#alpha trite

[scentedpoetrywitch]

both amphi and alpha are both female twins ( you know why ? ) because they both have tanned skin and fuller lips with an identicle facial expression's !

[shushmal]

okay but i really need like a regency steddie omegaverse fic??

like, the harringtons are a declining family name, wealth squandered by the current harrington senior until he has nothing left but his house and his useless son—a male omega, barely even good enough stock to marry off, even when a dowery and the proper son-in-law would turn the harrington reputation right back around. but no respectable alpha will look at his son for more than a quick turn in the sheets. that is, until the name munson is dropped by one of the few elite that will still rub elbows with harrington senior. munson is new money (his considerable wealth won fighting in some trite war across the ocean, probably stolen or pillaged) a graying man with only a nephew for a heir to that fortune. an alpha nephew.

and harrington senior smells his opportunity.

[tlgtw]

//Spoilers for Everything in AC6: Fires of Rubicon//

The Meaning of the Motif of "Borrowed Wings" and how G5 Iguazu Exists to Reinforce It

What seems to fly over everyone's heads about G5 Iguazu is that the point of his character is how 'deciding upon a goal and having the willpower to strive for it, no matter what' is literally as important as the line between life and death.

You need to find a purpose for yourself that you personally believe in. Cause no matter how grand or how petty that purpose is, if you don't have one... you die!

With whether or not you actually succeed at that goal being completely irrelevant... to your conviction for it.

(Something, something, it's the ambition that you're living for, not whether or not you get the accolades at the end.)

A moral proclaiming the importance of "deciding upon a purpose of your own free will, and then pursuing that goal no matter what setbacks you encounter" is all nice and easy when you're main character e621, who experiences no setbacks because, as the player, you're necessarily going to be strongest fighter in the galaxy.

But it's pretty obvious how trite that is on its own, where your only canonical character trait is that you always win no matter what.

And so, Iguazu's purpose narratively is to show how, beyond any ounce of doubt whatsoever, that 'winning' is not a relevant part in what makes "having a purpose" so important, or so necessary.

In essence: It's what makes Iguazu live.

Start of the Game: Volta and Iguazu both want to beat up Michigan.

- Volta gives up, and then he gets sent by Michigan to die at the Wall.

- Iguazu deserts. And he does not die at the Wall.

After Gallia Dam he send you hatemail to say that the Redguns will scale the wall, but Iguazu himself doesn't even approach the Wall after this. As G4 Volta's last words reveal, he deserts before the operation is attempted.

Iguazu *himself* watches from the sidelines, costing him no less than an almost certain death like Volta's.

And the reason Iguazu changes his mind about scaling the wall with the Redguns is because, after Gallia Dam, Iguazu decides upon his purpose. His personal conviction.

Iguazu personal goal becomes -> He wants to kill you.

We love pathetic boys.

But the reason Iguazu deserts for the sake of this new goal is specifically because he wants to become stronger than 621, and not want his obligations as part of the Redguns to get in the way of this goal of his, he goes independent.

--- Correction ---

Iguazu deserts the Redguns at Watchpoint Alpha, prior to the death of G1 Michigan. He doesn't desert the Redguns at the Wall, he only goes Away WithOut Leave. The reason for which he goes AWOL being to take independent work, as we see an example of at Grid 086. Outcomes of everything are still the same, I just mixed up the order.

Also;

Volta: "Iguazu, listen, like, Michigan really like cares about us...! It's like we're part of his family, man, just give him a chance."

Volta: *Gives Michigan a chance*

Volta: *Gets killed under the leadership of G1 Michigan*

It's really funny but sad.

It's also really funny and sad how effective at Yank-bait G1 Michigan was.

But it's illustrative of how effective it is to break down someone's expectations and feelings of self-worth to legit 0, such that empty platitudes like simply saying the right words, like the names of the expendables themselves or to bring in the medical teams after a battle (as if they wouldn't have come otherwise?), will leave such an impression that they think you really do care about them--even in despite of how worthless they obviously are~!

And all at the same time as your direct actions and orders lead them straight to their meaningless avoidable deaths.

What could be more cost-efficient for your employers than soldiers who're literally suicidal for you, right?

Ha!

--- ---

And not only does this decision directly lead to Iguazu not dying at the Wall, but, no longer squeezed under G1 Michigan's boots, G5 even directly improves as a fighter.

This is shown in how his AI differs between his fighting at the Gallia Dam--where he's overly defensive, constantly having his shield up, despite wielding two guns.

And then, later at the Grid--where he actually fights aggressively like his AC's loadout is built for.

The second major encounter with Iguazu is Watchpoint Alpha where he either fights you directly, and dies there. Or he hires Coldcall to kill you, and survives elsewhere. Again, this is an instance of Iguazu's legitimate determination towards his chosen goal directly separating him from life and death.

When he hires Coldcall, Iguazu focuses on his goal, and let's go of distractions like his personal pride and image.

Ridiculous, right? Iguazu letting go of his pride?

But consider how it's directly Iguazu's personal feelings that lead him to facing 621 personally. He doesn't *just* want to kill you in that instant, he wants the glory of killing you as well.

But the accolades at the end aren't what makes it worthy to pursue a chosen goal.

Iguazu wants 621 dead. And when he hires Coldcall, this is him coming to terms with pursuing his goal, regardless of his personal setbacks. Iguazu faces the fact that he personally wouldn't be able to kill you. And, because he comes to term with this setback, he finds an alternative method that would still lead towards fulfilling his chosen purpose.

To confirm, of course, Iguazu's purpose is really dumb and terrible. But it's not whether one's chosen purpose is 'a good goal' or not that the value of pursuing it comes from. The value comes from it being one you decided for yourself, as opposed to, for, for example, by a corporation's profits. (Not a coincidence narratively how Balam's forces, united most in their complete idolization of G1 Michigan, following *his* word no matter what even knowingly to their deaths, are the deadmost losers in the story.)

Unlike for example e621's chosen conviction, or Rusty's chosen conviction, (Also no coincidence narratively that G1 Michigan, who only exists as the weapon of his corporation and put out a bounty for his own assassination--expressing how he has no personal plans for the future and literally wants to die--is guaranteed to be taken out by either of these two, no matter what.)

It's not the loftiness of a goal that determines if it's of worth to decide upon one of your own free will and pursue it in the first place.

The 'value' of pursuing a goal is unrelated to what that goal itself is.

What makes pursuing a goal valuable, is the conviction.

You don't have to be smart. You don't have to be emotionally mature. You don't have to be a good fighter. You don't even have to be brave.

You just need to choose your purpose and follow it.

This is what the motif of 'wings' and 'borrowed wings' are all about in the story as well. It's about pursuing a goal that was chosen by someone else, versus pursuing a goal that was chosen by you yourself.

"They choose what to fight for, and take to the skies in flight."

"One cannot fly on borrowed wings" in this case literally meaning that if you pursue a goal not because you want it, but because someone else wants it, it will directly lead to your death.

Criticizing their "borrowed wings" is what Ayre and Rusty chastise the RLF for for solely repeating slogans and "not bothering to think [for themselves]."

And Iguazu, deciding he doesn't care about how he'd be seen by others, and only caring for the goal itself to be accomplished. Survives, where Coldcall dies in his place.

Coldcall, a far superior fighter to Iguazu. Dies, instead of Iguazu, because he was flying for Iguazu's purpose -> Fighting on borrowed wings.

Etc etc "this is hell, we're in hell!" and so on and in the Alea Iacta Est true ending of the game Iguazu, outta nowhere!, becomes the legit Final Boss of Armored Core 6.

How the hell did this 4th-gen AC pilot, otherwise a completely random nobody without a purpose not given to him by his employer, get to outer space and stuff, right?

Well, consider how the complete rando that was e621 does the same: Their personal conviction.

"But Iguazu only got to become the final boss out of dumb luck," right? ALLMIND chose him for little else but that he was the only old-gen Augmented Human that was still alive. If ALLMIND wasn't there, he couldn't have accomplished anything, so obviously it can't actually be meaningful.

But how would 621 have escaped Institute City without being rescued by Carla? How would we have escaped Arquebus re-education without the AC that Handler Walter secretly assembled left for us?

And, most relevantly here since this is the Alea Iacta Est route itself: How would 621 have known about V.II Snail planning to ambush you in Institute City without ALLMIND herself's very assistance?

C4-621 is, at a glance, just as much a recipient of dumb luck as Iguazu.

But thematically, it's not pure happenchance.

It's the results of the both of these characters continuing to fight for a cause they chose to believe in, no matter what.

So Iguazu survives. He survives the hijacking of Watchpoint Alpha by ALLMIND. And he even goes so far as to survive the hijacking of his own brain by ALLMIND, taking over the final boss even after being assimilated.

"What essential difference made ACs superior to unpiloted craft?"

The answer is simple -> One cannot fly on borrowed wings.

Unpiloted craft can never have a purpose that is actually their own. They exist only for the person who's wings they borrow--who's purpose they serve--who built them.

That's why piloted ACs are better. *Not* on borrowed wings, in this case, they can fly higher.

For C4-621, that chosen goal is to achieve Coral Release. (Since it's is still the mission you yourself choose that finally puts you on the Alea Iacta Est route or not, it fits within the theme of free will. Even though, as a videogame, there's an obvious limit to just *how* much free will the player is actually able to express. Within the story, however, when 621 chooses the mission to begin the path to an ending, that's them deciding for themselves 100% that's that the goal they want to achieve, no matter what.)

For Iguazu, that chosen goal is to kill you. (The goal he wants to achieve, no matter what.)

And so, because he was not flying on borrowed wings. Iguazu survives fucking everything. Stupid wings, yeah. But that just shows: What matters is only that they were his own.

Even against the most powerful super duper AI mastermind that ALLMIND was, the biggest loser on Earth, G5 Iguazu, survived.

Where even she is made to give way to Iguazu's conviction -> Killing e621.

Hammering this point home is why "I'm only here for what *I* want! I don't care about ALLMIND's goals, just my own!" is basically the only thing Iguazu says across like 2 entire 3rds of the final boss.

Iguazu's chosen goal is not ultimately successful.

But it wasn't whether or not Iguazu ultimately killed 621 in Rubicon's exosphere that lead to him not dying at the Wall like G4 Volta, or at Watchpoint Alpha like G1 Michigan and Coldcall, or upon the destruction of his physical body by ALLMIND.

It was his conviction that lead him past those things. His WINGS!

He chose what to fight for, and he fought for it.

On the wings of his free will, Iguazu flew above even the very clouds of Rubicon itself.

And that's why he was the Final Boss.

The only thing able to finally kill him being the person with a conviction even greater, C4-621.

(As a sidenote; Taking account of the main moral of Armored Core 6 really puts into perspective how many trillions of times it gets repeated explicitly across the game lol.

VS Rusty, VS Rusty when he calls you "power without a purpose," VS Cinder Carla, VS Handler Walter, Ayre's description of what the name "Raven" is literally supposed to mean, etc.

They all talk about how you've chosen your path and you'd made sacrifices to get this far and you finally have a conviction that is your own and how big a deal that is and so on.)

[ashen-sky]

Personal highlights from...

Red vs Blue The Ultimate Fan Guide

In honor of s19 and the continuation of where s13 left off, here are some highlights from the ultimate fan guide published back in 2015. I've been re-watching the show and it made me want to flip back through the guide. (Everything is sort of in the order it appears in the book, with a few exceptions)

Delta appears as a guide of sorts with fun facts

Caboose's position is listed as "Team Rookie/Occasional Captain/ Church's Best Friend" (it is actually struck out in the book)

He is also the only one listed with the title Captain, appearing as "Private/Captain Michael J. Caboose" (due to Wash "promoting" him, in the canyon on chorus)

Tucker is "Private First Class", Church, Donut, and Simmons are "Private"s, Sarge is listed as a "Colonel" under rank (the other Red's and Blue's ranks appears with their name while his is under "position"), and Grif is "Minor Junior Private, Negative First Class"

Wash used to be a chronic bed wetter (thanks D)

There's also a six page transcript of his psych eval prior to PF where we find out he injured a commanding officer because he wanted to "send everyone to their deaths", he also put a former bully through a mirror in fifth-grade

Grif is stated to have been assigned to Blood Gulch because he was the only survivor of an alien attack on a colony during the great war, he fell asleep at his post and everyone assumed he was KIA

Donut's position is listed as "On all fours... cleaning Red bade"

Doc's profile is "Doc/ O'Malley" and the whole thing lists both their interests, i.e "Position: Canyon Medic, Galactic Overlord"

Andy's (the bomb) name is "Andrew D. Kaboom"

Sheila and Filss share a page

Tex's notable attributes are "Kicking ass (and nuts), being a mean lady, and resurrection"

The password to unlock the file on Beta that CT left behind was "Allison" (Thanks again D)

York's page comments "Several reports were filed against Agent York claiming he and Agent Carolina had something of a "personal" relationship [...] Freelancer Command was unable to find any proof to support these accusations."

One of his notable attributes is "watching his right side" and his position is "team scoundrel"

Eta and iota (Carolina's AIs) were "fear and happiness"

According to the official time line, Carolina was around 6 when Allison died (Allison died 23 years before Blood Gulch and Carolina was born 29 years before)

Wyoming's real name is Reginald

South Dakota's Status is listed as "Extra Crispy"

Smith once spent two days contemplating in silence what Caboose meant when he said his favorite color was "Happy"

Dr. Grey's position is "(Mad) Doctor", she was considered a prodigy at age 11 when she diagnosed every patient in House M.D. within five minutes of their introduction, and she thinks Grey's Anatomy is "far too trite"

Felix and Locus' names are listed as Unknown in the book, but I do believe their names were revealed in a s14 episode

The counselor advised the director to tell Tex that Alpha was in Blood Gulch to protect him and stop her from investigating the project

Notable Features of Blood Gulch include "Avoid Tucker's Rock at all costs, as it has not been properly sterilized"

BTS from D: The opening shot of Season 6 was created by shooting players moving in different quadrants and combining the shots"

Important events at High Ground, "Washington killed Agent south in cold blood- with a much less cold flamethrower."

Fact from D: "Once a year, Reds and Blues stationed at Rat's Nest still pay tribute to Agent Alabama by sending a flaming mongoose soaring through the night sky."

Donut likes to spend his leisure time in Federal Army Outpost 37, in the jail cells in handcuffs

The statistics pages, 9 pages of stats from number of robots murdered (112) to Church's sniper rifle accuracy (9.3%)

Bow Chicka Bow Wow was first said in season 4, and Simmons never sucked up in season 12, season one had the most "son of a bitch"s at 14 Donut made 32 accidental innuendos, and the odd number of pedals in vehicles was called out on five occasions Tucker has the highest kill count of all reds and blues (counting wash and Tex), at 24 followed by donut at 22 and Tex at 21, Caboose is the lowest at 2 raised by Lopez and 3 and Church at 8 Sarge has threatened/wished death on Grif 56 times, and Donut has nearly died five times Seasons 2 and 9 had the lowest kill counts Carolina had the highest flash back kills at 68 in season ten, and the twins are tied at 23 kills in season nine

Tex's attack to free Alpha was 2 years before Blood Gulch, the great war ended 1 year after Alpha arrived in Blood Gulch and after the Wyoming incident in Blood Gulch (where they tried to kidnap junior), Chorus takes place 5 years after Alpha initially arrived in Blood Gulch

The mission books has adorable illustrations (they look like Caboose's guides from s14)

There's a mindmap for all the Leonard and Allison iterations and they they connect

Sarge has a guide on how to build a robot, scented lube is preferred, along with mad scientist goggles, a cup of baking soda, and seventeen tablespoons of sugar

More silly plans with fun diagrams

Donut's diary, D tells us that Donut washes his underwear on tuesday's

Caboose's Wisdom section on: feelings, relationships, army etiquette (including gems like crayons don't work as bullets. Use markers.), life, and the reds and blues

Simmons made a text based adventure games

BTS from D, the story of Simmons refusing to go to the Vegas Quadrant is a reference to Gus Sorola (Simmons' VA) refusing to go to Las Vegas with the rest of the rvb creators

You can find the case against Sergeant Grif from the reds at rat's Nest (he was selling red team's ammo to Caboose before he was locked up in the brig, Private Jones wore a wire tap to help the red's catch Grif's under the table dealings)

Leonard met Allison in the mess hall during basic training where he pissed off another recruit and Allison had to save his ass (Church was right, Carolina get's her temper from her mom)

I'm Church. private Church. Leonard. Leonard Church." the only thing I cared about in that moment was that she knew my name. She smiled. Her smile could light up solar systems. "Kind of a funny name. Church." "It's Jewish."

I spent the rest of basic chasing after her. In some ways, I never stopped.

Here's hoping non of our beloved idiots die in season 19! I mean, I know Church will be gone, but the others... they deserve a happy ending.

Also I miss the freelancers and AI...

[buckybarnesss]

Touch and eye contact are the Sterek trademarks. It's always heavy, intense eye contact, and different ways that they touch each other.

Season 1 and 2, it's very tentative. Derek takes Stiles' hand for help up off the ground (and the gentle face touching!!), the infamous wall push happens (which is very gentle, honestly, like Derek does not hurt Stiles.)

Derek reacts badly when a boundary is broken. Stiles makes him strip, Derek pushes his head against the steering wheel.

By the time season 3 comes along, they're very casual with one another. Winking, smirking, Derek reaching out and grabbing Stiles, Stiles grabbing Derek's wrist.

It's insane. Season 3 happens 3 or 3 months after season 2, and they are already comfortable with each other. Relaxed. And it's not shocking to anybody BUT Scott; Peter is visibly amused by their antics.

All of this potential is why there's a billion fics about what happened during the summer break.

riggghhht. it's insane.

part of the reason people love season 3 so much isn't because of the plot. it's because the show founds it's grove with the characters which enhanced the plot. they're established with not only the audience but with each other. they're able to play off each other in various ways that they couldn't in the previous 2 seasons.

derek and stiles in s3 and 4 had gotten to a place where they could be playful and understand each other with just intense eye contact (horny, horny eye contact).

smoke and mirrors with them in the back of the van trying to help liam? peak sterek behavior.

stiles learns derek's boundaries without some trite conversation about it and derek only retaliates for the most egregious one in wolf's bane and it makes sense as to why derek reacted that way. "you know what that was for" indeed.

stiles's finger taps in currents is a call back to the moment in shape shifted. he is silently asking to touch derek to offer comfort and support in a moment of sorrow. boyd having been killed and derek's body being used as the weapon against his will. there is nothing stiles can do for boyd in that moment but he isn't too late to help derek.

derek's absence fucks stiles up in s5. he is emotionally rocked by losing someone who he has this kind of relationship with. someone who understands without him having to verbalize. they got each other.

than derek's just gone.

(though i will never be convinced stiles wasn't blowing up derek's phone with memes at 2am).

it definitely flies under the radar in tattoo. there's a whole little subtextual plotline where scott realizes derek and stiles are not only friendly but clearly have been working together over the summer.

it's part of why scott starts to remove the stick from his ass about derek so that by frayed he's messed up at derek's supposed death.

like, stiles gets defensive on derek's behalf when scott brings up going to him about his tattoo problem pointing out derek's had his hands full in looking for erica and boyd over the intervening months.

i genuinely don't think scott knew what had occurred with erica and boyd. i don't think he was expressly told. allison probably didn't tell him out of shame and derek didn't want to involve him. stiles kept it to himself too and instead worked with derek. scott was pointedly kept out of the loop.

in tattoo you also have derek tracking stiles around the room with his eyes for a billon seconds for no reason.

the casual titty grab way derek stops stiles from leaving.

the ending when scott discovers the painted over alpha pack symbol and that whole everything. scott realizes that no only was stiles helping derek without him know but also withheld knowing about the alpha pack. stiles isn't surprised and is in the background awkwardly trying not to draw attention to himself. isaac wakes up before scott can question him.

it's top 10 anime betrayals.

and chaos rising -- a whole episode later -- there's the fisting jokes, and the bank heist planning and scott being like "in front of my salad" while peter is amused in the background because peter's been seeing this behavior for weeks now and isn't surprised.

tl:dr stiles and derek genuinely are friends by season 3 and we know what they did over the summer. the show just doesn't bother to beat you over the head with it because there's enough context clues to tell you.

[cakegatedisaster]

Pookie do you have any a/b/o verse headcNons you cans share 🥺

DO I

Okay so I'll try to split these up between the sfw ones and the nsfw ones

1. The omegaverse is a biological mutation that progressed along with the base need for further populating the world and a return to base human instincts is ONE of the origin stories I have

2. The other one is that abo people are descended from a world where everyone was a werewolf, or something like that, and as the shifting gene faded, some animal characteristics remained

3. This one is stolen from an awesome abo book series on Kindle Unlimited called Ocean Port Omegas and it is PEAK crack writing, so read them, and the idea is that there are certain religions where Jesus was either an alpha or an omega, and that helps to justify the religious group's treatment of alphas/omegas. In one cult-ish space, Jesus and his disciples were Alphas, and the lone omega was Judas, who betrayed them and that, in turn, meant that all omegas were untrustworthy and thus inherently lesser than alphas.

4. I don't really like it when the omega is treated as almost the 'girl' and faces sexism, it just feels so heavy-handed and trite. I DO enjoy the internal resentment an individual can feel when they 'present' as a certain designation, as well as the potential for disphoria when doing something that seems to go against their designation.

5. I prefer characters presenting with puberty over being born with a designation, it leaves a lot of room for angst and assumptions to be made.

Okay these might get slightly for nsfw now

6. Biologically, I like it when male omegas are intersex, as in they have both a penis and a vagina. It just helps my mental image of where they can get pregnant

7. This might be controversial, but I LOVE the pregnancy trope, and seeing the different ways a mm couple can deal with it are one of my favorite aspects of omegaverse.

8. Heats- ... This one is tricky, because I have conflicting ideas. I like the idea that they're different kinds of heats, with the sexual-based ones being solely for a mate or heat partner, but at the same time, heat in and of itself is for the purpose of reproducing, meaning it doesn't make a lot of sense for there to be different kinda. In my mind, heats hit around 13-14, as kind of a lesser version with little to no sex-base to get the body used to the toll it takes, then transforming as they grow to become solely about reproducing around 17/18/19, or when the body reaches physical maturity.

9. As much as 'sex crazed and mindless' is fun for smut, I think omegas retain most of their critical thinking skills, just with a lot more horniness and desire as their bodies prepare for mating, only losing it slightly at the height of the heat, leaving the body adequate time to prepare and be in a safe place.

10. I'm not the biggest fan of an omega's worst enemy being their own body, again it feels a bit trite, and like it much more when they're simply seen as people with different needs.

11. I do sometimes like the mental separation some authors write between a characters inner self and their inner alpha/omega, but it can be done really bad if there's too much reliance on it or if it acts as an excuse for certain behaviors.

[museenkuss]

High maintenance women. Alpha men. Girlweep rot coquette girls. Incel guys. Everyone is so trite and boring, it’s getting really hard to handle. Like you can’t be serious.

[sarahowritesostucky]

In Search of a Beta 💖📝

Hey all!

As I make my way through this process of writing my current book, I am seeking somebody who has interest in helping with any of the following:

Beta reading for grammatical, punctuation, & spelling errors.

Beta reading for flow, readability, & first impressions

Beta reading for plot, continuity, & character development

If English is your native language, that's really the only requirement. I don't have a college degree in anything and I try not to take myself too seriously.

You'd be great for this if you have a willingness to be honest and aren't afraid to hurt my feelings in pursuit of literary excellence.

You'd be great for this if you are comfortable with heavy smut, M/F/M, and enjoy most of the story's themes (werewolves, snowed-in, enemies-to-lovers, a/b/o, social injustice/dystopia, pregnancy, gendered powerplay dynamics).

And most of all, you'd be great for this if you're a friendly fanfic nerd like me!

I will be very pleased to credit you as an editor/beta/contributor on the project's copyright page.

I am happy to beta works in return, if you are a writer yourself.

I'm not asking for a massive committment: if somebody only has x amount of help to give, that's help I'll gladly take! And if you think you'd like to help but then find you want to stop, no hard feelings!

(btw: I realize the book summary is SO godawfully trite, but that's just marketing. The writing itself isn't like that 🤣.)

"Eight months trapped in a cabin with two very sexy alpha werewolves and no birth control. That won't end badly"-- said literally no one ever

When her attempt to reinvent herself as an influencer doesn't go as planned, Bohdana "Bo" Harding winds up injured and stranded in the Idaho wilderness with less than three thousand followers, two werewolf captors, zero cell reception, and not much clue as to who she really is or what she truly wants.

Verne and Lucas Dearbourne have lived isolated in the mountains for years, and they've all but given up on the notion of a traditional pack life. But with an unclaimed female snowed into their cabin for the winter, both alphas' urges to mate and breed come raging back to the forefront of their minds. How long can they hold back from claiming what they want?

A shifter MMF romance that explores themes of dominance and submission, found family, and tapping into one's hidden, primal nature.

If your interest is piqued or if you have more questions, comment below - or better yet, shoot me a message!

[semper-legens]

160. Punk 57, by Penelope Douglas

Owned: No, library Page count: 315 My summary: Ryen and Mischa are the best of friends. Thanks to a mixup between their schools, they ended up pen pals and never stopped writing to each other. Now, at the end of their school lives, there are a lot of things changing in their lives - but their friendship is going to stay constant, right? But Mischa's life is falling apart after the death of his sister. When he sneaks into Ryen's school, things are going to change... My rating: 1/5 My commentary:

Punk 57 annoyed me. Here's a book that seemed to have an interesting premise from the get-go - two kids who are penpals destined never to meet, until one day they do and find that they are different to how they were assuming. But in execution? About a third of the way in I realised that I did not care about these kids at all and that, furthermore, the whole premise of the book was just a weak excuse for a semi-badboy 'romance' which rivals Twilight in its creepiness. I know some people are probably into this kind of thing. And given how much emphasis is placed on the (copious!) sex scenes, I assume it's meant to be hot over anything. But I'm sorry, I just can't get past how terrible these two are, particularly Mischa. And how the plot just…wasn't.

Let's start with Mischa, since he's the most egregiously terrible of the duo. Mischa starts out at an event put on by his band, where he sees Ryen. He doesn't recognise her, but thanks to her distinct name he can identify that it's her. He assumes she's there for him, and kinda awkwardly stands near her in the hopes that she will notice him. She does not, because she's not there for him, because why would she be? She doesn't know what he looks like. Months later, he needs to infiltrate her school for a very convoluted reason as 'Masen', and ends up in a relationship with her. And not telling her that he's her childhood friend. Ever. And even apart from that, he's creepy and manipulative - he constantly pushes Ryen past her boundaries, doesn't respect her saying no, belittles and mistreats her, acts like she's the worst person in the world for *checks notes* being a Popular Girl in high school and not telling him that, lies to her, lies to her, lies to her, and lies to her. But he's a hot punk badboy, so all is forgiven! I could find no redeeming quality about Mischa. Even the thing that's meant to humanise him - his sister dies during the prologue, and we learn exactly why later, she had a heart attack while jogging because she was pushing herself to be better to please their birth mother - is just trite. Ah yes, inventing a fridged woman with no characterisation to give a male character more development. Truly, the best trope. He breaks into her house, he abuses her, he gives her the nickname 'Rocks' which turns out to be short for 'dumb as a box of' - a great romantic lead! Respecter of women! Ugh. Oh, and he dumps polaroids of semi-naked women all over Ryen's terrible boyfriend's mother's bed (that the boyfriend had taken, not Mischa) in order to shame him, as though their nudes getting out wouldn't affect the women. Classy!

Meanwhile, Ryen…I was trying so hard to like Ryen. After all, her main flaws were 'not entirely honest about herself' and 'friends with the stereotypical Mean Girl/Jock squad', which is small potatoes next to Mischa's rap sheet. The trouble for me was that she didn't get much in the way of development at all. She was afraid of being an outcast, of losing her social standing, so every part of how she presented herself was a calculated performance to be that Mean Girl alpha kind of personality, including hiding her asthma and true interests. The trouble is that we never really got a good sense for who the 'real' Ryen was the whole time? For all that we're supposed to be shocked that Ryen was misrepresenting herself to Mischa, we never really see the Ryen that Mischa knew - hell, we never even get to see that many of the letters they sent to one another, outside a couple of excerpts. So I was never quite sure why I was meant to sympathise with her, who I was meant to be rooting for. It doesn't help that her narrative voice is like every character in her archetype, the kind of will-I-won't-I, he's-bad-but-I-love-him, I-seem-shallow-but-I'm-really-deep mindset. There just wasn't anything there to distinguish her.

And as to the non-romance side of the plot, it was…boring? It rarely came up, and was incredibly convoluted when you put it all together. See, Ryen's terrible boyfriend (not Mischa, the jock) has a bracelet that belonged to Mischa's dead sister, only he doesn't have it, his mother has it. Well, stepmother. Who is also Mischa's bio-mother. Who doesn't recognise him when 'Masen' gets pulled into the principal's office, because she's also the principal. I just…if Mischa knew she had it the whole time, why couldn't he have just broken into her house? Why all of this? This plot barely ever comes up, it's mostly the drama between Mischa and Ryen, but there's just nothing to it. Nothing interesting. It's just boring, and doesn't carry the weight of the horrible romance. Miss this book, is what I'm saying.

Next up, to a dystopian world, obeying a simple command.

[textual-deviant-blog]

Haven't seen anyone talk about the heat death of the universe, lately.

- Ai-generated piece by user 'Darwhim.ai', "Mortal Redemption"

I'm hoping to eventually study the science behind that theory, get some knowledge that will help me in my writing, but for now I just want to provoke the idea some more.

When you give it some thought, it's possibly, at once, one of the most terrifying and trite things in existence. We'll never live long enough to ever have it affect us in any way, but the fear behind it is the inexorable quality it has; the inevitable erasure of everything we've built up, as a species, as a society, as an individual.

It is the Alpha and Omega of science fiction, one of the greatest existential crises people experience, and... again, none of us will ever live long enough that it matters.

As I sit here at my desk, pondering consciousness and all manner of things, the thought that people have gone mad over this, the thought that people have let their lives be destroyed by this notion? It's ridiculous, in the same manner that people still crying over the towers collapsing, every year, on that fateful date, feels ridiculous.

Everyone who more easily disconnects from the thoughts that bring them pain views these sorry individuals with pity. It's funny, because everyone barring the most sociopathic at least felt a passing terror over them. It's a universal experience, and something we universally ignore.

Some may, instead, have optimistic theories of their own, the Big Crunch being the most well known. We want to feel optimistic about a future we'll never see, the matter of how realistic or supported that future is by what we know... being somewhat irrelevant.

This isn't a psychological analysis. The conclusion I've been dancing around is that, does it matter? If it matters to you, the reader, on an emotional level, shouldn't you do something about it? Can't? Then, why? Is it because you feel a moral obligation? Or, it's just a sad reality to live in? Sir, madam, or gentleperson who lies in between, should it matter if your life remains unaffected in everything but the cognition of it alone? Because you think it's terrible that such a cosmic thing lies beyond your control?

Sometimes things just happen. For no reason at all. In a world with control, a man wouldn't die after hitting his head on a sidewalk. The one-in-a-billion prion wouldn't just kill you after living a long, prosperous life. A pulsar wouldn't have any chance, no matter how small, to accidentally blast us from across the universe. A meteor couldn't escape the grasp of Jupiter and instead aim for our civilization of everything.

...there's a sort of beauty to it, however. One of the greatest paradoxes, greatest pieces of dichotomy our existence has to offer. In a world with control, a man tripping wouldn't have that tiny, tiny chance to result in meeting the woman who would eventually become your mother. A scientist wouldn't get to study one of the most deadly organisms on the planet, and gush about how silly the series of coincidences in our physiology are to even let this poor thing have a tiny, tiny chance to kill us. We couldn't learn about things like pulsars; couldn't awe at how terribly energetic and magnificent they are, elements the size of mountains radiating beams trillions of miles long.

Nobody would ever write a novel about a meteor hitting Earth, the protagonist either saving the planet or having mere hours- perhaps even less- to face the totality of existence. It might be written well, it may be written terribly; but it would be written nonetheless. If there was no meteor, no great crisis, no great existential dread, no great confrontation, so much of the human experience would just be living, existing, perhaps not even breathing.

Would we dream of death, then? Would we think of the thrills that would result from just being mortal? Would we think about all the things we wouldn't do, for fear of death? In a world where mortality is the standard, we'll never have these thoughts- not truly. Perhaps in another universe, but that's a line of dialogue unto it's own.

Ultimately, without mortality, what would we mortals be?

What do you think?

-

Sometimes I fancy age advancing upon me. One gray hair I have found. Fool! do I lament? Yes, the fear of age and death often creeps coldly into my heart; and the more I live, the more I dread death, even while I abhor life. Such an enigma is man -- born to perish -- when he wars, as I do, against the established laws of his nature.

- Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, 1833: The Mortal Immortal.

[yanderelovebug-blog]

He who catches, keep’th.

Werewolf!OC/Reader, warnings for: non-con, blood, delusional/obsessive behavior, biting, violence, knotting, size difference, fainting

It’s a coincidence, really. 

You’re out too late at night, stroll too close to the edge of the woods. You aren’t even paying attention to the leaves and twigs that crunch beneath your feet. You’re too lost in your own world to notice how you stray further and further from the street’s dim light. 

You had come outside in your pajamas, barefoot and heedless of the night’s buzzing cicadas and hooting owls. You had only thought of escaping from your house. 

Your parents had been lecturing you, again. Something trivial you couldn’t even remember. One moment you were listening to them over your phone, curled up in your armchair. The next you had tossed your phone at the wall and fled from your house with only anger in your mind. 

A walk had always cooled you down before. Even when you had been living with your parents they lectured you over anything they could dream up. Your escape had always been nature. Lately you’d been mending your relationship with them but they always fell back on old habits of making you feel less. 

You stopped walking, tilted your head up to the moon and sighed. Now that you were calm you felt silly. You were an adult, you shouldn’t let them get to you like that anymore. You turned back, facing your house. 

There was a soft rustle behind you, and the feeling of eyes on the back of your neck. 

Exhaling, you strode forward slowly. Living so close to the woods you’d gotten used to the occasional coyote or wolf. It was best to ignore them. They weren’t here for you. 

The steady rustle of leaves behind you made your heart rate jump in your throat, but you kept your slow pace back towards your house. You hadn’t even noticed it but you’d strayed too far into the barrier of the forest. You’d let your blind anger cloud your judgement. 

Strengthening your resolve, you slowly tilted your head sideways to see if you could catch sight of the animal following you. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the large shadow mere feet from your back. It stepped closer to you and as the light finally touched it the breath you’d been holding whooshed out of you with a loud noise. 

The thing that had been following you wasn’t an animal at all. It was a large man, towering over you and coming closer with each step. You were frozen in fear, staring up in to his narrowed eyes.

His scarred face struck fear into you, and his ice blue eyes almost seemed to glow in the light. You stood still, trembling as his hand reached toward your neck. 

It was only when his warm skin touched yours that you were shocked out of your frightened state. The feel of his hand, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight, it struck you to your core and you spun around. Gave yourself over to the animalistic urge of all prey species when face with a dangerous predator, and ran.

Run, hide, just get away from him, FUCK. 

For once, your clumsiness didn’t give you away and you raced on sure feet back to the road. There was a steady thumping behind you, but you didn’t dare turn to look. Your heart raced in your chest, rabbity pulse hard against your rib-cage. 

The was a stilted howl from the man, excited and yet almost silent. You pushed yourself to run faster, to get away from the man who was quite obviously crazy. 

You slammed into your front door, unable to slow yourself down enough. Still not daring to look behind you, you forced the door open. 

Panting, you slung the door shut, only for it to catch on the forearm of the tall man. He shoved it back open with enough force to drive the knob through the plaster of your wall. 

He rolled his neck and stepped forward slowly. The street lights cast a glow around him as he stepped into your house and closed the door behind him, far softer than he had opened it a moment ago. 

You faced him with your back to the counter separating your living room from the kitchen.

You hesitantly reached out to flip on your living room light, and finally saw him clearly. 

He looked young, with scars that criss-crossed his face and body. He was only wearing a torn pair of pants that hung loosely from his hips. His fingers had wicked curved claws at the tips of them and his mouth lolled open, drooling with sharp fangs on display. 

He would have been handsome if he weren’t so frightening, so grotesque in the way he’d chased you down, the way he’d stalked you so silently in the woods.

He began to come closer and you whimpered, turning to run into the kitchen. He caught you by the back of your shirt, claws scraping the dip between your shoulder blades. 

You couldn’t help yourself but to scream when he lifted you off the ground, tossing you hard against the wall opposite the entrance to the kitchen. You crashed down onto the floor with a pathetic wheeze, breath crushed out of your lungs. 

“Pretty mate,” he said, standing over you. “Watched you, seen you. Waited for you to come.” 

He bent down to your level slowly, breath fanning over your face. His mouth smelled like blood and dead things, made you want to be sick on your own carpet. 

He continued talking, unaware of the way your stomach twisted and rolled. 

“Then you came, full moon. Looked at me and let me chase you. Wanted to be my mate, too.” He smiled and grabbed you by your upper arms, lifting you into the air again with an ease that made you terrified of his strength. 

“L-Let me go, please.” You wheezed out. Your arms were already sore from where he gripped them. There was a sick spark in his eyes that had you trembling.

“No, I’m Alpha. I caught you.” His smile grew further as he dropped you again. “You’re mine, mine, mine. I caught you, I did.” 

He leaned down and used his claws to scratch red lines down the side of your face as you started crying. 

You kicked out at him, desperate to fight back against your rapidly approaching death. He batted your foot away from him as if it meant nothing, smile morphing into an upset frown. 

He yanked you forward by your wrist, letting out a growl as he flipped you onto your stomach harshly. He wrenched your arms behind your back and there was a sickening snap from your right arm. 

You screamed out and he ignored it, pushing your arms further until the pain had you arching your shoulders down and hips up, trying to alleviate the intense ache.  

He held your wrists in one large hand. With the other he sliced his claws through your clothes as if they were nothing but water. They fell around you and he swiped them out of the way. You continued screaming, hoping that one of your neighbors would hear and call the police. 

He thrusted his clothed hips against you, growling in your ear. Soon, he let go of your throbbing arms to pull his own pants off. You let out a sob of relief as the pressure was relieved from your definitely broken arm. 

Your relief was short lived, since a moment later he thrusted forward and pushed himself into your dry hole. You screamed loudly and lurched forward to escape the pain. You couldn’t get away from the intrusion, however, forced to take it as he sheathed himself inside you.

He was so large. It hurt worse than anything you’d ever felt before, even the broken arm you were trying to support yourself on. His teeth latched onto the back of your neck, sinking into your flesh as he growled against it. His hips started jerking, fast movements that kept him mostly deep inside you and tugged at your walls painfully. 

He reached around to muffle your loud screams with his hand. He panted through his nose, teeth clenched against each other through the mauled meat of your neck. His left hand curled around your hip and yanked you against him, claws sinking into your tender flesh.

After a few more harsh movements, the slide of his cock was suddenly easier as it sunk into you. You could feel yourself bleeding, it seeping out of you and coating him. It made it less and more painful all at once. The slide easier but the tear burning as it was slid against. Your walls clenched around him rhythmically, trying to push the painful intrusion out. You only succeeded in pulling him in deeper. 

He released your neck and you felt blood gush down your back. You kicked at his legs with your own, screaming again when it only jostled him inside you.  

“Mine, Mine...” He sped his thrusts, his eyes rolling back. 

You tensed and smacked at him with your left hand. He held you up around the waist with his large arm. He was at least a foot taller than you, and he dwarfed you in every way. Your struggling didn’t even slow him down as he ravaged your body and took what he wanted.

“So g-good, my mate.” He nipped your ear, whispering to you sweetly like he hadn’t broken your arm and raped you so viciously that you’d bled. “So pretty, my- mine, mine always.” 

His voice dipped to a growl as you felt something swelling within you, taking the already uncomfortable ache back to the searing pain it had been at the start. No amount of slick readied you for the swelling of his cock. You screams reached a fever pitch as finally, the pain caused you to faint, eyes rolling back into your head.

                                   ☆☆☆☆

The Alpha shoved his knot deep into his mate, locking them together. He spread his legs to either side of his petite moonbeam, using his strong hips to pin them to the ground. He felt the breath leave them even in their slumber so he eased up slightly, smiling. 

He rubbed his cheek against his mating mark, bloodied and raw. He couldn’t wait for his knot to die down so he could take his new treasure back to his den. He’d been watching them for so long, waiting for the moment they’d return his affections and venture into the forest to be claimed. 

And he couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night! A full moon, and his love had looked so beautiful when they’d finally seen him. It had been everything he’d imagined. 

They’d be together for always. He had caught them and knotted them and the rules of the forest were clear:

He who catches....

[duckprintspress]

How the Disney Method Can Help Your Writing Process

A guest blog post by Mitchan!

Do you have problems beginning that new story percolating in your head? Are you feeling afflicted with writer’s block? Are you stuck on a scene with no idea how to move forward? Do you feel that your current ideas are stale and trite? Perhaps the Disney method can help you!

If you work in business or design, you might have heard of it before. The Walt Disney method is a creative strategy designed to find and develop unconventional ideas. While inspired by the way Walt Disney worked, the method itself was proposed by Robert Dilts in 1994.

In the Walt Disney method, the creator divides thmself into three separate roles: the Dreamer, the Realist, and the Critic. These three roles must work separately in three stages: 

First, the Dreamer brainstorms ideas in a focused way. The more the better. No limits or restraint. There are no “bad”, “stupid”, or “impossible” ideas; you can embrace the crazy and the stupid as much as you want. It’s still a focused brainstorm: you’re dreaming for an objective, say, a new amusement park attraction, ways to get your characters out of a pinch, the funniest and/or most character-focused problems you can add to your story... anything you need ideas for. 

Instead of sitting down and writing or typing your ideas, walk around and record yourself saying your ideas out loud. Speak without pause for 5 or 10 minutes. Look above the horizon to stimulate your creative brain. Some business websites recommend setting up different rooms for each stage of the process, so why not try a change of space? Go outside or to a room different from the one you usually work in. 

Once you’ve got loads of ideas, it’s the Realist’s turn. The job of the Realist is to look at the Dreamer’s ideas and think: How do we make them possible? The Realist doesn’t say “No”. It’s not the Realist’s job to say whether an idea is bad or won’t work. In this role, you must assume anything is possible and limit yourself to asking: How can I execute this? For our amusement park example, the Realist would select and bring in specialists who could make plans to turn a crazy idea into a real ride. 

Listen to the recording you made in the previous step. Without discarding any ideas, start with the most interesting or promising ones, and develop them. Write a rough draft or the details of what would happen in a scene. Do the necessary research. Reorganize scenes as needed. Try working on a whiteboard with markers and post-its: a place where you can stand up and look at your ideas in front of you. 

Once you have a solid proposal, or in a writer’s case, a complete first draft, the Critic comes in. The Critic’s job is to detect and correct flaws, mistakes, and risks (something crucial if you’re making an amusement park ride!). This is the moment to evaluate what works and what doesn’t work, what stays and what goes. 

Sit down with the printed-out draft on the desk, where you can look down at it, and use a red pen to mark places that need re-working or any contradictions in the narrative. Tighten the phrasing and clear up confusing details. Clean up the draft.

The stages then repeat as needed: for more ideas, go back to the Dreamer, then develop them, then edit again. 

The changes in position help to change your own perspective on the work, to dream or execute or evaluate more objectively. 

You probably already do something similar in your writing process: you have an idea, make an outline, write a first draft, then a second, a third and fourth and so on. You have alpha and beta readers who help brainstorm ideas, develop them, and correct the draft.  

Personally, the most helpful takeaway of this model is the neat separation of the roles. The Dreamer and the Critic cannot work in the same stage: criticism stifles creativity. When I’m outlining, brainstorming, or writing a rough draft, it helps me to keep this in mind. If I find myself getting judgmental about my story, I take a deep breath and tell the Critic to shut the fuck up. Whenever I’m blocked, I’ve found it often comes from me being too critical in a stage of the process when I need to be dreaming or just executing. 

Of course, the three roles are equally important in the creative process. Without the Dreamer we wouldn’t have new ideas; without the realist we would never do anything with them; without the Critic the work wouldn’t be as clean and clear as it can be. 

I have used this method before to write a stand-up comedy routine, which requires a lot of crazy ideas and well-developed set-ups and punchlines, but it can work for any creative needs. I have also applied the brainstorming method to develop the heist in my upcoming story in She Wears the Midnight Crown, as well as to think up character-based conflicts for previous fanfiction and original stories.

As with any other strategy or method, it’s up to you to try it, use what works for you and discard what doesn’t. I hope this can help you if you’re stuck, or at least inspires you to try something different! 

Have you ever used the Walt Disney method? How was your experience? Would you do anything differently? Are there any other methods that work better for you that you’d like to recommend? Let us know! 

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

Alpha kids + trolls and whether or not they like Twilight

Hooooo boi this is gonna be a long one but alright challenge challenged

ALPHA KIDS:

Jake: Yes. A thousand times yes. This guy canonically has no taste in movies of course he's gonna watch Twilight and enjoy it. He thinks Renesme is brilliant. The direction astounding, the soundtrack, effervescent. He cannot be stopped, swayed, or distracted from his love of Twilight

Roxy: Yes, for separate, but similar, reasons than Jake. She knows it's trash. It's garbage and poorly written, and you know what? Sometimes the garbage is okay. Great even. She has taste in movies but she's also completely capable of enjoying a bad movie without tearing it apart. Because a bad movie is better than a boring movie.

Jane: No. Hard no. She thinks they're idiotic and nonsensical, the plot pandering and meandering with no point or direction, like a frisbee caught in a tornado but less entertaining. The first thing she does as soon as she can is buy up every copy and stop distribution online to halt it's continued existence in Earth C

Dirk: No, the last thing he's looking for is another trite hetero love triangle between the personification of beige, a Dirk Strider Clone a pretentious control freak and a Dirk Strider Clone an angsty furry.

TROLL TIME

Aradia: The girl loves all things dead and dying, she is goth incarnate. Of course she likes it. I wouldn't say she loves it though. She just thinks it's neat. Like the kind of movie you put on a lazy sunday afternoon or when you wanna read something on a bus ride. Quaint is a good word for how she sees it

Tavros: I'd say he likes it tbh. It's an engaging story for him, not for any plot reasons but more for the drawn out character conflicts. He thinks the people in it are intriguing and largely play off each other well.

Sollux: No, and you couldn't make him read it with a warship to his head. The writing is boring and just all edge with no point, like a pizza cutter, and if he wanted one of those he'd go to the kitchen section and he is a terrible cook. Metaphor is getting out of hand but the point is he thinks it's dumb and looses a bit of respect for anyone who does like it.

Karkat: Do I need to say it? Probably because this is what this whole thing is about. Yes he adores this series. He hates the plot but who cares about that when you get such strong emotions pulled out between bell-bottom jeans and ed wood, though he thinks it would have made more sense as a ashen-rom once jake's weird clone entered the picture where taco bell pits fullmetal vampire against sharkboy and she has to play ringmaster and mediator. But for what it is it's great in his book.

Nepeta: Absolutely not. Ehhhhh threw you for a curveball there didn't I? Anyways, no, Nepeta cannot bring herself to tolerate Twilight even in passing conversation. The plot is serviceable but the characters have no chemistry to be spoken of. They're only together because they're the main characters, there's nothing they have in common other than being as tasty as celery, and Nepeta want's a juicy romance with some m33t on it's bones.

Kanaya: Yes, so much yes that it is like one of the first things established about her character. She likes Twilight. No, she ADORES Twilight. The angst, the longing, the separation and then the reunion of the leads, it's tastier than any blood she drinks. This is the closest she had ever come to understanding being attracted to men, though she normally mentally rewrites them as ladies when she can't be bothered to manually regender the characters.

Terezi: No, she's not averse to it but she's got better, less self-indulgent things to do with her time. She can picture herself maybe reading it after a particularly rough breakup or if she's in an uncharacteristically angsty mood, but otherwise no. Besides, romance isn't normally a priority for her, it's more having a good time. Or at least that's what she tells herself

Vriska: Yes, definitely, absolutely. She is a sucker for trash a la Mindfang's journal and is also, in my opinion, a hopeless romantic with bad taste and even worse judgement. It's just the right amount of saucy and intriguing for her to follow, but she does bemoan the lack of Bella kicking ass. Otherwise though it's a regular read for her.

Equius: Yes, but with some caveats. He would never openly admit to enjoying Twilight, as per the norm is for him, but he looses himself picturing himself as Bella, being longed after and not hurting someone for once while still being focused on for whatever reason. It's cathartic for him.

Gamzee: I don't think he can read, but even if he could he wouldn't pay any attention to it in any state of mind. Stoned Gamzee would think it's just part of a really long commercial and sober Gamzee would dismiss it as boring.

Eridan: Yes, it appeals to his melodramatic nature. A five movie long conflict over who gets to kiss whomst that could have easily been solved in a week or so by actually sitting down and thinking about what you want in life? Sign him the fuck up!

Feferi: Nah, she's had enough of that bullshit and she's not about that life. She thinks Bella is a wishy-washy protagonist and the story is nothing special. She wishes people would get over it and read other stuff, there's plenty of fishes in the books and this one isn't really worth getting in a twist over in any sense of the word.

-Mod Terezi

[spneveryseason]

Results of the Ultimate Supernatural Survey (Part 4 of 5): Favorite and Least Favorite Season Ten, Eleven, Twelve, and Thirteen Episodes

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

We’re at the penultimate stretch now!

Season Ten

This one is pretty split, but 10x05 Fan Fiction won out followed by 10x23 Brother’s Keeper, then 10x03 Soul Survivor.

Fan Fiction is the 200th episode and basically dedicated itself to the fans, which makes it very appealing to a lot of people. It’s also very self-referential, which people seem to like. Brother’s Keeper is a very intense finale, and some people are big fans of that final confrontation in the episode. Finally, Soul Survivor deals with Demon Dean running around the Bunker trying to kill Sam, which some also like for various reasons.

For least favorites, 10x21 Dark Dynasty took the top spot, followed by 10x05 Fan Fiction.

Unsurprisingly, Dark Dynasty is the least favorite episode in this season. It’s infamous for being the episode where Charlie died, and she was very much a fan favorite character. Next, maybe surprising based on the previous data, is Fan Fiction. As many people who like the humor and self referential nature, others really hate it and find it trite, cringey, and unfunny. This is definitely an episode that is contentious and inspires some strong emotions either way.

Season Eleven

Two episodes completely dominate the season: 11x04 Baby, followed by 11x17 Red Meat.

This season is well known for having several really well constructed standalone episodes, the most popular of which are the ones mentioned here. Baby in particular is considered to be a really well constructed and structurally fresh episode, and is seen as an objectively good episode of television. Red Meat is also much loved, but in a very different way: it takes classic hurt/comfort and thriller story tropes and runs with them, creating a really entertaining and satisfying episode.

The least favorites were much more contentious than the favorites, and 11x19 The Chitters ultimately won, followed by 11x23 Alpha and Omega, 11x05 Thin Lizzie, 11x15 Beyond The Mat, 11x20 Don’t Call Me Shirley, and 11x07 Plush.

The Chitters taking top spot here is, to be honest with you, a bit of a surprise. I was under the impression that it was a fairly standard episode. Perhaps because the brothers split their screen time with Cesar and Jesse? In any case, fans do not seem to like this episode much. Alpha and Omega, however, is not well loved for a convoluted and underwhelming conclusion to the season. Thin Lizzie, Plush, and Beyond the Mat seem like generic case episodes that may not be popular, while 11x20 may have gotten some people upset with the reintroduction of Chuck.

Here are your comments:

Into the mystic is my least favorite not cause of Eileen but bc I have Traumas relating to some of the stuff in that ep

Season Twelve

A runaway winner here with 12x11 Regarding Dean, followed by 12x10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets and then 12x04 American Nightmare.

These are largely agreed to be the top quality episodes that this season had to offer. Regarding Dean is much loved as a Dean character study and a look into his personality and sense of self removed from his history. 12x10 is very popular with fans of Cas and other angels, as it expands on his history and offers insights into angel lore. Finally, American Nightmare is well loved by Sam fans as an exploration of his past and his compassion as well.

The least favorite of this season is 12x17 The British Invasion, followed by 12x08 LOTUS and then 12x21 There’s Something About Mary.

There’s a clear through line with the least popular eps of this season: overarching plot. Each episode represents a plot element that is largely disliked, and it isn’t surprising these three episodes landed in the bottom. Firstly, 12x17 is a heavy BMOL episode, which is among the least popular storylines in show. Second is LOTUS, which introduces some of the more…ridiculous storylines on the show (the President??). Third is 12x21 with its focus on Mary, and a lot of people had a problem with the way her storyline was handled.

Here are your comments:

Bmol was bad

I miss what the show used to be and mourn for what it could've been. Sam's addiction wasn't handled at all and I will take it personally. I grew up with the show since s2 but stopped watching at season 12. I used to really like Dean but after a while Sam's autonomy just kept getting ignored and they didn't feel like brothers anymore. It started feeling like family that stayed together because they were being forced to, not because they wanted to. And Dean wasn't the character I loved anymore, he became some white american male macho fantasy that no longer tried to develop as a self aware person. Dean started feeling flat and Sam felt like a victim without a voice.

I didn’t watch s12+

Season Thirteen

The winner here is 13x16 Scoobynatural, followed by 13x06 Tombstone, 13x10 Wayward Sisters, and then 13x21 Beat the Devil.

There’s quite the range of episodes here, which I think reflects the general tone of the season pretty well. First off is a Classic Supernatural Funny TM episode with Scoobynatural, which was liked for its crossover with a well loved show as well as its ridiculous nature. Next is Tombstone, which is well loved by Destiel fans (this is apparently a controversial statement!), while Wayward Sisters has quite a significant following of its own. Beat the Devil tends to be popular with Sam fans, especially those who find his interactions with Lucifer fascinating.

Now to a bit of a twist: the least liked episode this season is 13x10 Wayward Sisters, followed by 13x23 Let the Good Times Roll.

Whilst Wayward Sisters is greatly loved by some fans, others really dislike it, mainly because they either dislike the characters themselves or they don’t like episodes that focus on characters that are not the protagonists. In any case, people seem to either love this episode or hate it. As for 13x23, the ending is…notorious for running the tension of the moment with some choice stunt work. It’s unsurprising that this found its way to the bottom.

Here are your comments:

I haven't watched past 13 x 02 so the last few aren't as concrete as the rest

If you have any questions about any details of these parts specifically let me know!

Next part is going to be episodes from season 14-season 15, and then favorite and least favorite episodes of all time! Keep an eye out

Part 5

[docholligay]

Contingency

All of HON HON HON is here. 

It wasn’t always fair, the way Tracer teased her. She found a way to pick at every little thing--she was astoundingly observant for being a person who could never reliably locate anything belonging to her--and seemed to have a particular gift for noting all of Pharah’s small annoyances and honing in on them. 

But it was true when she said that Pharah didn’t handle the unexpected very well. Pharah took this into account, of course, and planned for every possible contingency. It couldn’t be unexpected, if she learned to expect it. 

Some things we can never learn. Some things we refuse to. 

It had not been unexpected that Reaper had made an appearance after the fight seemed to be settled, and Tracer had shot Moira. It was completely reasonable, and planned for, that he had shot at Pharah. He had hesitated before, but it was never reasonable to imagine he would always do so. She had planned for everything. 

Every moment until the bullet hit Mercy instead. 

“Angela!” She caught her before she fell to the ground. 

Pharah would have expected that in this moment, she would feel great anger. She would have expected that vengeance would rise up in her, that some sort of murderous impulse, the rage that waited just below the surface, would immediately bubble to the top and paint everything with hot red. But she felt none of that. 

She felt only fear. 

“Angela,” She cradled her close, “it--” words caught in her throat and failed her, “Don’t worry don’t worry. I--”

“Medic!” Tracer’s voice sounded far away, “Brigitte, get over here! Now!” 

Brigitte? No, not Brigitte, Brigitte was a child, Mercy had only started training her to be a field medic, she couldn’t possibly help in a situation like this. She didn’t have enough training, she didn’t know the protocol, she had no familiarity with an emergency like this. Mercy needed better help. 

She had forgot to plan for Mercy to be shot. She had forgot to plan for it, because it was an impossible thing she could not imagine. 

“Ang, if you stay with us,” Tracer had her hand at Mercy’s side, trying to cover the hole in her chest,  “I promise to feel bad about shooting Moira.” 

Mercy only gasped in response as Tracer looked over her shoulder. Brigitte was running, but it seemed like she never got any closer, and Pharah’s lap began to feel hot and wet. She felt a tremble go through her, and realized that it was Mercy, shaking. 

“I--” Mercy took a deep gap, blood flicked on the edge of her lips, “--so cold--”

“You will be just fine,” It came out of Pharah’s mouth without thinking, a script she had written herself for anyone else, “Just hold on a little longer. A little longer.” 

The words tasted like ash in her mouth, words that had seemed so neat and appropriate when she had written them to herself on paper burned and useless in the face of Mercy shot and dying on a dingy London street. She realized immediately that they were weak and insincere, and that fear rose again like bile in her mouth. What if the last things Mercy heard her say were that weak, insincere nonsense? 

“Ang, you know, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Tracer took off her grey canvas jacket, folding it and pressing it against Mercy, “Remember when you and I ‘ad it out a bit over the state of your physical fitness? Right, love, good of you not to argue with me just now, or ever, really, but I’ve also been meaning to tell you I think you should be wearing a bit of body armor. Think you’ll find I’m making a very compelling argument just now.”

Even in her breathless panic, Mercy gave a small smile. How was it Tracer was so good at this? She was comforting Mercy far better than Pharah, why was she just sitting there, holding her saying nothing? Or worse, saying something weak, and trite, and useless? She was failing Mercy. She had failed to protect her, and she was failing to save her, and she was failing to comfort her, and she had promised her all those things when they had married. She had promised her. 

“Angela--” she huffed it out, meaningless, broken, nothing but her name. 

And then there was Brigitte, wide-eyed, and Tracer moved aside, sprung to her feet and hit at the communicator in her ear. “Alpha Juliet Ten, I need you on the scene immediately, we ‘ave a priority one--” 

Calling for help. Pharah should have been calling for the medevac, could have been doing it from the moment Mercy was shot, but she hadn’t, she’d simply sank to the ground with Mercy and held her. She was so pale. She was so pale, and Brigitte was so young, and there was no plan for this. 

Mercy choked, and Pharah felt herself shake along with it. 

“Please!” It was all she could say, a prayer to Mercy, to Brigitte, to a god she hadn’t believed in even as a child. 

There was the sound of a helicopter in the air, and she could vaguely hear Tracer in the background, trying to help them set down on the narrow street. Mercy gasped as Brigitte popped something into her side. 

“Bought us a little time.” Brigitte mumbled to herself. 

There was a crunch of boots as people in white shirts came onto the scene, taking Mercy out of her arms and laying her on a stretcher, tubes and medical equipment quickly filling the space as the began to wheel her away, Pharah stood still until Mercy’s fingers finally dropped away from hers. 

“I love you!” she said, in Arabic at first, like a child crying out in the night, “I love you.” 

It wasn’t enough. Mercy deserved to hear how she was warmth and springtime and gentleness and softness and all the things Pharah had never believed would come to her. How grateful she was for the time and love Mercy had lavished on her, and how Mercy had made her feel human and alive, and it was only because of Mercy that she had become a richer, deeper, kinder person. It was because of Mercy that she had friends and she allowed herself to laugh. Mercy had taken the soldier, the tool, and seen beauty and art in her, and made her see it in herself. 

But she hadn’t planned to say any of those things. 

I love you would have to be enough.

[catboydogma]

Die Alone (i)

vertical transmission masterlist

prompt: bleeding

warnings: torture aftermath

wc: 892

Waking hurt. His skull was pounding like an alpha trooper had taken the butt of a DC-15 to it—repeatedly—and opening his eyes felt like peeling scabs.

“Prime’s balls,” Tup said fervently from somewhere above him. It was dark and warm and smelled like blood.

Dogma opened his eyes again and was treated to the sight of Tup’s face not three inches from his own, long hair hanging down around them like a weird curtain.

“T’p?” Dogma managed. His jaw felt—weird. He opened and closed it a few times, only to stop when the movement sent a shooting pain through his head.

“You were out longer than I thought you’d be,” Tup confessed, pressing his forehead to Dogma’s. They were both hoarse, though Tup sounded—better. Not good, not really, but better.

“How’re—?” Dogma patted Tup’s thigh. He was half-propped up on Tup’s lap, one shoulder leaned against the wall and the other against Tup’s abs.

“Good,” Tup said, smiling a little. “A lot better. The voices are gone.”

Dogma nodded vaguely. This was only a good thing, surely. “Droid?”

“Gone,” Tup said. “Could only stay here two hours anyway.”

“Mm.” Dogma closed his eyes again and took a careful breath. The stabbing pain eased, with time, and Tup made for a good pillow. They could finally rest, for a little while. Tup wasn’t dying anymore and they weren’t being shot at and Dogma wasn’t being fried like a Kowakian monkeylizard in an open-air market.

This lasted for about two minutes.

The heavy, metallic tread of a line of droids echoed through the corridor. Dogma sat up, nearly knocking his head into Tup’s, and immediately regretted it. The world wobbled around him, going bright and hard, and he almost slumped down again.

“Easy, kih’tracyr,” Tup said, one hand between Dogma’s shoulder blades and the other pressed to his chest. “I won’t let them take you.”

“You can’t promise that,” Dogma snapped, shoulders tensing. It was mean-spirited and awful and rude to say but he was tired of pretending. They were just two clones. There was nothing they could do against the head of the Separatist movement and however many droids he had at his beck and call. All Dooku had to do was flick his hand and Dogma could die in a million different painful ways.

“I’ll make him regret it,” Tup said fiercely, grabbing Dogma’s shoulder and pulling him around into a Keldabe. Their foreheads bumped together and blinding pain shot through Dogma’s head but he leaned into it anyway, breathing in the smell of blood and sweat. This close, he could almost imagine the fading, saccharine scent of Tup’s special jogan fruit shampoo. “I’ll make him hurt for it.”

The ray shield died with a hiss and a crackle. Dooku, backlit by the corridor lights, cast their little cell into shadow.

“How trite,” Dooku said. “Apparently, one of you has convinced MD-4033 to take your inhibitor chips out.”

Dooku had known about the chips? Inhibitor chips? Dogma froze against Tup, their eyes meeting for a split second. Dogma wasn’t stupid, as much as the natborns might have liked to pretend. He had been trained since decanting in strategy. The implication of Dooku knowing about the chips, knowing what they were, when not even the clones, not even the Jedi—

“We have to get out,” Tup whispered against his jaw, fingers biting into Dogma’s shoulder. He’d reached the same conclusion. Dogma remembered the confusion at the beginning of the war, the way none of the Jedi had seemed to expect or know what to do with them. Dooku’s obsession with Tup and his malfunctioning chip—if they’d made it to the medcenter, the chip would have been discovered. And if its primary purpose was to make the clones turn on the Jedi—

It made sense, in a horrifying, sickening sort of way. The war had come together too neatly to pretend otherwise. It seemed they’d been made for the Jedi in more ways than one.

“Since I cannot trust you to behave together, it seems I must separate you.” The Count extended a hand and Dogma was dragged forward again, Tup thrown back against the cell wall. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by whatever the Count was doing to him. His head was hurting again, the pain in his temple stabbing through his skull and down his spine all the way to his toes.

Dooku caught him by the throat. His too-long nails dug into the soft skin under Dogma’s jaw. “You are far more trouble than you are worth,” he said quietly to Dogma, as if imparting some great secret.

It wasn’t anything Dogma didn’t already know. He kicked out at Dooku, barely catching the edge of the man’s rich brocade robes.

“None of that, now.” Dooku shook him a little, as if he were a misbehaving anooba, and threw him against the wall. Dogma hit it hard at the point of his shoulder and slid down, vaguely aware that he was leaving yet another splatter of blood behind. He was bleeding again and he didn’t even know where from. Dogma heaved and retched, the back of his throat going hot and tight, but he had nothing to throw up.

The droids dragged him into another identical cell. The ray shield came to life with a high-pitched hiss.