanwhile is the math meme. Min Huisu told him to get a social life. he paid someone for that, but the guy turns out to be actually cute and fun, so he'd like to have a relationship that is not just superifical. and this guy just. mcfucking signs on to a guild he hasn't even heard of. f in the fucking chat

[pencil-urchin]

Link to AO3

Battle Plans: Prologue (1569 words) by pencil_urchin Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo Additional Tags: Auction, Meet-Cute, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship Series: Part 1 of Battle Plans Summary: Behold! The start of something (hopefully) beautiful! When Thrawn outbids someone at an auction and is followed by that someone after leaving, his confrontation of his stalker does not go as expected!

AAAH! I finally am doing it! I'm starting down the path of finally sharing my Thrawn x Iria fanfic! Please be gentle, I have not written in several years because I have been focused on my MFA thesis, and I have not shared work in nearly a decade!

Thrawn raised the number card he'd been given at the start of the auction and the auctioneer raised the bid appropriately, once more putting him in the lead for the carved soapstone-and-jade tablet he had come to obtain. His career has come with a sizable series of pay raises, and though he generally reserved his financial resources for necessities or personal projects, his love of art was the one indulgence he allowed himself with next to no restraint.

"I have twenty-thousand credits from the gentleman in the green sunglasses," the auctioneer called. "Do I have twenty-five? Twenty-five thousand credits to raise the bid!"

A dark-haired woman sitting down the aisle from Thrawn raised her numbered placard, and Thrawn briefly caught a glimpse of her beneath the sensible cloche and neutrally brown tweed coat that concealed her body. She had a graceful profile, a sharp chin and curved jaw that led to her adorned ears. Though she too wore glasses, he could tell her skin was a liminal shade between the blue of a warm sea and the green of a stormy sky, and there were angular black patterns on the side of her face that he could see.

"Do I have thirty-thousand?"

Thrawn raised his placard.

"Thirty thousand from the gentleman again! How about it, pretty lady? Do we have thirty-five?" the woman scowled but raised her placard.

Thrawn made up his mind, standing with his placard raised casually.

"Make it fifty-thousand," he said confidently, watching the woman's response as he offered what turned out to be the closing bid. Her mouth dropped open, and she turned to look directly at him in her seat. Her shock became a scowl and she seemed to be clenching her jaw in restrained fury.

"Sold for fifty-thousand to the gentleman!" The auctioneer gestured. The audience clapped politely, though some gave him odd looks as he swept out of his seat and toward the back of the hall to meet the handlers and pay his bid. As he expected, the woman turned to watch him as he did so, and continued staring at him from behind dark lenses. He collected his parcel and turned to leave just as she rose to follow him out.

Thrawn walked slowly enough for her to keep him in sight, but not so slowly that she could catch up easily. He wove through the evening crowd and she wove with equal deftness, feigning nonchalance and stopping to observe a menu in a window when he glanced back at her. Thrawn led the woman for a few blocks, to a less-trafficked part of town, and turned down an alleyway he knew to be a dead end.

As expected, within two minutes, the woman turned into the alleyway after him, and froze when she saw him waiting patiently, arms crossed over his broad chest, parcel tucked beneath his arm.

"Good evening, madam," he said politely. "May I inquire as to the nature of your pursuit of me? Or rather, your pursuit of this item?"

The woman recovered from her surprise, clenching her fists in determination.

"I mean no disrespect, sir," she said in a carefully measured voice. "I need that tablet."

"And what was your plan? To follow me, attack me, and take it?" Thrawn asked with a mildly sardonic tone.

The woman took a deep breath, sliding her glasses off and hooking them in her collar.

"Not at all," she said. "My plan was to ask very nicely."

Thrawn's brows rose at this suggestion.

"Indeed?"

The woman came forward and extended a hand, which he took and shook gently. She was a Mirialan woman, perhaps mid-thirties, with sensible clothes beneath her coat that indicated she had likely come from her workplace.

"I am doing this wrong, I apologize," she said, sounding weary. "I am Doctor Iria-sofa M'enaan, lead research expert in the collected languages from the system's historical societies. I specialize in the way ancient warfare influenced and continues to influence social mores, cultural evolution, creative outlets, and how these things in turn impact the development of warfare in ancient cultures."

Thrawn felt his lips spring apart in genuine surprise.

"You're the Doctor M'enaan?" he asked with perhaps more interest than he generally cares to express. "I am deeply honored, no, privileged to meet you, Doctor. I have read all of your work."

The woman laughed, "Oh, I hope not! Some of my work is quite…well, fringe is the polite term in academia. And whom, may I ask, do I have the honor of stalking?"

Releasing her hand, Thrawn doffed his glasses and threw back the hood of his cloak. He bowed slightly to her.

"I am Grand Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo, of the Imperial Navy," he said clearly, aware that most could not repeat his full name, but returning the formality with which she had introduced herself.

"Oh!" she clasped a hand over her mouth excitedly. "Mitth'raw'nuruodo! We've corresponded via the holo-net! You asked for resources to offer more insight to several outer-rim cultures relevant to a project you were working on!"

She spoke his name flawlessly, and he found he rather liked the sound of it. Imperial denizens so rarely even considered anything but his core name, and it had been too long since he'd heard it from anyone except the emperor (and Eli, if he was "in trouble" with the younger man).

"This is so amazing!" Doctor M'enaan laughed. "Would you–would care to get a drink or coffee, or dinner or whatever? I'd love to talk to you more! And not just about that!" She nodded to the parcel under his arm.

Thrawn found himself smiling.

"I believe I would enjoy that very much, Doctor. I believe we have much to discuss," he said.

As they walked back to the busier part of town, Thrawn donned his disguise once more, and Doctor M'enaan looked at him with a crooked smile.

"You know that's a fashion disaster, right?" she asked.

Thrawn pursed his lips, "Not at all. It's quite stylish."

The woman laughed and they came to a halt beside a high-end clothing store while they waited for traffic to shift in their favor. Looking over at him, she opened her mouth to reply and her jaw dropped.

"You have got to be joking!" she cried incredulously. Thrawn raised a curious eyebrow and she pointed behind him, into the display window.

Where three mannequins each wore what was undeniably a different variation on Thrawn's very attire. He found himself letting out a full-throated bark of a laugh and pulled his datapad out from beneath his cloak.

"Doctor, might I request a favor? I need you to take a photo of me beside this display. For purely professional reasons, of course."

Doctor M'enaan laughed and took the datapad, snapping the requested picture.

"Oh, no no no!" an elderly woman passing by tutted at her. "Get over there in the picture, Missy!" The two were surprised as Iria was jostled over to Thrawn, and the old woman barked out orders with all the authority of a drill-sergeant that both obeyed without question. "There, now, put your arm around her shoulders! Tuck your hair back, Missy! That's right! Get closer! Turn towards him a little–yes, like that! Okay! Smile and one-two-three!"

The woman took a photo and handed the tablet to Thrawn.

"That's more like it," she said with a smile. "Quite the handsome couple, if I do say so myself! Have a pleasant evening!"

And with that, she shuffled off into the night.

Thrawn looked down at his datapad and was surprised to see that the impromptu forced photo was actually quite beautiful. The lights around them created a bokeh effect, and they looked like fashion models posing for a romantic cover photo. It wasn't his usual preference, but Thrawn found it warmed something inside him.

"That was certainly…an experience," Doctor M'enaan commented awkwardly. "I'm sorry about that, I can't believe she thought we were a couple!"

Thrawn showed her the image.

"If this is what she saw, I cannot say I am surprised by her misinterpretation of our acquaintance," he said, finding that the confusion didn't bother him at all, but rather finding it amusing in some way he couldn't define.

"Wow!" Doctor M'enaan exclaimed, looking at his datapad. "I can't believe that's us. Well, you always look like a model when I see your photos in the news, but I'm not used to looking…pretty."

Thrawn politely glossed over her comment about his appearance but found himself suddenly self-conscious, hoping he lived up to her preconceived opinion of it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, "Your author photos always look splendid. Now, where were we before you mistakenly mocked my sense of fashion?"

Doctor M'enaan's facial heat increased as she blushed at his words.

"I believe we were about to sit down somewhere quiet so I could convince you to donate your newly-acquired piece to my research," she said with a bright smile. "And since you're the only person I've ever met who seems as interested in my research as I am, I also wanted to pick your brain about…well…everything!"

"That sounds delightful," Thrawn said, offering his arm to the doctor. She took it with a smile. "Doctor, I hope you don't mind my saying this so soon, but I do hope this is the start of a deeply-satisfying partnership."

***

Notes: I am relatively new to the fandom and have only read the Thrawn trilogy (not ascendancy, or the duology, or the legends books) so my presentation of information may be incomplete, but please bear with me as I learn and continue to write! I looked up USD to Imperial Credits and the info I found put it at 1 USD per 4 Credits, so while I have absolutely pulled these numbers out of my ass, I tried to base them in something sensible :P

[dulcewrites]

Whole different type of delusion that I see in this fandom is how helaemond shippers act. All they say is everyone should support Helaena cheating on her unfaithful husband because if you someone doesn't, it's misogynistic, but when you mention Alicent having sex with Criston in season 2 they are furious and say Alicent is not Rhaenyra to sleep around 😂

For them it's like helaemond makes sense because Helaena was smarter than Rhaenyra so no one knew Aemond's the father.

And then when you point out they behave exactly like daemyra stans they are surprised 😂

I knew Alys will be hated in fandom because of 2 things. By Blacks because she was better Queen at Harrenhall than Rhaenyra was for 6 months time and Alys have no supporters and no dragon and no Aemond by her side because he was dead then. And by Greens because she is the opposite of Alicent and Helaena who are stuck and doomed and living in the cage.

But the one truly doomed is in fact Alys. She is lowborn bastard and women, so she means nothing and can be used by her family as they please. And yet she survives and makes the best out of Dance. All without any political machinations, she just took power over Harrenhall and no one took it away from her. If this isn't the best character of this show I don't know who may be.

I think in general people in this fandom, and this is something I must remind myself as well, need to program their brains to stop relating every single thing that happens to a woman in this story to a man. Especially romantically

It is pretty clear that one major point at the base of hotd is patriarchy and how way men often use the girls/women in their lives as pawns or martyrs. Whether people think it was well done or not is their choice, but it is clearly there. That conversation I get, and think we need to have. But the way people are so hellbent on ‘pairing’ women in this story with someone, specifically men, can get exhausting.

Why is the most horrid thing that happens in the dance, something that fundamentally breaks Helaena as a person turned into an argument to either uplift/tear down Aegon or Aemond?? Why is her taking her own life out of grief and fear about her brother(s)???

Why does Alicent, someone who clearly has been through sexual trauma in her life at the hands of men - someone who already has creepy psychosexual relationships with men in her life, have to sleep with criston?? Hell, why does criston someone that’s been taken advantage of by nobility (depending on how you read that scene in ep 4) have to sleep with Alicent, his queen???

If Helaena wants to be unfaithful to her husband, I will support her bc Aegon is not a good husband lmao. But the idea she needs to be with her brother, and he had those kids with her is… very odd to me. I don’t see it and idc if that makes me a hater. In general, I think people’s insistence on taking one of the few targ characters that doesn’t have incest as a major footnote in his story (Aemond) and making him into someone he isn’t, is annoying.

People (rightfully) point out how horrible targaryen girls/women are treated but then perpetuate the one thing that has led to many targ women’s downfall: The idea that they are property to the men in their family.

As for alys, she was going to be hated on several reasons : 1. Ageism (people call show and book Alicent a hag despite show Alicent being in her 30s and book Alicent being in her 40s). 2. The fact that aemond is now the fandom fanfic bike aka he gets ridden/shipped with everyone and him having a canon love interest pisses people off. 3. Low born or bastard born women get treated very differently by the fanbase than their male counterparts. 4. The murky relationship between her and Aemond. Now as someone who is excited to see where they take alysmond, even I can understand why people may put off by it. First you have the age difference on the side of her taking advantage of him. Especially now that in the show it has been implied Aemond delt with his own s.a. But by the time they meet, Aemond is Prince Regent. Clearly in a position of power over her. It is dubious and it’s ok to point that out.

But I’m sure as hell not gonna be reprimanded by daemrya or helaemond shippers on that. They clearly don’t give a shit about what is above board 💀💀. At at the very least, every alysmond shipper I’ve personally come across is very open and clear about alys and Aemond’s relationship, and the possible stipulations. I can’t say the same for the other two camps.

Every woman in this story, nobility or low born, has been through shit. That’s the whole point and the bitch of patriarchy. It affects every woman to a certain degree. Of course someone like Rhaenyra or Alicent has lived a very different life than Alys, and that needs to pointed out. All women are not on equal playing field. But all of them have been trapped or stuck at one point or another. How these women maneuver this world is important because of how differently each live, which is why it is dumb when people advocate for their stories to be cut (Sara, nettles, alys). These characters being vehemently hated by ANYONE is weird asf to me.

I enjoy team green, I write for team green, but people take this ‘team’ stuff too seriously sometimes. Well.. when it comes to the women. The male characters can get it lmao. I personally don’t like the rhetoric around how most women in story get spoken about. People are so focused on whose winning or shipping that the point of the story gets lost. And frankly regurgitating the same points and arguments sucks the fun out a show…shame. If people hate everything about it or have to make up crazy theories for it to work… just don’t watch 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

[muffinmonstah-art]

Tell me why and how SasoSaku. Sell me the ship.

Oh, that’s an interesting challenge. I’ve made a post a few days ago about how freaking weird it is for me that there’s a new audience following me mainly for my western comics’ fanart, but those of them who are also familiar with Naruto and it’s characters, don’t know my SasoSaku headcanons, or don’t care about the ship in general. I have had an established fanbase for so long that followed me for this ship that I guess no one ever asked me “why and how” about the ship. But I think this is the perfect time to introduce new audiences to my vast, long SasoSaku lore. They are the core ship of this account. They are the main topic of the only longfic I own. They have their own month dedicated to them. I’ve made a vow to myself that no matter how tempting it is for me to write my first fanfic in English for other fandoms, I wouldn’t do that until I can translate Definiciones Torcidas to English.

So, welcome to my first essay attempt. Why do I ship SasoSaku, and why it’s so important to me. -Feel free to throw rotten tomatoes at me if I fail at explaining myself-

I think I should split this explanation into two main points:

The canon material that every SasoSaku fan quotes to showcase the ship’s potential. And in second place, my personal story/headcanon/established universe for the ship that exists separately from other people’s headcanons.

The canon material

To be honest, this part is kinda boring to me after so many years. The base it’s always the same since these two characters only interacted on one arc of the story. Quick summary for everyone reading this introduction and it’s not familiar with the source material: There’s a two-year timeskip. The main characters got split during said time skip and they have a rescue mission right after they get back together (Three of them get back together, Sakura, Naruto and Kakashi. Sasuke has left their village before the time skip on bad terms. He follows his own path of revenge, and when Gaara’s rescue arc happens, his location is still unknown).

Side Note # 1: I’m very much a Naruto hater. I think after this first arc, the quality of the story does nothing more than go down and down to the very bottom. I’ll try not to fulfill this essay with my complaints and rants about Kishimoto as a writer and his creation, and will try to focus on the task at hand, which is Sasori and Sakura and their canon interactions. But I think my overall critical perspective adds some context to my analysis.

 Back to the story, we are introduced to Sasori as a genius puppet master, the greatest one the Sand Village have ever given to the world. But he is a member of Akatsuki, the terrorist organization that kidnapped Gaara (The Sand Village’s leader - Kazekage - ). In fact, it’s both Sasori and Deidara who are given that kidnap mission. Deidara fights against Gaara and wins. Sasori does nothing during these first events. In fact, Sasori is presented as a mysterious, monster figure that just lies in the background while Deidara kidnaps Gaara. Basic trait of them both: they are artists. Sasori believes art is eternal, that’s why he created tons of puppets that can endure through time. Deidara believes art is ephemeral, that’s why his techniques are based on explosive clay figures of all sizes and forms. He blows things up, he can even blow himself up if the situation requires it. We see them fight a lot about their visions of art. Sasori threatens to kill Deidara a few times.

By the time Sakura, Naruto and Kakashi arrive at the Sand Village to help, they team up with Chiyo, a wise elder who is also Sasori’s grandmother. She has some other background story involving Kakashi’s father, who killed Sasori’s parents in the past but that is never explored. It doesn’t matter. She learns her grandson is a criminal that is behind this terrorist act so she goes with the group to help. 

This is the important part. By the time they track Gaara, they find him already dead. Akatsuki wanted the Racoon beast that was sealed inside Gaara’s body. These things are called bijuus. There’s nine of them. Naruto has the Kyuubi, aka the Nine tails fox beast sealed inside him. Once they extract the bijuu from Gaara, he dies. The encounter happens, the heroes learn they were too late, Naruto is furious. Deidara decides he’s going to take down Naruto so he leaves the scene flying above one of his giant clay birds with Gaara’s body. Naruto follows him, Kakashi goes too. 

So… Chiyo stays with Sakura and they are going to team up and fight against Sasori.

I forgot, Might Guy’s team is also present on this arc. They go as reinforcements to help against the Akatsuki. But they don’t matter. You could cut them and little to zero would change. I don’t think they are well integrated into this arc.

I think the fight is pretty good. 

See, Sakura suffers from being a main female character in a story written by a male writer who has NO CLUE how to write female characters. For that, she’s very unlikable during part one. Superficial, selfish, and with little to no focus on her. Besides of that, much of what she does is related to one of the most nasty romantic subplots I’ve ever read in fiction. Her rivalry with Ino (her ex-best friend) which should serve to create some empathy with the reader and make her a deeper character, achieves the opposite result when we learn early in the series that Ino was her role model, the one that saved her from bullying, and Sakura chose to cut ties with her after she discovered they both had a crush on Sasuke. None of them have had an actual conversation with him, they just think he’s hot. 

But hey, much of this can still be forgiven when we consider Sakura is 12-13 years old in part one, and she is one of the few characters living in the ninja world that has living parents. We are shown through many characters on this series that being a ninja = dying on a mission and that results in many traumatized orphan children left behind. And the last time we saw Sakura before the time skip, she promised to Naruto she was gonna get stronger. I think this arc FINALLY delivers on that regard. Chiyo and Sakura make a fantastic team against Puppet Boy.

She has super-strength now and has medical abilities like her teacher, Tsunade. (Another thing that annoys the shit out of me is… Why does Kakashi ignoring Sakura in favor of Naruto and Sasuke, to the point that she had to learn from another teacher is never brought up in the story? Anyway, moving on.)

Chiyo explains the Sasori we see is not the real one. That’s Hiruko, one of his many puppets. The real one is hidden inside Hiruko. So, they make a plan to take him out of Hiruko:

He’s all cute and young, hasn’t aged a day since he left the Sand Village 20 years ago. (Meaning, Sasori is 35 years old by the time this fight is happening. Sakura is 15).

How can it be? No time for answers. Sasori summons his most lethal weapon: The Third Kazekage.

We are told the Third Kazekage disappeared a long time ago, no one has any idea what happened to him. It’s implied Sasori may have kidnapped him and killed him, turning him into his human puppet. The thing is, Sasori’s real technique and the reason why he is considered an ultimate genius is that he created this grotesque, unique process to turn humans into puppets, preserving the bloodline special powers they had in life. In this case, the Third Kazekage had the natural ability of Iron Sand. Meaning he could create metallic sand and form metallic giant geometrical things to use as weapons. Badass, am I right?

This is when the fight really happens. Sasori mentioned he was Orochimaru’s companion in Akatsuki before Orochi left the organization. Sakura associates Orochimaru with Sasuke, because the latter left the village to gain power and knowledge from Orochi himself.

This little interaction right here picked many people’s interest back in the day. Including me. Sakura’s goal is not just to defeat him. She wants him to tell her what he knows about Orochimaru. Yeah, she’s thinking about Sasuke but finally having her interacting with other characters beside the nasty crush is fresh for her. Finally we got her on a serious and committed mode, and the Sasuke thing is not even romantic here, because the main theme of the arc is her promise to Naruto about being stronger and useful. It’s to give closure to her little arc.

The fierceness in the way she talks here is just something we didn’t get to see to this point. Kishimoto just did not use her for anything else than a pairing fodder and crybaby for so long that it’s gratifying to see this warrior face of her without the other two annoying boys around. It’s great that a character like Sasori makes her be the best version of herself she has been so far, and without even trying. It’s also hilarious how he ignores her in a bored way and throws kunais at her.

Chiyo stops his attack by summoning Sasori’s parents puppets. They’re not human puppets. Sasori created these puppets back when he was a child to not feel lonely.

Side Note # 2: We’re not shown anything more than this about Sasori’s background. Everything else is speculation, including if he was a baby when his parents died, or if he was already old enough to understand what happened. 

Moving on.

Side Note #3: The way he grabs Sakura with robes to keep her trapped on a poisonous cloud while Chiyo tries to pull her back with her chakra threads looks hot to me, lmao.

“Oh, how can you say that when he’s trying to kill her?”

Number one, he does not care about her. He doesn’t know her. He just fights her because of circumstances. He’s just being practical. Number two, it’s only used to make her look badass one second later:

She makes an explosion of her own to dissipate the poisonous cloud and free herself.

Look at his face though. He is impressed. They’re enemies, he is 20 years older than her. He has tons of experience in combat. And him complimenting her skills continues to happen during this fight.

Side Note # 4: Even if I like this fight and personally consider this arc to be the end of the series, lmao, I have a problem with THIS

He makes iron spikes to crush them both separately, TWICE. Until they cannot use the chakra shields from the puppets to protect themselves. The shields get useless after one use because the iron sand invades them from the inside by contact. So… why doesn’t he use the same technique a third time? Just throw spikes at them again. 

But he can’t do that because he would have won. The end.

So what does Kishimoto do instead?

He makes Sasori create geometrical giant things for Sakura to crash with no problem. For no reason. Why? Why does he change his strategy so suddenly? Because is plot convenient.

Dumb. Makes me angry. Moving on.

The cave crashes because of the constant hitting, so they are now fighting in the daylight. Sasori creates a giant web of iron sand, that covers everything so they cannot escape. Sakura gets hit, Chiyo ends up trapped under a rock and it turns out, the iron sand was poisoned too this whole time. Sakura falls on the ground, Sasori laughs, feeling like he already won. He commands the Third Kazekage to give her the killing blow and…

She used an antidote she crafted during her time on the Sand Village, while she was curing useless Kankuro from Sasori’s poison, and faked being about to die so she could be close to the puppet to crash it.

I didn’t mention it, but this doesn’t come out of nowhere. Kankuro, Gaara’s older brother, tries to fight Sasori first to rescue his baby brother. Sasori kicks his ass and leaves him to die from his poison. Sakura cures him when she arrives to the village and keeps some antidote with her the whole time.

SHE DESTROYED HIS MAGNUM OPUS AND LOOK AT HIM. HE IS JUST IMPRESSED LMAO.

This is the moment we learn why he looks so young. He has turned himself into a human puppet, with the exception of one compact living tissue he keeps on his chest.

I’m gonna speed up from now on. The fight is still good. He uses 100 more puppets he controls with chakra threads from his chest. Chiyo uses 10 puppets, one with each finger of her hands. Sakura uses her punches. In the end it seems they could trap Sasori inside one of Chiyo’s chakra special tools but it was just his body. The living tissue escaped and migrated to another body at the last moment. He uses the confusion to try and stab his grandma from the back, but Sakura saves her by putting herself on the line of the blow.

I think it is hot how he is just that careless and continues to mess with her, like he isn’t almost out of resources at this point. Again, they’re fighting a fair duel. Everyone is giving their best and this whole scene is just to portray Sakura in a heroic way.

He continues to be impressed with her skills. Nothing to add, it’s just great.

Speeding up to the resolution of the encounter.

Chiyo and Sakura are both fighting against Sasori’s poison by this point. There’s just one antidote. Chiyo gives it to Sakura and Sasori laughs at his grandma for this.

Look, if there’s one spiteful, resentful reaction from Sasori during this fight it’s not against Sakura, but against Chiyo. We’re not shown their history together. We just know Chiyo raised him after his parents’ death and taught him to be a puppet master just like her. He created a lot of puppets while he lived in the Sand Village and, at 15 years old, he left. We know his mind became twisted enough that he started turning humans into puppets so I think it’s easy to assume Chiyo was a terrible parental figure and failed to keep him from following a dark path. And I like Chiyo, she’s easily the best female character Kishimoto ever created.

When Sasori tries to make the killing blow against Sakura, Chiyo uses Mom and Dad to stab him on his living tissue. 

Sasori now is about to die. Chiyo does not have an antidote, so she’s also agonizing. This is when a bullshit plot convenient moment happens. Despite having an antidote for Sasori’s poison, Sakura is about to die from the blood loss. She falls to the ground and Chiyo cures her with a forbidden technique she has been developing over the last years to turn inanimate puppets into living beings. She tells Sasori she planned to use it to give life to Mom and Dad as a gift for him. You’re still a terrible caretaker, but this is cute. 

Chiyo explains the price for reviving someone with that technique is to lose her life, but since Sakura is just unconscious, this is not enough to kill her. The reason for this technique to exist is to revive Gaara at the end of the arc, a happy ending for everyone except grandma Chiyo. It 's not subtle.

His indifference towards life moves her, makes her angry. Makes her care. He’s about to die, she knows that. But she still cares enough to have an emotional reaction to his words. To question his views in life. This makes me frustrated to no end. Why put an effort on making these characters have some type of exchange about their views on life if this is not going to matter? This had potential.

I must repeat myself. This is personal to Sakura, she is angry but she is almost trying to understand why he thinks that way. It’s alien to her but she has empathy. Sasori just answers honestly, like he doesn’t understand the human aspect of the question. It’s one of the last times the dilemma between Ninjas are tools vs Ninjas are more than tools makes itself present in this story. Like many other themes, it gets abandoned eventually because the writing of this series is dumb, and this interaction, while interesting, does not mean anything in the long run… 

BUT SO MUCH POTENTIAL. To me it looks like Sakura would have tried to make him change his mind or show him what she learned back in the Land of Waves on the Zabuza arc, that ninjas are more than tools. 

Chiyo stops the yelling by telling her Sasori is this way because of the traditions and culture of the Sand Village. So, these ninja villages are fascist places that brainwash their citizens to make them heartless tools that serve the interest of feudal lords and rich warlords. Sasori is not a deviant, it’s a product of the system… Another topic that will never be addressed again. Pathetic.

This is the last thing we see that can make us see the potential on the ship. Sasori is the one to bring up the information about Orochimaru to Sakura. He says “I'll do something pointless for you” just as earlier he was mocking the emotional impulse of Sakura as “Women like to do useless things.” The phrasing is curious.

And like that, he gives her information as a gift. Just because he felt like it. He had to be moved by what she did or said in any way to make this decision. Even if he only respected her as a worthy rival. It 's great.

As a last information before we jump to Deidara, Kakashi and Naruto, Chiyo says this: "Sasori saw my last attack... but... Somehow, he couldn't avoid it. It gave him a small opening..."

Sasori chose to die. I don’t know why Kishimoto did this other than to show Sasori as hyper-competent until the end. Even after all these years I’m still not sure if I like this or not. I guess this proves he really wasn’t that interested in remaining on Akatsuki and finishing his task. 

So this is the canon material. I think I covered most of it. But as I said before, this is just the base of everything. With the years, I have built my own thing from this. So I’m not your devoted fan that continues to revisit this fight over and over again. Far from it. For me it’s just the starting point.

Side Note #5: I stopped caring about this series from this point on. Starting with the next arc, I consider Sakura to be nothing more than a disappointing piece of filler, and sometimes just a plot device to showcase her male comrades as more competent or more virtuous/evil when Kishimoto needs it. She has very underwhelming “shining” moments from here and there, but she is not a main character anymore. She doesn’t have another arc or motivation after this either. What a perfect point to deviate from canon and build my own thing, right?

My personal story/headcanon/established universe for the ship

Now I can dive into the juicy part.

Back in the 2012’s, my boyfriend and I were going through a tough time in our relationship. He moved to the capital city, in another province to start university. I started university too. We were so young, so full of doubts and fear.  It’s natural to feel intimidated and anxious when you move apart from your loved ones for your studies. Being together long distance was the only option for us, really. We had been together since we were in school, in the same class and we were very close. Still the fear of a break up was latent because long distance relationships are hard as hell. Statistics say the majority of long distance affairs do not last.

I came up with the idea of writing a story together when we had our Skype weekly reunions. To pass the time, to have something to entertain ourselves and not miss each other even more than we already did. I already was a SasoSaku shipper so I said “let’s write a SasoSaku fic together, you write Sasori, I write Sakura and we take turns to write the rest of the characters according to what the story needs”. He accepted and like that, Definiciones Torcidas was born.

The fic is in Spanish, our mother language, but back in 2017’s SasoSaku month, I made a short fan-comic in English that serves as the prologue for our fic. You can check it out here.

The premise of the fic was basically this: “What happens if Sakura, following an irrational impulse, does not let Sasori die at the end of the fight?” and more important than that, “What if we try to exploit the age difference between them to develop every single one of their dynamics and interactions?” 

That was the start, and we took the project very seriously. We wrote Sakura as an inexperienced girl who had little to no experience on making difficult decisions and seeing the complexity of the world. There’s little to nothing explored about her in canon to know her views on anything, but we worked with the pro Konoha propaganda the author seems to spoon feed us constantly as a start. Konoha does terrible fucked up shit like murdering children from a clan to avoid a coup and using other villages with little to no military force as war zones for money and power. But still they’re depicted as the good guys. Sakura starts the story by being a Konoha brainwashed tool on her speech and actions.

Sasori and Sakura have a second encounter in the wilderness around Konoha’s territory after she saved his life, and canonically after she and her team came back from Orochimaru’s hideout and Sasuke walked off again. During that brief encounter, Sasori just asks what she wanted from him and she cannot answer. She gets nervous and defensive pretty fast. Sasori demands to know if someone else gave her the order of sparing his life but does not believe her words when she tells him that’s not true. It’s a tense start. Sakura leaves telling him to piss off and use his second chance in life to not start trouble, knowing he is not part of Akatsuki anymore. Sasori is very frustrated by his new status as a fugitive from the nations and Akatsuki, he even threatens to make some public terrorist attempt to make the public know he is alive, out of desperation because the irrationality of Sakura’s actions do not make sense in his mind. 

Sakura does not believe him, because that would alert Akatsuki that he is alive. But still, she leaves feeling terrible because she believes Sasori is mentally unstable.

She keeps what she did a secret, and cannot stop thinking about how her actions may put Konoha in danger. She ends up making up her mind that she needs to find him before he leaves the territory, and finish him for good.

My boyfriend put a lot of effort by crafting Sasori’s mind and views as pragmatic and not resistant to changes. He decided Akatsuki was not a safe option for him anymore, so he left. He has no weaponry, no way to contact his spies, no purpose in life, but he can recover. Start again. Evolve as an artist. He just sees Sakura’s resistance to listen to him as stupid and a waste of potential. He also leaves feeling frustrated. A few days later, when Sakura finds him again, by following the clues he left behind while trying to create a poison arsenal again (cut herbs, a dead opened snake, etc), he is not that surprised about hearing she comes to finish him again.

It was a fun combat to write. Sakura is out of focus, she tries to hit but she really does not show the templance and cold mind she demonstrated in their first fight. Sasori messes with her constantly. He says she is a stupid brat, she could accept his offer of an alliance or working together at Konoha’s back. But Sakura is fully committed to prove herself she’s loyal to Konoha. Nothing else matters. His mind games are starting to affect her, though. She becomes more aimless, more distracted, more confused. Sasori does not waste the chance he had created and uses his poison and the cutting blades on his disposal to make her lose the fight. The intention is very clear, he wants to see the broken will in her eyes. Something that reads as “I should have accepted his offer”. In the deep of his mind, he is resentful because he couldn't have an eternal, unbreakable will. In their first fight, he could have won but he had a weak mind and instead chose to die in the last second. He wants to prove she is not different from him. That people are all the same, they all show their will is not unbreakable at the doors of death. Only eternity matters.

But that doesn't happen. Sakura spits on his face and tells him to go to hell. She tries to hit him one last time but she’s really hard on drugs by that point, so she fails. Sasori is really, really impressed by the end. He won, but still it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right because he just saw an eternal will being showcased in front of his eyes. And according to his definitions… that’s art… that’s beautiful.

Sakura opens her eyes, hours later. She finds out she is bandaged and there’s no more poison nor drugs on her body. She was treated, by who? She sits on the ground and she sees Sasori watching her. He answers coldly that indeed, he saved her.

It’s pure irony that now, Sakura is the one that demands answers and Sasori is cold honesty by saying he couldn’t let her die because she carries beauty with her. He does not give it more importance than that. “I allowed beauty to exist. The end.”

Sakura feels disgusted, she cannot understand those motives. She tells him he should have let her die, so she shouldn’t have to face her defeat with her village. Sasori just laughs and says if she wants to die, she can try by herself, he’s just not going to help with that. He considers himself to be an outsider of the system by this point, a player that uses the system in his favor. So he cannot stop mocking her for her nationalism.

Sakura starts crying and tries to step up to hit him but she falls against his chest. She cannot make herself look him into the eye. She 's furious, humiliated. Sasori does not do anything other than lean to her ear and say “This is why I let you live”. 

So he leaves her to cry and defeat. He believes he did the right thing. He’s at peace with his personal values… for the most part. From this moment there’s gonna be what he describes to be a “losing piece” inside his mind, that he cannot name nor accommodate. He’s going to meditate a lot, and try to find himself again on his artistic path.

During her loneliness in that remote forest, Sakura realizes she woke up in a smoother place than the dirty ground. She goes back to her waking point and discovers Sasori’s black travel tunic. He just left her another clue to find him with one of Kakashi’s ninja hounds. They’re gonna meet again. And the chaos of their interactions and getting to change each other’s perspective on things has just begun. The story is +60 chapters so it’s a slowburn construction of their relationship.

We started publishing it in 2013 on ff.net and not only we put a lot of effort and hours of our lives into crafting that story. But the publication process also coincided with a turbulent time in our relationship. We had to adapt to being apart for most part of the year. Seeing each other on vacations, dealing with communication issues while we were apart from each other, emotional problems and tough shit. We were still growing into mature adults. We had many childish behaviors that were hurting ourselves and each other. So, while Sasori and Sakura’s relationship progressed on paper, our relationship grew and matured in real life. We ended up putting so much of our experiences, thoughts, fears, learnings on these two characters, that, even if they are fictional creations separated from us and that have their own arcs on their own fictional universe, have become like a reflection of our relationship. 

Sasori ends up calling Sakura by her first name in chapter 17 for the first time. They are having a heated argument for the 10th time about how Sakura does not trust him to not go into a murderous rampage while trying to understand what’s different about himself, when she suddenly says “How can I believe you see me as a person, when you have never called me by my name? I have a name, you know?”

He shuts up, tries to cool down a second, and says “Sakura Haruno… that’s your name.”

She starts trusting him a little more after that.

My partner also wanted to add his piece to this essay. Quoting his message from last night:

“If I were to explain it in a short version.

We wrote a fic in which we contrasted a young Sakura with little experience in the real world, who lived her entire life being fed only by pro-konoha propaganda and we made her share time with a supposedly dead Sasori, who is without any ally but who has a lot of experience about the world. There’s not a romantic context between them initially.

We made Sakura learn from the grays of morality and reality, and from there we progressed the characters over a long time in-universe to the point where Sasori is giving space in his existence to things other than his art (because he can't practice it anymore) and Sakura is becoming a Root spy (because the Konoha tale is no longer bought by her).

And from there, the ship happens.”

Side Note #6: My boyfriend and I are working together on a BruDick fan-comic. So the BruDick fans, and DC fandom are going to have a first hand grasp of our cooperative work in English!