Interdimensional crisis (daycare) center for WIP whensday! I am chewing on what we have so far so hard... 👀👀🥺💖
Tim's back in surgery with a definitely-not-League-vetted doctor and a couple of just as unvetted nurses, protocols be damned. Kon's in the cramped little waiting room in damp sweatpants and a borrowed T-shirt from the clinic's lost and found, and two very clearly inhuman toddlers sleeping like adorable little boulders in his lap. They weigh about twice as much as human kids their sizes would, and they're a whole lot more atomically dense than human kids would be too.
Hello. You've written some excellent trans SVSSS fic, would you like to play in a space with me? It's called "Non-cultivation historical fiction AU where trans man SQH is forced by his System into a Mulan situation but he's absolutely terrible at being a soldier, accidentally becomes General Mobei-Jun's personal assistant and advisor instead" :)
THIS IS SO GOOD AND I CAN SEE IT NOW. when i have more time and writing juice i wanna write smth for this so bad hhkjhlkj, in the mean time some headcanons this sparked:
SQH is living as the youngest daughter of a family of disgraced nobility / scholars / merchants / smth like that near the capitol. his parents want to marry him off to some gross minor lord that he has no interest in (old palace master perhaps?)
when war breaks out and the army starts recruiting, this is the perfect opportunity to both live as a man and escape this arranged marriage! he leaps at it enthusiastically and enlists under General Mobei
MBJ is a great warrior, but out of favor after his father's death and due to his uncle's slandering of his skills. he's been sent off to train new recruits and he isnt happy about it
SQH is by far the worst! worst of the worst! you've seen mulan. he's hopeless
but... MBJ is struggling with commanding his portion of the army from a distance and with no support. LQJ has purposefully isolated him and set him up to fail
SQH catches sight of MBJ struggling over food rationing or smth and swoops in and fixes it all with his know-how from his shitty family. incredible!
MBJ fires him as a soldier and rehires him as his personal assistant on the spot
tbc...
would love to hear more of ur thoughts on this au as well hehe (◉ ⌄◉ )✧
You asked for prompts: I'm sorry I don't have anything specific for Writing Brain to latch onto but Hua Cheng having an unexpected and embarrassing/goofy third first meeting? I know that could describe several fics you've written but you're just really good at Hua Cheng Having A Weird One PoV and it's just fun to put the ghost king in Situations 💖 Accidentally brought an Intimidating An Enemy vibe to what turned out to be meeting his gege for the first time in centuries? Xie Lian rescuing Hua Cheng for their reunion instead of the other way around? That but Hua Cheng did not actually need rescued (he was spying or baiting a trap or something) but it happened anyway? Many possible ways for Hua Cheng's finding his god not to go the way he'd like it to!
i really like the thought of more What The Hell alt third meetings, but i'm gonna have to think for a bit on what the situation could be for hualian this time! they are very fun to write, though, so i'm glad you like the ones i've already done hahaha 💗 intimidating the enemy-whoops it's gege- could be fun, hc being a damsel in distress could be fun... i'll have to think on it!
Has staff been nuking a lot of blogs? I've only heard of that one case where they fantastically mishandled public harassment against a staff member but I also live under a rock
a few different big blogs got nuked, including (most visibly) were-ralph and normal-horoscopes.
those blogs were kinda...staples of the community? they had been around for ages, had a big following, and (afaik) never really caused any trouble.
if they're not able to get their blogs back, that's gonna be a bad sign, especially because at least one of them was probably nuked by a targeted mass-report campaign.
I know tumblr is unprofitable and understaffed, and that the staff they do have is overworked, but like...it's a chilling reminder that any one of us could disappear overnight, with very little reason given.
I have all of my songs backed up (and most of my writing), but I just can't imagine having the slate wiped clean, and having to start over again on an empty blog. the toll it would take on my mental health (so many years of work lost!) would be...bad.
I'm working to export my blog right now (I try to do that every so often anyway), and I recommend that everyone else use your blog's export tool as well, just in case.
you never know when someone could report you for no reason, and if they did, whose side tumblr would be on.
Went back through your mission impossible tag because I was trying to find the things you said about Phelps and Claire and about the pigeons and kicks in 2 (and to see if you said anything about the extremely extended motorcycle chase because I am dying about that chase and the sound design, why) and I was there for the start of the MI brainworms but I forgot how non-negative you were about MI:3. It's very strange and funny seeing you go "MI:3 is fine, it's not a bad movie, it's okay, not nearly as bad as 2" when now you have a dedicated MI:3 hating tag xD I'm midway through MI:3 and you're entirely right to have an MI:3 hating tag too (the anti-god monologue was super bad, yep!)
yeah i'm like the fucking weirdo of the fandom who hates MI3 more than MI2. honestly the more time goes by, I soften on MI2 more and more because it's bad yeah but it's also batshit insane and i think its worst sin is being fucking boring at times.
MI3 is a movie where the literal only good thing I have to say about it is the acting and that it's ethan at motherfucking PEAK autism, and i love that. but everything else makes me want to beat JJ Abrams with a whiffleball bat. and then pop TC with it once bc DUDE you're the PRODUCER, how did you ALLOW this.
MI3 feels like a cavalcade of incompetence. at least MI2 feels purposeful. it may not be what I would have done, but it has a Vision. who knows if MI3 has a vision, you wouldn't be able to see it through all the fucking shaky cam.
unfortunately, MI3 is the Julia Movie so we can't just memory hole it forever. 8C
(this is your ask about Onni I want to hear your thoughts on the lad)
I came to my laptop on my free evening to write and edit fic, but alas, that was when ao3 was down, so I’ll dished this out instead!
This is a little break from the hard-and-heavy Onni content. I’ve got six more Onni asks to work through, so we’ll get back to our analysis shortly.
This is my Onni playlist as it currently stands (I have a playlist for each character that I dump songs with particularly strong vibes in.) I’ll also throw some analysis in :) (as usual, it’s a lot of Sleeping at Last)
Playlist link, then highlight lyrics and description under the cut:
Onni Hotakainen
Wilderness (Sleeping at Last)
dear wilderness, be at your best / her armor is thin as the fabric of her dress / I know the rules: the weaker trees bend / but make her immune / when your temper storms in
This song is Onni’s love letter to Tuuri. He does love her so, so much. Onni knows the world is cruel, he knows that very well. And he also knows he can’t stop Tuuri from running off into dangerous situations. This, combined with Onni’s spirituality... He’s asking. He’s asking the wilderness to go against its instinct, its character.
Bright & Early (Sleeping at Last)
in the end I’m told / it taught me everything I know / that the wreckage left behind / will somehow make me grow / but why couldn’t I have been safe from the start / soundly asleep
Onni wants to grow up. He wants to grow up so bad. But he’s still hurting, and he just doesn’t know how to cope with the hurt. It’s been one thing after another, and in the times of his life where it hasn’t... he’s been fighting for it. Fighting for safety. To feel okay, to look okay, maybe to be okay. All he knows is the pain, and oftentimes the sheer change of healing seems like too much.
South (Sleeping at Last)
if truth is north / then I am true south / I can’t figure it out, god knows I’ve tried / always looking up / ‘til my eyes give up / that’s how I lost touch of who I am / and who I was
Onni’s constant theme is doubt and fear—and reasonably so! He was already predisposed towards anxiety and self-doubt; living in a horrific, post-apocalyptic world didn’t help that. Onni is always looking for solid ground, something to rely on, something outside of himself that’s as dependable as he is. And the world always comes up short. That’s a source of his perfectionism. “We’re not allowed to make mistakes, not under any circumstances!”
Asleep (Sleeping at Last)
if I could choose / watercolor lucid dreams / I’ll paint a future / that I can redeem / for just one precious third of my life / I’m not hypnotized / by the glow of a screen / or the darkness I’ve seen
This is Sleeping at Last’s newest song and I adore it for Onni. It points, tentatively, towards his future. So much of Onni’s life has been lived in rigid, vigilant fear of what lies ahead. The future is as dangerous as the past, and I think the idea that Onni has any real impact on his future is a novel one to him. It’s idealism. However, deep down, I also think Onni believes it; he believes he has a future he can redeem, he just doesn’t know how to go about attaining that.
Boreas (The Oh Hellos)
maybe then my breath could embody / a wildfire starting / I’d sweep up the forest floor / and my body breathe life into the corners / be a darker soil
Boreas is a song where it’s really hard to narrow it down to one verse to highlight. This song was the inspiration for my fic Kindling, Smoke, and Fire. It points to Onni’s unwilling stagnation and also his suicidality. He’s willing to throw it all away if he can just prove to himself that he loves Lalli and Tuuri. All that matters is being that little bit of warmth, because that’s all he thinks he can give.
Fear (Sleeping at Last)
instrumental
What more can I say? I always come back to fear with Onni, and this song so beautifully captures all the textures of it—the exhaustion, the terror, the hope.
Six (Sleeping at Last)
what would it feel like / to put this baggage down? / if I’m being honest / I’m not sure I know how / I want to take shelter but I’m ready, ready to fight
Way back when, I did quick enneagram typings for the main cast and Onni is definitely a six. (If you want I’ve got a whole thing about the Hotakainen enneagrams and how they all responded to the outbreak in different but connected ways.) What I love about Sleeping at Last’s enneagram series is that each song points to the growth of that type. Onni’s strength is his consistency and desire to protect. He’s afraid, yes, but his love really is so much bigger than his fear.
Daughter (Sleeping at Last)
if only you knew / the sunlight shines a little brighter / the weight of the world’s a little lighter / the stars lean in a little closer / all because of you
This song has a similar vibe to Dear Wilderness, but I think this one more broadly applies to both Tuuri and Lalli. Onni can be stifling at times, but he wants Tuuri and Lalli to be at their best. And, quite honestly, in happier and healthier circumstances, I think this song would more clearly represent their relationship. This is Onni at his best—cheering on the people he loves, trusting in their strength, and providing a refuge when they need it.
East (Sleeping at Last)
now I bear little resemblance to the king I once was / I bear little resemblance to the king I could become / maybe paper is paper, maybe kids will be kids / lord, I wanna remember how to feel like I did
It’s easy to forget that Onni is an extremely powerful mage. We don’t know the full extent of his power, but he is good at what he does. But I wonder how much his fear and trauma have forced attention away from his skills and potential. Not only that, but this song points to the happiness Onni once knew—it’s there, and he’s been told it’s attainable, but how does he find it?
Uneven Odds (Sleeping at Last)
I once knew your father well / he fought tears as he spoke of your mother’s health / I guess a part of him just couldn’t return / forgiveness is a lesson he cursed you to learn
This song hits two notes: this is Onni speaking to Tuuri and Lalli, but it’s also the words Onni needs to hear. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know where the light is. He hopes to understand one day, and wishes someone would (and could) teach him.
this is me trying (Taylor Swift)
they told me all of my cages were mental / so I got wasted like all my potential / and my words shoot to kill when I’m mad / I have a lot of regrets about that
This song points to Onni’s sharpness as well as his despondence. This song is written for a specific relationship, but it reflects Onni’s general attitude fairly well—he’s tired, he’s worn down, and trying so hard to not be bitter. He's self-aware just enough to know that he's spiraling, but he's also powerless to stop it.
Empty Page (The Crane Wives)
I am an empty page / a muddled shade of paint / I am a light that’s burning out / I am a light that’s burning out
Onni is easily swayed by the world around him. He’s stubborn, yes, but more so he’s reactionary and sharp. And, as with everything else, that reaction comes out of fear, and that reaction only creates defenses—it doesn’t fill the emptiness he feels inside.
The Foundations of Decay (My Chemical Romance)
see the man who stands upon the hill / he dreams of all the battles won / but fate had left its scars upon his face / with all the damage they had done
Another more recent arrival! This song also slid straight into this playlist as soon as I listened to it. This song also points to Onni's suicidality. Onni's been worn down. He's been worn down by the years and the trauma and the grief, and, most times, he just doesn't know how to carry on. He's gone through so much and worked so hard, but now? Was it worth it? What has he gained?
Wedding fic? Also if you want to share more about the TAZ au I'm 👀
I just realized I’ve already talked about the wedding fic in a past ask game; I posted a snippet here a while ago, and talked about the premise here a few months ago.
So! Have another TAZ snippet. Unfortunately I only have two of them, but I’ll probably write more if inspiration strikes.
---
“I can’t help but feel like you’re making me look bad.”
Gerry finished off a delicate bit of texture work before he looked over. “Hm? Oh.” He blinked, leaning over in his seat for a better look at Oliver’s canvas. “Don’t sell yourself short. That doesn’t look half bad.”
The landscape was simple, the brushstrokes slightly awkward and unpolished. But it was perfectly recognizable as a mountain range with a little stream running in the foreground. He’d even added ravens in the trees, as a little personal touch.
For his part, Gerry had followed the instructor for a few cursory strokes before getting bored and doing his own thing. Now his canvas was covered with an evening sky, streaked with dark sunset colors and framed with treetops. Instead of stars, he’d painted countless eyes of all different colors, arranged into uncanny constellations.
“Is that supposed to mean something?” Oliver asked.
“Not really,” Gerry said with a shrug. “Thought it’d look cool.”
“You’re very skilled,” Oliver went on, and Gerry tried not to analyze the quiet thrill that ran through him at the genuine admiration in his voice. “I never took you for a painter.”
“That’s fair. I’ve never really considered myself one.” Gerry rinsed and wiped his brush. “Haven’t even taken lessons before, if I’m being honest.”
“Piss off,” said Oliver. “You’re serious?”
Gerry turned to look him in the eye. “Oh, I’m dead serious.”
Oliver laughed as he went back to adding more ravens. Gerry gave his own painting another once-over. There wasn’t much else he could do, but with painting it was better to quit while you were ahead. Add too much and you’d only ruin it.
…He was pretty sure, anyway. Again, he’d never taken a class.
“While we’re on that subject,” Oliver said suddenly, as Gerry lowered his brush. “There was supposed to be a purpose to this meeting, was there not?”
“Guess so.” Maybe one more eye? Just one couldn’t hurt.
“Gerard,” Oliver sighed.
“Gerry,” he said, more out of habit than anything else. “And if you want to say something, then say it. You’ve got more stakes in this meeting than I do.”
He could feel Oliver’s eyes on him, probing for answers before he’d even asked anything. “Is that really true? Considering the setting you chose, I have to wonder if you had business or pleasure in mind.”
Gerry shot him a grin with all his teeth. “What, can’t it be both?” He was rewarded when Oliver’s eyes widened slightly, before the reaper hastily turned back to his own work.
“I… suppose,” Oliver said hesitantly. “It’s never simple with you and your lot, is it? It’s just one damn thing after another.”
“Understatement,” said Gerry. “The damn things overlap.”
Oliver laughed again. Gerry didn’t bother smothering the urge to smile.
“I do have one question,” Oliver said after a moment. “It’s… you don’t have to answer it, if you don’t want to. It’s not about your deaths—I’d say we’re past that—but it’s… really more my own curiosity than anything else.”
“Ask away.”
“Why?” Oliver asked.
“Because you clearly want to.”
“No—” Oliver shook his head. “I mean… why do this? Why do any of it?”
Gerry put his brush down.
“We’ve met twice now, because of your… mission, or whatever it is,” said Oliver. “Meaning you’ve met a reaper twice, within a year—within a few months. And something tells me it’s only going to continue.”
“Getting tired of my face already?” Gerry asked with another grin.
Oliver squinted at him. “You—tell me you’re seeing the symbolism here. You’re literally flirting with death.”
This time, it was Gerry’s turn to laugh.
“Again,” Oliver went on. “You don’t have to answer. I’ve just… never met someone like you before. This many times, without…”
Without killing you, he didn’t say.
Gerry grabbed his wine glass and took a swig. He was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to swig wine, but who was going to judge him for it? “You want to hear something hilarious?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“If you’d found me a year ago,” said Gerry. “If you’d—fuckin’ descended from the heavens with all the—the skull face and ravens and everything, and told me I’d died twenty five times and you were here to drag my soul to the afterlife… I’d have gone with you.”
Oliver blinked.
“Probably wouldn’t have even questioned it. Would’ve shrugged my shoulders, taken your hand, and gone.” Gerry swirled his half-empty wineglass. “’S different now, I think. I’ve got… I’ve got people now. I’ve got a goal. I’m not just…” He gestured vaguely with his free hand. “So really, you’ve got Tim and Sasha to thank for me being a contrary bastard.”
“The professional in me wants to resent them for it,” Oliver admitted. “But mostly I just feel relieved.” He paused, thinking Gerry’s answer over. “So is that it, then? You’re in this job because you wanted a purpose? Because you care about your friends?”
“Dunno. Maybe?” Gerry set his glass aside again. “I mean, I do. Care about them, that is. I care about the mission, too—always a good thing, saving people. It’s worked out better for me now than it did when I was alone.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but,’” said Oliver.
“But… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know… what?”
His hands felt restless again, now that they no longer had a brush or a wine glass to occupy them. Once again, Gerry found himself reaching for his lighter—which had, thus far, been sitting on the low table alongside his paints. The metal warmed instantly at his touch, as if welcoming him as he picked it up and drew it closer. The stylized eye carved into the case seemed to follow him, even when he turned it.
“You know that feeling?” he went on. “Where you want something, so desperately you ache for it, but you don’t even know what it is?” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to turn the eye away. “Like there was something carved out of you, long ago, and you’ve gotten used to living without it but every now and then you still poke the gap it left behind?”
“I… suppose?” Oliver said hesitantly. “I’ve never felt it quite like that before, but… it sounds an awful lot like loss, and I’m plenty familiar with that.”
“Nah.” Gerry laughed without mirth. “Can’t lose what you never had.”
“What about your friends?” Oliver pointed out. “Tim and Sasha?”
“That’s how it’s always been, Tim and Sasha,” Gerry replied. “Gods, you should’ve seen it when we all met. It’s like they just… fit. Instantly. And don’t get me wrong, they’re lovely, I’d die for either of them, and I think they’d do the same for me. But I’m not—we just don’t…”
His voice trailed off.
Oliver shifted, hand half-raised to reach across. After a moment he put it back down. “I’m… sorry, I suppose.”
“’S alright,” Gerry said, forcefully light. “I wouldn’t know what to say to that either.”
Oliver looked less reassured than he would have liked. “Is this part of your answer to my earlier question, about why you’re here? Because you want a connection like the one your friends share?”
“Because it’s right.” Gerry’s voice cracked, which was embarrassing on several levels. “The way they—they’re not in love, either of them, they’re just—they’re just so right, together. It feels right to see them like that.” Gerry sat back, still turning the lighter over and over in his hands. “It feels so right that I can’t help wondering why I don’t have it, too. That’s the worst part. It’s familiar, and it shouldn’t be, because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I have always been alone.”
“Not… not really, though,” Oliver said hesitantly. “Not now, I should hope.”
His first instinct was to scoff, but the weight and warmth of magic at his fingertips kept him grounded. “Guess not,” he admitted. Like I said—I’m better than I was.” He sighed, running his thumb over the engraved lighter again. “I guess, to answer your question… I’m here because it feels like where I should be. There are still things I’m missing. Maybe if I stay on this road, I’ll find them.”
They were quiet for a moment. Oliver drained his own glass, raised his paintbrush to the canvas, and put it back down again.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, and a servant of death itself shouldn’t sound so painfully awkward. “I’m glad your road led to me. I’m glad you found your way here.”
“What’s the symbolism of death flirting back?” Gerry asked with a grin.
After a moment, Oliver returned it with a softer smile. “No idea. Maybe it’ll come to me if I keep at it.”
It was a nice smile, Gerry thought. It didn’t fill any of the empty gaps in him, but it found its own snug little spot, somewhere beneath his ribs.
He wouldn’t mind seeing it a few more times, before the night was up.
