#I have to keep up the hyperfixation because I know I must have hundreds more whamified words in my

[foxmulderautism]

actually funniest thing in the world that my two hyperfixations right now are wham! and a character from my novel who is a self identified wham! hater

[pinksugarscrub]

Congrats on your one year! ❤️ may I order a tiramisu with Hobie and bounty hunter!R arguing about how they do their vigilante work until R accidentally reveals why she takes paid jobs (provide for family/ relative by anonymously sending them money out of guilt for making their family think they’re dead)?

You can change up the prompt to best suit your writing imagination 😚🥹

@hyperfix-wip

Crossroads

Bard! Hobie x Bounty Hunter! fem! reader

I had a lot of fun with this as you can see. There are very mature themes including blood, violence, and implied assault. Please read at your own discretion. I tried my best to keep it vague.

Word count: 3,070

~

What does a bounty hunter and a bard have in common? Absolutely nothing. Why pose such a question you may ask? It’s because you’ve had the unfortunate privilege of learning this answer.

How much longer you’ll have to endure endless rambling you do not know. What you do know is you would gladly kill this man for free.

It started over four weeks ago. Enough time to witness all of the phases of the moon.

A measly drink, a moment of peace was all you wanted when the bard came crashing into the stool beside you.

Now, normally this would not have provoked you to action but after having a very high ranking target stolen from right under you. It’s safe to say you needed to blow off some steam.

You paid the barkeep for all of the damages and stepped over the groaning drunkards on your way out. Who had started and likely would have continued an all out bar fight with every patron.

Either way you were ready to retire when the bard came stumbling out. Hair braided into several and tied back by a leather band. You can recall just how irritating the conversation was then.

No matter how much you tried to deny his praises, he assumed you a hero. Trying to invoke a life debt that was quite common to pirates. You were not interested.

He stayed anyway.

You figured after a time he would come to his senses and eventually sneak off when he thought you weren’t looking. Violence did that to people. It pushed them away.

His name was Hobart Brown but he insisted on being called Hobie. He dubbed you Lily after spotting a field of lily of the valley and also because you would not provide him with your name. ‘Pretty but deadly’ he said.

He wanted to travel by the Great Sea and find adventure. You almost felt sorry for the poor sod and he must have noticed because he reassured you that being in your debt did not create a dent on his plans.

You could tell he was fascinated with you. You knew that would be short lived as you cocked your pistol and killed a man you recognized from a town bulletin board. He was worth five hundred gold.

Hobie was off put. Expression wary and heavy as he asked you that night by the campfire who you were. You simply responded 'bounty hunter' and continued stoking the fire.

When you awoke he was still there. Saddling the horses and murmuring that the next town over would be less than a day’s travel.

You did not show your surprise as you slid out of your bed roll and prepared to depart. You felt uneasy the entire trip there. It was silent between the two of you even after you passed the town’s gate.

You’re unsure of why but perhaps it’s because his company has lifted a weight off of your shoulders that you stop him by the shoulder and check into an inn. Spending more coin than you would on yourself for a more than decent room and food that you ask to be sent to his just across the hall. A proper place to rest instead of dirt clearings and forest floors.

When you sit in the first warm bath you’ve had in months it dawns on you what you’ve done. You can’t afford any setbacks. He needs to go.

You cannot handle this kind of guilt in your heart that will inevitably follow you when you have to complete a bounty so you’ll leave first thing in the morning.

-

A quiet knock at your door stops you. Midcount of the gold and copper pieces in your pouch. They all clink together as you let them slid back into the leather bag.

“Yes?”

Hobie’s face immediately brightens when he catches your eye. A grin you've grown accustomed to. A stark contrast to the relaxed line of your lips.

“Good evening darling. Would you like to accompany me to the nearest tavern? I would say I owe you a drink.”

You give him a pointed look.

“Come on!” He laughs. Resting against the doorframe of your large room. “I know you are just as bored out of your mind as me. We can come right back if you’re still not up to it after one drink.”

Is it the way he smiles at you that gets you or the small quirk of his brow? The challenge. You have to wonder if the man is secretly a siren. It would match with his profession of choice.

“Fine, meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man sprint to his room like his life depended on it.

The nicest thing you owned was a flowy white dress that hung onto your shoulders and went just above your knees. The holster of your gun still fits snugly around your waist along with the pouch of coin you have since emptied to seem less heavy.

It isn’t particularly cold so you don’t take your signature coat with you. In a flourish you’re out the door and waiting with the fae handing out room keys and pretty smiles.

Not a minute later you catch the sound of the steps creaking and you swiftly move around. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to-” You caught yourself before you could finish that sentence but it didn’t seem like he caught on to your blunder.

He was looking at you with a slight part of his lips. It made your hair stand on end.

Hobie could now clearly see your figure. He could see more skin than you had previously shown in the last thirty two days. Heavens did you look beautiful.

He promptly cleared his throat and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

He let out a sigh of relief as soon as your attention was off of him.

Kill him, kill him now.

-

The walk to the tavern was short. The loud bumbling and bustling patrons spilling out the windows meant to look like painting archways. Sets of tables outside of the tavern as well which was new but not all that surprising. The population was bigger here compared to the last town.

Hobie stumbles and almost falls flat on his face as a boisterous woman steps into his path. You’re quick to catch him. Pulling him to your side with a firm grip around his waist. The woman apologies but it's obvious by the ale on her breath that she does not really mean it.

You look up to check on your companion only to find him already staring at you. With the same distant look he gave you at the inn.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he answers. Raking his eyes over your face before smiling. “Let’s go in.”

You roll your eyes at his obvious lie. Ignoring how it bothers you that you want to know what he is thinking.

A set of two glasses is set before you. Filled to the brim with froth coating the top of the glass. Apple cider. The town specialty given by the apple orchards the two of you passed on the way in.

You’re ready to slide your pouch off of your belt when a hand stops you.

“I’ll get it.” Hobie grins—fairy feathers doesn’t that hurt his face?—and hands a handsome amount of coin into the barmaid’s hand.

She’s ecstatic to which Hobie responds with a wink. It causes a pit to form in your stomach and you find yourself reaching for your mug to find something else to do with your mouth than scowl.

“Eager are we?” Hobie teases. Reaching for his own glass and taking a drink. He moans as soon as the liquid hits his tongue. “This must be made of liquid gold.”

You have to agree as your shoulders relax. The crisp taste is so satisfying you’re tempted to take bigger gulps.

Hobie smiles as he admires you behind his glass. He has to stop himself from reaching out and wiping away the froth from your lip. Thank the stars you are too distracted to notice.

“So,” Hobie hums,“was I right in taking you out of your room?”

He avoids using the word cage like he had planned to because he does take into account how luxurious the space they were staying in was. It wouldn’t be very proper of him to degrade the money she spent. Even as a joke.

You only nodded as you took the time to scan your surroundings. Everyone was having a good time. Glossy eyes and rosy cheeks were proof of that but you could never be too careful.

Hobie frowns but doesn’t say a word. Just shifts in his chair and tries to find something clever to say.

“How is your knee?” You ask above the cheers and laughter. “The foal took a pretty nasty hit to you.”

Hobie laughs. He looks pleased at the way you initiate conversation. It feels as though he is always the one talking.

“Oh, that. I’m fine. Was my fault for getting in her space anyway.”

Your lips break into a smile at that. “You should consider yourself lucky that it was her and not the mare.”

Hobie shivers at the thought. Bigger horse shoe, bigger hit. Yeah, that would not have gone well.

“I’m normally very good with animals, you can’t blame me,” he pouts.

That peaks your curiosity and yet again, he is perceptive enough to see this.

“I was born on a farm.” He grins again as he explains. “With more than a dozen cattle and sheep. We didn’t have horses though.”

Well, you might as well humor him.

“So your family owned land in the Northern region. That’s pretty far from where I found you.”

Hobie would fist pump the air if he could. Hook, line, and sinker. “Yeah?” He leans forward. “You know where that is?”

You nod, taking another sip of your cider and sighing. “I’ve never traveled up there. Aren’t many jobs and I haven’t found the need to explore.”

Hobie stiffens and glances at the holster holding your gun. “Right.” He licks his lips. His voice wasn’t as steady as he would have liked. “And you? Where do you come from? Because I’m certain it wasn’t from daisies.”

A chuckle leaves your lips that sounds more like a huff. “You do not know that. Haven’t you heard of the legends?”

“Ah, yes,” he pauses. Relaxing again as he slouches in his chair. “You truly want me to believe you came from stardust and laughter?”

“It’s startdust and happiness actually,” you correct. Smiling as you feel the bubbles of cider in your belly.

“Happiness,” he nods. Clicking his tongue as he grins. “Forgive me.”

You again, roll your eyes at his playfulness. Clinking your glass with your finger as you look off to the side. He still wants an answer, you know it.

You perk up as you notice a crowd gathering around a table. The perfect distraction. With a smile you reach for his hand and pull him with you. It doesn’t matter if your heart jumps into your throat at how warm his palms feel against your own. It was a necessary course of action. To protect yourself of course.

<

Commercial break - You’re almost 2,000 words in, take a break. If a project, work, or homework is staring you in the face, go finish it and come back. The story will still be here 💕

>

You’re laughing. Actually laughing as you leave the tavern with your head on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Hobie exhales. Disbelief still etched in his features as he kept his grin. “Where did you- how did you-”

“Family secret!” You snicker. A bit lightheaded from all of the alcohol you had just consumed. Ten times lighter but ten times heavier in coin after winning the bet.

“Oh so now you’re not even going to share that with me?” He guwaffs. Also a bit buzzed but definitely sober enough for the two of you.

“Fine fine,” you grumble. Squinting your eyes and scrunching your nose. “The secret is- my secret is-” A hiccup interrupts you but so does a cry of pain. You immediately sober up as your eyes dart toward a darker pathway of the town.

Hobie calls after you and soon he’s hot on your heels as you race to your destination.

Pain was something you were familiar with. You dealt with it every day. Whether you were inflicting it or someone was inflicting it upon you. You recognized it. It was what you lived for now.

A sort of numbness followed. It was a comfortable routine. Find the target, pull the trigger, find the next. But right now there was a panic and fear you hadn’t felt in years. Not since this entire ordeal first began.

You don’t think. It’s muscle memory at this point as you toss a man flat on his back. Cobblestone digging into his shoulders.

You can faintly hear the cry of the woman he was previously above. Hobie’s soft voice rushing to comfort the woman. That causes some of the fear to dissipate but not all of it.

It’s fist after fist and the blunt end of your pistol as you scramble to get some footing. Something to put you on top.

With a harsh shove to the path the man’s face comes to light. You recognize it in your haze. The sketch of his picture. The number under his name. You could do that, you could fix this issue no problem.

The cock of your gun snaps Hobie out of his frenzy. Eyes wide as he quickly rushes the girl to get out before she witnesses something to add more to her trauma.

The gurgle of the man’s throat is the next thing he hears as you hold him down with the heel of your boot.

“No, no, no-” he calls out. Grabbing you by the waist and tugging back so hard you both fall. The first shot rings out and hits one of the lanterns lighting the pathway.

“This isn’t the way to do this love!” He begs, pleas with you.

You struggle in his grip as the man in front of you finally manages to catch his bearings. Wobbling onto his knees as tears sting in your own eyes.

The second shot narrowly misses his boot. Hitting a stone before rolling away into the dirt.

The third you take as Hobie grips your arm. Opposite hand gripping tightly over your wrist as you close one eye and aim. It’s like clock work. As simple and easy as breathing.

The shell clatters to the ground and so does his body. The sight makes you nauseous.

Hobie finally manages to wrap his hand around your gun and toss it away. He doesn’t know where. His heart is beating too fast to understand.

For a moment you both sit there with heavy breath. Staring at the dead man that will owe you eight hundred gold pieces once you turn his body over along with his wanted poster.

“Love…” Hobie’s voice sounds so utterly broken that it brings you back to reality.

You reach up as you feel how sticky with tears your cheeks have become. When did you start crying?

“Love,” he repeats. More strength in his voice when he turns you around to face him. “Why would you do that?”

Why? Your brows furrow in anger. Hurt. Why? He’s asking you why?

This isn’t the way to do this

“You- do you even understand what you’ve done?” He shakes his head. He himself is shaking. “Do you just shoot everything that gets in your way? That brings you coin?”

He sounds so accusing. Like you are the one that has done something wrong. You look back to the man. Pooled in his own blood.

“Is that what you think?” You finally manage to say. Fingers curling into your soiled white dress. “That I do this for the satisfaction of money?”

You find the strength to push away and stand on your own two feet because that is what you have always done.

You turn to look down at the man before you. The man you were beginning to trust. The one you were willing to give your heart to if only in your dreams because you had no one else. Because at least someone would know you existed in this life. Laughed, cried, loved.

“I don’t do this because I enjoy putting a bullet between someone’s skull!”

Hobie cowers as you step closer and that only makes your heart ache more. Placing your finger fight at the base of his skull with your hand in the universally understood gesture of a gun.

“I do it for this!” You grip onto the pouch on your side. Tugging on it so the coins scatter like locusts. “All of this because that’s all I’m good for! That’s all I can provide for my family!”

Your chest hurts as you smack your hand against it. How many times have you placed a bullet there too? Counting the man on the ground, plenty.

“I don’t want to do this,” you choke. Throat feeling tight like there was a hand squeezing at its base.

You regret letting your guard down. Drinking like you didn’t have a care in the world when in fact, you did.

“I don’t want to do this.”

You sob as you fall to your knees and Hobie can’t stop himself from reaching for you and pulling you into his chest as you cry.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper. The cider pushing forward the thoughts you held back in the deepest part of your mind.

‘How shameful’ he would say when you returned. ‘Your family shouldn’t need you after all’. Then he would shoot you dead in his office much like you did countless times before tonight.

Hobie held you so tight someone might wonder if you could breath. His own tears rolling down his cheeks as he hides the mark he’s found on your neck. A number with the symbol of the king.

Hobie regrets his poor choice of words but shit can you blame him? He cries into your neck as he vows to repay his debt to you.

A life, for a life.

[mcrmadness]

001 About Richy and Igor

002 About Igor specifically (wanna hear your thoughts about him in depth :D)

003 about Monty Python characters? if it's even possible?

(I would gladly hear you on 001 about FuB, but as I'm being absolutely too much, I can understand that you don't do it. It's extra content :D)

((Also, you are free to answer to this ask for only one ask and do the others on separate posts for more clarity !))

I reblogged this ask game before reading any of the questions, and after receiving your ask, I read them and now I have to say that my questions are probably gonna be very, VERY underwhelming ::D So don't get too excited, cos I don't think I'm able to give you the type of answers you might be interested in reading :D But I'll try anyway, but know that you're been warned: boredom alert!!!

001 | Richy & Igor

when I started shipping it if I did: Must have been in 2009 when I found out about die ärzte for the first time. I watched every video I could find, including Richy Guitar. At first I didn't really care about the film, and I wasn't exactly shipping R/I but more of obsessing with the clips because of my new Bela/Farin obsession. I got way more into the ship only during the past 2 or 3 years, when I also started writing fanfiction about them, and then it evolved into drawing doodles and comics too.

my thoughts: Uh, what can I say? Head empty, no thoughts. My brain keeps hyperfixating on this ship for no good reason.

What makes me happy about them: Nothing.

What makes me sad about them: Nothing.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: Anything that doesn't align with my own headcanons or is too far away from the actual canon.

things I look for in fanfic: Nothing. Because it doesn't exist, so I have already given up.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: No one else.

My happily ever after for them: Idk.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Idk.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Canon? Music. My headcanons? Fast food.

---

002 | Igor

How I feel about this character: Idk.

All the people I ship romantically with this character & My non-romantic OTP for this character: I honestly don't know if it's romantic or queerplatonic or just platonic, but I only ship him with Richard.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I have none. I don't think there are even popular opinions about this character out there.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish to know where does he live. I keep thinking about that caravan inside the abandoned factory, and I keep headcanoning it as Igor's residence but I wish I knew whose place that actually was (the other option is Hans, but yeah, it's never revealed in the film).

my OTP: Richy/Igor lol

my cross over ship: None.

a headcanon fact: He's head over heels for Richard whether that be platonic or not.

---

003 | send me 5 characters and I will rank them in order of preference

You asked about Monty Python characters. I guess it is possible, but just very very difficult because there are not that many reoccuring characters, and the Flying Circus show ran for 4 seasons and there are several films, so the character count could be in hundreds tbh. Often the skits are also more about the joke and topic and less about characters, even when they're often given names. But as I'm writing this, I can feel a potential list cooking inside my head so, here we go!

The Gumbys. My favourite quote comes from these skits: "My brain hurts!" I can't find that as a gif now, but they are these extremely, extremely stupid characters who shout every line of theirs cos they are so dumb. Here's the Brain Specialist skit where that quote is from too :D

2. The Hell's Grannies. This is just the funniest shit ever and I absolutely love the graffiti they paint as a graffiti and which goes: "Make tea, not love." Here's a link to a video on youtube.

3. Anne Elk (Miss). I just keep rewatching this skit over and over again cos it's so stupid, and the characters just interact with each other in such a funny way, and Graham's character's reactions to Anne Elk are so funny :D

4. Pontius Pilate in Life of Brian. Ok this movie is full of extremely funny characters, and I would like to mention a handful of others, such as the deaf and stupid character and his companion who's stuttering the whole time; and also that man in the pit who hadn't talked at all until Brian accidentally jumped on his foot. But I still have to give this place for Michael Palin's Pontius Pilate just for that Biggus Dickus scene cos it's probably the funniest movie scene I have ever seen. Palin often had the funniest characters, and it's even funnier when you know that the extras and other actors didn't know about his lines so if I'm correct, all of those laughters were genuine reactions to Palin's acting, and he also was so close to losing it at one point :D

5. And you know what? I just HAVE TO link here the French Taunting scene from Monty Python & the Holy Grail, just for you XD "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!" kills me every time.

+ And you get an extra just because you're French, this skit and their accents in this sometimes live rent free in my head :D

THANK YOU so much for the ask btw! I decided to skip the 001 about FUB cos my answers would have not been much different from the RG one, apart from real people not having a canon, and me not really having any headcanons for them for that same reason. So, it would have not really added anything, or would have been even less than what I now got for the answers for R/I.

Funnily enough, I got way more out of Monty Python. It just shows how I don't get attached to characters really, but live for and from humour, and anything that's funny af to me, I like and makes me happy.

[omnium-gatherums]

I can't find the post where I made like that one shitty MS Paint graphic and described my general life where I'm basically someone different each week and "hyperfixate" on things and "make them into my identity" and whatnot, but that really is my whole life, and I keep wondering if I even have any alters that front consistently. I know that I at least am my cat mode self sometimes, but even that isn't super often. And I can only easily pinpoint that because that is the Only time I am ever consistently acting more like a cat. Like it's easy to know I am Cat Mode when I joke about eating birds with my gf or something lmfao. That's easy.

It feels like instead of having consistent/common/frequent fronters, my brain just makes me someone else every week and everything and everyone before me gets buried deeper and deeper as my life goes on. It directly ties into feeling like my memory really only exists during the present and everything before that gets buried more and more, deeper and deeper, harder and harder to recall. Like everything in the past just gets discarded and it won't ever come back and doesn't ever come back.

I keep wondering if I'll ever get to a point where this stops. Where I eventually have a stronger sense of self and can exist as multiple 'people' who know who we are. Who have our own senses of self.

But instead, I just feel like I'm a different set of behaviors, feelings, traits, likes, dislikes, hobbies, and more every week, that clearly belong to specific alters, but never stay. Never come back.

Every so often, I think about this time where I was super high and internally, I was told that there are up to millions of us, and I keep wondering if it's even true. With the way I feel like I am always just someone different and nothing ever comes back, I just wonder.

And it has been this way my whole life; "new identity" and everything before it is just 'discarded', never to be seen again. Like each week, or every few weeks, that's how it is for me. And that's how it continues to me.

And if that's really what is happening, I feel like it would not be too far-fetched to assume that there's probably, like. Hundreds of thousands. Like I am 22, 23 in March, and that's years upon years of seemingly splitting different alters nearly every week.

Again, I have no idea if that's what is even happening. But if it is, then like, seeing it this way, I guess it isn't crazy to assume that that would result in thousands upon thousands of alters, getting buried deeper and deeper as new alters split. Not that all of them must still exist, but I doubt that each and every one of them just split and then fuse after they don't front anymore or something.

I don't know. I don't know how I'm supposed to keep track of any alters when I never seem to be an already pre-existing alter.

I think, more than anything, I just enjoy allowing myself to exist as Different Things sometimes, without trying to restrict myself like I have my whole life.

Like I don't feel "multiple", but I don't feel like a "singlet." As much as I say I basically am just a singlet, that's more in terms of "you wouldn't know I had DID."

I feel more like "Multiple Me's." I wish I had the words to explain it/describe it. I feel more like someone who is different, like, every week, and I want to be acknowledged as someone different sometimes. But still the same. Maybe one day I'll have the words to explain/describe.

[thelionshymnal]

end of year wrap up

it's that time of the year where i am going to say nice things about myself or ELSE. only i don't want to talk right now, so i'm going do this differently than usual because i make the rules. this is going behind a cut cause it's gonna be hella long and grossly self-indulgent lmao.

so here's the year in review, my friends. so far in 2022 i have posted 222,969 words. 36 fanfics across 4 fandoms.

two of those fandoms are new, so you know i'm over here gnashing my teeth about all my WIPs, but Y'KNOW WHAT. falling in love with something is a beautiful thing and i enjoyed the hell out of those brief, dizzying hyperfixations haha.

now then:

tie a ribbon 'round your fractured heart - FFVII - cloud/reno - teen All the furniture is still boxed up. Nothing has been added to the apartment. It pisses Cloud off, that Reno’s squandering this place. He throws the carpet onto the floor of the living room and asks, “Too fucking lazy or too stupid to put this shit together?”

“Too fucking busy, you piss stain,” Reno snarks back.

The asshole is smoking out the kitchen window, the smoke detector casing dangling down from the ceiling, all mangled wires and ill intentions. The coffee maker is brewing another pot. Reno looks pale and tired and irritated.

Cloud wants to drown him in his empty sink.

“What,” he asks, low and slow. “You looking for new victims? Rufus tired of playing shiny new hero already?”

Reno rolls his eyes. Hops off the counter and scrounges in a coffee canister. Comes up with more gil than last time. He flings it across the kitchen so that it litters the floor, and then he clambers back onto his counter and leans a shoulder out the open window, exhaling smoke. “Fuck off, dick breath,” he mutters, not so quiet Cloud can’t hear. “We’re fucking vigilantes, heroes are lame.”

beast of burden - genshin - ganyu character study - teen “I find her a necessary burden,” Ningguang interrupts, the low rasp of her voice very calm, almost serene. It is when she sounds the most dangerous, Ganyu thinks. “Captain Beidou is as integral a cog in the mechanism of our city, dear Ganyu, as you or myself. Where we must be beacons of light, of law and order, so too must there be those who can wade through the grime, set the snare in the demon’s den so that I might better hunt those who would harm us.”

Ganyu walks at Ningguang’s side.

One step, and then another.

She does not say: I am not your junior to be so lectured. She does not say: I have seen this ploy a hundred times over, and while it works I dislike it. I dislike the cunning cruelty, the subterfuge, but I understand the martial necessity of such tactics. She does not say: I hate Captain Beidou of the Crux, and damn your need for her!

Ganyu has walked beside countless Tianquans.

“Yes,” she says. “Of course, Ningguang. You’re right.”

you're too old to be this shy - genshin - beidou/ganyu - gen She had thought to thank Shenhe for her service.

Thought also to word it in such a way that she could extend her gratitude for protecting Beidou, when Ganyu had feared her own powers not enough to shield, without ever quite saying so. The urge feels foolish now. Small and afraid, weak and wanting. Better for Ganyu to have said it boldly, bravely: You protected more than you know. My heart is whole thanks to you. Thank you, thank you.

She could have said it, she realizes.

Shenhe would not have been bothered by it in the least.

keepsakes and promises, ch2 - genshin - beidou/ganyu - explicit “Please don’t make me keep a stash of personalised porn,” Ganyu whines. “Someone will find it in five centuries and declare it the historical find of the season and books will be written about it!”

“That could be fun. Maybe they’ll make a play about us! Then you could go watch us fall in love all over again.”

Ganyu is collapsed atop her, a weight that’s comforting for all it’s sticky and overheated. The room seems quiet without sex noises, and the floor is much harder beneath Beidou’s spine than it had been five minutes ago. But the thought of Ganyu sitting in an audience three, four, seven centuries from now, hiding a mortified blush behind her hands as she watches their love unfold on a stage, makes her smile.

i will lay own my heart - genshin - eula/amber - teen Amber’s face falls. She’s starting to shiver beneath her sodden layers. “Aw, did I gross you out, Eula? But I turned away in time!”

“Hush,” Eula says. “Despite the upbringing, I am no delusional noble woman determined to pretend normal bodily functions do not exist. Amber, you did not gross me out. Now, hurry and take off your clothes.”

It takes a second for the words to bounce back at her, and when they do Eula’s whole existence pauses, all functionality ceasing. Amber stares up at her with both brows raised high in surprise, but she doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, amusement is sparking in her eyes, twitching at the corners of her tempting mouth. “Eu-la,” she says. “Maybe a few more kisses first.”

“You are a scoundrel,” Eula declares, jolting back into her body, trying to smother her racing heart. She turns, goes to her wardrobe. Fumbles for any clothing that may suit Amber.

“Says the woman who told me to get naked.”

“Amber!”

starstruck - genshin - beidou/ganyu - teen Becoming a secretary isn’t at all what she’d ever imagined doing with her life, and getting the job had been more accidental than anything else, an offer she’d decided not to refuse. But she likes it. Likes the work, gruelling though it is, with a million different things to balance and people to navigate. Beidou likes solving problems; likes being relied on.

Hell, for as long as she can remember wanting a thing, Beidou has always wanted to be a hero to Liyue, just like Captain Ganyu is—simply by doing the work that needs doing.

“Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?” Ganyu asks, looking earnest and hopeful.

With a task to focus on, the captain loses her flush. She still looks far too pretty, but also a lot more like the calm, collected, capable captain that Beidou has spied at a distance. Beidou’s heart skips a beat having all that prized attention on her. She licks her lips; shifts her weight from side to side, feet aching and brain circling and shit fuck damn, she sure hopes this isn’t actually a fever dream brought on by too much work.

“Well,” Beidou says. “I mean. Maybe you could buy me a drink.”

i want love to roll me over slowly - genshin - ganyu/beidou - explicit She came to terms with the breaking of her vow in quiet moments, looking out the window at the harbor, the way the waves churned up white foam when a storm blew through, electricity on the horizon. She accepted it when she bought a small collection of grape wine, the bulbous jars cradled in her palms until she secreted them away in a cupboard back home, along with some of Beidou’s favorite snacks and an extra canister of the tea she seemed to prefer. It was, perhaps, a little early to be doing such things, and in darker moments, when Ganyu was frayed along the edges in a way that made her feel sick, weary, utterly foolish, she worried if maybe she’d lost her chance—that the wind would never bring Beidou back to her, or that Beidou would finally reach the end of her persistence and patience, look elsewhere, leave Ganyu alone forever.

Sometimes, Ganyu stole sips of sweet wine and teased herself with too light touches, luxuriant strokes; drove her own mind to stillness with the ache of denial whenever the emptiness of her own bed gnawed at her.

Sometimes, Ganyu simply drank until she fell to unconsciousness.

The next day she would always replenish her stash, a little queasy and guilty with the shame of overindulgence, heartsore and anxious and frantic mind filling up with all the things she would do to Beidou if only given one more chance, until finally came the day The Alcor was sighted sailing into Guyun Stone Forest, half the Crux fleet straggling along like a school of fish to a shark.

as if it pictured grief - genshin - miko/ei - mature Seven more years pass, and in the interim Miko is lonely enough to join her own war: that of transforming Narukami Shrine into the grandest, holiest, and most lucrative of tourist attractions in all of Teyvat. It keeps her distracted most of the time, but the loneliness fails to abate. When she lost Saiguu, lost Chiyo, lost Sasayuri—when they all lost Makoto and innocence and the beautiful way things once were, Miko at least didn’t lose herself.

She thought at first it was because she was kitsune, her morals always a little left of center to most. Then she thought it was because she was strong, strong enough to stand against the tide of loss.

Now, she realizes it’s because she still had Ei.

nothing beautiful comes (without a fight) - genshin - shenhe/ganyu - explicit After her heat passes unfulfilled, what always lingers longest is the raw ache of her throat from screaming her agony, her betrayal.

She is screaming now, a battle roar of hungry bloodshed as she grapples with Ganyu, twists, kicks, evades. Evades—it seems an impossible thing, that Shenhe would be the one retreating. And yet Ganyu is always there a moment later, crowding her, catching her, touching her. She does not scream back. She does not threaten. She is quiet and quick and focused, relentless with her stern expression, those glittering eyes like a violet sky, pink on the horizon. Each blow is turned back, every tackle overturned; Shenhe throws herself again and again at this small, pretty thing, so delicate looking as to seem a doll.

But her alpha does not break.

Shenhe feels as if she is the toy, instead.

There are tears in her eyes, she realizes, as frustration chokes her, clouds her vision with brightness. The dark recedes. Her limbs grow clumsy, full of an ache and a want and weakness that she’s never quite felt like this. Ganyu wears her down; the rage, which Shenhe once thought bottomless, is emptying out.

i won't be falling on my knees to beg you - ofmd - ed/stede - explicit Within moments they are cheek to cheek, their feet shuffling back and forth between each other. Stede keeps humming even though he isn’t very good at it. Ed sighs; relaxes for what feels like the first time in his life. “I’ve missed you,” he admits in the exact same tone he’d told Stede he probably hates him.

“And I-”

“No, no, don’t stop the music,” Ed demands.

“-ah, very well,” Stede allows, and begins humming again. A little softer, a little sadder. It suits them better, Ed thinks, and feels his heart swell up, tender to the touch. He closes his eyes and loses himself in the warmth of Stede’s embrace. He says,

“There is nothing I fear more than you, Stede Bonnet.”

and there will be better days - ofmd - ed/stede - explicit Stede disappears below to get ready. He’s nervous; his hands jump from sword to shoe to errant curl, and he wishes very dearly he had a proper mirror to examine his teeth in for stray food, rather than a dented serving tray. But needs must, and Stede goes about girding himself for war with a single minded dedication that is all about how much he can’t fail here - he cannot sit on the side of his bed and bury his face in his shaking hands, weeping. He cannot stumble, he cannot fall, he cannot lose his nerve. How often has he wanted a thing only to be shot down, denied, spurned his advance?

So many, too many.

Until Edward, who had looked at him and laughed with delight, with wonder. Had said, “I like it,” and meant I like you. How terrifying it is, Stede thinks. The story books never really spell it out, do they? Or maybe Stede was so enamored of escape and glory he never paid attention to their warnings. But now he knows. Now he feels it. How fearful and uncertain a thing it is, to be so close to all you long for, your very heart’s desire, and to know that it is only you and you alone that may wreck it at the last.

A deep breath in; a deep breath out.

Stede slaps his palms against his cheeks until they are stinging. “Go and get your man,” he scolds himself.

i'll walk through walls into your heart - ofmd - ed/stede - teen Ed is tired of running, but he’s never had to figure out how to be brave about love before, not like this.

Slowly, the sun finishes sinking. Stede takes a dinghy from his stolen ship and rows alone to the sandy shore. Ed watches him through the window of the Revenge, cold glass and hot breath, ache in his too tight ribs. When he’s ashore, Stede stands alone against the darkness, lifts a lantern high and slides open the shutter, letting light spill out like a beacon.

Come back to me, Stede says.

Edward huffs. Pulls his feet up against the hard wooden bench. Folds his arms over his bent knees and stays there until morning, watching how that light blots out the stars. A warning; a beckons. Ed wants and Ed fears and in the end Ed can’t move at all, neither backwards nor forwards. Not yet. Not yet.

between your heart and mine - ofmd - ed/stede - explicit “It was already ruined. We seriously need to get you better clothes, man. I quite liked all the shiny stuff. And- yeah, well. Why use my own? I like your hands better than mine,” Ed says, and he’s thinking about how happy he is right now, how warm and good the whole morning has been. He’s thinking about the way Stede has been calling him my treasure and darling and love, and even more than that he’s thinking of the way Stede’s eyes had gone all dark and hungry when Ed told him he wanted a treasure hunt this last time, and-

Ed wants, and for once it’s not complicated at all.

“Really?” Stede is saying, all surprised. He flexes his hands out in front of him. A lance of sunlight catches across his knuckles. “You do? But- But they’re not elegant and thin like yours, dearest Ed. They’re not nearly so competent, either. Why, I’ve always thought they were a decent sort, but not much more than that.”

“I like them,” Ed says again.

“Mm, well. I’m glad to hear that. But ah, you’ve still got a bit of- a bit of dough, I think. There at the corner of your mouth.”

Ed hums. Smiles some more. “Yeah.”

well now, i did this chronologically starting from the beginning of the year, and i meant to force myself to get through every fic because tbh, i don't remember half of what i wrote by this point. but fuuuck this took a long time for exactly that reason haha.

glad i did it though (:

[nayruwu]

the gureshin type of queerbaiting is just kinda clickbait. it's moments that seem so much like romantic indicators to someone that looks for them, but technically they can be seen as something else.

1. like this, for example.

anyone that knows the story and characters will think that there is literally no way she could mean herself with the "love" part. because we know guren pretty much despises her, and since she is his demon she knows, too. but someone who's not as interested in these certain characters will just shrug it off as that (and that's what it's probably designed for - if you like it you'll squeal about it but if you don't it's just not there for you).

this "it is definitely implying something but if you want to you can backpedal and interpret it as something else" happens a LOT, and it usually goes against the ons universe too if you interpret it the no-homo way.

2. next, the classic

we know demons sit inside of their hosts' mind and heart and know basically everything they feel and want. byakkomaru should know this.

if you're a casual reader, you'll see him making an assumption and said assumption getting denied (even though i'm pretty sure he didn't deny it in the original version), and that's the end of it. no implications.

but if you're like me and hyperfixated on this shitty half-romance, you'll see him trying to get something out of shinya, because 1. your brain (or heart idk i'm not a scientist) yearns for content and 2. it aligns with the universe more (e. g. shinya literally saying "you're my demon, you know that!" in this same chapter)

again, lure the fans out with bait but keep it safe in case some people don't like gays in their shounen. there's no way this isn't intentional.

3. is the drama cd with the moon. i must say, here neither the no-homo nor the homo version make a lot of sense.

because technically, as an author you know the phrase and its meaning, so it is definitely intentional as well. the situation also underlines this (the way it's written makes it seem like a reassuring type of confession, since it's right after kureto stressing guren out and the other squad members also pipe in with "we're here for you" after shinya drops the bomb). but if byakkomaru only touches upon these feelings eight years later, it's unlikely he was supposed to already have them at that time (although i do think he might not have had byakkomaru when the pool scene happened, and he just repressed everything so much it wasn't an obvious weak spot to his demon. im which case here, again, the full homo explanation makes more sense).

4. mahiru saying love will end the world in one of the catastrophe novels. because a fruity sixteen year old that needs therapy will go "omg gureshin!!" but since i don't know which world for 'love' was used in japanese it can probably just go towards the love guren holds towards his friends.

(or HER love towards guren which apparently made her make him end the world but that's just fuckin weird)

5. THE GODDAMN RELENTLESS FLIRTING.

sure, people make jokes, but just because you and your homies apparently make jokes about being married and fucking or get mistaken for a couple all the time doesn't mean it's typical. it's there for baiting and it's infuriating.

(if you don't believe me here take one of rowan's posts he made when he was still on this side of the force (sometimes it feels like i can still hear his voice))

6. completely forgot about this one!

not much different from the others.

she means guren is after her/her love (makes no sense given the circumstances)

she means guren's general affection for his family (makes the most sense)

well, shinya (makes sense if you want to rile up your fans)

as for herself, it seems obvious she means her 'love' for guren, although the 'love' she holds for shinoa could count as well.

➤

basically "kagami gives us hundreds of homoromantic implications but covers them up with half-assed no-homo cockblocking so he doesn't have to make a gay couple canon because god forbid". although i don't see much of this with mikayuu - they act just as gay, just in a way more innocent and classical anime-style way, with the constant blushing etcetera. don't know how he's gonna get mikayuu stans away from that "i love you" though.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Ungodly Hour: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Suguru doesn’t know the meaning of “relief”, and neither will you. 

words: 1779

tw: nsfw (light smut) 

Slam! 

Your head hits the desk - well, more accurately, the book on the desk - and you jolt back up, hoping no one heard your head crack against the pages. Shoko eyes you over the divider in the carrell, frowning deeply. 

“Are you getting any sleep?” You don’t answer, giving her a sheepish glance before looking back down at the shapeless words. “You need to tell him to stop keeping you up so late.” 

“Huh?” You look back up at the brown eyes still staring at you and roaming around your high-necked sweater, looking for any evidence to use against you. 

“Suguru. Don’t be afraid to tell him to let you sleep once in a while.” Shoko chuckles, then closes her book and stands. “Anyways, we should get back to the dorms. With those two dimwits off campus right now, maybe you could get some sleep.” 

You walk back to the dorms in silence, taking in the fall air with appreciation. The crisp smell of falling leaves and fresh rain settles over you like a warm embrace, and you think of the long, black haired sorcerer who resided in the back of your mind at all times. You used to think that Suguru was like the spring: fresh, and energizing. But now, he felt like the fall… comforting, warm, and familiar. The furnace for your fire. The threads for your sweater. The cup for your tea.

“Hey,” Shoko nudges you when you get to her room. “Draw that line, girl.” You laugh a  little at her cheesy words, then walk the few hundred feet to your room.

Silence greets you when you open the door and walk to your bed, which is neatly made from the previous week. You never really spent time in your bed anymore; Suguru liked to sleep with you in his arms, in his room, under his sheets. You thought you would feel a deeper sense of longing when he was gone, but your body reacts only with relief as you collapse on the bed. You need to shower the day off and wash your face, but the exhaustion drags you down and soon, you’re asleep on top of the covers, arm tucked comfortably under your head. 

When you wake, you realize dreams elude your memory. It had been like that for some time - this dreamless sleep. You were grateful for the lack of dreams, because it also meant the lack of nightmares. You hadn’t yet mentally recovered from the incident with the special grade curse, and neither had Suguru. One month wasn’t enough to wipe away the foul smell or the taste of blood out of your mouth, and you were sure that your hyperfixation on your studies would only drive your ability to deal with the trauma into the ground. 

But you couldn’t help it. 

You watched Suguru throw himself into the books when he couldn’t figure out a solution, so you did the same. When you went out with him on any given night, you two would get drunk or high (or both) and then fuck each other’s brains out. Deep down, you know it’s not the best way to cope with things, but the inherent toxicity of the cycle only draws you deeper. 

The second thing you realize is that it’s impossibly dark. 

A glance at the digital clock on your nightstand informs you that it’s eleven seventeen, which means you slept through dinner and possibly even Suguru’s return. You roll onto the edge of the bed to reach into your backpack to fish out your phone. There are no messages on the empty screen you note. He must not have made it back yet. 

As you sit up and rub your eyes, the thought to shower comes back to you. Ignoring your grumbling stomach, you step off the bed and take two steps in the direction of the bathroom, the trip over something hard and large laying on your bedroom floor. 

“Shit!” 

As you precariously hold on to the edge of your desk, you hear a groan and a figure shifting up from the floor slowly. Taking two books off your desk and yelling, you toss the thick volumes at the rising figure and grab another book to throw, the previous makeshift weapons thumping to the ground after hitting their mark… at least, you think they hit their mark. 

“Y/n, it’s me!” The sound of Suguru’s voice first shocks you, then enrages you. Gripping the third book in your hand, you flick on the lights and see Suguru tenderly picking up the volumes you tossed at him. 

“Your dictionaries? Really?” You’re not sure if you throw the third book out of embarrassment or anger, but Suguru picks it up after it hits his chest and stacks them on your desk anyways. “Sorry for scaring you, kitten.” 

“Don’t ‘kitten’ me!” You huff, running a hand through your hair out of frustration. “What were you doing sleeping on my floor?” 

“You looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to wake you. So I thought the next best place to be near you would be the floor.” Suguru grunts, rolling his shoulder. “In hindsight, I should’ve sat in the chair instead.” You squint your eyes at the sorcerer, frowning, but choose to leave the argument where it is and go into the bathroom. You leave the door open while you wash your face and brush your teeth, letting Suguru eye you over the dictionary he had picked up out of boredom. “Yeah, the mission went well,” he finally called out over the sound of running water. “Thanks for asking.” 

“I didn’t,” you reply, turning the shower on and taking off your clothes. 

“I would like to shower, too.” The dictionary thumps back onto the desk, but you turn to kick the door closed before Suguru can even enter. Sighing, you run a hand under the warm water then step into the shower, feeling your muscles relax. Despite your obvious rejection, the door opens, and you hear the rustling of clothing. Suguru entered into the shower behind you, his spindly fingers trapezing around your body without a care. You instinctively relax into his grip, and his lips find your neck, pressing into the wet skin tenderly. 

“Su…” You whine, but he doesn’t relent. “Suguru, please…” His hard length rubs against your ass, and for once, you pray that he’ll give you just a few moments to shower before railing into you like a sex-starved man. 

“You need to be taught some manners, sweetheart.” The way his lips trail past your earlobe and across the minefield of hickies makes you shudder and lean into the hand cupping your neck. “Luckily for you, I’m the perfect disciplinarian.” You jerk at the feeling of his hand running across your stomach and to your ass before lifting it. But instead of smacking your flesh, he grabs your bar of soap and rubs it between his hands in front of you. 

“Sh-Shoko said I need to get more sleep.” You rush out, and Suguru pauses. 

“Oh?” His soft tone doesn’t betray his true feelings, but you know he’s tabulating all of the times he’s kept you from sleeping. “Why did she say that?” 

“I fell asleep in the library while I was trying to study,” You admit, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “She noticed the hickies, too.” At this, Suguru gives a derisive snort. 

“Who doesn’t notice them?” You had to admit that he was right; the purplish-blue splotches are his way of marking you as his, warning the other snooping males to stay away as if you were a poisonous toad with yellow and blue coloring. As if to prove his point, he makes another one, this time running his teeth along the previous markings. 

“Seriously, Su.” Your voice makes him straighten up behind you and his soapy hands rest on your shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, y/n. I should’ve been more mindful of making sure you aren’t kept up too late.” You look over your shoulder at his face- which is serious, unflinching, and with a tinge of red around the cheeks - and he presses a feather-light kiss to your cheek. “Let me clean you up and get you back into bed.” 

Surprisingly, Suguru kept his promise, only touching you if he needed to reach past you or help you with the tangled mess that was your hair. As you climb into bed, Suguru tucks you in and presses another kiss to your forehead before turning on the small lamp at your desk.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs, then takes his familiar place at the desk, hunched over one of his books. 

That next morning, the warmth of Suguru’s body envelops you comfortably, and you wonder how he climbed into bed without waking you. Feeling unusually refreshed, you slip out of his arms and press a hand to his cheek, kissing the skin in thanks. Once in the bathroom, you stretch and yawn, hearing your bones crack - early in the morning and not late at night, for once - satisfied you deeply. You turn away to reach for your facial soap, when you hear it slide open unceremoniously. 

Fuck. 

A very alert Suguru leans against the doorway, observing your unclothed figure with a sinister look in his eye. 

“Early bird gets the worm.” And that’s how you found yourself staring at your reflection with Suguru’s hand holding your shoulder while he plowed into you from behind, his other hand rubbing circles on your clit. 

“You thought I’d let you get away…” he breathes into your ear, kissing your earlobe. “If not late at night, I’ll make sure you’re satisfied before you leave for class.” You can only moan his name, looking at your wanton reflection. “You look so perfect, kitten…” he groans. “All worked up so early in the morning for me…” 

“So, did you do it?” Shoko asks later, smiling widely when you nod slowly. 

“If I don’t want to be late, I have to get up earlier,” you mention, feeling the slick between your thighs that reminded you of how the morning had ended with you rushing out of the door. You barely had enough time to clean yourself up, which made for an uncomfortable two hours of squeezing your thighs together so Suguru’s seed wouldn’t stain the seat beneath you. The lecture was completely lost on you, you realize with acute self-consciousness. 

“Huh? Why?” Shoko eyed you carefully, then realized what you meant a second later. “So much for trying to help…” she muttered, looking away from you, embarrassed. So you walked on to class, and Shoko never suggested another thing when it came to Suguru.

[autisticlalna]

okay im out of the shower so now you get a brick essay of leo thoughts

one of my favorite MCYT series of all time is Fixxiverse. it is fantastically edited, has excellent storytelling, the person behind it (Fixxitt 412) has a great personality that shines through, it's really high production quality, its good.

it's also very long, with the 100 Days episodes clocking in at at least an hour each. that makes it very daunting for friends ive tried getting into it, because while the pacing is phenomenal and its absolutely worth watching through, people see 15 hour-length episodes at the start and go "oh, god". which, honestly, understandable, the fixxiverse playlist currently clocks in at 63 hours total. it's long. it's a lot of commitment.

now we pan over to 100 Days Multiverse, and the latest 10 episodes have been two to three hours long, including a video that's eleven hours long and another that's nineteen hours long because he turned all of his series so far into a full-length movie. that nineteen hour long video also has story stuff that's not available in any other episodes, by the way.

hi, what the fuck?

i love 100DMV. solar showed me the dimensional doors video and i was instantly hooked. i have not been able to watch the past 14 episodes because theyre long and only keep getting longer. the playlist is 76 hours long (again, counting the 11 hour compilation video) with 36 episodes compared to fixxiverse having over a hundred. that's insane. i want so bad to get back into 100dmv but i cant.

different people are going to have different limits, and i respect that. see: me talking about how long Fixxiverse is and how im okay with that in the same essay where i'm balking at 100DMV. but i sincerely cant even imagine anyone that would see a 3 hour video on their recommended page and watch it without already knowing who Legundo is, what he does, and his overall storytelling and editing style, let alone a nineteen hour video.

that's not even broaching the topic of stream-focused series and how they're even more inaccessible due to long vods that are only available temporarily without an archive channel, and how that can be difficult to get into the longer the series goes on. that's why i made the powerpoint and that's why i make the transcripts, because my hyperfixation on twitch smp means i am able to keep up with it live when other people can't and i want to make it accessible to people who aren't able to. that's an essay all on its own, honestly.

i dunno, man. it's the difference between watching a tv series and a movie, yknow? even if they're the same length, or if the tv series is longer than the movie, it can be easier to watch the series because you're able to find stopping points where you're able to step back and take a break and do something else without having to book out three to four hours of your time to watch something in one sitting. like, yeah, you can pause the movie and wander off, but it's a more jarring experience and can be frustrating to have to leave in the middle of it. it's about it being a commitment.

(plus i can't even imagine what a nightmare it must be to make those. i struggle when making 20 minute videos-- how the hell do you pace a 3 hour video without it dragging on? how do you manage the workload? what are you doing that takes three uninterrupted hours?)

i want to catch up on 100dmv so bad but like. the past few videos have been Several Hours Long. why is this now the standard. i miss dimdoors

[captainkappa]

Fanfic:: Hunter and Prey

To be a Mandalorian pirate is to be both hunter and prey. This, Din understood after being taken into their care as a child.

Now he is hunting a Mandalorian artifact to deliver his charge to the aquatic sorcerers in order to teach him how to handle his magic. His quest brings him to a sandy stretch of shore, Mos Pelgo.

Link to AO3

For Day 4 of @dincobbweek aka AU day!

The prophecy as foretold; I have a hyperfixation, therefore I must write a pirate AU. And oh my god, I loved writing this fic so so much.

Huge shout out to @staranon95 for betaing and @ayantiel for providing the needed inspiration to get this thing going!

-=-=-=-

Mayfeld took in a deep breath, letting the salty air fill his lungs. There was a lot riding on today, his reputation, Ran’s reputation, but with the Empire’s finest knelt at his feet, all of their note-worthy possessions, he thought he was doing pretty well.

“No one makes any dumb decisions and you all will get to live,” he called out, voice carrying over the wind so even the poor bastards at the end would be able to hear. “We’re just here for what’s ours and then we’ll leave you be. You’ll never have seen us.”

Xi’an was getting her brother from the prisoners down below and Burg was raiding the captain’s office. Sure, the objective was to get Xi’an’s brother before he made it to the Empire’s colonies, but this was an Imperial vessel. The three of them would have to be stupid not to rob the Imps blind when they had the opportunity.  Plus, their informant assured them that not only was this a prisoner’s vessel, it was a transport vessel, moving a map that led to a whole lot of Mandalorian gold.

It was the perfect plan; do a job for Ran, undermine Ran, get filthy rich, and live the rest of their days on an island in the Outer Isles.

And everything was going great, when Burg burst through the captain’s doors, startling everyone on board. Everyone jumped, bar Mayfeld. Burg cut an intimidating figure, a mountain of a man, horns poking through holes he made in his hat so he had to crouch to get into most places. His sudden presence didn’t startle Migs. What was a surprise was the concern on his face.

“Migs! The captain is dead!”

He rolled his eyes. “And? Do you want me to pay you back for the ammo it took to do that?”

“No, he was already dead! And the map’s gone too!”

His blood ran cold. He gave up the act and ran into the room, grabbing onto his hat so it wouldn’t fly away. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. He couldn’t tell if there had been a scuffle or it had been Burg who had torn up the room. Drawers were half open, hanging out, papers scattered, a blood-spatter, maybe, but there was so little Migs couldn’t tell if it was recent.

And in the center of it all, the captain, dead in his chair. His body was cool, so Burg wasn’t bluffing in saying someone had shot him before. There had been a lot of commotion when they had first boarded the ship, could the thief have entered then?

“You swear he was like this when you got in?”

Burg nodded.

“And he wasn’t holding a pistol?”

Burg nodded again and the evidence confirmed it. There was only one pistol in the room, halfway across the floor. That didn’t happen when someone tried to off themself for fear of the pirates coming on board.

Migs pushed the body to the floor, getting on his knees to root through the drawers, hoping to find the map, to be able to smack Burg upside the head, but there was nothing. He ripped them out of the desk, holding them upside down and shaking them, but still nothing. Just useless documentation with Imperial seals splayed everywhere.

He slammed the top of the desk as he stood up.

“Did you check everywhere?! Every possible drawer, false drawer, any of that bullshit?”

“Yeah! But it ain’t here!”

Migs pulled off his hat, balling up the rim in fist before throwing it back on.

Ran would tell him not to get greedy. There was an unknown element at play now, so focus on getting Qin out and run. With the group back to what it was before Mando sold them out, they could rob big ships again, but who the fuck cared about that. If Ran knew about the map, he would’ve said to hell with Qin, focus on the pay-out.

Migs stormed out of the quarters and back onto the deck. It was too sunny to see, but that didn’t stop his furious walk back to the line of Imperials on the ship. He grabbed the one in the fanciest looking clothing, who he could only assume was the quartermaster or second mate, and hauled him to his feet by his collar.

The man made a choking sound and face-to-face, looked at Migs with terror.

“Where the fuck is it?”

“Wh-Wh-Wh-?”

“The fucking map! Lost Mandalorian treasure? I need it, and if you don’t, Burg here will make sure you meet those fucking dead ass Mandalorians that hid it in the first place.”

Something must’ve gotten the man brave, because he said, “I thought Mandalorians were extinct, like you pirates are going to be.”

And as if signing his death wish, he spat on the floorboards near his feet.

Well, Migs wanted a nice clean run, but he had a reputation to uphold.

He threw the man back down to the floor and before he could get his arms out from under him, Migs pulled out his flintlock pistol and aimed it at him.

He was a second away from painting the floor with this asshole, when Xi’an ran out from under the deck, her brother trailing behind.

“Captain! It’s Mando!”

That made Migs whip his head up. “Mando? Here?”

She nodded. “We saw him climbing down. Port side, now!”

The four of them raced to the railing, watching as the small craft sped away, faster than any ship could hope to move. She flew familiar colors, the flag of someone who had sold Qin out in the first place.

Migs thought today couldn’t get any worse.

Then the flare went out, bright and brilliant even in the daytime sky. An Imperial flare, that would’ve had to have come from the captain’s quarters, that they wouldn’t have been able to spot in the chaos of the room, that was absolutely going to call every Imperial ship in a hundred miles radius.

Fuck.

Fucker didn’t even have the decency to flip them off as he sailed away.

-=-

Din keeps his eyes low to the ground, brim of his hat pulled low over his head, scarf pulled round his face as he weaves in the crowd. It’s Nevarro, so he knows he blends in with the rest of the criminals that inhabit the port town, but he finds himself more cautious these days.

Especially with the small cargo at his side.

It’s only when he takes a corner into a dark alley, down a set of stairs just off the tavern, into the gloom, does he look at the bag at his side.

As they passed a torch on the wall, the Child looked up at him and beamed, his pointy teeth just coming in, ears unfurling as he lifted the flap.

“You doing ok?”

The child babbled in reply.

“Good, we’ll be there soon.”

For what was basically an underground network for a bunch of criminals, it was surprisingly clean. There were puddles of brackish water that Din stepped around to avoid, along with passing others, but it wasn’t as piss-soaked as Nevarro was up top.

Hiding a whole community under a criminal network didn’t seem like the smartest idea at first, but the thing about criminals is they can either be paid off or disappeared with little problem. As he stepped around a pair of running children, he hoped there would be one day Mandalorians wouldn’t have to hide. He had no idea how that would happen, but no one had ever died on hope.

They finally arrived at their destination, a door on the far side of the hallway. He knocked on the door and opened it when he heard the familiar voice say, “Enter.”

She was already sitting at a table, a bottle of rum in front of her, a candle burning, doing its best to light up the space. Her hat was beside her, feathers drooping so they touched the brim. He made a mental note to pick up more on his next supply run.

He took off his hat as he shut the door behind him, keeping his bandana firmly in place.

“How was your trip?” the Quartermaster asked coolly, picking up the bottle to pour him a drink. It had been years since she had manned a ship, but the title still carries in their community.

He pulled out both the kid and treasure from the bag, setting the kid down on the ground to run around the space before sitting across from her.

“Successful.”

He spread out the map in front of the Quartermaster. He heard those fools talking about Mandalorian gold, and it wasn’t entirely true. It was a map to a compass that would reveal what the holder most desired, which for some might be Mandalorian pirate gold or power or love.

Or the location of the aquatic sorcerers the child needed.

The child wasn’t fully human. He needed to spend a lot of time in water in order to spend time on land, which meant a lot of time spent swimming alongside the Razor Crest. He could also shoot water up out of the ocean, a gift Din was well acquainted with, it being one of the child’s favorite games to play.

Since he had failed to fully deliver the child to the Empire, he had had privateers and other pirates on their tail for months. This map was their last hope to make sure the child got back with his people and then…

And then Din would go back to what he did best; providing for a people now scattered by his actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the Quartermaster’s chair scraping back. She stood up, only to bow over again, her back parallel to the table. She moved her scarf to the side so her lips could ghost over the map as she spoke words of power into the paper.

She stood back up fully as the ink on the map shifted and moved. Waves rolled in place, sea serpents dipped in and out of the surface, all the while the path moved like an eel, slippery and changing, until everything at last was at rest and the ink seeped back into the page.

All three bowed their heads over the map. The starting point of the path was now the tiny cluster of islands of Nevarro and the end point was…

“Tatooine?” he asked out loud. “They’re basically land locked. What would a Mandalorian be doing there?”

Tatooine was a coastal stretch of land, surrounded by jagged rocks and ship-wrecks on one side and impassable mountains on the other, with desert in the valley.

She raised her head, scarf now back in place. “I suspect you’ll find out when you go there.”

He nodded and the child cooed. Din looked over at the child grabbing at the map, hands scratching at the lines like he could pick them back up.

“Come on, little one. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

-=-

Din sailed into Mos Pelgo, following the instructions Peli had given him.

“You have to arrive at low tide, that’s the only way you’ll see all the shit you have to get through. If you haven’t decided to turn tail and leave, you have to keep to the south. If you go north, you’re dead. Last I heard, there’s a pile of sticks they call a dock if you keep going south.”

The dock was a simple thing, as she’d said. Rotten wood, with just one post tall enough to hold the rope to the ship. Din was half tempted to jump straight into the water and swim to shore rather than test the strength of the wood, but resisted the urge with the Child in his bag.

He could see the town in the distance and set off on the beach, letting the Child out to stomp around on the beach.

The town was small, a couple of shacks on stilts for the stormy season. Few people were out, and those that were openly stared at the two of them. Din paid them no mind, one goal in his head.

He walked into the cantina, knowing if there ever was a way to learn about a town, it was going to their cantina first.

And not half a minute of talking with the Weequay bartender, the “Captain” walked in. The man wasn’t a Mandalorian, his face was bare, showing off white hair, sun-freckled pale skin, and a well-trimmed beard. His coat was sturdy, but patched to high heaven, with a bright red scarf around his neck. He wore the compass on his belt like he was flaunting it. It made Din’s blood boil. If Din were a younger man, he would’ve shot him right there for it.

But he tried talking. The compass should be in the hands of a Mandalorian. The Captain swore up and down he had gotten it fairly and therefore it should be his.

“I’ve given you an easy out already. Take it off,” Din said, “Or I will.”

“We gonna do this in front of the kid?”

“He’s seen worse.”

The Captain stood, fingers already itching for the flintlock on his hip, no doubt preloaded like Din’s were. They were interrupted by cries from outside. The Captain holds up a hand before smoothly exiting the cantina. Din follows, but stops in the doorframe to take it all in.

There were several broken fishing boats being led through the rocky shores, dragged onto the sands, people shouting, people carrying others. The Captain was in the middle of it all, shouting orders, trying to bring organization to the chaos.

In the distance, was the unmistakable view of a large tentacle slipping beneath the waves.

Din didn’t want to get in the way of this organized chaos, but then a twi’lek with scarred lekku was shoving bandages into his arms and gesturing over to a house across the way. Din wasn’t going to say no to that.

The house was quieter than outside, only pained whimpers and soft, hushed voices. A collection of wooden splinters already piled beside the bed as the doctor continued to take tweezers to one of the people who came in. Din placed the bandages by their side before stepping back, nearly colliding with the Captain.

He looked at the scene with a pensive expression. Immediately, Din could see that his care for his people went further than words. There was corded energy in those shoulders, anger that wanted to be released at the creature that did this to his people.

The Captain ushered him out of the room.

As they walked back to the cantina, the Captain said, “How about this; you help me with the kraken, I give you back your compass.”

“Deal.”                                                                                                          

-=-

The Captain led him past the edge of town to the cliff’s edge. On the journey he told his name was Cobb Vanth; Din held off on his own introduction.

“None of us are much for traveling,” Cobb said, “but the kraken planted itself right where we normally fish. Even when I send people to fish in a different spot, the damn thing follows after. We’ll be starved out sooner rather than later.”

They crested over the hill and the expanse of ocean fell before them. The kraken was visible from the cliffs, a dark mark under the waters, swimming languidly around the coast.

Din did a mental inventory of what he had on the Razor Crest; a handful of spears, a harpoon, some rope. Cobb had shown him the town’s stores before they left. It wasn’t going to be enough.

He stepped back from the ledge, back where Cobb is. “Is there a Tusken encampment nearby?”

Cobb raised an eyebrow. “The Tuskens? But they’re-”

“They know the coast and water better than anyone. We can’t kill it with just the two of us.”

“If they know the area then won’t they want to… I don’t know, not kill it?”

“Then, we’ll just have to ask.”

“Ask? You don’t ask a Tusken anything.”

He could, in fact, ask a Tusken for things. Din was thankful for the cloth in front of his face, masking most of his pride as he watched Cobb’s jaw drop as he asked the Tuskens for their help. It turned out, they did want help in defeating the kraken. Its sudden appearance had also affected their fishing.

They had to travel further to where the kraken had made his home. Din stayed in the back with Cobb, where he seemed more comfortable.

Cobb also apparently liked to talk when he’s nervous.

“So, you spend your days on the ocean? All the time?”

“Mhm. Do you spend all your days on land?”

“Mostly. I used to be on a ship, but not like you. I was a galley slave on an Imperial ship, but before then I had dreams of being as free as you, traveling the waters on a boat with a crew of my own.” His face fell. “Haven’t thought about that dream… for a while.”

To have something that should have meant freedom be taken away from you, Din couldn’t imagine.

“But you escaped?”

“Kriff, yes. Raised a mutiny, sunk those fuckers to the bottom of the sea. I found the compass in the captain’s drawers and it pointed us here. Few more people joined, some left, but it’s as home as we can get.”

Din could only nod. He found himself surprised with the thought that he was glad that Cobb got the compass. He had no idea what the Empire was doing with a Mandalorian artifact, but it was definitely put to better use finding people a home.

They made camp up in the dunes. Din had to waste a bullet, firing into the air to disrupt the startings of a fight between Cobb and the Tuskens. Planning was slightly easier after that.

He took off his coat, bundling it up into a nest for the child to sit in. He rolled up his sleeves to free up his arms as he continued translating. He noticed Cobb looking at the tattoos that traveled up his arms. He doesn’t comment on it.

-=-

Small boats littered the coastline the next day. The plan was for people from both the Tusken band and Mos Pelgo would distract the kraken long enough for a boat of explosives to be set up and ignited close enough to kill it but not the people.

It doesn’t go great.

There were enough boats in the water to pick up people who capsized in the wake of the monster’s waves, the thing lashing out as folks took pot shots with pistols and arrows. They managed to set the boat laden with explosives off in its direction, but when the time came to ignite, the explosion happened, but it just managed to scratch the beast.

Din reached for the harpoons he brought as backup. He and Cobb try firing at the kraken, but they skim off its skin.

The Tuskens were still firing their weapons at the creature. Mos Pelgans took turns firing guns and reloading in turn. All it did was keep the creature at bay, which wouldn’t last long at all. He needed to think of something to kill the creature or everyone here would die.

He furtively scanned around the deck for something, anything. His gaze landed on the extra explosives they had kept on hand. The monster’s skin was too thick for the explosions to take but elsewhere…

Din doesn’t think, he just moves. He grabbed as many sticks of dynamite as he could, stuffing them in the pockets of his coat. There was a coil of rope tied off to the railing, which he took and wrapped around his waist. Even after years of living on ships, his hands shook as he tried to tie it. Suddenly, Cobb was in front of him, taking the rope from his hands and tying it tight around his midsection.

He pulled it hard, once, twice, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

“What are you gonna do?” Cobb asked.

“I’m not sure,” Din said, pulling the rope tighter around his waist.

“Then what should I do?”

Din looked at him, really looked at this man who was willing to do so much for his community in light of so much hardship in his own life. He looked back at the dark shape in the water racing for their boats

He took off his hat and tossed it at Cobb. “Take care of the Child.”

And before Cobb could do anything beyond catch the hat, Din leaped off the side of the ship. He couldn’t tell if Cobb shouted anything after him as the kraken burst from the water. He forced himself to keep his eyes open as he fell straight into the kraken’s maw.

-=-

It was nothing but darkness inside the beast. Even with the scarf over his nose, the scent of salt water and death was everywhere. He dug himself in the mouth of the beast, boots scraping against bony protuberances in the things throat. He emptied his pockets as fast as he could while holding on for dear life as the monster bucked and screamed.

He hoped the kraken was out of range of the boat.

When he was left with one explosive left, he fished around in his pockets for his matchbook. He struck the match and lit the explosive before chucking it down with all the others like it.

He turned and clawed at the kraken’s beak, heart pounding in his chest. If he doesn’t get out of here before the explosion goes off-

Suddenly, a roaring filled his ears and a mass of hot air flung him out of the monster. His scarf twists around his head and he can’t see anything as he flails. He landed hard in the water and then it was silent as the dark water pulled him down.

He wasn’t sure how long he drifted. The shock of cold water and the heaviness of his coat made movement impossible.

He didn’t regret asking Cobb to take care of the child, he’d be in good hands.

Something wrapped around his waist and pulled. Din tried to resist, not sure if he was being dragged toward air or to his death, but his arms were useless, heavy and leaden. He had no strength and so he let it happen.

And then they broke through the surface of the water, a cool wind icing his skin instantly. He took a shuddering breath and nearly choked on water and his sopping wet scarf. Hands came up and pulled the scarf off his face. He coughed, chest shuddering with each intake of breath. He realized he’s being held, arms around his waist, and it isn’t until he can take a full breath did he finally bother to wipe salt water from his eyes and look at who was holding him.

It was Cobb. His hat and coat were off, red shirt darkened to maroon with all the water. He was searching his face for… something.

Din took a breath, resisting the urge to cough again. “I thought I said- you need to take care of the kid!”

“I am!” Cobb said, holding his head up to avoid a passing wave. “By making sure his daddy lives!”

Cobb maneuvers his arms so he’s gripping a floating piece of rowboat. It’s thankfully big enough that when Din leans his whole weight on it, he doesn’t sink back into the ocean.

“Everyone okay?”

Cobb gave him a look that Din thinks means he’s stupid. “Yes, thanks to you, partner.”

They only have to tread water for a couple of minutes before a rowboat headed by the twi’lek Issa-Or arrives. Cobb makes sure Din is pulled aboard before climbing in himself.

-=-

They stayed the night. Din isn’t in any position to argue with Cobb’s hospitality. He didn’t think he’d be able to turn the wheel on the Razor Crest let alone sail it out of harbor.

Cobb opened his house to them. It was a small abode, raised off the ground like the others. Its small size made it even more obvious the telescope and sextant were on display on the only table in the main room.

Din wanted to pass out then and there, but Cobb firmly set him in one of the wooden chairs before disappearing behind the one door in the house. He returned with a roll of bandages and water. He thought it was to drink, until Cobb started peeling back the wet layers of Din’s clothes to reveal burns and scratches he hadn’t even felt. Cobb dips a rag into the freshwater, rinsing out the salt and detritus from the wounds.

He worked in silence, both too exhausted from the day to say much. They could hear the sounds of the party outside, Tusken and Mos Pelgan alike celebrating the death of the beast.

A drunken group walked past and the two of them can hear the butchered shanty they sing. They glanced to the window then to each other, sharing hidden smiles.

All patched up, Cobb gave him the bed and set something up for the child. Din knew he should be aware of his host, should know where his host himself is sleeping the night, but he couldn’t bring himself to care with exhaustion tugging him into the bed.

Voices from the other room kept him up,  cracking one eye open to focus on the now familiar drawl.

“You know, in the past few days, whenever I looked at the compass for a sign of how to kill the kraken, it always pointed out to sea. I didn’t know what that meant, if I had to go sailing for a kraken expert or find a sunken treasure that would kill the kraken. I don’t know, I was getting desperate. But now… I’m thinking it might’ve been pointing to your dad.”

He heard the child’s burbles of delight and finally, finally, he slid into unconsciousness.

-=-

Din woke up to the sun shining in his eyes, light reflecting off the compass placed on the pillow that wasn’t there last night. Any lingering drowsiness left him when he realized what it is.

The Mandalorian compass.

He grabbed it and opened it up, thinking about Grogu and the teacher he needed. The arrow spun around, until stopping, hovering at a point out back toward the ocean.

A heading. He had a heading.

He fell back into the bed, just staring at the compass. It was embedded in a box made of dark wood, carvings all around the edges, Mando’a script, if he had to guess. It’s incomprehensible, chipped to the point of  being illegible.  

Something in the bed crinkled as he shifted. He turned and searched for the source and founda scrap of paper. It took a moment for him to parse, but it was just Cobb letting him know he had business to attend to and he would be back when Din left.

Right... they had to leave this town to continue their quest.

He reminded himself of that as he went out to find the child. The house sounded suspiciously quiet for all the mischief the child got into.

-=-

They got their affairs in order quicker than expected. Some people had spent the night alongside the Tuskens preparing the kraken meat to distribute to the rest of the town – and Din, apparently.

It seemed like the whole town had come out to see them off. They apparently had held off giving their thanks until they knew he was conscious. Din looked over the grateful townspeople’s heads to see Issa talking intently with Cobb. When Cobb glanced over his way, he ducked his head back down.

Normally he would sneak out of this kind of attention, but the kid was eating it up, beaming like he was the one who took down the beast, so Din went down the line, nodding respectfully at every given comment.

By the time he got to the end of the line, he was already ready to take a nap, but he raised a hand to bid them all good-bye and turned to walk out of town.

“Mando!”

Din turned around to see Cobb running after him, heel kicking up sand.

He stops in front of him. “Do you- do you need help on your quest?”

“Are you offering? Thought you had a town to look after.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Well, the kraken was our biggest threat, and with the peace brokered with the Tuskens, there’s not much for me here.”

Din tried to tamp down his excitement, not believing what he was hearing. “You still have your sea legs?”

“Long as you don’t lock me up below deck, I should get them just fine.”

“I’d never,” he said quickly. 

Cobb smiled. “Well then, permission to come aboard?”

Din hoped Cobb could tell he was smiling behind the bandana. “Granted.”

-=-

As they sailed out of port, Din kept glancing at Cobb, who was fidgeting up a storm. He kept tapping his fingers against the railing, glancing out at the disappearing coastline.

Finally, after even the Child was tapping on his pant leg to point out Cobb’s unease for him, he hatched a plan. He affixed the wheel so it wouldn’t turn on its own. Then he went about setting the sails and ropes for the same task, keeping them on course while Din took care of Cobb.

“We can still head back if you want to,” he said as he approached the other man.

Cobb turned over his shoulder. “No, I’m not having second thoughts. I’ve… My friends know I’m not exactly made for land.”

“Oh?”

Cobb flipped his scarf up to wipe at his head. “Before we made landfall at Mos Pelgo, we took out a few Imperial ports. Small things that we only noticed because of the ships with galley slaves, but… I ain’t felt that alive in a while.”

Din fished the compass out from his pocket, flicking it open. The arrow spun lazily, pointing back to Cobb for a second before spinning around in the direction they were sailing, the same direction it had pointed when he thought about what Grogu needed.

He snapped it shut, coming up to stand beside Cobb.

“I’m sure we’ll run into something along the way. Here, I’ve got something to show you.”

Cobb raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”

Din bit his lip, glad for the bandana. “Do you trust me?”

Cobb chuckled. “I would have to be an idiot to sail out to who knows where with a man I didn’t trust.”

Din nodded. “Then let it be a surprise.”

Cobb acquiesced, letting himself be led to the middle of the deck. When they were under the main mast, Din grabbed the main line in one hand, pulling Cobb close with the other. He ignored how his cheeks flushed with the sudden closeness.

“Hold on tight,” he said.

“Wha-?” That’s all Cobb got out before Din flicked the switch with his foot and the two of them went rocketing up toward the crow’s nest. Cobb’s arms circled around him like a vice, his shouts lost in the wind.

Din made sure Cobb got in the basket before he did, especially when he realized his eyes were shut.

“Cobb, open your eyes.”

Cobb cracked one eye open and then both flew open as he realized what he was seeing. Glittering blue ocean, as far as the eye could see. There were two dots in the far distance, ships of some sort.

There was no better way to experience the vastness of it all, than looking at it from above.

He glanced at Cobb and saw his eyes tearing up a bit.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, letting Cobb take it all in. This was what being on the ocean was supposed to mean, freedom and possibility, beauty and wonder. Din didn’t expect to do much in laying a balm over Cobb’s past, but he hoped he could communicate with this view that he wanted to help when he could.

Cobb turned to face him and Din knew he understood.

“Thank you, Mando.”

“Din, my name is Din Djarin.”

“Then thank you, Din.” And to his surprise, he leaned over and kissed him just above where the scarf covered his face.

Neither of them acknowledged it, except for an exchange of eye contact. Neither could contain the mirth in the crinkles of their eyes.

“We should start plotting a course, shouldn’t we, Captain?” Cobb asked.

“Yes, Captain.”

[msfcatlover]

Me: *rereads my old Portal fics*

Me: “Y’know, some of these are still pretty good! Maybe I should replay the games, and give writing these another shot...”

My brain, always ready with AUs and my latest hyperfixation: TMA crossover with Jon as Caroline, but he doesn’t lose himself in the upload process.

Me: “I... I don’t know if that would work...”

My brain, refusing to be derailed: His robot name could be “Self-aware Intelligent Machine Simulation.” SIMS for short.

Me: “That’s not a great robot name.”

My brain: No worse than “Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System.”

Me: “.......Fair.”

My brain: Testing is like statements; he doesn’t want to like it, but it’s addictive and eventually he kinda needs it to stay sane. He regularly gets in trouble for trying to make the tests less dangerous for the test subjects, because like... draining the acid out of the acid pit ruins the integrity or something.

My brain: It actually makes no difference, but obviously Jonah is Cave in this crossover. He’s researching immortality, and this is just one of the ways he keeps Jon under control.

Me: “Elias was his first attempt?”

My brain: Yeah, but it was just a brain transplant. Now he’s worried about the integrity of his brain itself, I mean, physically it’s getting pretty old. And it’s not like aging is fun anyway.

Me: “So, I assume Martin’s Chell then.”

My brain: Obviously.

Me: “Obviously. Where does everyone else fit?”

My brain: Daisy and Basira are trying to get the whole company shut down for horrible human rights violations, but are struggling to find evidence. They go undercover as test subjects, only to realize they’re in too deep and have to fight for survival.

My brain: Melanie’s a reporter, supposedly doing a profile on Jonah, but secretly investigating all the disappearances that keep happening amongst the staff. Georgie brought her in on the case when Jon stopped answering all calls.

Me: “Tim and Sasha?”

My brain: Scientists, were on the same team as Jon. Might get kicked down to test subjects for asking too many questions about his “transfer to the AI department.”

Me: “Wait. All of this is pre-fall-of-Aperture. Doesn’t that take a lot of the punch out of making Jon our GLaDOS equivalent?”

My brain: ..............................

My brain: Mid-fall-of-Aperture. Terribly understaffed, running out of money, the “AI department” is literally just Jon on the paperwork, Jonah’s desperately pushing the testing/experiments to figure out the limits of brain-uploading before he loses access to the equipment.

Me: “I don’t think that scans.”

My brain: Sure it does! What’s the testing in the games even for anyways? It’s all cognitive, the portal gun itself only gets used in a handful of different ways.

My brain: Now the testing is specifically there to stress Jon out and test the stability of his personality matrix; no point in uploading yourself if the first major issue you run into corrupts your code or causes a major error. It puts Jon through the wringer, even zapping him with viruses and stuff, to ensure the process works, because Jonah doesn’t have the time or supplies for more than one test subject.

Me: “......huh.”

My brain, getting more excited: Merge the Eye-pocalypse and Prentiss attacks! Some sort of biological agent gets loose in the facility, and Jon hacks the security system to try and stop it. Any hermetically sealed area of the facility gets locked down, and he gasses the rest of the facility to keep the contaminants from spreading.

My brain: But they’re underground and the ventilation system isn’t the best maintained, so he can’t risk letting anyone out for fear they’ll get poisoned too. Just has to wait for the gas to rise up out of the facility on its own.

Me: “OH! So from the perspective of everyone in the testing tracks, this AI has just gone completely rogue and taken over the facility, killing a whole bunch of people and trapping them inside!”

Me: “I bet Jonah’s office is basically a fortress, and he still has security access to cameras and intercom, so he just eggs them on. Because this is an insurance nightmare, he wants to upload himself ASAP, so Jonah tells them there’s a manual override procedure for SIMS, but he can’t do it alone. They need to get through the testing, reach the central control chamber, and help him deactivate SIMS before they’ll be able to leave the facility. But actually, he’s planning to delete Jon entirely and replace him in the mainframe!”

My brain: Like the bastard he is.

Me: “So now, everyone’s in this weird limbo of trying to figure out what to do and who to trust. I mean, obviously in the AI apocalypse you want to trust your fellow humans, and SIMS did just gas the whole facility and trapped them in the testing tracks, but on the other hand ‘Elias’ is a shady bastard and SIMS isn’t always that bad?”

Me: “Like, sure, it can be pushy about testing and you can’t expect a robot to be good at emotions, but sometimes it’ll do something like ask for a verbal check-in because they’ve been down there a while and that can be psychologically hard on most humans? Someone complains about food, and SIMS sounds almost genuine when apologizing for not having anything else that can be safely transported to the testing tracks at this time. Once, Martin found a corner away from the cameras to take a nap in, and he’d swear SIMS was actually panicking over not being able to find Martin when he woke up.”

My brain: Tim and Sasha make snide, tired jokes about Jon giving the damn thing all his social awkwardness, as well as his name and voice (for some god-awful, unknowable reason.) They don’t want to let SIMS endear itself to them, knowing it probably killed Jon.

Me: “No, no, knowing that it killed Jon. They absolutely ask at some point if Jon’s okay and are told that amongst the however-many living staff members that are left, Jonathan Sims is not amongst them. What else are they to assume, other than that Jon’s been gassed by his own creation?”

My brain: Oooh...

Me: “Martin’s the only one who actually feels endeared to SIMS by the time they meet up, partially because he’s the only one who was trapped alone. Tim and Sasha were together, and already have reason to hold a grudge. Daisy, Basira, and Melanie met up early and spend a lot of free time fantasizing about smashing the damn computer when they find it.”

Me: “Martin was alone and he hates it, so he tries talking to SIMS, and is a little surprised when SIMS talks back. They’re not always pleasant conversations, SIMS can be curt and doesn’t have much personal info to share (being a computer and all,) but Martin does start to get a grasp on the situation as it must have at least appeared to SIMS when he pulled the lockdown-tigger. And for a supposedly evil computer, SIMS can be surprisingly helpful and seems almost as upset by the situation as the humans are.”

My brain: And there was that odd moment after Martin convinced SIMS to stop calling him “Mr. Blackwood,” and SIMS seemed almost flustered before very softly responding, “...Martin, then.”

Me: “Awww... please tell me Jon’s not actually dead, I need them to take him with them at the end...”

My brain: Suspended animation. The brain is still a vital part of the machine, but it never ages or degrades thanks to whatever combo of chemicals and cryosleep Jonah used to preserve him. Part of Jonah’s “manual override” involves adding a high-powered hard drive or four to replace the need for an organic brain, making full digitization possible.

Me: “But where’s he stored? He can’t just be strung up in the middle of the machine, that’d be unsustainable and Jonah would never let anyone within a hundred yards of it lest they realize the truth! A cryotank in a fake computer bank? A stasis tube hidden amongst the wiring, which they could discover while clambering about installing the hard drives?”

My brain: A cold room disguised as a locked closet or something, with the upload chair still inside of it? Only Jonah has the passcode, technically, and he was planning to go in while everyone else had their own tasks to do, just shove Jon’s body out and plug himself in, leaving Jon to finally die on the floor just a short distance from his friends while Jonah replaced him in the machine, removed the safeties, and escaped into the internet?

Me: “Oh, and Jon gave them a universal override or something to get them out of a dangerous situation towards the end! It actually leaves half the group feeling pretty low, having the thing they’re trying to destroy just hand them the key to its destruction out of pure, innocent trust.”

Me: “Then while Jonah’s distracted giving out instructions, Martin (useless with computers,) wanders over and opens the door, letting out a gust of cold air with a hiss. Martin coughs on the escaping gasses, and Jonah rushes to say that the cold room is very delicate, and ought not to be tampered with by people who don’t know what they’re doing—“

My brain: —but Martin blinks back the stinging, shock-induced tears, eyes adjusting to the dark of the closet and gasps.

Me: “And Martin’s only ever seen Jon in passing, really, they never properly worked together. But he was a little sweet on him even back then, and he’s heard the stories from Tim and Sasha, and he’s spent the last several weeks getting to know SIMS...”

My brain: ...He quickly calls Tim and Sasha over to confirm, just in case he’s got it wrong somehow. They’re just as shocked that Jon’s in there, with all his notes tucked away behind him revealing what really happened. Jonah tries to talk his way out of it, but is quickly arrested by Basira and Daisy.

Me: “Sasha finishes the notes first and makes her way back out. She’s shaking, overwhelmed with rage and grief and horror, and punches ‘Elias’ so hard he falls to the floor.”

My brain: Jonah starts to say something about assault, but Melanie congratulates Sasha for stopping him and Basira, completely deadpan, adds, “We all saw him make a break for it.”

Me: “Jonah shuts the fuck up.”

My brain: Part of SIMS’ programming was not being allowed to answer to “Jon” anymore. He never outright denies being Jon, just corrects people that he is the Self-aware Intelligent Machine Simulation. Tim finishes the notes, makes it to the cold room door, looks into the nearest camera and shakily asks, “Jon?”

Me: “For the first time, there’s a solid three beat pause before the intercom answers, softly and less robotically than before, ‘...Yes, Tim?’”

My brain: Tim starts crying.

Me: “Of course he does! He’s been grieving Jon for weeks at this point, trying not to let it show just how sad and angry he was that it all ended like this, and now it turns out that not only is Jon alive, he never actually left them at all! All those months thinking Jon ghosted them, left them behind in R&D for greener pastures, and Jon was all-but-dead in a cold room the whole time, and none of them ever knew! The relief, the joy, the guilt, the lingering bitter grief and rage, it’s overwhelming. Who wouldn’t cry?”

My brain: It takes them a few days to figure out the download procedure to return Jon to his body, especially since Jonah can’t be trusted on this front. Tim and Sasha are the techies, and they recruit Melanie and Basira for extra hands. (Martin’s still terrible with machines, and Daisy needs to watch Jonah to make sure he doesn’t escape.)

My brain: Martin, feeling useless, stays by Jon’s side in the cold room.

Me: “When Jon wakes up, Martin’s the first thing he sees.”

My brain: Martin sees him moving, meets his eyes, and gasps, “Jon?” Jon nods and tries to say something, but his throat is dry and his voice won’t work. Martin scrambles to get him a glass of water and steadies Jon’s hands as he drinks it. When he lowers the glass, Martin cautiously asks if Jon’s feeling better.

Me: “Jon just smiles and answers, ‘You said my name.’”

My brain: Martin’s confused. “What else would I call you?”

Me: “Jon shakes his head. ‘I just... don’t think I’ve heard you say it before. Certainly not to me. It’s... nice.’”

My brain: Martin laughs helplessly and says it again. “Jon.” Jon’s smile brightens, and Martin can’t help stepping closer, repeating Jon’s name again. Jon laughs along.

Me: “It’s on instinct that Martin takes the empty glass and sets it to the side, leans over the chair, touches Jon’s shoulder, cups his cheek. He hesitates when they’re nose to nose, breathing the same air, shockingly warm even when Jon’s skin is still cold to the touch. He meets Jon’s eyes and swallows. ‘Is this okay?’”

My brain: Close enough to feel the small, inaudible gasp before Jon whispers, “Please.”

Me: “They only get one short kiss in before the door opens and Tim makes a scandalized noise before loudly declaring this unfair and blatant favoritism. Martin all but jumps away, but Jon just rolls his eyes and thanks Tim for saving him. As the others pile in —Sasha claiming she did all the work, Basira needing to know if Jon’s up for making an official statement, Melanie both needing to pass on a message from Georgie and wanting an exclusive interview for her expose— Martin can already feel himself fading into the background, even as he and Tim help Jon to his feet.”

My brain: At least until Jon lingers, fingers lightly resting against Martin’s arm, and looks up at him with hope in his eyes. “Later?”

Me: “Martin’s not entirely sure what Jon’s asking (Jon isn’t really either,) but he agrees anyway. He doesn’t even hesitate.”

My brain:

Me:

My brain:

Me:

My brain:

Me: “.....WELL FUCK.”

My brain, smug despite it being 4:30am: Told you it was a good idea.

Me: “I hate you so much.”

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

A rant of personal experiences and trying to do something positive with them:

Okay so procrastination is a huge thing in ADHD. Same with memory issues. (Not that these are always present and maybe some people experience both without being ADHD).

So. Here’s an experience I’m just now (at almost 40) realizing was a thing:

Imagine a huge essay/report/project requiring a lot of research and several sources was due in a few weeks. The advice was always to break it down, take notes, and make an outline. It made perfect sense. And maybe it does help some or even most people.

But for some, like me, it was still impossibly overwhelming and breaking it down was worse. The project was often boring (especially if I had to ignore a hyperfixation to work on it) and even if it wasn’t, it still felt like A LOT when my brain was full of TV static and my memory was shit.

It takes a ton of repetition for me to even temporarily remember something and even then, it will likely be gone again in a few days. UNLESS I learn by actually doing something or figuring it out for myself. And my brain gaslights itself like “do I remember that right? No that can’t be right. Let me look it up for the 100th time to make sure.” And I’m WAY more likely to remember concepts or physical processes but completely forget the terms for them or names of things or important dates EVEN FOR MY HYPERFIXATIONS, damnit... Like, I can do a bunch of crafty stuff and even remember some common terms and items but not the less common fabrics or stitch types or tool names. (Yet somehow I could remember the exact location of hundreds of thousands of items of inventory at my craft store job... even if I didn’t know what they were called. But I stocked them and had physical contact with them so I could picture where they were.) The number one overwhelming thing for me about trying to be a pro at anything is trying to remember terms so it sounds like I know what I’m talking about.

Anyway...

Without acknowledging that, I ended up wasting time by trying to schedule research/work in small chunks because every time I stopped then tried to start again, I wouldn’t remember what I did or looked at last time. (Can I also add that this is why being interrupted is infuriating for me? It probably seems irrational to other people but it’s so hard to get focused on something and now my train of thought is derailed, passengers are dead and injured, and it’s going to take who knows how long to revive the survivors?) And maybe that wasn’t so bad the first time because I’d only have to reread one page of notes. But then it would happen a few more times and my focus would be blurred and I’d repeated myself multiple times in the notes and they’d become a mess and look horrible which was distracting and I’d feel overwhelmed by having to reread and now rewrite several pages and focus would be even worse because I did remember some bits and blanked out while looking at those then stay blanked out then I’d have to reread again to catch the parts I didn’t remember.

But.

If I waited until the last minute, when the consequence/reward system overrode how overwhelming or boring the project was, I could burn through it because I was in constant contact with the material and it was all currently on my mind and I could skip writing notes and an outline and go straight to a fairly decent flow-state draft then keep going through revisions and editing all without forgetting WTF I’d researched. And it would be done in so so so much less time with a lot less effort and frustration.

And...

AND

And then there’s the schedule thing and why it DOES NOT WORK for me. If I schedule doing something (or even if someone suddenly wants me to do something right now) and my brain is like, “nah sorry, just static right now,” there’s absolutely nothing I can do to make it work and I’m just going to get frustrated and tired and depressed and discouraged. But if I keep a loose list of things that need to get done and indicate which are priorities, I can look at it and say “yeah. This one seems doable right now.” No I’m not going to get up and vacuum that spot of cat litter at this exact moment but it’s a good idea to do it soon so I’ll add vacuum to the list and probably get it done later the same day. If the cat throws up, that is an immediate priority so I will get up and make sure they’re okay and clean it because my brain does actually recognize things like that as super important. If a bill arrives in the mail, I’ll stop and pay it right away because I know I don’t have to think/worry about it again if I do. But what sucks about that is that society wants and often understandably needs people to work on a schedule. And I just... can’t.

But I’m trying to take this knowledge and apply it, trying to accept that this is how I function. I function based on a system of priorities that get done in order of “absolutely must be done right this second, whether for my own reasons or outside reasons, even if I need to drop other things” to “this is what I CAN do right now.” Not something pre-scheduled. If I need to leave something to the last minute then I’m just going to accept that that’s how it’s going to be and that’s okay. Then I can free up energy and space to do other things in the meantime rather than worry and be anxious and beat myself up because I should be doing the thing and end up hating things I like doing because they’re not what I should be doing and now there’s a negative association with them. No. Screw that. If all I can do today is play a video game then fine. Gonna enjoy it. Because I now know for a fact, from years of experience, that I will do the important things. They just need to wait until I’m capable of doing them. And... if I let myself stop worrying about old WIPs... They get done eventually too. It might take a few years but as long as I don’t actually decide not to do them, they will get done.

All that said... I still want to look into meds because it would be nice to have more of an ability to focus more regularly. I just need to clear up some other medical stuff first and I’ve got appointments already set up for that.

One more thing... I f$&#ing hate the attitude teachers have about doodling in class. It was literally the only way I could focus during lectures and remember anything they were talking about. I could look at what I drew and remember what was being said while I drew it. F$&% every teacher who took away my notebooks or yelled at me for it. Without it, I’d zone out completely. And THANK YOU to the art history teacher and biology teachers I had who not only understood but encouraged it and actually helped me direct it toward the subject matter by suggesting drawing thumbnails of the art or cell structure or anatomy.

[gt-ridel]

Several hundred words of Half-Life Borrower!AU goodness

(Hi, this is Passportinspection!) Oooh goodness. I actually started writing this as an ask. I really thought what I had to say would fit into an ask. Since sending that anon about having 350 words of thoughts, I ended up getting distracted for a few hours, and then when I came back to this, I apparently had 400 more words to say. I just love rambling what-ifs about AUs. :’>

_

Hi Passportinspection!  Sorry it took so long to reply to this. I had more work than I thought yesterday. >__< I totally agree! Rambling about what-ifs is WAY more fun than actually writing a story. ;;>__> _

These are… not all A-list ideas, and I was very tempted to cut it down to the best bits, BUT I know that if someone said to me “I had 5 ideas for your au but only told you the 2 good ones” I would be extremely interested in hearing the 3 bad ones anyway, so… here it all is. This was written pretty stream-of-consciousness and then rearranged a bit to form my pinballing thoughts into something a little more linear, but, fair warning, it wasn’t edited much beyond that.

_ Ooo, I absolutely want to hear everything! All ideas, good and bad! Are you kidding? (Gets comfy) _

I keep thinking about the end of that “gordon takes borrower!barney with him through the events of HL1” scenario; Imagining gman’s speech at the end, I like the idea of him saying something like, “As for your.. /passenger/..” and both of their bloods running cold. I can’t decide if I’d rather barney actually go into stasis with gordon or not I think it could be an interesting/cute concept- the idea that gman/his employers figured barney was enough of a factor in gordon’s success that they thought it would be wise to keep them together for future “assignments.”

_ Bro I'll be honest, I hadn't gotten that far in the AU because I still haven't finished the game. My only reference for G-man is Mr. Coolatta. So I'll have to at least look the ending up on youtube before I'll be able to give my informed opinion.  But taking it as is?  That would be freaking terrifying. They've met some other scientists and security guards during their escape, but the HEV helmet was a perfect hiding place. None of them ever noticed that Gordon wasn't alone.  But somehow this reality bending creep knows, and it looks like he's not going to let Barney and Gordon just go home, which was basically what they were fighting for the whole time.  _

I’m also thinking about, like.. With Barney in Gordon’s helmet with him, Gordon must be able to feel him tense up and hear his breathing speed up whenever something particularly scary/dangerous happens, maybe even at times faintly feel the fluttering of his heart, and it strengthens his resolve to make it out of there bc it’s not just himself he’s saving. 🥺 Also Barney can provide running commentary, which perhaps soothes both of their nerves a little. Maybe he even helps with some puzzles. :> I also think it’s funny/convenient that that would work really well for an actual video game format. A friend that’s with you wherever you go that sees everything you see but can’t interact with the world but provides commentary and occasional helpful tips? That fits in nicely!

  _ Ha! Something I was thinking about was how Barney has spent his whole life living in the vents and such. He would probably be a perfect guide for Gordon. :3 As for Gordon feeling when Barney gets tense or scared and that fuling his drive to escape, that was ABSOLUTELY one of the reasons I wanted Barney in the helmet.  It would be uncomfortable, inconvenient, and down right dangerous sometimes. But you cannot deny the unique opportunities for deeper emotional exploration it would present. _

…But also, now that I think about it, maybe there are parts where the only way forward is for Barney to slip through a crack in a blockaded doorway and use a control panel that opens another door- that sort of thing. He gets to help with more than just talking sometimes! :> Oh, dang, imagine the part where gordon gets jumped and almost killed by the military. Poor Barney. D: Maybe a factor in Gordon escaping the trash compactor before it crushes him is Barney frantically trying to wake him up.

_ I was defo hyperfixating on what the whole beat down would be like from Barney's perspective a few days ago! Gordon would be at an extra disadvantage in the fight because he'd have to be careful not to accidentally bash Barney between his skull and the helmet while he's being smacked around.  Imagine Barney being tossed all over the small space, maybe ending up pinned when Gordon finally passes out. Noticing when a small stream of blood starts leaking from his friends mouth and soaking into his clothes. Gordon is completely helpless, and so is Barney as he hears the soldiers talking about what they're going to do with the body.  I just think that whole scene and the escape from the trash compactor would be so fun and exciting~ -

Also, unrelated, but I wonder how barney would wake up in city 17, if he did go into stasis with gordon. That is, since gordon is wearing a citizen outfit when he comes out of stasis, barney obviously can’t be in the helmet anymore. Maybe gman elects to move barney to a pocket somewhere instead lol. I’m imagining as soon as gordon is released from whatever effect gman had him under and he’s able to move again, he starts patting himself down looking for Barney (the same way one does when they forget which pocket their phone is in ), bc last he knew Barney was right up against his face and now he’s /not/, and that man SAID they’d be “hired” as a team so /where is he/ because Gordon needs to know he’s /okay/. As Barney is released from the same effect, he probably moves and makes himself apparent, so it’s only for like a second that Gordon is doing that.

_ Once again, I can't speak much to what would happen in a HL2 continuation of this story, but that sounds about right for an initial reaction scene.  Imagine Barney just coming out of it and being in some sort of... bag? being jostled around? He feels a giant hand pat over him from outside and he grunts in surprise. Then the hand rests against him and Barney realizes he's in a humans breast pocket, being held against someones chest as beside him a thundering heart slowly begins to calm. He figures this must be Gordon. He doesn't KNOW any other humans, and he can't imagine that man in the suit would be all that concerned about Barney's wellbeing.  _ 

Barney doesn’t know where they are/who else is out there at all ‘cause he can’t see from where he is, and Gordon can feel him shifting to lean out of the pocket and get a look, and he just puts a hand over the pocket, covering the opening in the process, and applies a gentle pressure for a couple moments, and Barney knows that means he needs to stay put because it’s not safe to come out yet. Thankfully Barney heard Gman talking to Gordon and addressing him by name, so he doesn’t have to worry about whose pocket he just woke up in. He would probably somewhat recognize Gordon’s gait/the feel of his hands at that point, too. As for how Gordon avoids boarding the train to Nova Prospekt without canon barney there to stop him, I have no idea.

  _ YEAAAH that is a good point. Barney is kind of vital for that role. Maybe we can slot a different character into his place. ^__^;; _

Oooh, going back a bit, maybe when the nihilanth is teleporting gordon around in the boss level, or from the very beginning when gordon jumps into the portal to Xen, they get teleported separately and end up in different places? (Ignoring for a moment the parts with portals in Black Mesa ^^;) That sure is an additional level of distress for the both of them during the Big Final Level(s). And then perhaps at the end, part of gman’s speech can be like, “As for your.. companion, you can rest assured he was recovered safe and sssound. After all, you two performed so well, together, it would be ideal to hire you as, a team.” Or whatever

_ Imagine Barney, stranded and alone on Xen, desperately trying to find Gordon, and having his OWN creepy G-man encounter. :U _

Our Barney AUs differ in some exciting ways and it’s fun to play in someone else’s sandbox for a while. :p I’ll probably cut my notes doc down into something readable and post it sometime in the near-ish future.. Either that or actually write the dang fic.

_ I would absolutely LOVE to hear about your AU too! So if you do either of those things, be sure to @ me!  Thank you so much for playing in this sandbox with me. I am ALWAY down to talk Borrower AU stuff. It's just so much dang fun! ^0^

[exciting]

As requested, books / series I read in 2020 in the order I read them, with a few brief thoughts. (This took me a hot second because there are a few and also I moved cities) Should I keep a consistent goodreads? Yes I should but I didn’t think of that at the time, so bone apple teeth & sorry if I offend you abt your faves x

P.S. I can’t figure out how to do a read more on mobile so long post ahead!

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas - This is one of the most vivid published fantasy books I have ever read... I read it twice in rapid succession. The fandom POPS off. I must say I have issues with certain aspects e.g. fae lore completely ignored à la Twilight, all love interests 500+ years old and technically a different species, etc (I’m not going to deconstruct the entire series here but just know that I could... Nesta deserves better)

Cruel Prince by Holly Black - This fucking slaps, HB clearly has done her research, the lore is near immaculate, and it explores the Fae in such a unique way, tying it to the modern world subtly and seamlessly. My only qualm was that the books felt quite short; truly wish there had been more content.

Throne of Glass by Sarah J Maas (6/7) - So basically I read this in one single, hyperfixated fit which meant I literally locked myself in my room for three days straight and read all six books back to back in a row from morning to the wee hours. Which is not to say it was spectacular; although it was a VERY rich world, sometimes it was too much... this felt like 6 stories in one. Ik she was young when she wrote this but it is my humble opinion that SJM needs a better editor & I personally think Rowan is a grade A asshole / straight up abusive (& personally think the ACOTAR Tamlin plot was born from that?). It’s good but not as good as ACOTAR. Skip-read the last book. 

Grishaverse (Shadow and Bone) by Leigh Bardugo (3) - This is essential to read before SOC but was very much simply a YA fantasy book, although the world was cool and the way the love plot played out was, imo, a subtle middle finger to the fantasy trope. Felt very much aimed at younger readers though? Really liked the sandwhich structure of the Proluge and Epilogue, especially in #2

Six of Crows series by Leigh Bardugo (2) - INCREDIBLE continuation of Grishaverse, better than the original series by a mile. It has the range, the diversity, the representation (the male lead is a disabled asexual and still the most cunning of the entire cast of characters), the plot is phenomenal, and it manages such a well rounded plot in only two books which means nothing is stretched out or squeezed in more than need be. Deserves all the praise it gets.

King of Scars series by Leigh Bardugo (0.5/1) - Personally I don’t consider this book canon, and while it’s nice to see the rest of Nina’s journey & the world again & everyone else, I don't like it. I will, however, be reading book 2 when it comes out, so shame on me, I suppose.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (1/1) - this was incredibly cool although it went off in a completely different direction than I thought it would based off the first few chapters? One of my favourite YA-author-debuts-New-Adult novels in 2020 though!

Crescent City by Sarah J Maas (1/1) - This was supposed to be SJM/s New Adult debut, although personally I would put her other series in New Adult, and I can’t say a remarkable amount was different with this except they said “fuck” and “ass” a lot. WHY is the romantic interest 500 years old AGAIN. I just... don’t... I just don’t think it was necessary... the world was cool though, and the last half of the book was riveting, but the beginning was quite slow and I thought the sword thing was predictable. I am interested to see where this goes though.

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab (3) - This world is so fucking cool... four Londons aka parallel universes & the one in ‘our’ world is set in industrial era London. Magic, girls dressing up as boys, thieves, pirates, royalty... it all just slaps. Schwab is an incredible writer & I was completely immersed.

Midnight Sun by SMeyer - I didn’t think anything could possibly detract even further from the Twilight story but I was sorely mistaken... seeing the stalking from Edward’s POV - and it was worse than depicted in Twilight, for the record - completely obliterated any sort of romance the first half of the original book may have portrayed. I still hold the opinion that the entire series would have been better if some kind of vampire lore had been abided by, if only to see all of the villains thwarted by someone dropping a bag of rice on the ground, forcing them to have to count them all.

An ember in the Ash by Sabaa Tahir  (3/4) - This was just a very stereotypical ya fantasy series, emphasis on the YOUNG... it wasn’t anything to write home about but I remember quite enjoying it at the time. 

The Power by Naomi Alderman - This book is FUCKING incredible and EXCEPTIONALLY thought provoking... essentially women alone develop a power of electric shock etc. and then take over the world from men, and it explores feminism and the balance between equality & tipping the scales in the other direction. Written by a friend of M.Atwood in a similar tone to handmaids tale, I would say? Content warning; there are some exceptionally graphic scenes in the latter half of the novel. 

Hamlet by Wllm Shksp - I can’t believe it took me this long to finally read it but Ophelia is my favourite name in the entire world & we love to see a woman go batshit (although she didn’t deserve that). 

Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas - this was unsettling in the best sense of the word... it was a little slow & honestly more of a concept than a big reveal, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it after I finished it? A Secret History vibes but make it blurry like the memory of all those dystopian novels you read when you were young?

The Invisible Life of Addie La Rue by V.E. Schwab - This is without a doubt my book of the year, and probably the best book I read in 2020? I stayed up all night on a friend’s couch reading it, got a book hangover and reread the ending, and then thrust it upon my mother who doesn’t usually read but read this, and loved it just as much. HIGHLY recommend and you HAVE to read it, it’s beautiful and endearing and just plain wonderful.

Captive Prince by C.S. Pacat (3/3) - I went into this knowing it was going to be terrible, because I had received a blow by blow telling me as much; although I must say that it did learn a remarkable amount of new words, the books did get better as the series went on, and it did have a rather charming ending? BIG content warning for almost everything.

Sapiens by Yuval Harari - mind-expanding & must recommend for everyone, there is everything in this and I daresay everyone should posses this kind of knowledge? I listened to it as an audiobook (which I recommend because it’s rather hearty) but will be buying this in hardcopy & rereading it with annotations. 

Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller - Without a doubt, one of the most beautiful novels I have ever read, and certainly the most beautiful portrayal of the story of Achilles and the battle of Troy I have ever seen. Patroclus deserved the justice that was given to him in this book; indeed, all of the characters were written with justice and grace. Highly recommend.

Trials of Apollo by Rick Riordan (3/5) - Apollo is my favourite Greek God, and the sexiest greek god, and Rick Riordan’s writing slaps, as always. It did pain me to see Apollo, the sexy immortal, have to be forced back into a 16 year old’s body but everything else? Whimsical & wonderful, as expected. 

These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong - a retelling of Romeo and Juliette, except it’s set in Shanghai in the 1920′s, and the protagonists already have a history. Very well done, characters are incredibly diverse in race, sexual orientation, gender, and ability / disability (and honestly, representation has never appeared so effortless and elegant). Also it includes a monster and possible magic. Incredibly underrated and highly recommend.

The Once and Future Witches by Alix. E Harrow - this was such a unique concept, and truly captivating, the story was charming, and felt like the kind of beautiful fairytale you would read as children but with more grit? ABSOLUTELY recommend this one

The Pisces by Melissa Broder - I hated this so much, not my vibe at all. Mermaid smut x therapy but make it cynical and judgemental (I know there was a moral in there but that’s not my point) also the dog dies.

Library of the Unwritten by A.J. Hackwith (1/2) - really interesting & unique concept (all unwritten novels / ideas reside in a special library that is part of Hell and then sometimes the books can come to life) however, my first thought upon reading this was “this reads as if it’s stemmed from one of those writing prompt tumblr posts” bc of the tone and whatever and as it turns out I was somewhat correct, it did stem from a short story (not bad just obvious). It did kind of settle down as it went on but I found reading it kind of a drag, and I don’t think I will read the second one.

Abandon by Meg Cabot - 1. Meg Cabot’s writing always fucking slaps 2. Hades and Persephone but make it modern & very 2000′s & somehow kind of unique 3. I literally loved this, sue me

Medusa Girls (Sweet Venom) by Tera Childs - Like Percy Jackson except they are descendants of Medusa so they are Gorgons and have fangs & venom (hence the title). Gave me very 2000′s vibes? Quite cool but tbh I found the books quite short (like two hours each, if that)? Do NOT read the GoodReads description of the book before you read it, you will spoil it for yourself.

Bring me their Hearts by Sara Wolf - In my opinion, this is one of the most underrated YA series I read in 2020. The heroine is endearing, self aware, witty, and loves to look pretty even while kicking ass which in my opinion is an incredibly underrated trait. Also, immortality without being hundreds of years old? VERY sexy. HIGHLY recommend. 

A Deal with the Elf King by Elise Kova - High commendation to be given for the fact that it is a standalone and yet manages to fit in the plot of what would usually be a full fantasy trilogy without cutting corners or being a million miles long? Also sweet storyline & beautiful ending? If you liked ACOTAR you should read this as a “what would have / could have been had SJM had a different editor” (No shade I promise).

The Iron Fae by Julie Kagawa (4/4 + novellas) - Incredibly detailed faerie set around the modern world & our current use of technology & iron in it. Very neat adventure-style series, by the time I read the last novella I was well and truly done with the world (aka provided enough content to be fulfilling). Was definitely aimed at a younger audience though, NO smut / smut was brushed over.

The Modern Faerie Tales by Holly Black (3/3 SS) - This is technically the prequel to Cruel prince, set in the modern world, but with the fae world inside it as it traditional? All I have to say is that it is excellent & I highly recommend it.

Bridgerton series (The Duke and I) by Julia Quinn (9/9) - I read this after watching the Netflix show twice through and I am obsessed, although the books were not quite as elegant as the show, and some parts that made me cringe either by their portrayal (it is very firmly set in the 19th century and thus some things are not handled with tact or grace), the characters were exceptionally loveable and I am so excited to see where the show takes them! Lovely language & an abundance of words I had never seen before (always a plus). 

[vivelareine]

Down the ‘Hameau de la reine’ Wikipedia rabbit hole...

aka: “How I procrastinated on doing other things by hyperfixating on a paragraph on Wikipedia for 2 weeks.”

So, if you’ve ever wandered over to the Wikipedia page for the Hameau de la Reine, you’ve probably noticed that it contains the familiar “she dressed as a shepherdess and masqueraded herself as a peasant” myth.

This particular paragraph on the Wikipedia page stands out because it has been used repeatedly on various social sites (twitter, reddit, etc) and in some cases garners hundreds or even thousands of comments about the behavior the article is attributing to her:

“While still in power, Marie Antoinette enjoyed acting as a tableau vivant, as if she were part of a painting. She brought her idyllic, picturesque village to life by stocking the barn with animals, and bringing in "simple" people, such as milkmaids and herdsmen, to act like residents of the Hamlet. Marie Antoinette would stroll around her perfect world in simple peasants' garb with her children, part of an idealized Nature. Her closest friends joined her in her ornamental village, where they also enjoyed pretending to live a simple life. Their isolation at the Hameau caused suspicion among the French people. Already resentful of Marie Antoinette for her profligate spending in times of economic depression, the secrecy surrounding her life of amusement led to suspected hedonism and scandal.(1)”

The last sentence is the only one footnoted in this entire paragraph, and I was curious as to what exactly was being said in the book used as evidence for this particular section. The book in question, according to the Wikipedia notes, is: Pérouse de Montclos, Jean-Marie. Versailles. Trans. John Goodman. Paris: Abbeville, 1991 

I couldn’t find a digital version (not surprising for a coffee table book published in 1991!) so I found a used copy for $4 on ebay, snapped it up, and received my copy in the mail this morning.

The book only contains 2 short paragraphs about Marie Antoinette, plus a quote from a 19th century book.

Is the information footnoted present in the book? Yes! And no. And the book should definitely not be used as a footnote for this information.

Placing the rest of this under a Keep Reading for people on the dashboard! This got really long and is just me rambling about my findings, tbh.

Click “Keep Reading” to... Keep Reading!

First: Nowhere in the book do they mention anything resembling “already resentful of Marie Antoinette for her profligate spending in times of economic depression, the secrecy surrounding her life of amusement led to suspected hedonism and scandal.” The information is true--the hameau’s secrecy and Marie Antoinette’s visible spending did lead to widespread rumors. It’s just not mentioned in this book.

But now for the meatier element...

Some (but not all) of the information about ‘life at the hameau’ does actually come from this book.... but using the book as a basis for a description of life at the hameau (and footnoting this book for it) is misleading at best.

The text from the author of ‘Versailles’ actually argues against the traditional view of the hameau as a faux village. The text written by the author says that “this complex has acquired the dubious reputation of being a kind of operetta version of a small village .... the buildings intended for the queen’s use must be judged as precious and artificial, for behind their rustic exteriors were rooms worthy of the small Trianon. But the service buildings and working farm were more accurately conceived than has generally been realized.”

and

“[The hameau] is widely believed to have been  a kind of operetta version of a small village, but this reputation is unwarranted...”

The “lifestyle” information from Wikipedia is not taken from the book itself, meaning the author’s text. It’s actually derived from a quote blurb included above a photograph. The quote was translated from ‘Souvenirs d'un médecin de Paris,’ 1847 by François Louis Poumies De La Siboutie.

Reproduced here:

Siboutie, born in 1793, was a well-respected physician who--after breaking his knee, causing him to reflect on his breakneck pace of working--decided to travel extensively, keep a journal with notes, and then write memoirs based on his experiences.

His book contains countless anecdotes about history, his travels, and experiences etc. He is one of the many people during this time period to publish memoirs relating extensively to the Revolution. He relates many anecdotes about seeking out various people who played roles, large and small, in the final years of the ancien regime and subsequent revolution. He claims to talk to men who tried to save Robespierre, a woman who witnessed Marie Antoinette’s execution, and even claimed to visit Zamor and witness the man burst into tears when he was reminded of testifying against Madame du Barry.

Whether these anecdotes are true or not is... well, inconclusive. Siboutie was known to be a seeker of people with notoriety and fame, and he donated an extensive collection of autographs to the Archives nationales before his death, sparking the response that he must have known ‘many little secrets.’ It’s not impossible to believe that someone who specifically admitted to wanting to be around famous figures might seek them out and get enough information for his anecdotes.

However, in regards to the hameau description: Siboutie was not a historian and was merely relating anecdotes he’d heard about the hameau. He was not an eyewitness to life at the hameau and he wasn’t even quoting a conversation someone had with him about the hameau, as he does for other anecdotes. He merely relates what seems to be the popular image of the hameau at the time. By 1847, then, we can see the “faux peasant” style myth is already in full swing.

(Note: He also wrote that in 1847, the hameau was in a state of ‘complete degradation’ and that ‘in a few years, all these houses will have disappeared, and only the memory will remain.’ Thank goodness for the restoration work that was done within the next decade or so.)

I also noticed that the text from the ‘Versailles’ author actually directly contradicts Siboutie’s included quote--not just in the assertion that the traditional view of the hameau needs to be reevaluated, but dismissing the notion of the 19th century names of the buildings which Siboutie uses:

“In assessing the accuracy of this view, we should begin by jettisoning the names assigned to these structures in the ninteenth century (lord’s house, mayor’s house, vicarage, etc)...”

Using a quote from Siboutie (someone relating anecdotes in 1846 and not even claiming to have heard this information from a contemporary) as evidence for anything about the real activities of the hameau is insufficient for basic scholarship.

The fact that the footnote used to source the information in the Wikipedia paragraph leads to a book which 1) does not contain author-derived text confirming the information and 2) directly contradicts the quote blurb used as the basis for the Wikipedia paragraph is a frustrating example of why it’s important not to base what you know on Wikipedia articles--even if they’re sourced. If something seems off, research the sources. You’d be surprised at what you might find. (Or at what you might buy, on impulse, on ebay just to find out what was going on with a Wikipedia footnote.)

Fittingly enough, one of the links provided for more information at the bottom of the Wikipedia page leads to the official Chateau de Versailles description of the hameau:

“Contrary to the deeply-entrenched public image of Marie-Antoinette, the queen and her entourage did not “play at being farmers” amidst these bucolic surroundings, complete with sheep trussed up in ribbons. The queen actually used the hamlet as a place for relaxing walks, or to host small gatherings. The fact that the hamlet was also a functioning farm, a point upon which the queen insisted, meant that it served an educational role for the royal children.”

[davidmann95]

have you seen the KH melody of memory story stuff?

For clarity’s sake, and before I get into spoilers: I didn’t play Melody of Memory. I tried the free demo to see if I could pull off a rhythm game and quickly realized I wasn’t gonna be able to make that happen, so I’d just watch the new cutscenes on Youtube. Which is good, because aside from Kairi dispassionately narrating the broad strokes of the previous games, there’s less than an hour of actual new story content that comes at the end, which you can see here. I’m confident that I made the right choice.

So that bit of new content is wild. Character-wise the point here is Kairi, and mixed thoughts on that front. Once again she’s shafted story-wise, she doesn’t win her big fight herself* and she’s at least initially left behind for the next journey (even if hand to god it seems like this time they’re gonna follow through on her having a bigger role going forward), but this is also the most definition and personality she’s had since 2006. Her coming face-to-face with the architect of every ounce of torment she’s faced since she was a child and replying “You’re the one who keeps messing with my fate!” went a long way in reminding me that as subdued and frequently in over her head as she’s become, she’s still that cheeky kid from the beginning of the first game deep down. Also as someone who’s thought about it a LOT over the years I appreciate that she’s the first Keyblade wielder in the series to realize “wait a second, I can dematerialize it and teleport it back into my hand in a second, whenever I want? Oh yeah I’m spamming the hellllll outta this”.

* Weird that it isn’t until now, finally, that we kinda get Sora vs. Master Xehanort in a fair one-on-one fight in their regular forms without the X-Blade.

BUT THAT NEW MYTHOLOGY THOUGH???

Okay, so everything seemingly being set up with Yozora before made me go “wow, Kingdom Hearts IV seems to be really going into some Multiversity/Superdoomsday narrative territory with how it’s handling the parallel universe angle, however unknowingly! So cool!” But now? I cannot explain these latest developments unless Tetsuya Nomura is genuinely an avid fan of Grant Morrison and specifically has read Flex Mentallo.

Forget even the Morrison/Kirby-tier brain-vomit of “Hmm, so he’s been exiled to a realm outside of light and darkness...as in, the underside of reality as we know it...an UNREALITY...Sora must be in the world of fiction!”, an out-of-left-field concept download that had me gasping like a Dragon Ball character sensing a truly outrageous power level. Let me instead introduce those of you coming here through the Kingdom Hearts tag instead of my usual followers to Flex Mentallo: Man of Muscle Mystery, a 1996 superhero miniseries by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely about a very nice superhero whose power is that he can do literally anything by flexing his muscles and posing dramatically, initially conceived of by Morrison as a loving parody of this classic comics ad. He believes himself to have been pulled from the pages of comics into the ‘real world’ by his deceased young creator, Wally Sage, and goes on an adventure to find one of his old teammates who also seems to have become ‘real’. At the same time, we’re watching an adult Wally Sage in something much more recognizable as the real world calling a suicide hotline to talk as he overdoses about his love for comics, and particularly the superhero he made up in his own childhood, Flex Mentallo.

There’s a lot more that goes on in there, and multiple levels of subjective reality beyond even what I just noted that aren’t always fully explained. But the point in terms of how it relates here (and spoilers for one of the best comics of all time): one of the big reveals of the final issue is that the heroes of the comics world that Flex came from and that Wally read as a child were real, but wiped out in a catastrophic cosmic crisis beyond their ability to stop. In order to survive, they converted themselves into fictional characters within the new version of the universe that came after said crisis, although they intended to return when the time is right.

This is literally exactly the big final reveal about the Lost Masters here.

The idea of them as hailing from ‘the world of fairytales’ means something completely different now, and Scala ad Caelum’s connection to it becomes even more important (no wonder that’s where Yen Sid’s sending Mickey to start looking). How much is this the classic DC and modern Multiversity idea of “different universes communicate with each other through their works of fiction, nodding and winking at the real-world boundaries of fiction and the medium but not going all the way” with what we’ve heard about the Worldlines and how much is this entirely literally Sora being trapped in a parody Final Fantasy game on Earth-Toy Story the way he’s hopped before into the Hundred Acre Wood? And why did Xehanort care when he wanted to destroy all of existence anyway? Before I found @kitsoa‘s notion of this building to a ‘Metacatastrophe’ where the fourth wall is broken outright fascinating but probably going too far, but now, shit, maybe? If nothing else I’d love to see their thoughts on Flex, and also if my theory was wrong and Tetsuya Nomura is the Master of Masters and villain after all I want him vs. Sora to end like that one scene from Flex that anyone who’s read it immediately knows I’m talking about.

And finally, aside from or perhaps hand-in-hand with freaking out at my two predominant hyperfixations suddenly converging in such incredibly specific ways after almost 20 years of buildup: I liked that while all the other characters in the credits glide Hercules does the Superman flying pose, which is probably as close as we’ll ever get to Disney officially saying “yeah, yeah, we know”.

[qqueenofhades]

Hilaryyyyy your Old Guard fic has ruined my life as I knew it would. When I found it on ao3 yesterday, let out an irl cackle and had to constantly remind myself to wait until the work day was over to begin reading (the joys and perils of working from home in these Covid times, gotta stay on top of my shit myself). [1/7]

Now I've been following you for years (if this can be a timestamp: one of the earliest fic of yours that I can recall reading was a Gladiator-style Captain Swan piece that truly and physically ripped my heart to shreds. Like: real life chest pain) and thought I knew what I was getting into. I know you're a historian so I figured this would be rich with (accurate!) detail. It was that and more: so immersive, so /educational/, so everything. [2/7] 

And this is all before getting into the Nicky/Joe of it all. I read through a lot of the ao3 comments as well (is that weird? I wasn't ready to leave the space the fic created yet so I kept the ball rolling in a different way) and like I saw a couple people mention, the characterizations went differently than I had envisioned yet felt so right, I was sold. [3/7] 

The thing about the movie that grabbed me (amongst the other 283737 things that I loved) was how, in every scene, in every way, yet without ever beating us over the head with it: Joe and Nicky just /fit/. Like the sky is blue, the Earth is round, Joe and Nicky were made for each other. [4/7] 

Now I have shipped many a couple in my old age, but this has been the quietest, most solid love story I've witnessed, without it even being the focus of the movie and once the 2 hours flew by, I knew I needed a prequel, a sequel, and a 6+ season series and to know all that is and ever was about these two. (And Andy and Booker and Quynh, but that is not where I am going with this ramble). [5/7] 

The way you took them from their start to the end in 1995 had me hooked and I just want to thank you for it. You treated them as individuals made it understandable why they are so perfect for each other by the time we meet them in the movie. They were just so real and I loved it. [6/7]

I don't even know how to end this unending word spiral (and if I've lost you, don't worry because I'm pretty sure I lost myself at this point) but I just want to say that: I know you are a historian, I know you are a writer, yet this amazed me and I hope you never have doubts that those two endeavours are your calling. Thank you for the art! 🙏🏻 [7/7] 

Oh wow, this is so long and so lovely, thank you so much. (Also, may I applaud your Mad Skills in knowing that this would take 7 asks to send; I am impressed by that and even more by the fact that Tumblr didn’t eat any of them, as I’m sure it was longing to do.)

As I said to another follower since the Captain Swan days: truly, I must thank you for putting up with God knows what and God knows how many spirals and new ships and hyperfixations since then (that started like... 8 years ago Jesus Christ). And yes, aha, When in Rome was like one of my earlier or at least early-ish fics for them, and was known for causing pain back then (I come by my url honestly). Memories.

As for how I characterized Joe and Nicky in their backstories: I don’t tend to read TONS of fanon (usually just what pops up on my dash) so I can’t speak to how they’re characterized in other fics, but for me, I am always a Ho for that sweet sweet character development, and for exploring how characters are flawed, how they change and grow, how their experiences affect them, and how they begin in one place and end in another. (Plus, we know that I also love me some of that Trash Man Character Development, especially if they’re actively trying harder to be a good person.) I’m also very invested in the idea that kindness a) isn’t just being passive and letting things happen to you, but requires action and fierceness and commitment and other things that usually come to you by experience, and b) that it’s a choice you make and have to keep making. So obviously we see Nicky struggle and grow with that over the centuries and even after everything that happens to him (and with Joe as well, of course; they both have to do it in their own ways), but that’s not necessarily where he starts out in 1099 and it’s something that has to come to him over (many, many) years. He’s a good man, but it’s raw, and it’s messy, and all this obviously horrible stuff is happening to both of them, and that’s not the easiest way to be constantly optimistic. When he’s still optimistic about things in 1995, it’s despite everything he’s seen, and which he has had to consciously choose over and over, the same way all of them have.

Likewise, not of course to rain on anyone’s parade who headcanons the two of them getting together in the First Crusade itself, but I just could not possibly imagine that happening. There’s just too much that they have to go through with their realizations about immortality and about each other and the sack of Jerusalem and everything else, and of course they’d run away and drag their feet and have shock and trauma over it and etc. (Besides, I need me a good enemies to lovers with proper buildup, so yes.) Their entire WORLD comes unglued and I wanted to process that properly for both of them as individuals before moving to writing them as a couple, and anyway. Yes. Of course they had to take a hundred years to figure their shit out and work through their emotions and come to a place where they could get together and then continue to make choices both for themselves and for each other.

.... the point is, I love them. I love them so very much and you’re right, they just FIT, they’re meant for each other, I adore every bit of the cheesy romantic tropes they’re given and I eat them up with a gd spoon. It just Hits Different when it’s the star-crossed immortal enemies to lovers One True Love romantic fairytale gay crusaders couple, ya feel? (As once more, I ruefully reflect how PAINFULLY they are exactly my type. And I also need all the content. Immediately.)

Anyway. I will likewise curtail this ramble here, but thanks again, and I’m so glad that you enjoyed it!