#that apparently my posts could possibly even make someone like one of my favourite ships

[officersnickers]

Hi i see you love my post about isabella being a dentist to her kids. Thank you so much :D Also i would like to give a bit of a brainstorming and answering your questions based on my opinions/theories Personally for me when i was a kid losing a tooth is not as disturbing one would think especially when you have a parent like isabella who assures you that it will grow back because you are still a child and it will not hurt because your teeth are not permanent yet. (i experienced many of my teeth being pulled due to tooth decay when i was young) but again its my opinion and experience. I'm not invalidating you or anything. I'm sorry if i did. (plus isabella can be manipulative at times and would bribe her kids with rewards) other question - are the kids vaccinated? while it is possible that they have doctors in the tpn world that does not mean they live in the same time and mindset as us. I believe My answer would be no. There's no viruses like covid in the tpn world. Just simple sickness like colds. Plus they live in a different time and "safe" isolated area. what happens when someone needs an operation? ok this is a tricky one. I believe it would depend on what part of the body that needs a surgery. They will either give the kids an operation while they are babies to cure whatever disease they got or give the baby to the demons. They can't risk the kids finding out the dark truth. Meaning very very few people will go the the orphanage.

but what if the kid needs surgery when they are no longer babies?

I can imagine the mamas make sure the kids eat on time, drink 8 or more glasses a day, sleep on time, and many health procedures. So chances of that happening are rarely. but when they do, they will probably get shipped out or the mama will be the one doing the surgery. who knows Maybe they will send a doctor?????? idk what do you think?

First of all, thank you for giving such a great analyses! It was a pleasure to further think about your takes.

Talking (and apparently writing) about The Promised Neverland, one of my favourite hobbies ^^ I‘m delighted to see my little babbling in the tags made the gears in your head spin and twist and even resulted in a further analyses!

Surely, a child loosing a tooth is something truly natural and normal; still, even as a kindergarten teacher, seeing some teeth hanging on their dear life in a childrens mouth is giving me nightmares, for sure 😨🦷

Surely Isabella would have found a way by the events of the series to make the procedure less stress- and painful, so the children would have no second thought than to come to her when they will start loosing their teeth (if they grow old enough for this event to happen). Surely, the headquarters showed the sisters and Mamas to be how to deal with children loosing their teeth – however they did this – and Isabella has surely seen worse by now than a bleeding gap in a children‘s gum.

Are the children vaccinated – you said probably no, I would beg to differ and would say: It depends. I just looked up which vaccinations are recommended in the first twelve months (which would be the time window till the babies are shipped out to the farm). Tetanus (which would be a must have for children who could hurt themselves anytime!), diphteria, whooping cough, poliomyelitis, HIB, pneumococci, rotaviruses and/ or meningococci. You may ask why they should vaccinate the children, since they will probably never get in contact with these diseases, but remember this: The babies are constantly together with other children and adults. On top of that, we don’t know how much contact the sisters/ Grandmother have to deal with the demons and Ratris, which also work in the headquarters. It’s surely safe to assume the demons don’t want to loose their precious meat to diseases they could prevent prior, even if the children never would get in contact with them anyway.

Additionally, I also would assume the sister candidates get more vaccinations as soon as they enter headquarters. Spreading diseases in a farm and possibly bringing harm to the goods aka the babies would be the worst case scenario for the demons, I bet. Non to mention, rubella for example could kill the precious merchandise or lead to severe disablities. For a farm that concentrates on intelligent cattle children, this would be a no-go.

Plus, Covid – are we sure one of the scientists or Ratri’s who operated at the headquarters didn’t spread it at one point in the 20’s in any farm? I wouldn’t bet my money on the fact that the big ol’ Rona spared the demon side of the world 🤔😷

Now, operations. Normally, the Mamas and Sisters wouldn’t be in need of it, I guess. On the other hand, Krone stated the orphanage is equipped with tools and medicine products if all would fail.

After all, children are stupid and reckless and even if their bones are more flexible, they are not invincible. One could hurt and break something any time, and for this events the caretakers are surely prepared.

Not to forget, Isabella knew excatly how to break a leg effectivly without making further harm (poor Emma, but it was still impressive). These techniques are probably learned at headquarters and even more, trained with other sister/ Mama-candidated. How many bones did they broke each other while their training? I don’t even want to think about.

Surely enough, the caretakers know, well, how to take care of open wounds, doing stiches, treatening allergic reactions or other diseases a child could develop in the few years they’ve got.

About the former sisters and Mamas becoming doctors – why not? We already saw some of them implementing the heart chips into the girl’s hearts, not to mention to possibility of having to do a c-section, so all some of them would need would be degree in medicine. If they would pursue this goal is another question, regarding everything they are through...

That would be my hot take on this whol discussion. What do you all think? How would Grace Field House (or any other farm) handle these kind of thinks?

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

I'd say your thing (This is about the ask meme!) is EctoLoader and EdgeJeanist. Really since following your blog, it's been the reason I ship both of those pairs! :D They became otps for me purely because of you and your wonderful art and amazing hcs! :D I hope you're having a great day too and if not, i'm sending hugs via the interwebs to make it a better day.

Ahhh thank you so much!!! (I realised that I put this in my drafts instead of posting it and forgot, I’m sorry)

This means a lot to me, you are incredibly sweet, thank you!! I genuinely couldn’t stop smiling at this amazing compliment, thank you again, it really does mean a lot to me :))

From this thing I reblogged :)

~Eclair ❤️

[sitp-recs]

hi :) i simply adore your blog and your fic recs are so spot on, you’ve made me fall back in love with drarry and hp. I rly love reading a fic before I go to sleep but I end up picking a 70k word one and end up staying up much longer than I wanted to so could you possibly recommend me any fics max 15k words, with a happy ending pls i need the cuteness to help me sleep 🥰 Thanku so so much xx

Hi anon! Thanks so much, I’m thrilled to know I had a small part in making you fall back in love with Drarry, that’s amazing! And what a mood lol I used to pick long fics before bed too, it’s a mighty trap 😂 I’ve read many short fics in the last year so I decided to go for these delightful and not-as-popular shorts, with excellent build up and happy endings. Perfect bedtime reads in my opinion! I got a bit too excited with this list so I’ll call it 31 Bedtime Reads! One for each day of the month ;) enjoy!

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (2021, M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

oxygen by @maesterchill (2020, T, 4k)

Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe.

A Charitable Christmas by Alisanne (2017, E, 5.6k)

Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.

Harmony (Left-Handed Melody Remix) by mindabbles (2010, M, 5.8k)

He is the last person Draco was expecting, but then again, this is not a place Draco ever expected to be.

Vintage by momatu (2017, T, 7k)

Of all of the vineyards, in all of the regions, in all of France, Draco's blasted editor sends him to Potter's...

Our Ordinary Days by Lomonaaeren (2012, M, 8k)

Two men, both fathers of sons, meet in a bookshop. And the rest is the kind of history that doesn't make history.

Ice Snakes, Glow-worms and Wolverine Stew by khalulu (2015, M, 8.4k)

Harry Potter apparently wants to talk to Draco about something, but odd events keep getting in the way of that conversation – and bringing them closer together.

The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (2010, E, 8.5k)

In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.

Blind Date by JosephineStone (2016, T, 8.6k)

Draco’s been working with Harry for years when another one of his relationships goes stale. He has to be married within a year, and though the WizNet has burned him in the past, Draco finds a new possibility in man as desperate to marry as he is.

Stories in E Minor by @huldrejenta (2014, E, 8.7k)

Draco has found his place in the Muggle world. He's got his music, he's got his neighbours and he is content. Until a certain someone from the past enters his life again.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, T, 8.8k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (2018, M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

The Interest Here by disapparater (2015, T, 9k)

Draco has his own morning show on the wireless, which he loves; an ambitious assistant, whom he needs; and days in The Tea Shop, where he relaxes. He also has a new caller on the show, whom he finds bloody annoying.

Tidings of Comfort series by @blamebrampton (2012, G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

Sweet Indulgence by @the-sinking-ship (2020, E, 10k)

It doesn't matter that Marcy from Accounting is dancing on the tables, Shacklebolt is wearing antlers, and Elliot from Transportation is on his third round of Mariah Carey on karaoke because all the free champagne in the world won't salvage the Ministry Christmas party for Draco if Potter doesn't show up soon.

Settle in in my slow-burning heart by orphan_account (2015, NR, 10k)

Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it's all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too.

Adventures in Truth and Texting by @fluxweeed (2020, E, 11k)

Former Death Eaters are being targeted with a Veritaserum curse – it’s permanent, and makes victims speak aloud their every thought. Luckily, it’s easier to control when writing.

fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley (2015, NR, 11k)

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (2011, E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

Cold Like Fire by QueenofThyme (2012, M, 12k)

Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was.

What’s My Age Again? by @lazywonderlvnd (2018, E, 12k)

Harry Potter has had enough of pleasing the public, and his reckless tendencies are finally getting out of hand.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (2020, T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn.

Kill, Fuck, Marry by @lettersbyelise (2018, E, 12.6k)

Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

The Year of Non-Magical Thinking by whiskyandwildflowers (2018, E, 13k)

“I don't know what I'm going to do, Potter. I'll think of something. So will you. But this is my journey to self-actualization," Draco managed to smirk. "You can fuck off and get your own."

Evolution by @potteresque-ire Pie (2013, M, 13k)

Draco Malfoy was condemned to live a Muggle’s life for his three-year probation. His wand was locked away, and he was forbidden to set foot in Wizarding Britain until Hermione Granger secured a job for him in the Aurors’ stock room.

Plan Alphabet by @xx-thedarklord-xx (2019, T, 14k)

After realizing that his feelings for Harry were unfortunately real, Draco embarks on a foolproof—yes, Longbottom, foolproof—plan to woo Potter.

Countdown by dysonrules (2013, M, 14k)

When the Wizarding world is plagued by random outbreaks of Dark Magic, the Ministry assigns Curse-Breakers to assist Auror teams on their missions.

All Roads Lead Home by @dracogotgame (2015, G, 15k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

Espresso Patronum by @tasteofshapes (2020, T, 15k)

When Draco reappears five years after the war and opens a wildly popular coffee shop, Harry’s pretty sure that Draco’s Up to Something. He just has to prove it.

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (2014, E, 15k)

Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

Turn and Face the Strange (time may change me) by @punk-rock-yuppie (2019, T, 16k)

Draco and Harry and how their relationship—and themselves—change over the course of eleven years.

[galadhremmin]

We have derived Caranthir liking the Dwarves (and vice versa) because apparently, Finrod succeeds in every field Caranthir fails, and at this point it's clear this derives from the in-universe writer of the Silm and his own biases. Think about it: "Dark Finwë" , a grumpy, prejudiced lordling, and "Hair Champion", most handsome, noble king, have met with the same people!! Yet the king of the first secret kingdom is everyone's friend, but the prince that trades with them regularly is not... seems sus.

Hence, Caranthir is friends with the Dwarves. (But that is just an interpretation, so you're free to think what you wish, I just have several opinions on in-universe prejudice and the almighty narrative.)

I think that 'we' might actually have been Dawn Felagund years ago. Maybe this reading existed even before that, but I doubt that-- she's been very influential in silm fandom and was long before tumblr was much of a thing. https://dawnfelagund.com/caranthir-the-slandered

I wouldn't say it's 'clear' that what amounts to Caranthir's entire documented personality derives from the bias of the in-universe narrator, though as you can see from Dawn's writing it's a reading you can argue for. There are a number of different approaches you can take to the Silm and its biases anyway. One of the few times when it's absolutely clear the text isn't telling the entire story is when it talks about the Easterlings. I've posted about this before but the recorded names are, uhh.... the ones to betray the elves are unlikely to actually have been named things like 'ugly lord' and 'ugly beard.' 'Dark Finwe' on the other hand is a documented reference to his haircolour being dark like Finwe's own; hardly a negative judgement!

I personally think Caranthir can be exactly as ill-tempered and prejudiced as the Silm paints him without becoming an unsympathetic character. If a writer cannot make a moody, deeply prejudiced man an interesting character that is a failure as a writer; there are after all enough books who manage exactly that. That is not to say choosing not to write him that way is a failure (obviously not), but it's not necessary in order to make a reader feel for him at all.

Just going by the text, I think it actually might make for a more interesting narrative to explore in fic to me. Because he does change his mind about something, and at a very specific moment; when he meets the Haladin. That is much less dramatic if he secretly been as nice and popular as Finrod, and got along with everyone all the time already. He's been raised by Fëanor, who said things like 'No other race shall oust us!' and rallied the Noldor not motivated enough by vengeance for Finwë alone by playing on their deep-seated fear of being replaced by the Secondborn. Very unlikely that had no impact. At best it has made him uninterested in humans in his area (while they're not much of a threat to ruling instead of the elves anyway). The text says they paid them no heed.

And yet! Caranthir sees how brave Haleth and her people are. He 'does her great honour.' He changes his mind and offers them lands. His tragedy to me is not that of a slandered figure, but of this deeply, deeply prejudiced person raised to distrust the motivations of human beings -- who overcomes those beliefs, offers friendship, is rejected! then extends that same trust to the Easterlings anyway... and it's those specific Easterlings, not the ones who ally with his brothers-- who betray them all. And cause the disastrous ending of the Nirnaeth. It's the 'to evil end shall all things turn that they begin well' part of the curse hitting him in the least fair way possible. Someone finally changes for the better, and the outcome is treason and destruction.

That is a very good character arc to me, actually. His aesthetics-based scorn for the Dwarves is reprehensible but strikes me as deeply Elvish, and part of his prejudices. Naugrim is too unflattering a name for them for it not to be common. His temper-- well why can't he have one? Sure there's only one recorded instance -- but that's imo because there are hardly any conversations in the Silm! Anyway I like some people with tempers well enough. Personally I think people are missing out on opiniated grouches.

Obviously the biased anti-Feanorian Pengolodh reading is a nice one, and I have enjoyed a lot of stories written based it. But it's not at all a reading that is necessary for me to read Caranthir as a flawed but sympathetic character. He can have serious faults and still, ultimately, be someone I feel for.

What I was asking though was if I overlooked any canon evidence of Caranthir being particularly, personally fond of the Dwarves; and it seems I did not. Also; there is room for Caranthir growing to like the Dwarves over centuries without an anti-Feanorian bias reading this strong, there is simply no evidence for friendship in the rather barebones narrative (I'm not interested atm because it's wildly overdone to me & I like variety).

That said, in my opinion making Caranthir the hidden, slandered Feanorian Finrod equivalent with a dash of Curufin's Dwarf affection is not as enjoyable as simply working with what little canon character is actually there. Because there is one (and it's not the greedy tax collector of some fanon depictions either imo)

1. To start with, wrt Caranthir as the anti-Finrod, I don't think it works that well. Sure sure dark/light, open/prejudiced, repressed/shouty, but different motivations, different locations, plus they meet very different peoples even if both are Edain-- besides, Caranthir's own older brothers do successfully ally with the Easterlings without betrayal, while Curufin (much more so than Finrod! no Khuzdul for Finrod!) is the Dwarves' Friend(tm). Also, a flawed Finrod already exists. That's just the regular edition. He has his own faults and (very different) tragic arc.

If Finrod never seems to have strong prejudices to overcome, and if he's not confrontational (which... look he's a diplomat. Make of that what you will. Pretty awkward there in Doriath, buddy!) he does have trouble facing his own complicity (he wanted to sail those ships despite the murders) until Sauron beats him to death with it. He leaves Valinor with the idea of ruling but he has to give up the crown. He's ambitious, he seems emotionally repressed, he's.. possibly paying the greater Dwarves to drive the Petty Dwarves out of their ancestral home to build a city? Oops. Depending on the version you go with in that case, of course; there's also ones where he's free of the blame of that one. Not of wanting to sail those ships and being uneasy with the guilt wrt wanting to do so despite their being stolen and murdered for though. No he doesn't kill; but he wants to use the result of it anyway, and to make it worse he is actually half Telerin.

There's also (to be fair, only for sure after the disaster of the Sudden Flame because that's the recorded instance) his guards killing random innocent trespassers to keep his kingdom hidden -- yes, that's right there in Silm, yes he's still King at the time. Beren has to wave that ring. People just seem to miss that he'd be killed without it somehow.

I think it's just too easy to reduce him to the golden perfect opposite of Caranthir. Yes he's described more positively; he's also just mentioned more because unlike Caranthir he rules an actual kingdom, the greatest and richest in Beleriand in fact; and does things that have a lot of very longterm effects, like helping B&L steal a Silmaril. They don't 'meet the same people' anyway -- the Haladin have a different culture from the Beorians which contributes to their reaction to Caranthir (and iirc their later fate).

Sidenote: Dawn's essay attributes the Green Elves helping the Feanorians at Amon Ereb to Caranthir's diplomatic skills; but why not to those of Amras or Amrod? This is the quote; 'Caranthir fled and joined the remnant of his people to the scattered folk of the hunters, Amrod and Amras, and they retreated and passed Ramdal in the south. Upon Amon Ereb they maintained a watch and some strength of war, and they had aid of the Green-elves' -- nothing here indicates it was Caranthir who got them that aid. In fact A&A are the hunters, i.e. more likely to have roamed in various forests where they would have encountered Green Elves, imo.

There's also the very desperate times to consider in which this aid takes place. This is just post Sudden Flame, and even if the Green Elves didn't like Caranthir they probably liked him better than Morgoth. Also, speaking of cosmopolitans, Maedhros allies with, yes, Dwarves (Azaghal), Grey elves, Easterlings (and you might say: Fingolfinians); even part of the remaining people of Dorthonion rally to Himring post sudden flame (that means Edain and Arafinwean followers in Himring, at least for a time), and he manages to be friendly with Felagund despite calling him a badger. ;)

Finrod is not the only other leader to forge diverse alliances, and though B&L ends happily his people mostly do not. Caranthir's not much like Finrod in any way. Not in motivations, temperament, tragic arc. That's fine. No hidden kingdom for a dragon to eat either. Finrod could probably do with being a little less like Finrod sometimes, though he's well-intentioned and likable. Caranthir loves to shout and isn't sneaky. Good for him.

2. Curufin also already exists. His love for Dwarves is one of his defining and redeeming characteristics and boy does he need them. He's daddy's favourite, a sneaky overambitious bitchy bastard who is also a talented smith and linguist, and truly considered a Dwarf friend, which is apparently exceptional. He's quite flawed; tries to help Celegorm force a political marriage, laughs with a bruised mouth, seeming to lose his mind while attempting and failing murder after first losing his own stronghold and then the city he tried to take from his cousin. He's just... a personality. Mostly a bad one! You can feel for him though, because he seems like an utter mess. Many 'i would love to study you' feelings on my part. Would hate for him to be real but also I'd pay to be his therapist.

3. And then finally there's Canon Caranthir. A difficult, prejudiced person who despite that (which doesn't at all have to mean there is no despite, the despite is what makes it juicy)

- seems to be responsible for re-establishing (large scale?) trade with the Dwarves, whatever he might think of them (and they of him) to their mutual benefit. I don't think he's greedy either. It seems like a mutually profitable situation. Access to Dwarvish goods seems pretty vital to Beleriand, and facilitating trade is a real service.

As someone pointed out in the replies, the Silm does mention Dwarvish companies travelling east to Nan Elmoth and menegroth various times, but quote wrt Caranthir says 'Caranthir’s people came upon the Dwarves, who after the onslaught of Morgoth and the coming of the Noldor had ceased their traffic into Beleriand' and 'when the Dwarves began again to journey into Beleriand.'

They stopped at some point and Caranthir's people made it happen again.

- which means he's practical. He seems like he's good at organising, and setting his own feelings aside if necessary despite his prejudice and temper (which is an achievement it wouldn't be without his, hm, everything). Also he and his people as well as the Dwarves work together well because ''either people loved skill and were eager to learn,' despite their (initial?) mutual dislike. Those aren't bad characteristics; seems like it was an exchange of skill as well as goods and possibly providing safe travel opportunities.

I don't like the 'greedy Caranthir' fanon and don't think it is even that easy support entirely with canon. 'They had of it great profit,' the text says-- both Caranthir and the Dwarves. They exchanged skills and knowledge and Caranthir seems to have helped them start trading in Beleriand again. That's hardly Scrooge Mcduck.

- Another thing we can say about canonthir (lol) is that he apparently attaches a lot of value to aesthetics (was he a visual artist? is a he a sculptor like Nerdanel? WORSE: AN ART CRITIC?! Feanorian art critic is truly nightmare fuel) and that's why he dislikes Dwarves (of all things...). Either way points to 'aesthetics' as something apparently important to Caranthir. Which makes sense given who his parents are. What is interesting to me is that this apparently DOESN'T matter to Curufin, who is a lot like Feanor in most things. That's interesting!

I've never, never seen this but I think it would be very funny to attribute his aesthetic prejudices to Nerdanel. I love her; but why should her opinions be perfect? I know she wasn't considered beautiful herself, but she's an artist. She's got to have had some strong opinions on aesthetics anyway. I doubt it's the beards; Mahtan had one as well. And 'stunted'...at least some of this comes down to the Elvish obsession with height yet again. Hm.

- eventually Caranthir overcomes what have to be some very deeply held beliefs about human beings and their place in the world, and offers what for all intents and purposes looks like real friendship, not the ruling over Men Feanor seems to have had in mind at best. He's capable of real change!

Anyway his character works just fine to me from canon, and what he achieves and the ways in which he fails are more interesting that way rather-- neither slandered Feanorian Finrod 2.0 nor Curufin 'Dwarf Fan' Feanorion without the sneakiness and murder attempts pack the same punch as a stupidly prejudiced grouchy man doing his best anyway for centuries in this stupid ugly cursed land, eventually changing for the better, opening up-- and being brutally punished for it by the Doom.

Dammit. I hope there's therapy in the Everlasting Darkness.

hm a bit long but that's what I get for trying to gather my thoughts wrt why after considering it a bit transferring Curufin's love for Dwarves to Caranthir is a bit boring to me personally. Though there are still stories that still do it very well.

[reyesstrand]

fic writer questions!!

tagged by @marjansmarwani @silvarafael and @morganaspendragonss (thank u!! 💗)

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

75

2) what’s your total ao3 word count?

286,026

3) how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

i’ve written a handful of very amateur fics for it chapter 2, the get down, the magicians years ago, and most recently the old guard and 911: lone star.

4) what are your top five fics by kudos?

all of them are 911ls ajdnsnsn

like a bright new dream (post-season one tarlos love declarations)

wanna be still with you (2x08 episode tag ft concussed tk)

take me back to the light (post 1x08/pre 1x09 coda)

silver in the night (1x10 episode tag/missing scenes)

tangled in the willows (one shot collection)

5) what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

omg i’m not sure i’ve ever been capable of writing angst without some sort of happy ending…..i’ve definitely written some ambiguous endings though, which are featured here: in my grace/judd fic all so incredibly loud and my nancy/marjan fic hold on to me and this chapter of my tarlos one-shot collection.

6) what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

i feel like 99% of my fics have happy endings akdnsn but off the top of my head my 2x12 coda felt like maybe we could last forever was one of the heavier things i’ve written and the ending was one lots of comments touched on which made me (‘:

also!! and every harm (is lovingly washed away) and thinkin bout forever both end in sappy double proposals for tarlos which were too much fun to write, and i’m going to plug all my nancy/marjan fics apparently ajdnsn bc make me feel alive also has a pretty happy ending!!!

7) do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

never written one!

8) do you write smut? if so, what kind?

nothing super explicit, but i’ve ventured into mild/implied sexual content (i doubt it’s very good though ajdnsksn)

9) do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i try to!!! it usually takes a few days after a fic’s been posted but i try and get to them as soon as possible! and i do it to show appreciation for kind words because it really does mean the world 🥺

10) have you ever received hate on a fic?

somehow no.

11) have you ever had a fic stolen?

no, thankfully. at least not that i’m aware of.

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

no! but i’d love that!

13) have you ever co-written a fic before?

i haven’t! it’s definitely something i’m interested in though!!

14) what’s your all-time favourite ship?

i’d have to say any of the lone star pairings, canon or not—but of course tarlos most of all. i’ve just never really had so much inspiration from a pairing before. for instance, my first ever tarlos fic was inspired from the promo image for a scene that never even aired (looking at you dinner scene from 1x05), when before i felt like i had to be several seasons into a show to want to write in that universe. so yeah. tarlos.

15) what’s a wip you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

oh….so many. the first one that comes to mind is the sort of missing scenes between seasons one and two of lone star fic that i just couldn’t get to work for me. i also kind of want to do a canon divergent tarlos fic where they have a much slower burn than what we get on the show, but again..lack of inspiration aksnsn

right now my focus is on the prompt requests from forever ago!!

16) what are your writing strengths?

i’d like to think exposition? describing emotions and scenery? internal thoughts? i love getting lost in the mood of a scene and trying to capture it with words.

17) what are your writing strengths?

ooh uh i’ve always struggled with dialogue. like just making it flow naturally. if i’m not in the right headspace for certain dialogue-heavy scenes it makes writing 10x harder for me akdnsks

18) what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i think it all depends on the scene/character/context. but, as someone who only speaks english and a little bit of french, i dont really think my thoughts matter here? if speakers of the language in question say something in a fic is offensive or not used properly or call into question the author’s intentions, we should listen to them.

19) what was the last fandom you wrote for?

………lone star, of course.

20) what’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

oh man, i’ve said it before but probably my firefighter!carlos fic lit the spark (that set a fire) because it took me so long. i also loved writing my 2x08 and 2x12 codas (mentioned above) and been twisting to the sun because it allowed me to write some tk and judd!!

i’m pretty sure everyone has been tagged at this point and i hope i don’t forget anyone but!!!@sunshinestrand @rafael-silva @reyescarlos @howtosingit @bellakitse @crockettmarcel feel free to do this if you’d like!!

[tsarisfanfiction]

WIP #46

(Send me a number 1-60 [or a fandom/character I guess] for the corresponding wip) because I’m bored and brain-fried and have too many wips that’ll otherwise never see the light of day.

For @janetm74 who actually asked for ‘Thunderbirds, 31′ but 31 isn’t TAG so we’ve got the closest TAG one instead. (top tip: wips are mostly arranged alphabetically by fandom and the TAG wips are 46-59!)

It was really only a matter of time before someone hit Scott!whump, wasn’t it?  Snippets of this one have actually appeared in previous ask games, so you get the whole thing this time (because I don’t remember which bits I’ve already posted).  Fun fact: this was my first attempt at Virgil’s PoV!

There was always something wrong about Scott in Thunderbird Two.  Of all the Tracys, he was the least likely to travel in the green behemoth that was, in Virgil’s private opinion, the heart of International Rescue.

And yes, that included John.

Gordon was his co-pilot, his wingman, his back-up.  For all that the aquanaut was, well, an aquanaut, there was honestly no-one else Virgil would rather behind the controls of his beloved girl if he was needed elsewhere. Heavy lifting, or – his least favourite – medical duties could sometimes pull him elsewhere, and in those moments his immediate brother would take the helm with a joking smile but steady hands that would never let anything befall Two (if only, he thought from time to time, because without Two Four would be grounded).

Alan was all nervous energy, a genius pilot but too cocky for Virgil to ever be truly relaxed when Two was in his hands, but it was far from uncommon for his youngest brother to be perched behind him, screens and panels showing readout after readout as he assessed situations and started remote assembly of pods when time was particularly of the essence.  Sometimes, often, he knew Alan desired the speed of One, but he also liked his comfort and short of pulling Three’s own seats into One (a feat done once, never repeated), there was no comfort as a passenger of their first response craft. Or even as the pilot, in Virgil’s opinion.

John was an unusual passenger, unlikely to be Earthside for a mission – and even if he was, quickly wrapping things up and ascending back to the lofty heights of Five and the world at his fingertips – but when he was Earthside, well, Thunderbird Two was his ship of choice.  He didn’t pilot her, for all that he was trained, but no matter what Scott would mutter, John was stubborn about always using Two to get to the danger zone.  Something about reckless flying and too much gravity. Virgil couldn’t truly say he understood, because John’s aversion to gravity had never been a point in common between them, but he did at least appreciate that Thunderbird One was fast, and generated far more Gs than any atmosphere-bound craft had any right to make.

Statistically speaking, Scott did travel in Two more than John did, but as he didn’t spend over three hundred days in the year off planet, Virgil wasn’t quite so fussed on the literal numbers.  Scott in Two always, always meant something was wrong.  Maybe One was out of action (again) but Scott wanted to be on the rescue anyway.  Maybe the world was conspiring against them, and Scott just wanted to be with his brothers rather than haring off at triple their speed and leaving them alone and vulnerable (Virgil knew that really One was more vulnerable than Two, although his eldest brother could never see it that way).

Or maybe, the worst wrong of all that always lined Virgil’s stomach with lead and dried up all the saliva in his mouth, Scott wasn’t fit to fly.

John was hovering, holographic form always a little too dull to accurately capture his brother’s vibrancy. Gordon had flight control, gloved hands firmly on the yoke as though he was her designated pilot.  Alan had co-pilot, booted feet reaching the floor with little difficulty nowadays – he would out-grow Gordon soon – as he flicked switches in uncharacteristic silence.

Virgil was in the medbay, scanner clutched in his hands like a lifeline as it told him nothing that he wanted to hear, and many things that he didn’t.

Scott was in the medbay, doing nothing.

Danger dogged their steps with every rescue.  They knew that – had always known it, even before the Zero-X blew their father sky-high as he tried to save the world – but it never made it any easier when it got closer than normal.

As normal for them was less than a second’s escape – buildings collapsing the moment their trailing foot left the threshold, planes erupting into fireballs the instant they leapt clear – closer was barely possible.  Closer was a Thunderbird coming home with deep gouges.  Closer was broken bones and terrorised faces.

Closer was their eldest brother lying motionless in his ‘bird’s medbay because it had taken thirteen minutes to find him after the snow roared down.

Avalanches were a messy business.  Survival rates were low, some of the worst odds International Rescue ever faced, and there was no denying that their own past experience did nothing to help whenever John uttered the word in a brief.  This one shouldn’t have been too bad, as far as snow monsters went.  Out of season, with few people in the huts that dotted the lower reaches of the slopes and fewer still outside.  Ten people were reported missing.

They found nine, all fortunate and breathing, before the second one struck.

Alan had been in Thunderbird Two, holding her steady in the air because the large Thunderbird would have done more harm than good if she’d landed and providing a much-needed birds’ eye view of the danger zone.  It had been entirely due to the combined information from him and John that had let them find the nine lucky people so quickly.

Gordon had been on triage in the hut deemed safest in the event of a second avalanche.  Virgil had just reached him with rescuee number nine when it had struck.

Scott had been heading up the slope, travelling scant inches above the snow via jetpack, searching for person number ten.  One’s drones had been with him, scanning furiously even as John hijacked them to give Five even more data than the space station had already obtained from other means. Those same drones had given them a glimpse of blue, grey and white all jumbled together before going dark.

It took two minutes for Virgil and Gordon to force their way out of the semi-buried but still standing hut. One more for Alan to configure a pod and tentatively lower it from the module even as they realised their original one would take too long to excavate from the snow.  In those three minutes, John had triangulated all the data he could amass from Five to provide the most viable search area.

Five minutes to find a body, cold to the touch.  Rescue number ten had never stood a chance.  Face down and neck broken, he would have been killed almost instantly during the original avalanche.

Fifteen minutes was the time limit.  Nine people had already defied it, surviving anything between half an hour and an hour under the snow before International Rescue reached the scene and dug them out. The Tracy family never had that much luck, and an avalanche was their own personal hell.  They knew, in that cold-fist-closing-around-their-hearts way, that Scott would not be number ten.

Twelve minutes and the pod’s heat sensors showed yellow-green in a sea of blue.

Thirteen minutes and their eyes showed them blue in a sea of white.

Scott had been wearing his helmet when the avalanche struck.  As Virgil knelt to ease his limp, cold, but breathing body from the frigid prison, he’d thanked their parents for that fact silently but profusely.  Still intact, the helmet had stopped snow clogging his airways, and had enough of an air supply to stop Scott from suffocating to death in the thirteen torturously long minutes it had taken them to find him.

In the medbay, scan finished, Virgil finally removed the life-saving gear.  The detached feedback from the scan told him as much, but he sighed resignedly when there was no response.  Scott didn’t gasp dramatically as his recycled air supply was replaced with the real deal, nor did lightly closed eyes snap open.

“How is he?” John asked unnecessarily as Virgil’s hand lingered under brown hair longer than strictly necessary after lowering the now helmetless head back down onto the stretcher.

“Cold.”  Virgil humoured him, knowing full well that John had been desperately analysing the results of the scan as they occurred. Their suits were well designed for the varied environments they found themselves in, and while Scott had shown up far, far too cold in their initial search for him, as soon as they’d got him into the security of Thunderbird Two the hint of a shiver had taken hold and Gordon had encouraged it with a single blanket.

Scott’s uniform was somewhere in the middle as far as easy to remove International Rescue uniforms went. While Gordon and John’s specialist environments necessitated almost vacuum-tight uniforms, and Virgil and Alan had heavy-duty but therefore less clingy attire, Scott wore a streamlined flight suit that didn’t adhere precisely to his body but wasn’t exactly loose either.  Still, the zip tugged down easily enough and Virgil manipulated his rag doll of an eldest brother out of the tough material delicately before clearing away any leftover snow trying to chill him further and cradling him in blankets.

John watched in an agitated silence, the distance between their physical bodies never so apparent as when one of them was hurt and he was twenty two and a half thousand miles away. Sooner rather than later, Virgil knew the space elevator would be docking at Tracy Island, but before John could leave Five he needed to get One nestled back safely in her hanger.

The Thunderbird had escaped the avalanche by never landing, set to an autopilot hover by Scott upon his arrival to the danger zone because despite being smaller than Two, her VTOL posed just as much of a risk to the stability of the snow.  With Gordon at the helm of Two, and a universal desire for the whole family to be together landing Alan in the co-pilot seat rather than their brother’s Thunderbird, it was up to John to remote pilot her home.

Hypothermia was not the only issue Scott had been hit with by the avalanche.  None of them had done the exact calculations – John might have done, but if he had he hadn’t shared them – but Scott had been swept a fair distance by the sheer might of the snow and the journey had been far from smooth. Something had knocked him out in the tumble – what, Virgil couldn’t begin to decipher – and while his ribs were miraculously okay, thanks to the support of his flight suit, his left arm was bent awkwardly.  Already, beneath the blankets, his skin was blossoming in the reds and purples of early bruising.

“Any change?” Alan asked, his hologram flickering into existence beside John’s.  Gordon was just visible at the edge of the projection.

“He’s warming up,” Virgil assured them, eyes never leaving his eldest brother as shivers slowly intensified.  “No sign of consciousness, though.”  He leant forwards, running his hands gently through gelled hair.  The scan didn’t indicate a concussion to accompany the rest of Scott’s injuries, but with no evidence for why he was remaining unconscious barring the hypothermia itself, Virgil needed a more hands’ on check to reassure himself that there would be no further complications.

“We’re almost home,” Gordon chipped in.  “Make sure you’re both ready for the landing.”

“F.A.B.”

Securing Scott was easy, straps looping over him and cinching tight but not too tight against the stretcher.  The temptation to stay standing beside him, watching like a hawk for any sign of change – good or otherwise – was strong, but John made a small noise in the back of his throat and Virgil forced himself to take the two paces away from the stretcher and collapse into a fold-out seat.

“Thunderbird One has landed,” the astronaut informed him, and Virgil managed something that was almost a smile.

“See you soon,” he said, and John returned the almost-smile before floating with purpose.  With the limitations of the holograms, it was difficult to tell where he was headed, but Virgil knew there was only one place John wanted to be.

Their landing was soft, softer than Gordon had ever managed before, and Virgil shot out of his chair and back to Scott’s side as soon as he felt the wheels connect solidly with the runway. The touchdown had done nothing to disturb him, eyes still softly closed. His skin was pale, and the shivering was still gaining in intensity, but Scott’s face was as peaceful as Virgil had seen it since the Zero-X.

He pulled the scanner back out, running another one just for something to do as Gordon taxied them back into the hangar.  Scott’s temperature had risen marginally, still too cold but headed in the right direction.  He adjusted the blankets cocooning him as Thunderbird Two finished her rotation and the hydraulics either side of the module whirred into action, raising the body of the craft.

Someone had remembered to call ahead – a flash of guilt coursed through Virgil as he realised that should have been his job – because as the module door lowered, letting in the orange flickering light that indicated mechanical movement in the hangar, Grandma was standing there, arms crossed and finger tapping nervously. She didn’t wait for the door to finish lowering, jumping into the module as soon as she could and heading straight for them.

“What happened?” she asked, wrapping an arm around him firmly for a moment before taking the final step to Scott’s side and tutting at the results of the scan.

“Avalanche,” Virgil responded, even though he knew she knew.  Old hands that had yet to lose most of their dexterity pulled at the blankets, exposing Scott’s throat enough for her to press two fingers to his pulse. “Nine survivors, one fatality.”

“Broken arm and extensive bruising,” she mused, light fingers dancing over her eldest grandson’s body as she confirmed the scanner’s results for herself.  “His suit protected him from the worst of it.  Let’s get him inside.”  Virgil nodded, reaching out to activate the hover jets on the underside of the stretcher before releasing the clasps that held it to the wall.  Hurried footsteps indicated the arrival of his younger brothers, finished with their flight checks and anxious to see their eldest brother.

“Is he awake yet?” Alan asked, blue eyes filled with hope.  Virgil shook his head as Gordon placed a hand on the youngest’s shoulder.

“Your brother will be fine,” Grandma assured them all before he could find the words to explain Scott’s condition.  “A little battered and bruised, and rather cold, but some rest and home cooking will sort him right out, you’ll see.”

Gordon’s mutter that home cooking would do more harm than good wasn’t as quiet as he’d clearly intended, but Grandma ignored the slight as she put a firm hand on the hovering stretcher and started to guide it towards the house.  Virgil paused, checking his two younger brothers over thoroughly.  Alan was pale, shaken at the sight of Scott’s limp body, while Gordon headed over to the discarded uniform and picked it up.

“He’ll be alright,” he told them.  Both nodded sharply.  “John’s coming down; Alan, why don’t you go meet him?”

Neither asked why John was coming down if Scott was going to be fine.  It was a much appreciated fact that sometimes a hologram wasn’t enough for reassurance, and none of them would ever begrudge John the chance to be there in person.  Alan nodded again and left.

“I’ll clear up here,” Gordon said.  He was feeding the damp uniform through his hands, most likely unconsciously.  Damp, half-melted snow littered the module, and the remaining pod.  “Go help Grandma.”

Virgil didn’t protest, although he gave Gordon a final look over before turning to leave his ‘bird. They all needed to feel useful, finding something to do while they waited for Scott to wake up.  He would have cleaned his ‘bird himself, but Gordon’s order had been a hidden plea: I want you with Scott.

“I want her spotless,” he said instead, and Gordon laughed.

“Yes, yes,” he dismissed. “Now go help Grandma keep Scott in bed.” Because that was going to be the hardest task of all.  None of the Tracys made for a good patient, but Scott was the undisputed worst patient of all.  Alan and Gordon would try for subtle, the elder blond with more success, escape attempts made when they were left alone for too long.  John hid in Five, well-practiced in manipulating holograms to make him appear healthier than he actually was – although the arrival of EOS had put a stop to that particular trick.  It was the thing that had finally got her into Scott’s good books.  Virgil himself knew that he gave his brothers a little too much grief, largely because he knew how to treat his own ailments better than they did.

Scott didn’t bother with subtlety.  The moment their backs were turned, and sometimes not even then, he would be forcing himself up and out of bed, determined to carry on working no matter what. He’d never been a good patient, but it had only worsened since their Dad’s crash.  Knowing why didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

Not bothering to change out of his uniform, he ran after Grandma and the stretcher, catching up with them just outside the infirmary doors.  Scott was still unconscious, a fact that bothered him considering there was no sign of injury that would cause it, but it made transferring him from the stretcher to the soft bed far easier.  A pile of warm blankets were gently tucked around him, mindful of the broken arm.

As Grandma fussed with an IV line, more a precaution than a necessity, Virgil turned his attention to the limb.  It was a clean break, simple enough to reset and splint.  Scott let out a noise of complaint as the bones were dragged back into place, and both he and Grandma immediately looked at him.  Brow furrowed, hazed blue eyes flickered open.

“Scott?”

“Vrrgg?” his eldest brother slurred, eyes slowly focusing on him. “Whh..?”

“We’re home,” Virgil told him, resting a hand on the blankets over where Scott’s right shoulder was buried.  “The rescue’s over.”

Scott blinked at him slowly, the haze of confusion not quite leaving his eyes.

“Rsscu?”

“Let’s focus on getting you warmed up for now, Scott,” Grandma cut in, smoothing his hair back gently. She gestured sharply with her other hand – hidden from Scott’s view – to the reset arm.  Virgil took the hint, returning to strap it up, knowing that he’d need to mix up a proper cast for it if he wanted any chance of it healing properly with Scott’s reluctance to rest of any length of time.

“Buh-”

Scott’s protest was cut off by the door slamming open, the pitter-patter of Alan’s booted feet flying into the room.  Behind him, at a more sedate pace, John followed, turquoise eyes raking over the scene in front of him sharply.

“Is he awake?” Alan asked, skidding to a stop by the bed.  “Scott?”

“Ara?” Scott started. Virgil lunged up to stop him as he made his first attempt to get up.

“No, Scott,” he said firmly. “You’re still too cold.”  Scott didn’t fight him, a sign that he was still confused.  It didn’t go unnoticed by either Alan or John, the former losing his smile and the latter narrowing his eyes for a moment.

“Go get yourselves changed,” Grandma told them.  “He’ll still be here when you come back.”  Hoping she wasn’t including him in that order, Virgil busied himself with fussing over Scott, fixing the blankets he’d dislodged and hushing any attempts to ask about the rescue.

“It’s over,” he repeated as his two brothers left the room with orders from Grandma to also locate Gordon and make sure he got changed, too.  “Stay still.”

“Virgil,” Grandma warned, and his shoulder slumped.  “You too, young man.  You’re still wearing some of the snow.”

He hadn’t noticed, but when she mentioned it he realised that the creases of his uniform still carried damp white.

“I won’t be long,” he promised Scott, who looked at him with wide blue eyes.  They reminded Virgil of Alan.  Usually it was Alan who reminded him of Scott; he didn’t like it the other way around.  “I’ll bring you back a drink.  Think you can manage that?”

“Drrnk?”

Virgil sighed, and turned to Grandma.

“I’ll bring him something,” he told her and she nodded with a tired smile.

“You do that,” she said. “Now go get out of that wet uniform before you catch a chill, too!”

With a last look at his brother, still too pale but thankfully shivering properly at last, he forced himself to leave the room.

When it came to Grandma, there were fights that could not be won, and unspoken orders to be heeded nonetheless.  It was not as simple as tugging off his uniform, throwing on some casual clothes and running back into the infirmary with a warm, sugary drink in hand served with a straw to sip it with, so he begrudgingly threw himself under a hot shower, allowing his own body to warm up after too long in the snow himself, albeit not buried like his big brother.  Still, a shower did not have to be long to be effective, even if he would usually take the time to let his muses grow amongst the gentle hiss of pouring water, and within five minutes he was thoroughly warm and worming his way into clean clothes.  A quick blow with his hair dryer got the worst of the water out of his hair, but he forwent the gel to return it to its usual style.  Certain younger brothers might have a field day about his hair not being carefully sculpted, but a certain hypothermic older brother was worth a little bit of pride.

John had beaten him to the kitchen, a hot squash – blackcurrant and apple, from Scott’s personal stash – steaming on the counter.  Virgil glanced around the room to make sure nothing was broken.

“You haven’t taken it in?” he asked, wrapping a hand around the container.  It was almost hot to the touch.  John shrugged.

“I’d drop it,” he said, plucking a blue straw from the collection in the cupboard and neatly dropping it into the top of the cup.  Virgil couldn’t disagree with the possibility and scooped it up, straw bobbing in the dark liquid, before continuing on to the infirmary.

Alan and Gordon were there, both out of uniform as per Grandma’s orders, and trying to get a laugh out of Scott, if their antics were anything to go by.  Scott himself, Virgil was pleased to see, appeared less confused than when he’d left.

“I have a drink for you,” he announced, passing it to Grandma as he perched on the bed by Scott. “Think you can manage some sips?” Scott was still shivering but managed a grateful smile.

“Will i’ tas’e goo’?” he asked, still too cold to pronounce his words properly.  Virgil gently brought the head of the bed up slightly before propping Scott up in a more upright position with the use of many pillows. Gordon helpfully readjusted the blankets as Alan crawled onto the bottom of the bed.

“It’s from your own stash,” he promised, taking it back from Grandma and holding the straw to his lips. “John made it hot, so be careful.”

“’M alway’ ca’ful.” Scott mumbled the biggest lie Virgil had ever heard before accepting the straw and taking a sip.

“If you say so,” he said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to help keep him in place as he drank.  He was still cool to the touch, despite the blankets wrapped around him firmly.

Scott hissed as the liquid entered his mouth, and Virgil tightened his grip even as he rolled his eyes.

“I warned you,” he said lightly, as John entered the room and perched on the end of the bed, watching Scott carefully.  Scott took another sip, more cautiously the second time.

...tbc one day..?

[theforgottendaydreamer]

in defense of Allura

Disclaimer: I do not accept any kind of hatred under this post. I expect all readers to act politely toward those who don’t share their opinion, and I expect you to expose your own ideas respectfully. Toxicity is forbidden on my blog. I don't hate any character, and this is just an analysis. Anything that stimulates a mature debate is welcomed, as long as you do it politely. Thank you!

The time has come. Long enough I’ve dwelled upon the choices that the writers of VLD have made, especially in the last seasons: in this post, I’ll focus on the decisions concerning Princess Allura. 

We were introduced to Allura in the pilot of the show, and it only took a few minutes- should I say doboshes?- to understand her overall personality. The Princess stumbled out of the pod, disoriented and confused, and only an instant later- the time necessary to snap out of her groggy state- she defended herself against a possible threat, being Lance in this case: she physically overwhelmed him with only a few rapid moves, her grip on him steady. Everything about her body language and verbal language screamed “strength”, in the following scenes as well. As she remembered about her father’s death, and about her homeplanet Altea being destroyed, the initial shock faded rather rapidly, and in a few instant she recovered from it. This doesn’t mean that if she hadn’t done it she would have been weak, not at all; it means that Allura, being a leader, knew how to put her feelings aside for a better situation, in order to better focus on the mission at hand.

It’s immediately clear to us that she wasn’t minimally interested in Lance’s advances: she considered him as a teammate, and later as a dear friend, but nothing more than that was  shown in the first seasons. When Lance got badly injured, she didn’t seem too worried- though she immediately jumped into action to secure the perimeter. A couple of episodes later, when Lance exited from the healing pod, she spoke to the teen kindly, relieved that he was alright. Yet, this is not a sign of being in love: all of us would be happy if a friend of ours who was at risk was said to be finally out of the woods. 

Allura was very practical, focused on her mission: she wanted to save the universe at all cost. At the beginning, her continuous arguments with the paladins may have given the impression that she was annoying and too strict, but she was simply driven by passion and desire to prove to everyone, herself included, that she could do the right thing for the universe. Though she never made it explicit, it was obvious that Allura cared about the opinion that the others had about her (even when she simply insisted on thanking the Arusians) because she tried to overcome her own insecurities by making herself as useful as possible to the cause. Even when she “just” flew the Castleship, she always offered her support and ideas to improve training, strategies and team bonding. 

Throughout the seasons, we learnt that Allura had the tendency to blame herself, like when she thought that the Galra were tracking the team through her, for example. Allura also threw herself into battle if it meant saving the others, like when she pushed Shiro out of the way and ended up prisoner, or when she saved the Balmera and risked her own health, pushing herself too far to do the right thing and help the innocents that she couldn’t protect during the 10’000 years of absence. So, according to the evidence we had collected in the first seasons, Allura was selfless and caring, despite everything. 

And then, just when we thought we’d seen it all, Allura became the paladin of the Blue Lion of Voltron (I’ll talk about this event in Lance’s p.o.v. in a different post, don’t worry). She was uncertain at first, but ready to dive head-first into the battle, willing to learn and improve her skills. Being an Altean, she immediately connected with Blue, and everything seemed rather easy; though at the beginning her piloting skills weren’t the best, she learnt in the matter of a single episode, and if you don’t consider it quick learning, then I don’t know what it was. Added to that, Allura was also talented, “progressing a lot faster than any of [the other paladins]”, as Lance said some time later.

When Keith confessed his Galra lineage, her attitude towards him was childish, but it was how someone would have normally reacted in a similar situation. People often have a hard time accepting someone that is unwillingly part of a group whose members caused them any harm; it’s one of the principles of racism, and that’s a synonym of ignorance as well. Human minds work like that, because we all tend to associate trauma with a certain group of people, or day, or any other input: it’s despicable, and sadly most people think like that. Luckily for all the Allura stans (me included, though I stan all the main characters of this show) she overcame this issue quickly. What I like about it was that she didn’t brush it off, but she apologised to Keith in person, evidently mortified for her behaviour, and after that she moved past it, accepting her friend and overcoming their differences happily. Mature people apologise, while childish ones pretend that their mistakes didn’t happen: by making amends for her mistake, Allura showed us just how mature she is for a 18/22 year-old (we do not have an official age, so my guess is as good as yours). 

Things seemed to be going well for her: she learnt how to better manipulate quintessence, she gave Keith space when he needed to find Shiro after his mysterious disappearance, she learnt how to better pilot her Lion and so on and so forth. It was all going well, until Lotor’s arrival: then, it all started to go downhill.

Lance became inexplicably obsessed with her again, and at the same time, Lotor slowly  manipulated Allura. Now, I don’t personally like Lotor since he willingly commits genocide for his own purposes, but I will not dwell further on the topic for it’s not my main discourse now.

Lotor tricked the Princess into believing him, she played into his hands, blinded by love. Mind that when I wrote “love”, my left eyebrow rose impossibly high. In fact, Allura had never shown to be interested in love; surely enough, she was romantically (and sexually, apparently) interested in people as we have witnessed, so the possibility of a love interest wasn’t odd at all. It was just sudden. Too sudden, for my personal opinion. 

The problem I have with Lotura (Lotor x Allura, and I specify because I had to google the ship name) is that it’s based on nothing. The team was wholly against Lotor, except for Shiro who was not himself, quite literally. Allura never gave any impression of trusting people easily: not only when Keith said that he was half Galra, but also when Shiro begged her to trust Ulaz. She was hesitant and not happy about having someone she didn’t trust on board. Thus, her sudden burst of trust toward Lotor was odd, especially when it was quite obvious to most of the audience that the Galra prince was not telling the whole truth. I also wish that we got to see more interactions between Pidge and Allura and Hunk and Allura in s6 and beyond, since they rarely talked anymore despite being on the same team. Even Allura’s interactions with Coran were so diminished in number that they looked like complete strangers in the second half of the series, and it hurt. 

I mark this point as the start of Allura’s downfall: from iconic character to mere love interest, which is not wrong at all per se, but it is when any other trait and development is purposefully ignored and forgotten by the writers “for the sake of the story”.

Thankfully, Allura seemed to recover quickly after Lotor’s betrayal (the scene when she flips him like a coin? Priceless), declaring all of her hatred towards the cruelties he’d committed and how he let her down irreparably. One good thing that Lotor did- and I have to admit that it was good-  was that he made Allura discover new abilities and become stronger, powers-wise speaking. Yet, all of this was secondary to her being a love interest with no other apparent purpose. Why do I say this? Because as soon as she got rid of Lotor, she got together with Lance, and to be honest it’s not quite clear to me how or why. 

I can’t deny that when I watched s1, I was an Allurance shipper; I was sixteen, a hopeless goofball who believed in all the clichés. Now, however, I do realize that Lance’s advances were annoying and obnoxious (and he’s my absolute favourite character, so this shows you just how honest I’m being, hopefully), and that I’m so grateful that Allura didn’t give in. At least, she didn’t do it at the beginning. In the last season, however, she fell in love with Lance in a single episode: when he asked her out, she seemed hesitant and only accepted because Romelle pushed her to give it a try. The dinner sequence was where Allura understood that Lance wasn’t the womanizer she thought he was, but I don’t believe that in reality that would have changed anything. You don’t simply fall in love in one evening only because your date’s family tells you that this person isn’t what they seem; in fact, that would worry me even more, personally, because it would mean that my date is a total stranger.

Lance’s “I love you” was not completely uncalled for, but simply very confusing: he seemed to be over her, but he became jealous when Lotor showed up. I tried so hard to see this as a “protective brother/friend” dynamic, but that sentence leaves no space for speculation (again, I’ll talk about Lance another time). What shocked me was Allura reaction’s to Lance’s confession.

She’d never looked at him with any kind of romantic interest, and even if some scenes may be seen as such (when she resuscitates him. And proceeds to hide it from the team. Yeah, another huge disastrous plotline), it’s undeniable that the Princess had trust-issues, and for a good reason too. That one time that she went against her team’s choice and trusted Lotor a bit too much, she got used and heartbroken. So why was she suddenly so in love with a boy that she’d always treated as nothing more than a good friend? My answer is: bad writing.

If Allura had shown any romantic interest in Lance for at least three consecutive seasons out of eight- to create a deeper connection- I would have taken it without complaining much. If Lotor hadn’t committed genocide and didn’t proceed to use Allura, I would have accepted Lotura too (friendly reminder that I don’t do ship hate unless ships involve rape, pedophilia and incest. So I’m not hating on Allurance and Lotura, though Lotor is a villain and I don’t like him, but that’s just my opinion). If Allura was allowed to be both strong and romantically interested in anyone, I would have taken it. But especially in s8, the writers erased her personality, turning a bright and iconic character into dating material. It wasn't fair to her nor to Lance, honestly.

The last straw was her sacrifice: Allura died to save the universe and since it was her main goal, I’m okay with it, though it hurt as she’s my second favourite character. What I didn’t like about it was that the villains got a happier ending than she did. Lotor, who committed genocide, got to live happily ever after with his parents, a violent conqueror and an abusive hag who ripped the universe apart to be with her son (I get it, mothers love their kids, but this is far too extreme). And furthermore, Lotor didn’t even like his parents, but still for some reason he was happy to be with them again, maybe because at least he got to spend eternity with someone that loves him despite everything. 

Allura, however, died without saying goodbye to Coran, the man who stayed by her side for all their- but also ours- adventures, the one who believed in her the most and who did everything to protect her. She died without getting a last look at the universe she left behind, at the people who weren’t there in her final moments but that cared for her and vice versa (Shay, Romelle, even Krolia. Even the mice, Kalternecker and Cosmo, really). Each character had about a half a minute to say their goodbyes, except for Lance, whose goodbye was the longest but also the least impactful, in my opinion. The writers played too much with the dramatic idea of it and the result was sloppy- as much as I love dramatic scenes, this was purposeless. 

Allura’s last act of kindness- as if saving the whole universe and every existing reality wasn’t enough- was gifting Lance with the Marks of the Chosen. Though, I’m not sure how to interpret it. In a fic I recently wrote, I theorised that “Allura gave you [Lance] these marks because she knew that you had greatness within, and they can actively remind you of it in your darkest moments [...]”. Of course, I’m far from sure that this is the real reason. My question is, was there even a real reason, or did Allura give him the Marks for dramatic purposes? If so, I’m glad that it wasn’t confirmed officially, because at least we get to make our own theories that surely are more satisfying than “we wanted fans to cry more”. Still, I see those marks as scars, and I will talk about it thoroughly in Lance’s analysis. 

In conclusion, I don’t think that Allura was bad at all. I think that, in the end, she was simply badly written, which is entirely different.

s1-s5 Allura was a strong, compassionate, empowering, trustworthy, bright, lovable and fun character and for that, she deserved a better- much better- ending. She’ll always be in my heart, and I hope that future reboots will treat her right. 

I will always remember Allura dearly. As Coran said in the final episode, “Just around this table I see so many lives touched by her actions. For some of us, she was a diplomat, a teacher, a leader, and a friend. But to those of us around this table, she will always be family”. Raising an imaginary glass, I just want to say... “To Allura”.

[bitchbrisket]

First Lines Tag

Tagged by @slightlyintimidating

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

As all my mutuals have been tagged already, I’ll just tag a couple of people, @tara-stofse and @rapidashpatronus

I’m also going to cheat and give you a favourite line from each one, simply because the first line is rarely the best and why not be a big fat show off where your writing is concerned? Didn’t link because I am a lazy cow but my AO3 profile is at the top of my page.

1.       (The Worst Witch 2017) A friend like you – 'Get in loser, we're going shopping!'

Sometimes I come up with good titles and sometimes I desperately flail around and this was the best I could do. Most people should know what the opening line is a reference to and it was the first thing I thought of when the idea of this fic materialised.

  ·         'I know you think you're hot stuff, but Dimity can run rings around you. You have the acting skills of a potato' she icily informed a miffed Arabella.’

  2.       (Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries) An education - 'I confess, I fail to understand the point of most of them.'

Again, another crappy title but for some reason, no song lyric or poem came to me on the subject of policemen raiding a Chinese brothel in the 1920s and confiscating vibrators because they look like suspicious instruments. I did lift the first line from the script because that is partly what I based the fic on. 0/10 for originality there.

  ·         ‘The benefit of having so many deities, Lin reflected, was that there was always someone in, should you knock on the door of their shrines.’

  3.       (The Worst Witch 2017) Poker – ‘Miss Bat scuttled along to the staffroom after her date and walked in, only to halt in surprise.’

Good Lord, I’m really not selling it to you with these boring titles am I? I’ve done the strip poker storyline with the hairpins in another fandom and couldn’t think up a clever title for that either.

  ·         ‘Clothes were strewn everywhere but in front of Hecate, there was a small pile of hairpins and nothing else.’

  4.       (The Worst Witch 2017) Which witch is which? – ‘Wychwood forest was a mysterious place, full of wrackspurts and helipoaths and blibbering humdingers. Sometimes you'd even see a crumple horned snorcack galloping along.’

Yes, alright I borrowed something off the world of Harry Potter. A fic based off a post off of a popular post on Tumblr and title borrowed off Dianna Wynne Jones I think.

  ·         'Watch out for the blibbering humdingers!' she shouted vengefully after the troublesome tourists.’

  5.       (The Worst Witch 2017) They do it with mirrors - 'I've missed you.'

Very general, basic bitch kind of starter. Dial up the smut o’metre because witches are having the equivalent of webcam sex. Written for the Hackle Lemonade Challenge, prompt kink. Wasn’t one of my favourites to write but it does have one of my favourite paragraphs in a smutty fic. Beats the first line anyway.

  ·         ‘She groaned and panted as her climax finally overtook her, glad of the extra support from the solid oak furniture. None of this modern rubbish that couldn't withstand a good hard fuck. There was a time and a place for IKEA but this was not it.’

  6.       (The Worst Witch 2017) Every inch of you – ‘Ada loved it when Hecate lightly raked her nails down her back.’

Diving straight into the smut for this other Hackle Lemonade Challenge, prompt kink fic. Title entirely appropriate.

  ·         ‘While many people over the years could make it happen, it was a secret delight to know that nobody did it better than her.’

  7.       (The Worst Witch 2017) The hum of your desire – ‘Ada woke up to an empty bed.’

At least it’s promising. The story can go anywhere when you start off with an empty bed. The bed is irrelevant anyway. They end up on the sofa.

  ·         ‘Hecate Hardbroom was nothing but a meticulous over achiever.’

  8.       (The Worst Witch 2017) You’re the night sky, trying to make me see your stars – ‘Hecate had been afraid to touch.’

Throws you right into the scene and lets you know there’s going to be a bit of angst in there. I love the song I took the title from (night sky – Leonell Cassio & Julia Mihevc) and I waited for a fic idea to materialise so I could use it.

  ·         ‘Ada could feel her breathing, steady and true, vibrating through to her heart.’

  9.       (Ghosts) Hide & seek – ‘Giggling madly, she galloped up the stairs to seek out the best hiding place ever.’

With several of the ghosts with backstories we have yet to uncover, the possibilities are endless. Poor Kitty had to die young so I gave her a death loosely based on an English ghost story, using all the unsavoury incidents involving her sister. Title needs no explanation.

  ·         ‘And shimmering obliquely in the corner of the landing, was the answer. The wooden chest. The one from the latest sailing ship that had brought back all that sugar and tea and rum.’

  10.   (The Worst Witch 2017) When breathing sounds like your song – ‘She hadn't let herself enjoy it at first.’

Luckily the only way from there is forward. For the Hackle Lemonade Challenge 2021, prompt firsts. Not sure where I got the title from, it’s possible I melded a couple of song lyrics together for it.

  ·         ‘I always feel thirsty after a pleasurable experience' she said cheerfully.’

  11.   (Holby City) There is no goat that foolish – ‘Serena patted down her wide brimmed hat and set off for a walk.’

It’s an ok start to the fic. The title is terrible but honestly, its just hard to find references to goats in general.

  ·         ‘She only just realised that they were conversing in English, not French. The other woman had a London accent. Good. She could shout at her more expressively in English.’

  12.   (The Worst Witch 2017) Sugar mouse – ‘What is it?’

So many possibilities here. The title does give it away, but still.

  ·         ‘In her nightmares, her grandfather had chased her around with an eyeball on a fork.’

  13.   (Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries) Stitch up - ‘I’d like to see you operate my sewing machine, Hugh Collins.’

Another shameless ripping off from the script. But nothing else can sum up this fic so perfectly. Title self-explanatory.

  ·         ‘Were sewing machines like dogs? He wondered. Did they take on the personalities of their owners?’

    14.   (Pushing Daisies) Girls don’t want boys, girls want damn respect – ‘Her boy always had an eye for the ladies.’

What a ridiculously clunky title. But apparently I couldn’t think of anything better. The opening line is much better.

  ·         ‘Calista was reminded of the principal at school that Emerson had crushed on so hard that he'd broken every fire alarm in the school over the course of several months just to get her attention. Some things never changed.’

  15.   (Holby City) Tell us the tale of a goat – ‘Did I ever tell you about how Serena and I met?’

A solid opening there, full of potential. The title is a bit crap. No, I have no idea why or how Serena would be working on the Italian railway either.

  ·         ‘You dressed one up in a poncho and called it aunt Gertrude?’ Fleur asked eventually. She really couldn’t think of anything better to say.’

  16.   (Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries) In the gracious light – ‘Jack tried not to let their questioning stares get to him.’

Based partly on the MFMM books, I’m happy with the opening line, it sets the tone. The title comes from Shakespeare’s Sonnet VII. ‘Lo! in the orient when the gracious light.’ With that, it ties in Jack and Lin quite nicely.

  ·         ‘After all, grandmama had warned him enough about the distraction of white girls. She had said nothing about white boys.’

    17.   (Holby City) Not yet – ‘Bernie wouldn't describe herself as an avid reader these days.’

Title taken from a line in the book Wicked. Opening line is pretty generic. I basically wrote this fic because Elphaba reminds me of Bernie in some respects. Also, premonition, sorry about that.

  ·         ‘In her mind, it was Serena in that cell, stretching out her hand to Bernie and chiding her affectionately for her delay.’

    18.   (Ghosts) Filth – ‘The Captain paid no attention to Lady Button's shrewish tone two rooms away.’

Simple title, simple opening line. Very direct. It’s the ‘why didn’t the Captain and Lady Button bond over the hot gardener in Lady Chatterly’s Lover together’ fic.

  ·         ‘The Captain sighed. That husband of hers had a lot to answer for. Bastard. He couldn't have killed her by poison or anything, no, he had to push her out of the damn window.’

  19.   (Ghosts & Holby City crossover) Over the top we go – ‘He couldn't believe it.’

So many things one couldn’t believe, a pretty generic opening. The title is a WW1 reference so not the correct war for the Captain but I used it anyway. Bernie is Haver’s niece.

  ·         ‘The Captain looked pleased but there was an expression in his eyes that Alison thought hid a sob in his heart.’

    20.   (Holby City) Boobs – ‘Arthur Digby was having a terrible day.’

Title, utterly crap, I know you’ll agree. Opening line, sums it up really. I like it.

  ·         'Well, call me Da Vinci and I'll paint you like one of those French girls.'

Art wasn't Fleur's strong point.’

So what did I learn about my opening lines? It does reflect my writing style, snappy and concise. I rarely ramble for long. Are they thrilling opening lines? Not usually. Do they set the scene or the tone? Much of the time. They are certainly not the best ones I’ve ever written. Considering that I don’t love most of these last lot of opening lines, I’m going to go with which witch is which? It’s the best one of the bunch, I think. 

[gabriel4sam]

The exiles of Zilo are quite happy about it (and have no intentions to come back)

I suddenly realized I hadn’t posted this fic on tumblr!

So, written for the @clonewarssavedexchange for @wrennette and beta-ed by @sithsoka, here is a little fix-it Mace/Ponds with an extra serving of Zilo beast!

It was a hot, humid muffling that woke Mace up, then a hot, moist tongue as big as his face undertook the cleaning of his neck. 

He groaned, tried to push it away. 

“Should have called you Pushy instead of Ber,” he grumbled to the little Zilo beast, whose tail threatened to send the entire bedside table crashing to the floor. 

One important secret about Mace Windu, which he would like to take with him to his grave for his reputation’s sake, was that he was very much not a morning person until enough caf to wake long-dead Jedi had been poured into him. 

He heard a laugh, opened a glaring eye, then hands, friendly, charming hands, took away the animal clambering all over the bed. 

“You’ll have to wake up, one way or another,” Ponds remarked, wrangling the little beast away. Of all the brood, this one was the only one who accepted going indoors. It even liked it: it was more attached to Mace, who had nursed it back to health when it had been hatched, weak and frail, already at death’s door, than to its own parent who had rejected it to use all its energy to take care of its healthy siblings. 

Mace got out of the bed. 

After a few false starts. 

Ponds had left him a gigantic cup of caf, just as Mace preferred it, with only a splash of cream and no sugar. Mace had a besotted smile. Almost ten years after they had, in Shaak Ti’s words ‘run away like two teenagers wanting to aggravate their parents’. The love Ponds had for Mace, and which was answered by Mace’s adoration, was still a delightful surprise for the former Master of the Order. Every day, it was like seeing the dawn on a new world, like the first taste of water after long hours of gruesome work in the sun, like the caress of the Force. 

From the window of their bedroom, he could see the rough landing pad and a part of their installations. For long, their little colony hadn't had a name, it was only “the installations on the Zilo moon” and the moon herself didn’t even have officially the name Zilo, it was just the nickname everybody had started to give to the unnamed moon of an unnamed planet in an unnamed system

The landing pad was more a hastily prepared square, made by cutting down trees with lightsabers and hauling them away with the Force. It was also surrounded by rough buildings of the same tree. With the years passing and their community growing, things were smoothing out, and not only metaphorically. Mace had been ready to throw a party when he had put the management of the outpost into more capable hands, hands who knew something about it, the growing and planning of their small outpost. Hours poring over everything possible on the holonet about city planning and needs wasn’t the same as spending years studying the stuff!

Across the landing pad he could see Ponds and Obi-Wan discharging a ship with the help of Waxer and young Numa, who was certainly trying to help, but was apparently busier exploring everything they had received this time. For a long time, she had been the youngest of their colony, smuggled there by Boil and Waxer after they had learnt of her parents’ deaths. Mace had been anxious about her presence at the time. It was one thing for grown adults to decide to live in a colony in a previously uncharted part of space for the love of a gigantic lizard, it was another to impose it on a small child! 

But Numa had not only survived but flourished and when the other children had arrived, first a small group of very grumpy initiates who hadn’t been chosen for Padawan and had no intentions to join the Agricorps when they could play settlers and then a birth, their first one, to a former senatorial aid and the clone she loved….Mace had been, as the de facto leader of their small community, ready for it. 

Later, he finally wandered out. He was officially on a rest day, something implemented by Master Eerin the moment she had put her foot on planet and banded forces with Kix, but he had no taste for spending the day in their quarters. He helped Cody, who was repairing a speeder. He liked this brother of Ponds, calm, thoughtful, with a core of steel like all the vod. And much less exhausting than Fives could be!

Together; they repaired the damages made to the motor by the high level of humidity in the air, almost without a word. It was a simple task and Mace appreciated it. There was some simple joy in the mechanics. Something was not working and he could do something about it and then the object could once again fulfill its tasks! So much easier than space politics, their backstabbing and their secret Siths…And Cody was a good friend. Any man who had made the choice to accompany this crazy expedition was in Mace’s good book, but the clones more than anyone else: they had been freed something like three days before the departure of the expedition and still, with so little time to choose, with all the galaxy at the tips of their fingers, a good chunk of them had chosen to come and to help. 

So much, in fact, that they had established a rotation, giving them time to explore the galaxy too, and still have the Zilo’s colony as their base, a place to regroup. 

So, yes, clones were some of Mace’s favourites people, and Cody had been high on his list for making Obi-Wan happy, and while that had inspired his initial trust and friendliness towards Cody, it had slowly deepened into a friendship because of Cody himself, for his dry humour and his taste for terrible ales and long walks in the forest. 

“You’re daydreaming,” Cody remarked, “Please tell me you’re not daydreaming about my brother and your bed in my company.” Mace made a face and didn’t answer. After a life of chastity, it was strange that everybody knew he loved Ponds and Ponds loved him, even after years, even coming from Cody, who loved Obi-Wan and was loved in return. 

When the speeder was finally running, they loaded it with lunch and went away to join Obi-Wan and Shaak. According to the roster, the two others were assigned to play guardians today, but nothing said an impromptu lunch on the grass couldn’t be organized. After all, it was a simple precaution, a presence which was needed, nothing lunch could break.

Twice already since their arrival, poachers had come from off world to try to kill their enormous friend and mascot. The two times, the Zilo Beast had eaten them, so it had never really been in danger. Nevertheless, prudence could never really hurt so now two Jedi were always standing guard. Also, people always made a fuss when the Zilo Beast ate someone, even when it had been provoked by people trying to hurt its young and they didn’t need more rumours on the holonet. It had already been complicated enough in the beginning when they had smuggled the Zilo beast off Coruscant in catastrophe, because they couldn’t be sure the Senate wouldn’t order its death. 

A small part of Mace, a part he wasn’t very proud of, still thought the poachers had it coming. 

Today, the beast was bathing in a small lagoon with its brood, minus the one who had chosen Mace as its parent. It had been such a joy to realize it reproduced by parthenogenesis. No longer the last of its species. 

And here it was. Glorious and enormous, glistening like a jewel between the droplets of water of the lagoon and the light of the sun. Alive. A beast supposedly extinct for centuries, alive and happy, with its children, as safe as it could be. 

Shaak and Obi-Wan were sitting on the shore, playing one of those horribly complicated board games from Alderaan that Mace found deeply boring. Obi-Wan was barefoot and Shaak had abandoned her outer tunic. Mace felt a pulse of joy, deep in his heart, as Cody put down their impromptu lunch on a blanket. 

He remembered, years ago. The exhaustion, the darkness. Shaak, frailer at every communication from Kamino, as she fought tooth and claw for the clones and lost, because the Senate was stacked against them. Obi-Wan, with bags under his eyes darker every day. His brothers and sisters, the ones he was supposed to guide, dying and Falling and coming back as shadows of themselves. 

They had traded all of that away when they had come here. The life of an exile was hard, but only in the way that it was hard work to colonize a world. 

And all of that wouldn’t have been possible without the Zilo beast. 

Like it had heard his thoughts, and despite what the Jedi more gifted in communication with semi-sentient beings said, Mace was almost sure the Zilo Beast could do it, the great head turned towards him. The Beast rolled over in the waves and splashed closer, its head leaning down to Mace’s level. 

“Hello, my friend,” the Jedi crooned without fear, as eyes bigger than himself lazily observed him. 

“No, don’t-“

Too late. 

The beast had licked him, a greeting it reserved only for Mace. Only its tongue was far bigger than its child’s!

Behind him, Mace could hear Obi-Wan stifle a laugh and the noise an elbow, probably Cody’s, Shaak had abandoned all sense of decorum years ago, made when connecting to the redhead’s stomach. With a sigh, Mace did what he always did in those moments, put his boots and socks on the sand and entered the lagoon, still dressed, to wash off the spit on his clothes and on his person. On the shore, Obi-Wan had thrown an arm around Cody’s waist and was whispering something in his ear which made the former Commander smile, soft and warm. 

Shaak was putting away their game and she laughed when all the brood came to welcome Mace in the exact same way as their parent, making all his efforts of washing away the spit for nothing. 

“That’s what you get for being the favourite,” Shaak quipped, her headtail almost vibrating in juvenile glee. Because here, she could. Here, she was free. 

Free because ten years ago, Mace and Ponds had refused to see the Zilo Beast put to death for having munched on the Chancellor of the Republic. At the time, they hadn’t known that the Chancellor had been a Sith, only the inquiries post-death had revealed it. 

Mace still had refused the Beast’s death. 

Ponds and him had crashed more than landed on this world, hurt, exhausted, with only the Beast and their tenacity and had been joined, little by little, by some other Jedi making the same choices, run away clones…And two years later, once the dead Chancellor had been officially and posthumously declared an enemy of the Republic, had they received their pardons and the opportunity to go back home to Coruscant. 

Mace had watched the envoy in silence for a moment, astonished that the other sentient didn’t understand. Ponds’ hand had searched for his and it was the former Commander who had answered, putting into words everything Mace and the other inhabitants of Zilo had felt. 

“Your Excellency,” Ponds had said, with this calm he had and half a smile, “We’re already home.”

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Remarks: Shipping the Ace Ops

This just in. The squiggle meister really, really LIKES the Ace Ops!

Their characters already intrigued me from the first episode of V7. But now that I’ve gotten a little bit more screentime with them, I really like these guys. They seem like a cool bunch and I’m looking forward to seeing how they interact with JNR_RWBY during their time in Atlas.

I mean, they’re no Team FNKI (and I pray they show up at least once for V7 especially for when the group go out partying) but the Aces are cool.

So that being said, since I like the Aces so much, it was only a matter of time before I chose my favourites of the bunch. That will be Marrow and Elm, thank you very much. 

Marrow is good boy (even though he lies which is the point). Oscar may be best boy but can we all agree that Marrow is good boy. Such a good boy. I hope someone pats  him on the head and naturally he lies and tries to act all nonchalant and tsundere like he doesn’t like it but his tail betrays the fact that he really loves getting his head scratched. Can you pet the good boy in RWBY? I hope you can. 

Next up is Elm: Elm is such a big build-a-bear of sweetness that I can’t help but adore her. She’s so cute!

She only had like two lines in this entire episode and already she has joined the ranks of my favourites 

I want her to interact with Oscar sooooooo badly. Like Nora, I want Elm ato have a big sisterly affectionate love for Oscar so that most of their interacts involve Elm either trying to squish Oscar’s freckled cheeks or lift him up like he’s bread to her and give him one giant crushing bear hug. Please make it happen show.

So yeah Big Buff Barefoot Build-A-Bear and Good Boy are favourites from the Aces. And since I like the Aces enough to have favourites already, naturally I’m going to have ships to go with it. Yes. I started shipping the Aces..with each other of course.

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Bunny Bites (Harriet x Marrow) 

Folks in the FNDM over here shipping Harriet and Yang, meanwhile my chocolate-coated squiggly behind is shipping Harriet and Marrow. 

By the way Harriet snickered at Marrow’s adorkable little tail wag moment (such a Good Boy) and his sort of agitate embarassed reaction to her laughing at him made me think there might be a little something-something between those two. Maybe.

If I had to guess their dynamic, I’d say that Marrow and Harriet are probably super competitive with each other especially Harriet since that seems to be her thing (Tortoise and the Hare, am I right?). 

However at the core of their relationship, Marrow secretly has crush on Harriet but because he’s a pathological liar (the Boy Who Cried Wolf) and a bad one at best, Harriet doesn’t take his advances or attempts at flirting with her seriously; even though she low-key likes him too.

I’m imagining them like Wally West and Artemis in S1 of Young Justice. They have chemistry and clearly like-like each other but they’re both too stubborn to admit even though it’s obvious to the rest of their group. I’ll need more info on them to see if my hunch about them is correct. 

But for now, I’m on the Marrow and Harriet ship :D I don’t know what to call their ship though. I’m thinking of calling it “Bunny Bites” for now.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Elm and Vine (Elm x Vine) 

I’m also starting to ship Elm and Vine since someone shared a post yesterday talking about the two possibly taken inspiration from The Elm and the Vine. It’s said that pruned elm trees act as vine supports and thus, this was taken as a symbol of marriage.

So perhaps we might see Elm and Vine of the Ace Ops being a couple who work really well together as symbol of their bond. Another power couple whose relationship contends with Ren and Nora. 

Imagine Nora and Ren learning about love and teamwork from observing Elm and Vine and thus, this strengthens both their relationship as a couple and their dynamic as teammates on the battlefield.

At first I pegged Elm and Harriet to be a couple when I first mused about the Aces. But now I’m seeing that Elm and Vine might be a couple given their fairy tale inspiration, not to mention that their whole aesthetic is awfully close to Ren and Nora.

We got Vine over here looking like a monk with  tattooed symbols and prayer beads. And then there’s Ms Elm, big buff and barefooted wielding a mighty hammer.

If Elm and Vine are indeed a couple then I am all for it. They can double date with Ren and Nora. Nora is my second favourite female character (after Ruby and before Penny) and I’m already loving Elm---she’s so adorable! I can’t wait to see these two gals interact and I can’t wait to see Elm and Ren react to their girlfriends  meeting each other and becoming friends. 

This squiggle meister is all in for powerful hammer-wielding ladies who could probably break their tall Shaolin-inspired pacifist boyfriends in half but they never will because their love for them is stronger than they are. 

Ren and Nora’s relationship was already pretty sweet before they officially got together-together in V4. So I’m hoping Elm and Vine are just as cute. I hope it’s the type of relationship where Elm is pretty outgoing and sweet until you make her angry and Vine is the only one who can calm her down with his love and support. That’d be precious.

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

As for Clover Ebi---I don’t ship Clover with anyone. He’s the cheese that stands alone for me. I see Clover as the Dad of the Aces because he apparently looks to be the oldest of the team. He’s got eye bags in his character design so y’know what that means, folks?

 The glue that leads and holds these ragtag bunch of kids together and keeps them well in check. Plus it’d be cute if Clover is already in a relationship but his partner isn’t in the military.

 I can see that. But who know’s. Anyways, that’s all I got to say for today. Cheerios FNDM fam!

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[merryfortune]

Flower Power

Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Ship: Huntara/Perfuma

Word Count:  3,272

Tags: Post Canon, Slight Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Pansexual Perfuma

   Something strange was beginning to happen around Huntara.

   Flowers were beginning to bloom where she stood and lingered too long, she could swear that if she thoughtlessly used her hands to talk, the plants around her would bob and move with the way she moved.

   But, surely not right?

   Magic was not her forte at all but she supposed that if stars could return to the night sky, along side the moons and clouds, then maybe it was possible that she was, quite literally, a late bloomer when it came to magic. It helped that this new found affinity she had with plants seemed to coincide with when her dominion, the Crimson Waste transformed from a hinterland to a beautiful and burgeoning metropolis. And yes, that was correct, it was still her dominion even though the peoples of it, scarred and roguish, were beginning to reconnect with the outside society they had shunned and they had crowned Huntara their regent.

   She was their leader, not their queen and certainly not their princess. She was Huntara of the Crimson Waste - and yes, it was still called the Crimson Waste even though it was no longer how it had been for a millenia. Scorched red sand and a hopeless place. All sandy valleys of death and the lost with a harsh sun and foreboding conditions which made it impossible to thrive. Now that magic, all magic, had returned to Etheria from its core, the Crimson Waste had been renewed as an ecosystem. There were oases, real and genuine, in the sands which now teemed with all sorts of insectoid life and the like.

   Plants, too, apparently. Not just cacti but there were a few other, desert hardy things which had begun to spring up and bloom in the Crimson Waste and these strange things, with huge mottled petals, had a definite preference for popping up wherever Huntara was and she was in a lot of places. As leader, her people - her subjects, if she could be so bold and it felt awful, for once, to be that bold - had a lot of need and want for her opinions and she was a woman of the people. She wanted to be there. On the ground, helping. A strange difference from fighting but it felt good to do good.

   But she couldn’t ignore herself. She needed a little bit of help as well. And she knew exactly who to ask to get it. 

   Perfuma had received her with open arms - and then closed ones. She was a hugger after all. Huntara stiffened at the reception of such affection but she didn’t revile it. That would be rude and she was a leader now. Huntara had to be this new thing called “polite” and Perfuma made it easy. She was such a goody two shoes sweetie after all and despite it all, Huntara was a softie so she indulged but patting the top of Perfuma’s head as her skinny little arms tried their darned best to squeeze the life out of Huntara. 

   When she finally let go, Perfuma had to take a very deep breath. Only for her arms to fling back again and she beamed, so big and wide and proud. 

   “Welcome to Plumeria, Huntara, Princess of the Crimson Waste!” Perfuma bellowed so cheerfully.

   “Hold on, hold on, I ain’t no princess, princess.” Huntara scowled as she corrected Perfuma.

   Perfuma looked up at her, all innocently confounded. “Oh, my apologies,” she said, her hands shrinking in on herself, her dress crinkling, “I had received word that the Crimson Waste had made you their leader and since your efforts have been to reconnect the Crimson Waste to the rest of Etheria, I assumed that a new kingdom had been… reborn.”

   “Your right on those counts, I can’t blame you fer gettin’ your wires crossed… but I ain’t no princess.” Huntara said only to turn uncharacteristically ginger. “But I guess that’s why I’m here. Strange things are happenin’ and I figured you might know a thing or two. You’re the one with the green thumb. Not me, mine’re, uh, purple.”

   Perfuma giggled but she nodded. “Here, allow me to show you to my inner sanctum, we can talk there in private.”

   “Much obliged, flower girl.” Huntara smiled weakly.

   Plumeria was a very beautiful place. That was an objective fact. It was verdant and lush, easygoing and relaxed. 

   Huntara found it weirdly fitting that she would come here again. She had been part of an invasion which had hassled Plumeria a long, long time ago, when she was in the Horde. Returning from that outpost in Plumeria had been the catalyst that Huntara needed to desert the Horde. Seeing its wealth and bounty had made her yearn for more than what she got at the Horde. She didn’t deserve to eat grey ration bars when there were real fruits and vegetables out there. She didn’t deserve to only know hatred and misery if there was genuine love out there; of course, she came to convince herself that a coward like her, on the run from the biggest and most terrifying force in Etheria would never be truly deserving of such things so she ended up in the Crimson Waste. 

   But now, she was back and that felt oddly right.

   Perfuma had them settled down by the shade of some overhanging linen strewn about in the trees and on pillows with a small, wooden table by their side. A servant appeared and offered them tea and other light refreshments, some of which were tiny in size. Perfuma pecked at a few and then drank from her cup of tea.

   “Rose petal,” she said, a fanciful sigh escaping her lips, “my absolute favourite blend, it’s divine.”

   Huntara awkwardly accepted. The social customs outside the Crimson Waste were egregious to her but to be courteous, she drank some. It was hot, but not too hot for her mouth, and okay. Not her favourite.

   “So, what does bring you to Plumeria? You mentioned that you wanted my counsel for an important matter but were evasive over the communications… I’ve been shivering in anticipation for your arrival.” Perfuma rambled.

   “I feel like I’m going crazy but… but I think I have magic now, the same as yours.” Huntara stiltedly replied.

   Her eyes were far off into the distance, she sat, cross legged, and away from Perfuma. Anything to avoid her gaze. It was too intense and not in the way that Huntara could usually bear the brunt of because Perfuma’s intensity was very, very sparkly for lack of a better word and right now, she was incredibly sparkly even by her measures.

   She gasped, eyes widening, “No… way!” she exclaimed.

   “I-I’m not certain. I just think its possible, when She-Ra rejuvenated Etheria with a thousand years’ worth of stored magic that I absorbed some of it since I am, er, the leader of the Crimson Waste and, for whatever reason, leaders on this planet generally tend to be, uh, gifted. So to speak. With magic.”

   Hunata stared at her hands. They were not the hands of someone who ought to excel at magic or even have the rare privilege of practising it in any way, shape, or form. All the sorcerers that Huntara had the pleasure of meeting had these tiny, soft hands which were dainty and squishy. Perfuma’s hands were a fantastic example of Huntara’s observation, for instance. The only exception she could think of to such delicacy was Scorpia, but her heart and mind were plenty soft and squishy to make up for the fact that she had pincers.

   “O-M-G!” Perfuma squealed. “We could be flower power buddies! Doesn’t that sound awesome?”

   Huntara growled. “I told you.” she all but snapped. “I don’t know for certain. Maybe I’m just seeing things.” She huffed through her nose, a hot exhale. “It could be coincidence or whatever.”

   “I think we should at least try.” Perfuma gushed. “I believe in you.”

   Huntara stiffened. Perfuma’s words were so saccharine but so sincere as well. She huffed again, more defeated this time. 

   “Yes,” she supposed, “I guess we could try.”

   That word had become the bane of an entire inter-galactic empire. Maybe it could become the boon between a princess with confirmed flower powers and a totally not princess with unconfirmed flower powers. 

   “Here, let me come closer to help.” Perfuma said and she rocketed to her feet.

   She pranced about only to plop down next to Huntara. They were knee to knee, nudging up against each other. Perfuma held onto her ankles and leaned back, her hair falling back behind her and she looked at the sky. Huntara wondered if she ought to do the same so, she did. She tilted her head back and through the foliage of the trees above, she saw scant traces of the big blue sky.

   “Huntara, dearest, I want you to think about your happy place.” Perfuma said. “We are going to do a spot of meditating. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

   “Uh, I guess. Told you, flower girl, not really my thing.” Huntara said, gruffly reminding her.

   “But plant based magic is my thing and I want you to unlock your inner Plumerian so we can get to the bottom of this whole thing you're experiencing. It's scary and exciting, don’t you think?”

   “Uh, yea-” Huntara interrupted herself with a cough. She was Huntara of the Crimson Waste. The strongest being in the Crimson Waste. She wasn’t wishy-washy or the like, she was of the toughest resolve. Or so she would damn well remind herself. “Yes. It is.” She was still staring at what could be glimpsed of the sky through the dense forest. They both were.

   “I was taken to the Heart-Blossom all the time as a baby, by my parents, so I could receive its blessing but the earliest I actually remember being taken to the Heart-Blossom was the day I activated my connection with it and I used my powers, my magic, for the first time.” There was a nostalgic sound to Perfuma’s voice but it was tinged with something else. Something more bittersweet. “I was so excited but it was so scary. My mouth opened, my eyes glazed over - or so I’m told - and I just became an unstable conduit for the Runestone’s powers… I hurt a lot of people that day. Friends, family, both…”

   Huntara looked away from the sky and unthinkingly, she reached out. Her fingers grazed Perfuma’s upper arm in some scant attempt to comfort her. She looked down from the sky as well and met Huntara’s gaze. It was saturated with concern for her.

   “No one died that day but my parents still had some of the injuries I accidentally inflicted that day on them. My Mother and my Guardian… but they never blamed me. They helped me understand my powers and control them. I want to help you do the same since… since I think you're the same. You're scared by these new things but they are so, so rewarding when reined in correctly. That’s what makes it exciting. I have the utmost faith in you, Huntara, so believe in yourself. Let’s do it. We can do it.” Perfuma rambled. There were tears in her eyes.

   “Yeah, we can.” Huntara grunted.

   She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. Perfuma guided them both through the meditation. Huntara tried to focus on Perfuma’s voice and Perfuma’s voice alone but it was so difficult. Incredibly difficult as Plumeria was so alive. The wind sang in the branches of the trees; birds flew and flapped about; people came and went merrily as they pleased. There was so much to listen to but Huntara endured even though something as simple as sitting down and clearing her mind was strangely difficult for her.

   But Perfuma was soon more than satisfied with how Huntara did, ending the guided meditation after a minute or two, Huntara didn’t count and she had to control herself not to, she spoke again: “How do you feel?” Her voice was light and airy.

   “Focused.” Huntara elected to reply. She could think of dozens of disparaging or self deprecating replies but at the very least, she owed Perfuma something constructive, even downright positive.

   “Excellent. Open your eyes.” Perfuma ordered her, her words beginning to tumble with her excitable nature. She wanted to confirm Huntara’s magic powers more than she did.

   Swallowing, Huntara obeyed. She opened her left eye and then the right, only to be immediately dazzled by how bright the sunlight here was. It was a gentle sunlight, though but she still had to squint ahead.

   “I think you can do it. No, I know you can do it. Try and use your powers, Huntara. Please.” Perfuma told her next. It felt inciting but not like an order. Strange.

   Huntara took a breath and she stared at the ground, drilling a hole between the plush blades of grass around her. 

   “You can do it. Visualise a flower. Any flower you like and make it grow.” Perfuma encouraged her. 

   Huntara growled as she tried to follow through on Perfuma’s encouragement of her but it was very difficult. Her muscles visibly strained, her cheeks flushed, as she put all her might and power into trying to make one, teeny-tiny flower. Her efforts in vain, elicited something like sympathy from Perfuma.

   She reached out to her and her fingers caressed Huntara’s thick forearms. Her touch was surprisingly cool. Or maybe Huntara burned too hot but either way, she was soothed by how Perfuma’s fingertips ghosted over her leathery skin and Huntara breathed a bit more easily. And when she stopped trying so hard, lulled by Perfuma’s quiet encouragement, it happened.

   Magic happened.

   Before their very eyes, a flower managed to raise itself up and out of the grass, nigh out of nowhere. It was feeble and quite battered looking but as its petals, pink with white trims and golden middles, unfurled, it had an air of grace and resilience. It seemed to respond to how Huntara held her hand out to it, as though it wanted to be pet by her hands.

   Huntara’s jaw slackened and when it popped back into place, it turned into a grin. Gawky and toothy but an ecstatic grin all the same. Beside her, Perfuma squealed with joy - a helluva lot more than what Huntara had. She hugged Huntara from side on, snuggling into her rock-hard side and beaming as well.

   “You did it.” Perfuma cheered.

   “Y-Yeah, I did. I’m not goin’ crazy. I’m magic.” Huntara sounded breathless.

   “Yes, you are. You are very magical, my beautiful desert rose.” Perfuma told her, her voice husky.

   “You are very bold, flower girl.” Huntara half-warned her, she caressed Perfuma’s narrow face and tilted it upwards towards. Her arms slackened but Perfuma was very handsy, they remained nestled on Huntara’s hulking legs now.

   Perfuma giggled. “I’m about to get much bolder.”

   “Oh?” Huntara was intrigued; her brow quirked.

   “In my eyes, you are Princess Huntara of the Crimson Waste and I propose that the Crimson Waste becomes a vassal territory of Plumeria. I believe we have a lot in common.” Perfuma said and she seemed all too cocky, fluttering her long, blonde eyelashes and Huntara couldn’t be mad. She wanted to be but she was charmed by the strength that Perfuma was exhibiting instead.

   “That is bold.” Huntara agreed.

   “So, what do you think?” Perfuma asked.

   “I think I would prefer to be Huntara, Strongest of the Crimson Waste, brilliant and dashing leader, partner state to Plumeria and that’s it.” Huntara bargained, voice dropping low and even flirtatious.

   Perfuma giggled, she reached up and toyed with the jagged fluff of the collar on Huntara’s jacket.

   “How about… partner to the Princess and acting Queen of Plumeria?” Perfuma asked.

   “That’s a bit more up my alley, flower girl.” Huntara said and she caressed Perfuma’s chin gently and leaned in.

   Completely oblivious to such a signal, Perfuma squealed: “Ooh, it’s so exciting! We’re going to be in cahoots! I’ve never been in cahoots with someone before- and oh my gosh, you are trying to kiss me now aren’t you?”

   Huntara laughed as she poked Perfuma’s cheek with her thumb, stroking it backwards.

   “Ayup.” she grunted.

   “Please do that, thank you.” Perfuma smiled.

   “Sounds good, flower girl.” Huntara said.

   She leaned in and their lips connected. Perfuma giggled through the kiss, it reverberated on Huntara’s lips and she didn’t dislike it at all, as annoying as it was, and in fact liked it quite a bit. Still, it was more a kiss of lip to teeth but Huntara didn’t mind much as she there was so much joy in how Perfuma reacted to being kissed. So, Huntara kept at it, more than happily. Perfuma’s mouth was sweet with the taste of tea and the other confections which she had been snacking on. It was nice. Best of all, she didn’t mind one bit that Huntara had such big teeth jutting out her mouth, it seemed she even relished how they nudged up against her face as Huntara kissed her.

   Perfuma sighed when Huntara, regrettably, pulled back. They both had to breathe, after all. Perfuma giggled an awkward and overjoyed giggle. It was painfully shrill on Huntara’s ears but luckily for Perfuma, Huntara was endeared to such a raucous noise for one reason or another.

   “To a long and prosperous union between Plumeria and the Crimson Waste.” Perfuma said.

   “Sure thing, short-stack.” Huntara replied, bearing a cocky smile of her own.

   Perfuma smiled back, eyes closed, lashes fluttering and when she opened them, they were brimming so happy. Her hand swept aside and she plucked the flower from the ground, the one which Huntara had managed to make rise up from nothingness. 

   “Ooh, a plumeria.” Perfuma gasped as she half-heartedly examined the flower, twirling it between her slender fingers.

   “Heh, yeah, whaddya know, it is.” Huntara replied, pretending that she was any good at identifying flowers outside of what was edible and what would poison you.

   “A good omen, I think. Most fortuitous.” Perfuma nodded sagely. “Hey, may I press this flower for you? I want you to keep it, a memento of the first time using your powers on purpose.”

   “I’d like that, kiddo.” Huntara said and she petted the top of Perfuma’s head. Her hair was so tightly bound back over the crown of it and fed into that big, fluffy ponytail of hers. It was nice.

   Perfuma laughed and playfully swatted Huntara’s large hand away from her. She got up, her petalled skirt shaking and shimmying about as she dusted herself down.

   “I’ll be right back,” Perfuma said, “and when I do come back, I’d like it a lot if you let me help you practice your magic some more.”

   “I’d like that a lot too, flower girl.” Huntara replied, something of a contented sigh escaping her mouth as she leaned back, one arm planted to the ground to prop her up.

   Perfuma squealed excitedly again and Huntara cringed but if Perfuma was happy, she was happy. Simple as that. Perfuma hurried off and Huntara very much decided she liked to see that girl go; that halter drop on her back was very nice. But what was nicer, was how she treated Huntara. Felt weirdly good to be worthy of commemorative knickknacks and kisses. She couldn’t help but look forward to future lessons, speaking strictly as a liaison from the Crimson Waste, not their princess, merely their leader and liaison, both romantic and official to the Princess and acting Queen of Plumeria, of course.

[theangrypokemaniac]

I'll state from the beginning that the images below display the sort of sweet synchronicity to which only love can give life:

MaAndPaShipping is the best ship, and here are five reasons why:

1. It Made James

Like the boy do yer? Ever felt the slightest tingle of warmth at the mention of his name?

Well get down on yer knees and give thanks to his mother and father for gifting him to the world!

Where would we be without their remarkable commitment? Could James have grown into the dandified dream boat of your desires if deprived of the safety provided by his parents?

Had they not brought him up, he'd be dead, The Dog of Flanders fantasy made reality. If miraculously he survived, foraging in the wild is not conducive to a foppish personality.

Is that to yer fancy? No? Then let's have a little respect. The luxury Ma and Pa gave enabled his macaroni tendencies to reach such heights.

Their love created him! How can it not be celebrated?

You lot would ship Jessie's parents but you can't, because she has no dad, and I don't suppose you'll ever assent to his obvious identity of Windy Miller, although 'Jessie Miller' has a wonderful ring to it, so what can be done?

Should a Pa Jess be conjured for the purpose, he still buggered off, didn't he? Where's the allure in a faithless git?

I can't comprehend the obsession with Ma Jess. As soon as here she's stiff, and what is there to remember but coercing her daughter into eating snow?

Hey, I named her. What more do you want from me?

I'd rather have the living, visible ancestors, if you don't mind.

Yeah, says the history fanatic.

Why not make the most of the chances offered, and follow a devoted couple whose love made a difference to your existence?

2. Canon!

There are many ships which I find repulsive for involving depravity, or absurd as the subjects haven't met, or don't inhabit the same fictional universe.

Video et taceo: I see and I say nothing.

Neither does anyone. Forcing decent folk in to incest, bestiality etc. is quite alright.

Perverted ideas are left alone, but woe betide a Rocketshipper, because that's offensive.

It may be the only original ship left standing, with proper evidence and sanctioned by Nintendo, but no, it's fair game for undermining. People pick at your arguments, quibble constantly and NEED to register their objections NOW. You MUST be made aware of opposition. You're not to be permitted your views the way those with twisted tastes are indulged.

Why, out of tens of thousands of combinations, does making Jessie and James an item provoke hostility?

The strength of negativity actually serves as validation, for why be so concerned if it's an impossible relationship?

However sick they are, I'm not anti any ship. I can't muster sufficient interest to do it, and if I scroll on, I forget. I certainly don't attack those responsible.

Anti-Shipping is inherently nihilistic for promoting loneliness. They aren't against Rocketshipping through wanting Jessie and James to be with someone else, as an alternative is not readily available, so the outcome of it is neither finding a companion.

MaAndPaShipping attracts no sourpuss silliness, for 'tis canon beyond question. There's nothing about being 'just friends' when married with a son.

How's the state of your O.T.P.? Not looking too clever I expect, and what's your contribution: wishing, and hoping, and thinking, and praying?

Cast it off! None of that longing is necessary in these quarters, as MaAndPaShipping is a fait accompli.

Hallelujah! Wallow in that Love!

Don't you yearn for at least one ship that all of us accept by default, to the extent these aristocrats are spoken of as a single unit?

Across the internet, Ma and Pa are bracketed as 'James's parents', never 'he' and 'she', always 'they', barely counting as distinct characters. That's how undeniable the love is between them. Sheer indifference has awarded it a blessing from everyone.

MWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!

Of course, now I've drawn attention to it the moaning will start, but we all know a spoilsport when we see one.

If they had any legitimate complaints they ought to have mentioned 'em before this piece highlighted the marriage!

Except it won't have occurred to 'em previously, proving the eternal, indissoluble quality of MaAndPaShipping.

You get good value with this one.

Find a post referring to Ma and Pa as individuals and I'll have written it, for that's what you call ironic.

3. It's a Fine Rocketshipping Proxy

I was at primary school when Pokémon hit the West like the bright, bearded meteor it is, atomizing all competition for a child's attention.

I have shipped Jessie and James before I knew anyone else did it, unaware shipping was even a thing.

There are other pairs where I think: 'That seems to fit', but it's incomparable to what I feel for them.

It is part of me. I bleed it.

I have shipped it longer than most Tumblerries have dwelt upon the earth.

I used to believe, what with the hints and manga finale, that this resolution was  inevitable, and all I had to do was wait.

Well I've been patient for two decades now, thus when I look at the modern incarnation, and realise it's no nearer to that goal, and instead is further away, waiting starts to wear a bit thin.

I resent the lack of appreciation shown to the fans by the cretins in charge, how any meagre shippy inclusion is done not with an interest in deepening bonds, but with the blatant cynicism of moulding us into performing monkeys dancing to their manipulative tune.

I dislike being treated like a sea lion, expected to clap me flippers at the wave of a fish, or as a panting dog begging at top table, where, because they're desperate to maintain the status quo, every scrap flung down from above now comes with an Anti-Ship kick in the teeth, just to be sure nothing progresses. Not whilst the franchise can still be milked for all it's worth.

I have lost faith Rocketshipping will happen. What passes for Pokémon today carries not the remotest indication of any intention on the so-called writers' part to finish it that way.

Even if it did, it's not my Team Rocket, it's those skeletal, gargoyle bastardisations. My Jessie and James never got the reward they deserved.

I'm somewhat in the market for a replacement. Beneath this loathsome carapace of acid and ice beats the tender heart of a true romantic, and it must have an outlet!

Shipping Ma and Pa provides a certain spurious relief, because it's as close as you can get to Jessie and James without it being them, both biologically as his parents, but they're so similar to the duo it counts as proof in itself.

Holy Matrimony! is prime Rocketshipping territory, not merely the balloon lift, but many slight additions are as important, like the haircuts matching.

Ma and Pa are therefore Jessie and James in the past, present and future:

The past for representing Jess 'n' Jamie gone Victorian, and we've all wondered how that'd turn out.

The present as it's there right now, absent of suffering the shameless whims of morons to get what you want. 'Tis yours to savour.

The future as a glimpse of Jessie and James once married with children, and they agree:

That's how they play it given the opportunity!

What, James in blue, for his and Pa's hair, and Jessie wearing purple, like Ma's, with a red shawl for her own, and Ma Jess's orange earrings to copy the beads?

• Money!

• Bun!

• 'Tache!

• Classy pad!

• Fancy gear!

• Pampered pet!

• Identical cups of Earl Grey!

4. Original Blend

Ma and Pa have only got two fans! We care more than the entire fandom has in twenty years!

Rocketshipping art is ten a penny, so why not display a pioneering spirit, sharpen up those pencils and be inspired?

Let your mind expand and marvel at the possibilities of these unchartered territories, and I'll reblog it if it's nice.

Pay attention to the condition of it being nice. I'm not putting up with any old toss.

Real Ma and Pa is what I want too, not those Sinnoh coffin-dodgers.

It's never been done! Every drawing breaks new ground!

I don't like fan fiction, but I wouldn't say 'no' to that either. Recall the 'nice' stipulation again.

Come on, be the first amongst your friends and get ship shape!

5. It Gives Us All Hope

Suppose your favourite amour one day became canon: you imagine that's the end of the matter?

Well it ain't.

Between Ash, Misty, Brock, Jessie, James, Gary and Tracey, there are three-and-a-half out of fourteen parents (Flint doesn't count as a complete man) and one out of twenty-eight grandparents, and that's not enough!

If the series drew to a close with your beloved couple apparently walking into the happily-ever-after, there's no guarantee it'll endure. In fact, the odds are they'll split up within a few years and leave another generation to fend for themselves or starve.

That's right, so don't presume the final episode is all you need to worry about. Can you rest easy knowing it'll go pear-shaped once the camera stops rolling?

It's futile soothing one's worries with:

Oh, but they know what it's like to be alone. They'd never inflict such stress on their children.

Oh really?

Look at that poor showing of grandparents. Either Pokémon has a system reminiscent of the sci-fi film Logan's Run, where everyone over thirty is vapourized, or these disappearing maters and paters were themselves victims of abandonment.

I bet when they settled down, they thought it'd be different for their kids, they'd make sure of it, but no, off they went down that same route of feckless self-indulgence, and that's being kind assuming they intended not to repeat history.

Depressing eh? What's the good in any of us surrendering to romance, real or otherwise, if love is but a mayfly of emotion, and all dreams are doomed to die?

Then Ma and Pa arrive, and suddenly the storm clouds part for a ray of heavenly light.

It's not only that they made the effort in what was probably an arranged marriage and have stayed together from youth, it's that they've stayed together when no one else has, which augments its value.

When separation is commonplace, sticking it out becomes rarer and rarer as any belief in the sanctity of wedlock erodes with every failure.

If they didn't bother, why should I? What's the use when it won't work?

Once that idea enters your head, it's over, and your gloom-laden attitude fulfils itself.

Society is collapsing about Ma and Pa's ears, but they persevere nevertheless, refusing to buckle under the turgid malaise engulfing the arrogant and weak.

It's bloody beautiful, man!

You may suggest an environment of supreme wealth erases normality, and to their class and time period divorce is still taboo, so they don't really have much of choice but to remain wedded.

Ah, but it's not as if they simply tolerate one another for appearances, or carried on for the sake of their son (which is more than anyone else did besides), not when he walked out on them.

They've been married longer than James has lived, so at least eighteen years (don't all squeal at once), and they're still blissfully contented!

They hold hands!

They use terms of endearment like 'dear' and 'my precious'!

They were made for one another!

They work as a team!

They want the same thing for James!

It could bring a stone angel to tears it's so beautiful!

See what success can be achieved when you try? When you endeavour to love the one you're with and make yourself worth loving in return?

Better that than chucking 'em at the first sign of trouble.

Ma and Pa is such an irrevocable union even the despair of losing their only child failed to tear 'em asunder, and that'd defeat many, but not this husband and wife.

Be grateful, for it means all is not in vain.

It doesn't have to be misery and pain: love can last despite the pressure of a wretched, hollow culture bent on self-destruction. Your ship might just succeed too.

God bless 'em for keeping the magic alive!

...

Why do I have the presentiment that I'm going to regret encouraging support?

[mossflowermouse]

Second ‘When Christ and His Saints Slept’ reaction post (part one here), covering chapters 11 to 20 aka the bit where I start shipping actual historical figures for the first time ever (other than Wars of the Roses-era people, but that’s different because they were actually married and it wasn’t a ship ship in the same way these are. Anyway.)

Chapters XI and XII:

Annora and Ranulf still love each other :) and they found a loophole so they can get married when Maude's queen! I really should've remembered about that plight-troth. Now a bit worried about all the ways this could go wrong, not least because I'm aware Maude doesn't become queen, but that was really sweet and I'm glad they're happy and things have been resolved (ish)

UGH, GEOFFREY. He's being awful about Maude and Henry's overhearing :(

Between the odd mentions of her here and what little I know about her historically, I'm so excited for when Eleanor of Aquitaine shows up!

Whoops, Chester. Genuine anger and a lack of mercy from Stephen may be a rare thing, but I have a feeling this has crossed the line.

I like it when Maude has interactions with people she likes and trusts - her brothers, Adeliza, and now Brien. It's good.

...okay I might be starting to ship this. 

Oh dear I'm definitely shipping this. It's impossible and a mess and they both (Maude especially) seem like they'd rather be swallowed by the earth than actually admit to feelings, but it's so sweet and they trust each other so much and must have such a long shared history? Help?

And also lbr this is just That One Dynamic that absolutely kills me in every piece of media. The mutual trust, the quiet but unbreakable loyalty, the circumstances making things so difficult for them? This is absolutely my thing.

This might be the first time I've actually shipped people who existed. Like, there were some good moments in TSiS but all with people who were actually couples in real life. But with this, I don't know many of the specifics, I have no idea what happens to Brien and only know slightly more about Maude. This is strange.

AAAAAHH. Maude you can't do this to my heart. You just can't.

Chapter XIII:

I like Robert.

Hmmm. Looking at both sides' chances in this battle, and knowing Stephen gets captured at some point during the Anarchy, I have a feeling I know how this will end.

Why does it feel like the awful déjà vu of this part was intentional. This is making me have Bosworth-related emotions all over again.

Okay, wow, that was all quite a lot to take in. Chester's plan was good, and I'm grateful that he saved Robert; wasn't expecting William of Ypres of all people to flee*; Stephen's determination is also making me remember Bosworth in TSiS; I liked the bit with him and Robert and Ranulf at the end.

Chapters XIV and XV:

Aww, family (Maud and Robert and Ranulf) 

Maude :')

Matilda just found out about Stephen :(

Maude's going to have trouble winning over the people. London's apparently still loyal to Stephen, and their favour was often an advantage in struggles like this war (looking at you, Edward IV)

I'm feeling more sorry for Constance with every scene she's in or mentioned. Things just keep getting worse for her.

William de Ypres just showed up; Matilda is (understandably) furious about the Battle of Lincoln and letting him know it. 

Alliance time! This is one of the things I was vaguely aware of before starting the book, and the anticipation of it has been a lot of fun. Also, I like how honest he’s being here - he made a choice, realised/decided it was the wrong one, and is making no excuses, instead being clear that he wants to try and make things right. The contrast with, say, Bishop Henry’s total lack of self-awareness (or maybe it’s wilful ignorance?) about his moral bankruptcy is wonderful.

Chapters XVI and XVII:

My ship! They're interacting!

HAND. KISSES. My weakness. I know they're the norm and not necessarily romantic at this time but still. 

I am deceased. This ship has killed me and they've only had two direct conversations.

Bishop Henry is possibly about to switch sides. Again. I ought to keep track of who’s betrayed both sides the most times (probably him right now).

It's been four months since Matilda joined forces with William de Ypres to try and save Stephen, I wonder what they've been up to? (They haven’t been mentioned in the novel since then)

Everything about this:

and then THIS:

I love this conversation for so many reasons. Most of which involve Maude and Brien because apparently now I’ve dedicated my life to being emotional about them.

Matilda!!! It’s been too long.

Okay, so based on Northumberland's thoughts:

hmmm, new ship?

they're using nicknames they're being familiar this feels like a Big Deal for people in their position at that time. It’s certainly a level of informality that very few others have in the book so far.

Wait they just mentioned a Thomas Becket. Is he that Thomas Becket? I know his feud was with Henry II, whose reign begins in about fourteen years, so it's possible.

I love every mention of the chronicles. It's really cool having the regular narration of the novel interspersed with little pieces of old accounts.

I also love the little moments like Ypres here and his quiet admiration of/confidence in Matilda.

Chapter XVIII:

Not content to just leave me to deal with my feelings from the last few pages, the chapter opens with this:

Immediately following that last part, we now switch to Matilda’s thoughts about de Ypres? He’s trying to hide his exhaustion and she’s not having it? Literally standing over him to make sure he eats? Fond??? Yup, I'm definitely invested in it now. These relationships will be the death of me.

Stephen listing Ypres as one of the people who he could never expect to help Matilda :')

And he's just found out about their alliance!

The guard saying "No one knows how your lady won him over" before being cut off is just really funny. I'm just picturing all of England in total confusion about how Matilda managed to get this cynical, battle-scarred mercenary's unwavering loyalty after Stephen couldn't manage the same. Just. The entire country, collectively looking at this alliance and going '???'

"I had my own miracle all along. I'd married her!" Stephen you cinnamon roll you're completely right

Maude and Brien Maude and Brien Maude and Brien Maude and Brien Maude and Brien Maude and Brien

:DDDD

...I have become hopelessly obsessed. This book has two ships that are my favourite dynamic. Two. This is turning into Code Geass all over again.

(The dynamic is "mutual trust, admiration and respect; if there are romantic feelings, they might be ambiguous and possibly not acted on for any one of a number of reasons, most of which can be summed up as ‘external circumstances getting in the way’; absolute loyalty through thick and thin; help each other grow and get through difficulty; one or both is probably also a little scarred by the world". Bonus points if they have a long history, or any period of time spent together that’s not fully described in canon and can therefore be speculated about.)

 Chapter XX (and some reflections on XIX):

The thing about recognising Matilda’s habits:

made me think immediately of this post

Hell yeah teaming up to get Chester to leave. 

Ypres just internally being like “oh god I’m actually caring about someone’s emotional wellbeing what is this what do I do”: 

(also “the one man she trusted not to lie to her” is sweet but it’s also kind of upsetting that Matilda’s surrounded by allies and yet knows she can’t fully trust most of them)

my heart???

Some of my favourite ships are the ones where I don’t even know if I see it as platonic or romantic, just that these people have such deep affection and trust for each other and it’s wonderful. This is absolutely one of those ships.

I’ve not written anything about the destruction(s) of Winchester, mainly because this book is once again difficult to put down, but suffice to say that it’s pretty harrowing. Seeing things from the perspectives of Maude and Matilda, who haven’t witnessed this side of the war up close before and are feeling responsible for everything awful that’s happening, as well as Ranulf, who’s similarly horrified and hasn’t seen this kind of destruction before, possibly makes it even worse. Also I love the occasional scenes from the point of view of ordinary citizens – it really makes the wider effects of this civil war between cousins sink in. This may have begun as a personal tragedy for Maude, Stephen and their loved ones, but it’s become a catastrophe affecting so many more people across England, Normandy, Anjou…the fact that the narrative brings in the thoughts of people from all across society in recognition of this is one of the things that makes this book so good imo.

Okay, so I’m getting very attached to quite a lot of these people and it’s occurred a few times that I don’t actually know the dates of death for anyone except Stephen. But because this is history and also the first book in a trilogy spanning many decades and the characters are (as far as I know) not immortal, they’re all going to die at some point. I just don’t know when. There is no way to be prepared for the sadness that this book and its sequels will bring.

OH NO RANULF

At this point he should really just stop trying to break into nunneries. As Gilbert mentioned, it never seems to go well.

Wait, if they’re specifying not to kill Ranulf does that mean everyone else who was with him was killed? FEAR

Okay good there are more survivors

That fire was awful. Although I’m going to keep in mind that Gilbert and Marshal are only dead according to the people outside the church – the narration moved away from them when Marshal lost his eye, so there’s still hope (albeit not much). Also, this really showed both sides of de Ypres – he’s managed to be merciful and ruthless in the same paragraph.

Ancel!

And Ranulf is free, but with a hefty dose of survivor’s guilt.

Awww, Maude’s really openly relieved he’s safe. Robert too.

Gilbert’s alive too! I’d suspected but wasn’t sure. Glad for him and Ranulf that they’ve got each other back.

 *I’d known that he’d abandoned a battle at some point before allying with Matilda, but had thought that referred to his feud with Robert during the Normandy campaign, which was briefly mentioned earlier, so this came as a surprise.

[otp-bumbleby]

Hey, remember when we, as a collective, were crucified for the apparent attack on Arryn over bmblb not being canon confirmation? Really funny when people turn around and do the same thing when they don't get what they want :) just kidding this isn't funny

And I'm not saving any face here, mine or theirs, because this is fucking ridiculous. They don't deserve to have their url removed from this. Here I am, not coming up with some stupid name like wasp because of what they ship, I'm outright plain and simply calling them pathetic, childish, selfish, delusional, and why the hell not...toxic as fuck.

How fucking stupid and manipulative do you have to be to write this drivel? Are y'all serious right now?? Newsflash, you really need a fucking reality check. Learn to comprehend that you not getting what you wanted, and felt entitled to, is not Arryn's fault. It's so disgustingly ironic that there's whinging about our audacity, and Arryn's sanity.

Arryn bullying M&K when she doesn't even work at RT, let alone live in Austin? What, does she spend all day calling, sending texts, emails, whatever the fuck, with threats? What could she possibly blackmail them with??

The stupidest thing is THEY LITERALLY CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT ARRYN WAS SAYING. Not to mention the classic move of taking a quote out of context, only cutting the piece needed to start their next witch hunt.

She was asked: “Did you always know there would be LGBT characters in RWBY?”

Her response: "I have ALWAYS known." and "but I knew for certain what I wanted to happen this [volume]. I made double sure to ask because I was like, I’m gonna be so pissed if it doesn’t happen.”

Of course, they can't understand how a bisexual person is going to be pissed if after: (a) 5 volumes, and (b) the TENSION THAT WAS BUILT UPON FOR TWO VOLUMES, they didn't address bumbleby at all and forgot about the story they had PLANNED. You know, the one where Adam has his life fall apart, and so he stalks Blake for revenge but this time Blake and Yang defeat him so they can move on together?

When she said she asked, she didn't ask them to do what she wanted. She ASKED WHAT WAS GOING TO BE ESTABLISHED in the lead up to making it canon... is it really that hard to figure that out?

People spreading the bullshit in that post is going so beyond acceptable behaviour. They're misinterpreting and skewing this, and it's encouraging people to take their frustration out on her, and the OP is even hoping she's fired. Honestly, go fuck yourself, OP.

It floors me how they can take her words and be personally offended. Just because - and let's say it how it is - they were wrong about their favourite ship being the plan?

I'm pretty angry right now, can you tell? Arryn did nothing wrong, and neither did Barbara. But they conveniently don't blame Barb, for some reason. It's like some twisted reality where they are mad that Blake doesn't love someone other than Yang, so they're going to take it out on the voice of Blake.

Okay, so angry is an understatement. Calling her insane, a bully, horrible, a cunt, and a crazy bitch? You're going to anger a lot of people here. And opening yourself up to it, by wanting to be vocal? Better not complain you're being attacked after this absolute gem of a post. I heard your voice...and now I want you to shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down. You were not owed anything by this show, and you can kiss my gay ass.

If this is the message they're going to put out, they don't deserve a shred of my sympathy. I have had it. And am I encouraging people to take their frustration out on OP by making this post? Obviously, yes. At least I have the fucking brains to realise it and admit I'm not being the bigger person by choice. At least I don't attack people from the cast or crew for not doing what I wanted ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

EDIT between me seeing and posting this, their post has been deleted and someone is giving them a pass for it because... idk

I'm not deleting this because I feel it's a nice "I'm sorry I got caught" moment

They didn't even actually take back what they said about Arryn. Just sorry for making drama.

Lol BYEEE