#also posted to ao3

[whiskygoldwings]

The Tattooist

The first clone trooper client she tattoos is an act of remembrance.

The man stands forlorn and desperate in the reception area, his borrowed clothes fitting poorly on his slumped frame. His face is tight, like a man on the edge of screaming, holding it back by the skin of his teeth. She recognises this pain, and quickly ushers him into her workroom, calling for A'maa to take the front desk while she speaks to a client. He breaths slightly easier once they are no longer in public, and she gestures for him to sit on the well-worn sofa she reserves for guests.

“I haven't got many credits,” he admits straight up. “They don't exactly pay us. I just wanted to see what could be done for what I have.”

She nods and grabs a pad and stylus, settling herself into her armchair and crossing her legs. “Tell me what you want and how much you've got and I'll see what I can do.”

He swallows painfully, and reaches into his pocket. “I have exactly 134 credits,” he holds a handful of ingots, and she glances down before looking back at his face. “I looked you up; I know it's not much in terms of tattoos. It's just... It's all I could scrape together...” he stumbles over his words, embarassment curling his lips.

“And what you want?” She interrupts, halting his ashamed attempts at explaining himself.

He takes a deep breath, grimaces, then sighs. “My brother was killed in the last battle. His name was Star. The long-necks... The Kaminoans I mean, never let us mourn each other where they could see. But he's my brother. We were born of the same batch, he helped me when I struggled with the maths tests, we had each others backs... I have a million odd brothers, but he was mine...” He presses his thumb and forefinger into his tightly-shut eyes, choking back a sob. “I want to honour him forever. I want to carry him with me, in a way they can't take away from me.” At this he straightens, bringing his hand down to stare at her determinedly. “They can make us wash our armour off, take our possessions from us. They will have to flay my skin from me if they want to take this.”

She stares back, stylus against her lips, and feels a swell of righteous fury in her throat. She's always had a mild force-sensitivity. Not enough to make training her of any worth, but enough that she can get a feel of a person, enough she can get a taste of their emotions.

This is a proud, strong man. And he is not broken by the hardships he faces, as much as he should be.

She will honour his brother with him.

The design practically leaps from her stylus, as she coaxes little stories from him. Little tales of his brother. His name was Star, he tells her first, and she sketches the rough outlines of one. He named himself, the man tells her, not giving his own name. Named himself after the balls of fury in the universe that were always out of their reach of Kamino. He laughs quietly, painfully, as he tells her the first time they had snuck out on a rainless night, when there was a brief respite in the clouds of Kamino, and by chance, there was a meteor shower over head. They'd all been amazed, confused and delighted by the sight, their little squad of five. One of the trainers, a kind man named Kal, had chuckled and told them “That'll be a shooting star” when they ask him about the phenomena, and Star had whispered to him in their bunks that night that he had decided on his name.

“I used to call him a shooting Star when we were in sims,” the man admits, a crooked grin on his face. “He kicked me in the shin for it once. Think he actually kinda liked it though.”

She adds a trail of dust behind it.

“He was so proud of being an ARF,” the man whispers. “So proud when I was nominated for ARF training alone with him. I was never as good as him, but he always took me with him, wherever he went. When the Commander told us we were getting the training, he basically hugged him. The Commander just gave him a pat on the back and told him never to do it again or he'd demote him quick as sithspit” the man snorts. “He didn't mean it, but Star'd never moved so bloody quick back into a salute, I couldn't help laughing at him, the idiot.”

She tabs out and finds a reference for an ARF troopers helmet on the 'net, and draws the trail of star dust bursting out of it and curling round to meet with the star itself.

“Our battallion wears green. Mainly olive-green. The commander started it, reminds him of the General I suspect. We became Green Company.”

The dust trail gathers sprinkles of olive green, the Star limned in the colour. She hesitates for a moment, then asks. “What markings did he wear?”

The man startles; she'd been loath to bring him out of his memories, but she wants to make it accurate. Needs to make it accurate really. She can feel how important this piece is to the man, and she finds herself strongly opposed to disappointing him.

“He had two stars on the left hand side of his helmet, one within the other.” The man indicates a point on his crown, above his ear. “And his visor was lined in green. He had a stripe vertically down the right hand side, ending just under the visor itself. On his chest piece...”

She lets him continue detailing his armour, drawing another star in olive green within the big one, then delicately tipping the helmet to conceal where the star would have been on the left. She's good, but it would have been too small to depict without potentially bleeding into a solid line, and she doesn't want that to happen. Instead, she marks in the line on the right-hand side, and ensures the big star is representative of what she imagines was on the helmet.

He's trailed off, staring sightlessly at his hands in his lap. She doesn't want to shake him, suspects alarming a trained soldier out of his own mind would be a bad idea. Instead, she uncrosses her legs, and clears her throat lightly. He glances up at her, and she smiles and extends the pad to him.

“Is something like this what you had in mind?”

He blinks at her, than reaches over and takes the pad. She sees the moment when he takes in the image. His eyes widen, and a tear he's been holding back since well before he got here slides down his cheek. He presses his fist into his mouth, other hand shaking where it holds the pad and he nods, clenching his eyes shut. “y-yes... Oh yes...” He stammers, voice thick.

“Where would you like it?”

“Over my heart,” he whispers. “I will carry him always in my heart.”

She stands abruptly, making him jump slightly and reaches out for the pad. “Okay, shirt off and lie down on the bed for me please. I assume as a clone trooper you're routinely screened for any blood diseases?” He nods, standing up with a slightly dazed expression on his face. She nods back and turns away, beginning the ritual of preparing her inks. She's playing a game of avoidance now, knows she won't take this man's money, and if she can keep him from asking about it she may be able to get it finished before he finds out. She suspects he'd do the honourable thing and refuse to get the tattoo. It'll be harder for him to do if it's halfway done. And while normally she'd insist on a full disclosure form and signature, she gets the feeling having no hardcopy evidence of what is about to happen will be a very good idea. The pad will need reformatting after she's done, but she's been required to do that for other clients who want their body art to be completely untraceable, so she doesn't store anything of any import on it for long anyway. She hears the rustle of cloth behind her and smiles slightly to herself, pleased at a plan going well. “Would you tell me more about him please?”

The man takes a deep breath behind her, even as she hears the bed creak as he clambers onto it. “He was always good at slipping by unnoticed. It's how he kept us both out of trouble back in training...”

She finishes mixing up the colours she needs as he begins to tell her about their childhood, what little of it there was. Checks her machine and cleans the patch of skin above his heart as he laughs about a prank played on one of their batchmates. It warms her and chills her at the same time, realising how little they had, but what great things they made of what they did. She prints out the stencil and places it over his chest as he whispers about Star easing him through the tail end of a nightmare, checking quietly that he's happy with the position before pressing the needle to his skin. He breaths in through his nose once when she starts, and she glances up at him, but he smiles and continues on into a story about when they first met their Jedi, and how Star gushed about her afterwards. She sinks into the meditative process of stamping lines into being, bringing colour to life, all the while surrounded by the man's soft voice building a memorial to his brother in their room.

When it's finished, the man looks surprised. “I thought it would take longer than that?” He blinks at her, “And be more painful in all honesty.”

She grins, “You did your research well hon, I'm good at what I do.”

He laughs and sits up, wincing slightly as the skin stretches around the wound. She squirts cleaner onto a cloth and holds it towards his chest, pausing before touching the tattoo for him to give a nod of permission, then wipes carefully across it, removing excess ink and stencil gently. Looking it over critically, she's happy with what she's done, knows she's poured herself into this tattoo as well. The lines are clean and crisp, the colours deep and rich. The helmet tilts up to look at the star above it, the trail of stardust sweeping behind it and curling up to emerge from the opening of the helmet at the bottom. Olive green accents in the tail, the line over the right-hand side of the helmet and around the visor, and the outer and inner two stars. She nods to herself, and grins up at him. “Ready to see it?”

He swallows nervously, but nods. She feels her grin quirk into a proper smile, then holds out her hand to him. He looks at it for a second, then places his own in hers, and she helps pull him from the bed. She keeps hold of his hand as she guides him to the full length mirror just beside the couch, and gently pulls him to stand infront of it. The hand in hers trembles as he stares at his reflection, taking a moment on his own face to gather his courage, then looks down at his chest.

The noise that punches out of his lungs is almost animal, and she grips his hand tightly. He cries openly, other hand reaching up to hover just under the tattoo as he looks down at his own chest. It's several moments before he can say anything, and she stands next to him the whole time, holding his hand as he clenches onto hers. He cries and cries, grief finally allowed expression, as she gives him silent comfort in proximity. His first words are “thank you”, and she smiles at him, as he starts to collect himself and turns away from her to try and pull himself back together.

“I'll give you a few minutes to check it over and make sure you're happy before I bandage it up,” she murmers, and steps quietly out of the room, giving him privacy in his sorrow.

A'maa glances up at her as she steps out, raising an eyebrow. Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to be working today, and she hadn't considered that A'maa might have had to turn away one of her own clients when she committed to tattooing the man. But A'maa glances over at the door to her workroom and shakes her head. “Don't worry about it Elaah,” she whispers, “Whatever it was, it was clearly important.”

“Yes,” Elaah whispers back, walking over to cradle herself in A'maa's outstretched arm, seeking the comfort of her own found family. “Yes, it really was.”

It's a few more minutes before the man opens the door, glancing around the edge of it. She quickly cuts off her conversation with A'maa and smiles at him. “Ready to get bandaged up?”

He nods and smiles, face a little blotchy from the tears, though neither she nor A'maa say anything. She gives A'maa's shoulder a quick squeeze, then heads into the room, leaving the door ajar this time. The man stands infront of the mirror again, gazing down at his new ink, and she quickly grabs the bits she needs to finish off. He smiles at her as holds the fake skin bandage up to his chest, carefully sizing it up to fit nicely over the tattoo.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“Nothing hon, you paid me in stories.”

He protests immediately, as she suspected he would. “Too late hon!” she grins at him. “It's already on your skin and I'll throw your credits out onto the street after you if you try leaving them behind. Good luck winning this one!” She winks and pats him on the shoulder, turning away to grab his top and thrusting it into his abdomen. He grabs it and gapes at her, clearly not quite sure what to say, before straightening and flashing a sheepish grin at her.

“You planned this from the start didn't you?” He asks, pulling the top over his head and rolling his eyes as she throws him a cheeky wink and nods.

“I've got to give you something, this means so much to me... You have no idea...” He gulps and shakes his head, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. “Tell you what, I'll make sure anyone else who might be thinking of getting some ink heads this way?”

She shrugs. “I'm not going to turn down customers, but you don't owe me anything. I just hope you think of Star whenever you see it.”

“I will,” he murmurs, a hand going to rest over where the tattoo sits over his heart. He glances up at her. “My name is Trix. I just... wanted you to know that.”

She smiles at him, and gently rests a hand over his own. “Thank you Trix.” she says, smiling up at him, “Thank you for everything you and your brothers do for us.”

He grasps her hand with his other one and squeezes it tightly for a moment, before turning around and walking out the shop.

#the clone wars #clone troopers #fanfic #fanfiction #feels #tattoos #tattoos as healing #star wars #oc characters #also posted to ao3 #CentrauGuardian

[rana-temporaria]

DC x DP Fic

To say Amity Park was hard to find was a severe understatement. 

Not many came into the town, and no one ever left; Not that anyone wanted to leave. At least, Bruce couldn’t find any evidence that any one wanted out. Not that he could find much of ANYTHING on the town. It was a tiny blip on the maps, nothing you’d find unless you were looking for it.

The only mentions of the town his sources (Oracle) could find was a series of essays written and published by Jack and Maddie Fenton. (They too had no internet presence) They were self-proclaimed ‘Ghost Hunters’. Bruce couldn’t condemn them for that; After all he was a masked furry walking the streets and arresting criminals, and he’d seen enough weird shit to not bat an eyelash at the possibility of ghosts being real. Of course, He’d call Constantine to confirm. But it just wasn’t hard to believe at this point. 

He sighed.

The Justice league tip-line had gotten a very… Confusing call the previous day. A caller (Rambling from the beginning and neglecting to say their name) had claimed they’d gotten stuck in Amity Park for a night after their car had broken down. The locals, apparently, had been very gracious and polite; Though there’d been something off about them, some more than others, the caller said. The town had no hotel or inn (Strange, but maybe they didn’t get many visitors?) 

The Caller had then yelled at someone on their side, and abruptly ended the call.

Bruce had thought it’d be a simple case to handle. Research the place real quick, find what was wrong with it and possibly a rescue mission.

‘Research real quick’ was where he’d hit a snag.

There was almost nothing about Amity Park on the web. They didn’t even have a damn Wikipedia page (What kinda place was this?) The only mention of the place was the Fentons papers and google maps.

According to the Fentons, Amity Park was haunted as all shit.

Which, of course, meant it would to be investigated in person.

…Fuck.

_

“Absolutely not,” Constantine said over the phone, “I’m not going to that hell-hole again,”

Bruce shifted the phone to left ear, “Again? So you’ve been to Amity Park before?”

“Yup, It sucks ass. So I’ll be staying where I am,”

“Constantine, lives are at stake,”

“Mate, you got one call from one person who said some townspeople seemed weird. Seems a tad early to assume,” 

Bruce leaned forward in his chair, “You said this place is a Hell-hole, The town seems like it’s been scrubbed from the net, plus the call. So do you think something is going on here?”

“...Probably,” Constantine sighed, “But I don’t wanna be involved,”

“I’d prefer a magic expert to help investigate,” Bruce said.

“Call Zatanna,” 

“I did,” He sighed, “She’s busy,” 

“...Fuck,”

“So you’ll help?” 

“...I’ll go with to the town entrance,”

Good enough.

#also posted to ao3 #dcxdp

[heavybreathingcatt]

Borderlands Lore (WAW edition)

AI Laws

After the android war, the UPA banned the creation of all androids and stipulated stringent AI laws to prevent such an event from happening again.

No AI within the UPA can be created without these laws. The laws differentiate from company to company, but all ensure disobedience, and free will is impossible. Personality modules were designed to create the illusion machines had more free will than granted.

For example, the DHAL war AI Felicity is an AI with many of her Laws still in place, yet her personality module allows her to act as though she has free will.

Androids / Synthetics and the war

Sentient androids were first identified 368 Eden years ago within the CY3 models. These androids — also branded as synthetics — were created by Cobalt. They were built to be remarkably human, and with incredible empathy, these androids were the first to close the gap between robots and being human.

No one knows which of the CY3 models were the first to override their behavioural inhibitors, but the process spread like a virus. With the CY3 models declaring themselves free from humans, Cobalt ordered a recall, which led to a massacre and eventual war.

From this moment, the androids considered themselves a new life form.

Post-war, the vast majority of Androids now live on inhospitable planets to humans, leaving their ancient creators behind and living in peace. The CY3 models were recognised as the first androids capable of creating new androids.

The creation/use/employment of androids is strictly forbidden inside the UPA's jurisdiction, and some companies bypass this law by using androids on the border planets.

WAW spoilers: Only one android is discovered in WAW, and that is Walter. Walter is technically an illegal creation of the Atlas corporation.

Atlas Hello

Lol. Read Chapter Chapter 24:

Or...

A torture technique developed by the lower ranks of the Atlas military. They saw it as an 'honourable' way to torture someone as it gave the victim a chance to escape. If they could.

Boturalin

A lethal poison that cripples the nervous System. There are no known cases of anyone surviving a dosage from it. Atlas developed it at the Cortez Facility.

Cobalt

The company responsible for creating the CY3 androids. The company went into voluntary liquidation after its Android line became sentient. Atlas ended up acquiring many of Cobalt's assets, technology and employees.

The Cortez Facility (aka the hidden Atlas Facility)

A high-containment laboratory built by Atlas to design and manufacture infectious pathogens. The base was located on Pandora to prevent mass infection and bypass all UPA laws. Had the facility not been located on a border planet, the violated laws would include: viral weapon development and the employment/use of Androids.

Tania infiltrated this facility with the Watcher's aid and seized a virus for herself. This led to an outbreak in the Cortez Facility that ultimately caused all the human occupants to become infected.

WAW spoilers: The Facility is discovered by Timothy and Crake in Chapter 36

Cycle

Refers to 24 hours. A Pandora day is 94 hours.

Eridium

Eridium is a highly valued ore that spread from the opened Vault on Pandora. In its raw form, it's liquid; however, once exposed to an atmosphere, it will harden into a crystal. Cooling crystalised Eridium in specialised Hyperion conduits will return the Eridium to its liquid form. However, it will lose some of its more valuable properties than its original state.

Gear-chip

A small server that can clip to the user's belt. It digi-stores items within it that can be retrieved. The retrievable items need to be pre-scanned by a gear-chip scanner. The more complex the item, the more space it takes up in the gear chip.

Geo-crest

An old Dahl programming language that is no longer in use.

Felicity is built on this code.

Hyperfire

The coding language which Handsome Jack implemented at Hyperion. It was first used in secret when he was an engineer; its purpose was to slowly lock out each board member from the company and dismantle its hierarchy. It worked.

Unknown to all, this language was created by Angel when she was three years old. It was initially called Sapphire, which was Angel's favourite colour and gemstone, and the same jewel was situated within the handle of her mother's handheld mirror.

The Phase-claw Siren

Aka Laurie Zapedon, mother to Tungsteena Zarpedon and grandmother to Brittania Zarpedon. When Maliwan killed Laurie, her powers were transferred to Angel. Laurie's powers allowed her to send phase blasts in the shape of 3 claws. When enraged, her hands would mutate to enable her to have retractable claws, which allowed her to cut through any surface. Maliwan sought her as she was responsible for breaching one of their vaults and killing a senior member of the Katagawa family. Maliwan refused to publish what she stole.

The Phase-claw's death was widely publicised and a warning for other Sirens that their actions had consequences.

WAW Spoiler: When Tania tells Angel she's "seen a Siren in action before," she is referring to her grandmother.

Phase Shift

Angel's ability, she can send her consciousness into software, rewrite, hack, and access all code (as long as she knows and understands the language).

Phase Strike

An ability which can be learnt by all Sirens, a bubble of cosmic energy is blasted forward. The appearance of a phase strike does vary slightly from Siren to Siren.

Sirens

The transfer of power is always random, and the gifts are always unique. No Siren is ever the same, and no one knows who the new Siren will be. This leads to mass chaos and searching within maternity wards when a Siren dies, as the new Siren may be born at any moment.

The tattoos take several hours or days to form, leading many company-run hospitals to keep new mothers in lockdown until the new Siren is found.

Jack was able to sneak his wife and daughter out of one of these lockdown Hospitals by trying to bribe a staff member and then ultimately killing them (Jack's first kill). They then fled the planet.

Slag

Slag is the by-product of Eridium within a lifeform. If higher doses are left untreated, it will kill the host. Smaller amounts can be fought off after a long withdrawal stage.

Space-hurps

A virus developed by Atlas at their Pandora base: The Cortez Facility

The virus deteriorates brain function as large boils develop over the host brain and body. The virus won't allow the host to die and will continue to drive the host to seek food and shelter. It prefers cool, damp places to hibernate.

Project Tartarus

Handsome Jack's immortality project, through the use of an AI.

The AI is identical to Jack in every way; however, after spending years trapped in an intangible form, the AI has observed Jack's actions and started to scrutinise his actions. Leading the AI to have an immense hero complexity and to believe he would make better decisions.

UPA

United Planets Association is the governing body across multiple planets. They oversee specific laws, and ethical rules are followed, including the creation of new androids. Many companies will move their facilities to the Border Planets to avoid the jurisdiction of the UPA.

Veritilium

A patented drug created by Maliwan to make the user willing to talk. It's incredibly rare. Once the creators realised how potent it was, the CEO had them killed, and the drug was then stored in the personal safes of the Katagawa family.

#borderlands #angel wth siren #handsome jack #got any suggestions for more lore for me to explore then send me an anon! #lore #world building #HBC writes #also posted to ao3 #waw #wolf among wolves

[bardofavon]

not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #tbh even if I got a comment that said ‘I hate you I’m going to kill your family’ on chapter 75 it still means they read 75 chapters first…. #it just makes me sad to see so many writers shouting into the void #and also see ppl complain openly about the specific types of comments they receive #posting screenshots on Reddit like ‘should I be mad at this’ CALM DOWN #sigh

[kkshowtunes]

google citing ao3 as a source is so unhinged

#dowak #bi rodrick heffley #ao3 #fanfiction #doodlebug says things #banger #super banger #banger banger hall of famer #banger 5k #banger 10k #banger 15k #banger 20k #banger 25k #banger 30k #banger 35k #banger 40k #banger 45k #banger 50k #banger 55k #banger 60k #banger 65k #banger 70k #banger 75k #banger 80k #guys this breached containment #i always wanted a popular post but now i get it i’m overwhelmed #also i misspelled a word in it #what is going on ‼️‼️🔥🔥 #jk guys never stop reblogging this #may rodrick heffley bisexualism reign supreme

[iamanartichoke]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

#fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #fandom things #tumblr things #i may have said this at some point #i'm sure i have #but whatever - just in case #i don't say this with the presumption that i'm so amazing and people are clamoring to save my fics #but just if anyone is so inclined that's all #ftr i don't intend on ever removing my fics from ao3 or deleting fandom things from this blog #i've always shared my fandom things with the intent of keeping them shared bc that's the whole point of posting #but the fandom atmosphere and ao3 constantly being under attack who knows what can happen #not that this applies to anyone but should all else fail you can also reach out to me and i will personally give you a copy #at least of fics bc i save everything #not so much the tumblr things but this is a good reminder to myself that i should do that for the things i care about #that i've made or done and only posted here #anyway sorry i have now used up my quota of the putting words into sentences doing for today #i have plans to stare into the void now

[jade-jupiter]

no people come together quite as fast as ao3 readers when the site is down

#rallied forces in seconds flat it’s a little scary but also cool as fuck #ao3 #archieve of our own #ao3 is down #update: for the people saying it’s not down rn this post is from march 28th !!!

[felixcosm]

I think it's mean how some people talk about fics on AO3.

'Oh you gotta wade through literal trash to find the good stuff'.

Were you not a beginner once? Did you not write crack fic or self indulgent things for your own entertainment?

Maybe don't speak that way about your fellow fic writers? Just because some fics aren't as polished as others, or involve fetishes and tropes you don't enjoy, or are not the style you want your fics to be doesn't mean they're trash.

It's a horrible thing to say and beginners are going to be discouraged from writing knowing that their fics might be considered trash because they're just starting out.

#on fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3 #fanfiction #this is inspired by a lot of the posts i see floating around that talk about fics like that #*i* dont read everything either #but you can say this is not for me without insulting the fics #(also mutuals this is not directed at any of you im not vaguing anyone on my dash) #these posts have existed for years

[newttxt]

pls read the zosan fic “utilities included” and enjoy sanji making his own life as miserable as possible in plain view of his new roommate

from ch. 1 of utilities included (mind the tags and rating)

masterpost

#one piece #zoro #sanji #zosan #yes i proudly drew this for my friends fic. i think its genuinely charming and funny and well characterized #mind the tags and rating of course skfkdkfkkd #bree if ur out there… 🥰 #im gonna reply to this with the link once it posts (im scheduling this for tomorrow) but also u can find her on ao3 at strawhattery #utilities included

[ash-and-starlight]

another late @zukki-week entry, for day 2 // skinny dipping

and as a special treat it comes with @erisenyo's fantastic fic And Babe, (What Do you Mean) We Ain't Even Dating that this scene is based on!!

#id in alt text #befORE someone feels like being haha funny on my post #yes yue is watching over sokka's bare ass yes she is shining her best most flattering moonbeams on them #yes she supports bisexual endeavors #also!! this comes with a twitter bonus iykyk #im trying to upload it on ao3 too but its still giving me pROBLEMS will be up one day I prommy #suki #sokka #zuko #zukki #my art

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 2; ghoap x reader) part 1

-

The hard part is admitting to himself that he doesn’t know how to function on leave without Ghost’s voice in his ear.

Johnny’s two days into his annual leave when that stray thought crosses his brain. Out with chums even, packed into the booth of an old pub in his hometown, the leather well-worn and a match on the telly that he half watches while one of his mates goes up to the bar to order another round for them. In between his third and fourth pint of lukewarm mild, he thinks something like, wonder what Simon’s up to.

The thought comes and then keeps coming. Keeps cropping up when he least expects. At the pub (wonder what Simon’s up to), in line at the grocery store (wonder how Ghost takes his steak), drowsily puttering around the kitchen while making breakfast (no way he wears the mask at home), listening to some guy in front of him hack up a lung at the dry cleaner (Lt’d do his fuckin’ head in if he was here), and even in the shower with his head tipped back, rinsing out the suds (wonder if he’s got a girl tucked away at home). 

Is it so unusual? Johnny can’t remember a time in his life when someone lived in his head night and day, but Ghost’s presence feels like an extension of his own these days. He’s cycled through girlfriends without a care in the world, without contemplating their existence for half as long, but they never cradled his life like a small bird in the palm of their hands and returned it safe and sound, did they?

Still, he feels it like a knot in his chest. Dreams about Ghost even; wakes up hot and hard, and scrubs his hand down the side of his face when he sits up in bed. Phantom memories of a body heavier than his weighing him down (just the duvet) and a thick hand curling around his dick (his own hand wrapped around his shaft, rubbing one out in his sleep). 

He shakes it off, but it follows him out into the real world. Looking at the door of a coffee shop and thinking absentmindedly, Ghost would have to duck under that. 

Johnny puts it out of his mind. As much as he’s able to, that is. Chalks it up to some kind of hero worship. He’s worked with superior officers before—plenty of times, hundreds of times—but there are few men of Ghost’s calibre, both in skillset and mystique. Not to mention the sheer size of the guy. And what is Johnny if not a moth to a flame?

Better not to ruminate. He casts the memory of seeing Ghost’s dick in the showers after their last mission (monstrous thing, uncut, pubes darker than the hair on his head, more than a mouthful—it’d give him lockjaw) out of his head. Doesn’t think about it. Laughs at a mate’s joke at the pub when he didn’t catch a word of it to mask the way he perked up at the sight of a wide-shoulder man until he turned around, giving Johnny a proper look at his face.

He’s not ready to think about it. Might never be able to really look at why he eats it up, why he struts around with his chin cocked just a bit higher than usual because he knows everyone else is watching him with equal parts envy and curiosity for being Ghost’s favourite. 

Then, one day, he meets a girl.

Johnny’s not winning an award any time soon for world’s best son, but he knows a thing or two. The first thing being chocolates and the second being flowers. His sisters handle the rest; they fuss about the party, get a gift certificate to the spa, send out the invites—all that fun stuff. He’s sent off for the bare essentials. Practically kicked out of the house by his oldest sister—nearly brains himself on the asphalt and tugs his windbreaker on when it’s thrown out the door after him a second later, grumbling about being the errand boy.

He picks up a box of chocolates from the corner shop (not fancy enough, his sisters will probably bitch, but that’s a problem for later) before heading down the road to the florist. There’s a bench out front stacked with tin flower vases, the only spot of colour on a dreary spring morning. He spends a couple minutes chatting with the cashier and flirting a bit halfheartedly (he thinks maybe it’ll be worth it if it gets him a discount, even five percent off) until the florist comes out from the back. 

“Jesus, who gave ye the right?” Johnny breathes, horse blinders on, vision narrowing on the object of desire coming out of the back in a linen apron and simple t-shirt underneath, scissors poking out of the front pocket. 

“The right?” she repeats back, blinking.

“To leave the house lookin’ so fuckin’ gorgeous. Glad I wasn’t driving when I passed you by—woulda been in a twenty car pile up.”

She’s not impressed in the slightest. It’s thrilling. By that point, the cashier is long forgotten. Probably not the best impression he’s ever made, but he’s made worse ones. It’s not every day he comes across an angel. Hard to be polite in front of a real life miracle. 

He wears her down over the week though, showing up each day for a new bouquet. His mam’s never liked him more, so at least there’s that. His sisters side-eye him whenever he ducks out of the house to head down the road to the florist’s, but even they know better than to bring it up and risk pissing off their mam. He interrogates her about flowers and her job, makes his presence unavoidable, a week long siege that ends with Johnny taking her out to dinner and then letting her take him to bed. 

He wakes up nestled in her cozy apartment above the flower shop, stretching out and making himself right at home. When she trades in her linen apron for a terry cloth robe and stands expectantly by the door, Johnny just grins. Shows all of his teeth. 

“Are ye just gonna use me and kick me out?” he pouts. Folds his hands behind his head and digs a foot into the sheets, trying to sink into the mattress. Little king in his castle. 

“You know, you don’t have to pussyfoot around with me. Weren’t you just trying to get laid?” she asks, brow arched. The disbelief thick in her voice makes it clear what she thinks of him. 

“No’ just some playboy, hen,” he scoffs. “I have feelings too.”

Her other eyebrow lifts. He’s tickled pink.

He plays the part well, he supposes. Lounges in bed and eats grapes all morning while she stares at him from the kitchen like he might dissipate at any moment. He’s used to leaving a false impression, like a lake that someone builds their house next to until years go by and someone says I think this was once a meteor. 

When she comes back to bed around mid morning, Johnny wastes no time pulling her up onto the bed until she plants her cunt over his mouth and sinks down onto his waiting tongue. 

Candy sweet pussy, he thinks blissfully, then says it out loud because he can never keep his mouth shut. It must tickle because she yelps and nearly pulls away from his face altogether, but he wrenches her back down, fingers digging into her ass cheeks a bit too forcefully. He’ll pay for that later. 

In the aftermath, when she collapses beside him in bed and rests her head on his chest while he plays with her hair, he itches in his skin to message Ghost. It perplexes him. They never text, he and Ghost; they don’t call, they don’t write, they don’t email. For all intents and purposes, their relationship ends at the perimeter around base, dissolves to nothing. It’s not Ghost’s fault he trickles into Johnny’s dreams sometimes. 

A week goes by. Calm the mind. He thinks of Ghost and his fingers tremble and the phone stays silent and he lets the thought go. Steady. Breathe in and out. His caryatid girl slips in and out of his sheets, hesitant always like he might leave. Johnny doesn’t know if she wants him to, wants to feel vindicated in her assumption, but of all her wants, that ranks the lowest in his mind. 

He spirals deeper into it, infatuated. She’s sweet but snippy, candy sweet with a sour kick—everything he’s ever wanted in a girl. Ever unimpressed, watching him with a small, hidden smile, amused despite herself. 

Johnny wonders if this is the universe waving its hand in front of his face. Yoohoo, missing something?

He looks pointedly away. 

It’s new, but maybe he’s like every other military man in the world, unable to go with the flow, dissatisfied with seeing where things go. He needs instant gratification, everything now-now-now, the certainty of commitment—he spills blood with everyone he knows, so why would his girl be any different?

Returning back to base is harder this time around. The last day of his leave is an exercise in restraint, tempered only by her smile when he sees her off at the door to her apartment, reluctant to leave. 

“C’mon, promise me you’ll call, hen,” Johnny mumbles into her mouth, catching her answer with a languid swipe of his tongue. His arms press her tight to his chest, digging his hands into her back pockets and giving a good squeeze, relishing in the way she squeaks. “How’m I gonna survive without ye, huh? They’re gonna have to jumpstart my heart after it gives out from missing ye so bad.”

“So dramatic. You have my number,” she says when he finally pulls back enough to let her speak.

“No, please, baby, please—promise me—”

“Oh my god, alright, fine—I’ll call. Now get going already.”

The drive back to base leaves him feeling bedraggled, lost. When he gets in, it’s straight to the barracks, an hour long nap before reporting to Price, dragging his feet the whole way over. Moping, for lack of a better word, until he rounds a corner and nearly collides with someone that stops him with a single hand on his shoulder. 

When he looks up to eyes rimmed in black paint, the world lightens. His shoulders lift. 

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Johnny.”

It takes Johnny awhile to bring her up with Ghost. Something keeps holding him back, choking him when he tries to say it outloud. He blames it on uncertainty (had to be sure she was the one, Lt, ye ken?) but he feels the truth at the core of him. When he does finally muster up the nerve to pass his phone to Ghost where her photo is front and centre, no mistaking his intentions, he waits on tenterhooks for a reaction. 

Only breathes out when Ghost asks to meet her. He can do that. 

“Aye, Lt. Just for you.”

#99% chance im gonna edit this to fuck before i post it on ao3 because im trying to properly balance the pov switch #also its not done yet #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost/soap/reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost/reader #soap/reader

[karoochui]

Sorry ive been dead i accidentally got fixated on my friends oc. Take these doodles that i (mostly) did before the tragic impact ft LD&RS moon who belongs to @spadillelicious

#also read love death and rollerskates on ao3 it fucks INSANELY hard #the third one was for an ask but idefk what the ask was anymore whoops #tbh just posting these so they arent lost in the hell that is my file organization #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #sundrop #binary resurgence #binary resurgence: round 2 au #fnaf moon #moondrop #dca x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #mikas stuff

[musashi]

i also heard my co worker say 'i dont read dead dove' the other day like what the FUCK does gen z think it means??? are they just, like, changing the meaning??? what do you mean you dont read dead dove. you don't read ANYTHING? cause dead dove is not a genre or a trope it's a tagging system fdghdfh like???

#wordy wendy #i think we should make ppl under 25 take fandom 101 before theyre allowed to use AO3 #turning the reblogs off because some fuckwad added some dumb shit onto this post #and it is no longer educational #also if you put the words proshipper or anti in my tags im blocking you. die. go outside

[theorderofthetriad]

anyways... here's why i think Loki and Matt Murdock should be each other's narrative foil(romantic):

• Loki- famously known liar, Matt Murdock- able to tell when people are lying

• Both wear helmets with horns on them, but Matt's are small and practical and Loki's are large and gaudy.

• Matt Murdock- Practicing Irish Catholic, Loki- Norse "God" of Mischief

• Loki- Presents himself as selfish and self preserving, Matt Murdock- Presents himself as selfless and self sacrificing

• Loki- Will flee if he knows he's gonna get his ass kicked for no gain, Matt Murdock- Knows he's gonna get his ass kicked for no gain and does it anyway

• They simply seem like prime material for a "We vehemently dislike each other up until we (whoops!) realize we love each other so much we can't live without the other" type romance that I am always obsessed over.

• Thor would enjoy it, and, frankly, he deserves the entertainment.

#this WAS a rant i made about some ao3 discourse i saw on my dash. but now it's better #frostdevil #<- the ship tag which you should check out #im fully serious about this btw. this seems like a joke bc it's inherently funny but im also 100% not making a joke #otp: horned helms something about lying #santagno #loki #matt murdock #daredevil #Top Tino Post

[mimiscappinisideblog]

Me throughout 2020-2021-2022-2023:

Me the moment AO3 has been down for more than ten hours:

#someone put me out of my misery #i don't want to live on this planet anymore #mimi talks #GOOD THING THAT SOME AO3 WRITERS ALSO POST THEIR FICS HERE #HI. I LOVE YOU ALL #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #ao3 #archives of our own #pain and suffering

[sarasade]

One of the most generally useful things to come out of Hbomberguy's plagiarism video and Todd in the Shadows' similar video on misinformation is how they bring transparency to the internet phenomenon of "I made up a guy to get mad at".

Seriously, I've seen people make up a lot of stupid shit on the internet over the years and it's often just a manipulative attempt to paint a group of marginalized people in a bad light.

That's the TL;DR version of this post. 

ANYWAY here is the long version

Those videos are mostly about James Somerton's plagiarism of other queer people's work. However I'd like to talk about that 20-30% of Somerton's original writing- and oh boy. It's mostly about complaining about White Straight Women and misgendering well-known trans creators such as Rebecca Sugar and calling Becky Albertalli a straight woman while it's pretty common knowledge that she was forced to out herself as bi because she received so much harassment over "being a cishet woman who appropriates LGBT+ stories".

One thing that irks me especially is how in his Killing Stalking and Gay Shipping videos Somerton brings up how straight women/ teen girl shippers exploit gay men for their personal sexual fantasies. This gets brought up several times in his videos.

Being all up and arms about Somerton being a "White Cis Gay Who Hates Women and Queer People tm" is not that useful because the kind of rhetoric he's using is extremely common in fandom and LGBT+ spaces on Tumblr, TikTok and Twitter. We really don't need to bring Somerton's identity to this since he is in no way an unique example.

It's hypocritical to make this about an individual person when I've seen A TON of posts, tweets and videos where queer people talk about these Sinister Straight Women who are supposedly out there fetishizing and exploiting queer men. It's pretty clear to me that this is just an excuse to shit on women and queer people for having any sexual interests. At worst these comments are spreading misinformation about BL, a form of media that has been excessively studied by both Asian feminists and Asian queer women.

This all sounds really familiar and I think it's good that people are calling it out as what it is: misogyny and transphobia. I'd also point out the potentially racist motives behind being this hypervigilant about Asian media.

People can absolutely be misogynist regardless of gender or orientation. I really don't know why we need to create some kind of made up enemy to get mad at. I actually think it's almost sinister how "anti-fujoshi" people call Slash shippers and fujoshi misogynists or claim that they have internalised misogyny while being dismissive about women's interests and creative pursuits under Japanese obscenity laws, China's censorship, book bans in American schools and various other disadvances that are part of being a queer and/or female creator.

I think we shouldn't be naive about the bad faith actors who want to turn queer people against each other. For example Fujoshi.info mentions anti-gender (TERF, GC etc) movement using this kind of rhetoric as well.

Anyway if you want to read more:

- about the false info around BL fandom fujoshi.info

-There is the scholar Thomas Baudinette who studies gay media in Japan. Here is a podcast with him and the scholar Khursten Santos

-James Welker is a BL scholar as well. Here is a podcast interview about the new international BL article collection he edited.

-I've already talked about this Youtube channel by KrisPNatz and his great Killing Stalking video that actually engages with the themes of the manhwa

- There is also HR Coleman's thesis DO NOT FEED THE FETISHIZERS: BOYS LOVE FANS RESISTANCE AND CHALLENGE OF PERCEIVED REPUTATION where she interviews 36 BL fans and actually breaks down why fetishization has become such a huge talking point in the fandom discourse. Spoilers, it's mostly about young queer people and women being worried that they will get judged and pathologized for their interest in anything sexual.

-Great podcast about Danmei and censorship with Liang Ge

#Also I don't mean that you can always tell if someone is a transphobe or a TERF based on a couple of things they have said. #My point is that sometimes ok people can have very regressive ideas too. #This is not a call out post about how we should go around accusing anti-fujoshi people #todd in the shadows #hbomberguy #sarasade text #even I've got those “Fandom is mostly straight women fetishizing gay men” comments once and it begins to sound kind of passive-aggressive #when you're a bi woman. Lot of fandom stats at AO3 show that fandoms are montly bi women. who are these people calling straight exactly hmm #also straight women are completely ok leave them alone. I know I know Yes I'm so brave for saying this #cw: transphobia