An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Most recently:
I'll Do It For Her: Trupearl oneshot where Pearl has a misconception cleared up about Family
One touch, that changed everything: Narumitsu got delayed coming home from the lawyer convention and there was only one bed! Other stuff happens as a result of this too.
pinkprincessofficial has invited you to Steel Samurai Sanctuary!: Maya Fey makes a discord server of Sal Manella haters after a documentary makes her usual discord server unreadable for all the Sal Manella apologism. Miles Edgeworth is also there but they don't know it yet. Fully formatted, visually, as a discord experience.
Unironically I despise cute posts about how people who organize their personal libraries by size/color/vibes are Evil and Monstrous. First of all it’s none of your damn business what someone ELSE does with their personal belongings and second of all what? People are supposed to use Dewey in their own home? Dewey hasn’t even DREAMED of the subject categories I require
Identifying My Own Emotions: this is an intersection of my subject matter expertise (MLIS) and my dislike of the internet cultural code in which it’s OK to express your feelings on utterly trivial personal taste as performative disgust and horror that someone else perhaps does not experience the world the same way as you. Listen to me. Liking pineapple pizza is morally irrelevant
in which murderbot is a very normal terracotta soldier and ART the dragon spirit of a chinese junk who dwells in the ship's keel. they meet in the ming dynasty perhaps, when ppl are sailing places extra willy-nilly.
*Nüwa is the mother goddess in chinese mythology, known for creating humanity from yellow clay and repairing the sky.
thank you @mutualrapport for hosting the event! original prompt below.
[drawn for the prompt: an AU of ART and MB's first meeting and conversation - e.g. another look at their first meeting from a fantasy, historical, or (non-canon) sci-fi lens! Any perspective is fine. The only constraint is that it cannot be set in the canon universe. Any visibly non-canon AU- fantasy, human, historical, etc. - anything goes!]
psa number 50739 from this tumblr user to keep rpf away from everywhere except tumblr/ao3 or some plucky journalist trying to write clickbait articles for a living will take your rpf and put it on blast for the world to see and everyone has to live with the consequences
Open world survival game where if any of your attributes get too high, people who cultivate, worship, or oppose that attribute will show up to kill you. In some cases this is straightforward, like skill at firearms drawing challenges from rival gunslingers, or powerful psychic abilities attracting witch hunters, Caves of Qud style; for attributes like "Cooking" or "First Aid", the motives involved may be more eccentric.
We're at the "JK Rowling is personally funding litigation to try and destroy AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL" stage of rabid UK terf brain.
Screenshot via Alejandra Caraballo @esqueer.net on bluesky
Tldr Amnesty International, global human rights organisation, published a report called 'A growing threat: the anti-rights movement in the UK'. In it is detailed, amongst others, a whole bunch of transphobic groups and organisations, including Beira's Place, JK Rowling's trans exclusionary sexual violence support service. JK Rowling threw a shit fit and got Amnesty to take the report down by threatening libel. This was obviously not enough, because you can't appease a fascist, so now she's going to bankroll a bunch of lawsuits anyway through the JK Rowling Women's Fund.*
You can read an archived version of the report here, please save it and share it.
*Not so friendly reminder there is no way to engage in the wizard books without enabling this shit.
INFORMATION I WAS NOT PREPARED TO LEARN. MAYBE WE *ARE* ALONE. BECAUSE WE ARE SO *EARLY*. IF THERE IS EVER GALACTIC CIVILIZATION THEY WILL NOT REMEMBER US AT ALL. BECAUSE WE ARE NOTHING. CELLS, JUST BEGINNING TO FORM LIFE. SORRY FOR SCREAMING. BUT ARE YOU LISTENING. ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT IT.
Well, there were some quirks. It was carbon-based, which was mildly interesting, and Arc’s shuttle readouts told her that it was the plants that had developed photosynthesis, weirdly. The atmosphere had a massive amount of oxygen, and there was all that water, too, more than she had ever seen in one place before. And every planet was, as her trainers had told her, its own unique jewel.
But one thing they had not told her was that all the jewels started to blend together after a while, and after a little longer each one became just another assignment. So the planet was just another assignment. A little ball of water and tumbled stone and flora in a cul-de-sac of the galaxy. One more stack of paperwork for Arc to get through before she could go home to her marital partners and offspring.
Arc aimed her shuttle in the middle of one of the larger continents, away from the mountain range and near a smaller body of (oh, gosh, more) water. As she got closer to the ground, though, her shuttle readouts changed. There were irregular smudges of radiation on the surface, and chemical evidence of constructed materials. Arc squinted, and her tertiary limbs started to shiver in frustration. There were ruins down there. Nobody had told her she’d be surveying a formerly inhabited planet. Great, she thought. Now I’m never getting home.
Arc sent a note by ansible to Ecba, her dearest marital partner. A few mins later, as her shuttle settled on the ground, she got back the image of a hand-sculpted message. “My little machine,” it said, Ecba’s sweetheart-name for her, and she could see all the love that went into the lettering. “Does it have to be you?”
Arc put on her enviro-suit and got her surveying monitor. “Maybe not,” she sent. She didn’t have the same skill in sculpting that Ecba had, so she just had to trust that her love was conveyed in the digital lettering. “Wish me luck. I’ll try to come home to you all soon.”
Then she stepped out into the world.
The first thing she noticed was that the sky was blue. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Blue was for water, and some crystal formations, and nebulae, not the sky. She wondered what it had done to whatever inhabitants used to live here, to have such a bright, unwieldy color as the backdrop of their days. If they used the light spectrum to see at all, that was. Well, she thought as she carried her surveying monitor away from the shuttle, she’d find out.
The second thing she noticed was that the ruins were invisible from the ground. All she could see for kiloms and kiloms was wildly ambitious vegetation, some rocks, and the melodramatic blue of the sky. The ruins must have been old enough that any wood or rock or even petroleum deposits would have broken down into microscopic pieces, from time or the weather, or been buried. Whatever she was dealing with wasn’t just gone, it was long gone.
Arc felt herself start to get interested, despite her desire to go home. Junior surveyors like her didn’t get mysteries like this. Ruins were one thing, the residue of a solitary existence before the inhabitants discovered, or were discovered by, other planets and polities, and they left to make a new life among the stars. But mysteries were something else.
She found a flat place to set up her surveying monitor, and set the aperture. Immediately she was surrounded by a hologram re-creation of her surroundings. She figured five thousand years was long enough, to start with. She flipped the dial back, clacked her secondary limbs for luck, and told it to go.
Nothing. The hologram was the same, just ruins and vegetation.
Arc checked the monitor. It seemed to be working fine. She turned it off and turned it on again just to make sure. Then she set it for ten thousand years.
Ruins. Vegetation. Nothing else.
Arc turned the hologram off, and sat back and looked around. The vegetation gave her no answers. She clacked her limbs in confusion, and then thought, Fuck it, and set the monitor for a hundred thousand years. Even if she missed the departure point, the thing she was always told to capture first, at least she’d get something.
Nothing. Even so far back, everything was exactly the same.
Arc started to get a bad feeling. She tried two hundred thousand years, and nothing. Three hundred thousand years. Then, feeling like she was losing her mind, she set it back five hundred thousand years.
And, there.
It wasn’t the inhabitants, but she could see traces of the buildings they had built for themselves, in the process of crumbling to nothing. She started creeping slowly back in time from there: year after year. The weather patterns on the monitor were very different from what she was experiencing now, with scorching heat and hurricanes, the air filled with ash. There was no vegetation. Arc’s bad feeling crystallized into fear.
Finally, finally, she found a living soul. Just one, wandering through the ruins, shielding itself from the blistering sunlight. It walked right in front of her on the hologram, and turned and looked straight through her. She stared at it, trying to understand.
It was a soft, squishy thing, bipedal and barely coming to half her height. It moved like nothing she'd ever seen, and she shouldn't have been able to read any emotion in that strange face and those alien limbs. But she saw grief there, she was sure of it.
Back, and back. The ruins rebuilt themselves, the weather patterns steadied. Arc saw more of those strange bipedal beings, and other squishy creatures that connected to the beings with string. She saw small fauna and stone roads, machines that moved and buildings so tall they blocked out the sky. She found a group of three, a taller being and two very short ones, and watched them for a long time, as they came and went from the image of the building in front of her. After watching them for a while, she realized that they were a family.
Arc found another being, and watched it making something out of wood: a little carving of one of the creatures that moved along on string. She saw beings creating machines that made images, and she saw beings painting colors on walls. She saw beings fighting each other, killing each other, mourning each other. She saw them raising each other, playing with each other. She saw them making and making: creating by themselves, creating together. And all of them so long ago, long before even Arc's people, the oldest civilization she knew, had begun to walk among the stars.
These beings, the ones that had lived hundreds of thousands of years ago, had spent the entire course of their existence alone in the universe. The ruins weren't ruins because they had left for better things. The ruins were ruins because they had died out, all of them, millennia before they could be found.
Arc felt grief well up inside of her, and she began to keen. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Life was meant to find other life; that's what life was for.
How lonely they must have been, she thought, singing her mourning song for them. All that creation, all that art and all that play, the machines that made images, the paint scrawled on walls, the carvings made with strange limbs but with so much love that Arc could feel it even now — and they couldn't share it with anyone. How impossible the galaxy, the universe, must have felt to them.
I’m sorry, she thought, and keened for them. I’m sorry you were all alone. I’m sorry we were too late for you, and that you were too early for us. I'm sorry for all of it. But we’re here now. We have you. You’re not alone anymore, and you’ll never be alone again.
After a while she calmed. The holographic images were still going, and she found herself struck by another family: this one had many large beings and a few small ones, and it was clear in their movements how much they loved each other. That was important, she thought. That love was what was left, after everything. That love was what she was here to preserve.
Arc got up off the ground on shaky limbs, still grief-stricken but feeling stronger. She went back to her shuttle and sent the images she had recorded to her supervisors, along with a note that they needed to send more of her colleagues, now, so that everything could be captured faithfully.
She also sent a note to Ecba. “My star,” Arc wrote. “I have memories I need to excavate here. I am sorry I will not be home soon. I will come back when I can, but in the meantime know that I love you, and our family.”
Then she got her carving tools, and her clay. She wasn't as good as Ecba, but this memory, these stories, deserved the work of her hands.
Arc went back to her surveying monitor. She turned it on, and wound it back and back, farther than she’d ever imagined it was possible for life to go. She braced herself for grief again, and for the love she was going to find. She arranged her clay, and picked up her tools. She let the monitor play, showing her the planet’s long, brilliant memory. And then she began to tell the story.
Not gonna lie this makes me a bit irritated. Here's the real version of this photo:
Instead of a cutesie reference to film censorship it was an explicit statement of defiance of Maryland's criminalization gay sex, which was not repealed until 2002. This wasn't a guy saying "Oh they can't put what I do in the movies according to a completely voluntary industry code" he was saying "The State of Maryland wants to put me in jail for being gay and having gay sex."
It wasn't a guy being cheeky about sex in an ambiguous, cute way. It was a man stating, in no uncertain terms, that a whole state of the United States considered him a criminal for being homosexual.
Studying the hundred years war so I can study the war of the roses so I can read Shakespeare so I can read Macchiavelli so I can study the 30 Years War so I can appreciate Rembrandt so I can understand the rise of colonialism as a means of European hegemony so I can read Victor Hugo so I can read Marx so I can read Edward Said so I can read Dune so I can read Fevre Dream so I can read ASOIAF so I can write au fanfiction on the internet
