#anyway this concept was turning into a new brainrot so i had to let it out

[fwoosheye]

Okay but hear me out:

What if Rauru's arm wasn't resized when Link got it? How much would he have to struggle to learn to readjust for the weight difference?

Do y'all see my vision?

[dulltoned]

currently brainrotting about the possible antagonists that we could get in Trolls 4 (if that does end up happening) and I need to get this shit out somehow

I’ve seen people talk about Crimp being the next antagonist, and imma be real; I don’t see it- like sure, that lil mop thing is smart, hell, even Velvet acknowledged that and ended up not trusting her as a result, but I highly doubt Crimp could be some kind of evil mastermind (also wondering how she didn’t get arrested as well since, legally speaking she could be considered a as an accomplice to the whole shit fest with Floyd?? make that make sense, but then again, law may work different in their world so what do I know)

some said something about Creek coming back, and let me just say I HATE plots like that-

Creek’s dead, end of story, and even if he is somehow still alive, he doesn’t deserve to fucking return (I hate Creek, alright- can’t stand the little shit)

now, I’ve seen someone speak about a new kind of Troll popping up and I gotta say that caught my eye a bit more; Phonk Trolls- I’d say it would be an interesting concept to play with-

I got a personally idea of mine since, throughout the movies, the subject of grey trolls in general is never truly talked about again- so far, canonically, Branch seems to be the only troll we know of that has turned grey and remained that way for a long period of time- but what if there were more, similar to him? trolls who had lost their colors and just- never gained them back

I find the idea of a whole tribe of grey trolls rather interesting, and it would be a fun concept to tweak and play around with- and how they could pose a threat to our beloved main cast- perhaps they want to rid the world of color, or they want to steal that color to have some sort of happiness back, unfortunately ripping all the others trolls of that same mirth- are they driven by anger, grief, vengeance, or a mix of all of these?

or perhaps the newest antagonist is another species entirely, or a bigger threat than anything they’ve experienced before-

anyways it’s midnight where I am and I need some sleep

-🪶

I don't really have any big hopes for the antagonists of the fourth film, were there to be one. I'd like to see some returning antagonists, to be fair, even if they've all been pretty safely written off and tucked away where they won't be a problem anymore.

I don't remember if the storyboards I saw were real or not but I honestly wouldn't mind if Creek was a returning villain. I'd honestly like to see him antagonize Branch a lot more, I enjoyed their bitter dynamic before the Snack Pack got taken in the first movie. While Chef is most certainly dead we saw Poppy save herself from a similar experience during Get Back Up Again so I don't think it would be entirely out of pocket to have Creek survive somehow.

I just don't know how the franchise could do that in a way that I wouldn't despise. I know that I absolutely loathed how Creek was written into The Beat Goes On and I would hate to have the main series ruined by some blunder like that.

I'd just like to see one of the Trolls movies expand a bit more on what we already know, like how World Tour really went into detail about the Trolls and their different cultures and subspecies. I don't want a whole new species like the Mount Rageons even though I adore them, I think it'd be fun to dig a little deeper into the world we already have and then continue to expand it later down the line maybe.

I like what I've seen a few people say here and there, though. I'd like to see a scenario where Branch is the one that needs help for once, instead of being the one to offer it and pull off the rescue. I love seeing how competent and aware he is but I'd like to see what would happen if the rest of the trolls didn't have Branch to rely on for once. He's always a really big piece of the solution so what would happen if they didn't have him to put things together?

Regardless, if/when a fourth film comes out I hope I love it just as much as the other three. That's all I can really ask for.

[kazewhara]

Congrats on your milestone Zuzu! 🎉 At first I didn't think I'd join the event because I really had no idea of what to send, but then it hit me. I feel like months ago everyone brainrotted on the concept of mean!Kazuha and it brought even more people to your writing works, so I think it might be cool if we could "turn back time" for this event! I don't have anything particular in mind if not a drabble w possessive mean Kazu.. but since we all like bites it'd be cool if you know... Kazuha and lovebites...

Anyways, have a good day!

🌿 — love (bites) !

✧ — pairing: mean!kazuha x gn!reader

✧ — format: hc/drabble

✧ — warnings: slightly suggestive content

✧ — tags: fluff (?), angst, slightly suggestive content (marking), implied feelings of possessiveness (kazuha), unrequited love, kazuha's a little bit of an asshole

✧ — notes: a little blast from the past, i like it! so this is a... special kind of mean!kazuha that sorta popped in my brain. you kinda gotta squint to see how fucked up this is. i really hope you like it,,, and that it makes sense .. uh, reblogs and reactions are appreciated <3

“kaedehara kid got you good, didn't he?”

"what?" you stop eating and face juza, whose brows are raised with what you assume is amazement. why would he say something like that now? you haven't seen kazuha all day. "what do you mean?"

juza points to a spot on your neck and then to your waist, where your shirt is starting to ride up, exposing your skin. "they're faint, but i can still see the bruises he gave you." juza's face becomes clouded with concern. "must've been painful, huh?"

you nearly choke. you shove your shirt down to hide the bruise and bring a hand up to cover your neck with a nervous laugh. "uh, yeah! he's just, uh..." you scramble to think of an explanation. "very competitive. i beat him a few times, so he got a little riled up. nothing serious, though."

"i didn't peg him as the aggressive type... then again, we still don't know much about him." juza sighs. "you're the only person he really talks to on this ship, kid."

bullshit, you think. "is that right..?"

"sure is. look, i get that you two are sparring partners, but take it easy on each other, okay?" juza clamps a hand down on your shoulder, an easy-going smile crossing his face. it's so easy to lower your guard around this guy. "if you see kaedehara kid today, get him back for those bruises, okay? give 'em hell."

it must be nice to be so in the dark about the truth. you mirror his smile nonetheless. "i will." juza soon departs with a wave, leaving you to your devices. you wait until he's far away enough before you dart into your cabin and move your hand from your neck.

now that you're looking closer, it's a good thing you chose to wear this shirt today. the bruise on your neck that juza was referring to was only one of many that kazuha had left a few days prior. he really was a little rougher with you that day than usual -- he said something about only letting him pick on you and no one else. whatever that meant. you're about to inspect your other bruises when someone raps their knuckles on your door gently. you fix your clothing and head over to open it.

and who else but kazuha would be standing at your door? so much for a peaceful day.

"oh. you." you deadpan. truthfully, your heart is starting to pick up speed, but you're not sure why -- you're afraid you might be anticipating what usually happens whenever he shows up at your door. "what do you want?"

kazuha makes a faux wounded expression. "no proper greeting, songbird? have you lost your manners?"

"bite me." you shoot back.

kazuha raises an eyebrow. "so you're asking for it this time?" he chuckles, the sound low. "this is a new change of pace."

"that's not what i meant, and you know it." you scoff. you march further into your room and plop onto your bed. there's really no point in turning him away; he'll either stay in your doorway or let himself in anyways, which he does. he stands close by you, his lips still quirked with an irritating hint of amusement. you don't like the way he looks at you -- at least you don't think you do. kazuha is pretty and it's probably the most irritating thing about him.

kazuha crosses his arms. "i overheard juza telling you to, and i quote, 'give me hell'." he looks far too entertained by the thought. "do you plan on following through?"

you think of the faded bruises on your skin. "maybe i should," you grunt, "since you're so bent on giving me hell." your aggression wavers just a bit on your next sentence. "did you really have to make the... the bruises so dark?"

"you can call them hickies, songbird."

"hell no. hickies are given to me by people i actually like."

there's finally a crack in kazuha's visage. he opens his mouth but quickly shuts it. there's silence. whether it's a comfortable one or not, you have no idea. kazuha's next words are a bit soft. "and who has given you hickies in the past?" you eye him warily, but answer anyways. he just hums and nods as he savors the information. "i see."

"why are you here, kazuha?" you finally ask. "what do you want?"

kazuha shrugs, the motion fluid. "originally, my plan was to suggest that we spar. i wanted to see if you would try to put me in my place." he pauses. autumn eyes zero in on you, sending a shiver down your spine. "but i'm reconsidering that."

you recognize the look he's giving you -- that look, like he's trying to devour you whole. it renders you speechless. your neck prickles with heat as kazuha makes his way over and sits beside you. like always, you don't put up much of a fight as he brings his bandaged hand to cup your jaw. kazuha hums again, this time sounding dismayed. "they really are fading, aren't they?"

"you better not." you threaten lowly. your words are harsh and cold, but they somehow still hold no bite.

"and why not?"

"people talk." it's not really that you don't want them to, it's more that you like it when they do. you wish you could be more assertive at a time like this -- if you were, you'd probably stop dancing around the truth. "they'll think we're..." together, you almost say.

kazuha picks up on your meaning right away, but your words affect him in a way you're unfamiliar with. his lashes flutter ever so slightly and something vulnerable flashes across his face. he wipes it up almost immediately, his usual smugness returning to his face.

"is that so unpleasant a thought?" he leans in and brushes his nose against the sensitive part of your neck. "they're bound to think that we're together by now, don't you think? you let me into your room..." his teeth gently tug on your skin, making you jump. "you let me touch you like this..."

it's not unpleasant. gods, it was never unpleasant to begin with, but it's plain as day that kazuha thinks of you as a fucking joke. he does this so often -- tugs you under the waves of affection and treats you like a lover only to turn around and agitate you to the brink of tears within the same day. he revels in your tears -- he's told you once before. kazuha thinks of you as his own personal plaything; one that he can do with as he pleases and stake his claim on.

and you, being the fool that you are, allow him to.

you put up a fight -- and a pretty damn good one, really -- but your heart isn't in it. it never is. you've been a sucker for kazuha from day one. sometimes you think he feels the same way; from the way he bandages you up to the way he'll subtly share his food with you when you want more but are too shy to speak up about it. but then he does this; this fake display of infatuation, this constant marking whenever you do something with someone he doesn't like or say something too smart for his liking.

it's too much, you think as kazuha's lips start to press firmer against your neck. but if this is all you can get from him, then...

kazuha blows on your skin and laughs when you jump. "you're not listening to me, are you?"

"why should i ever listen to you?" you shoot back.

"it's in your best interest to do so." kazuha's hands find rest on your waist, his fingers slipping under your shirt and brushing over a sore spot. you shudder. "i wouldn't want to hurt you again, pretty thing." he presses his fingers into your skin, making you hiss with pain.

"shut the fuck up." you seethe. "you're an asshole."

kazuha hums. always with the humming. always so serene, even when he's got you in the palm of his hand. he's silent for a moment. then: "maybe you're right." he sounds almost solemn. you can feel his breath warm against your skin. "but you... you are my canvas. and i believe a new painting is in order."

you don't miss the emphasis he puts on the word my. it's poetic. it'd even be romantic if this whole situation wasn't so...

your thought are halted when kazuha suddenly starts to suck on your neck. the action startles you; your mouth drops open in a gasp and your hands fly to his shoulders, but he doesn't budge. he lowers you to lay on your back and moves with you, his mouth never leaving your skin. once you're laid down, he pulls away for a moment to just look at you.

"i fucking hate you." you grumble. at the very least, you can still put up a fight.

kazuha huffs a laugh under his breath. what is it that he finds so funny about you? "so you say." he murmurs. "then stop me." when you falter, he just smiles. "of course you can't." he eases back down and continues his assualt on your neck.

all you can do is muffle your gasps and sighs. maybe he knows how you feel. maybe, you think as he soothes the sting of a fresh mark with his tongue, just maybe, he knows how badly you want this to stop. how badly you want this to become real.

you bring a hand up to tug at kazuha's hair hard when he bites you too hard. he chuckles and continues what he was doing.

or maybe he just likes seeing you squirm. because at the end of the day, whether you like it or not, you're his. and he knows that.

...perhaps lovebites is a better word to describe the purples and reds left on your skin.

✦ and we're back to being super nervous again,,, i rlly hope this is okay!

✦ it ended up being angst, which... was not the original plan? i dunno, this is just how i see this kind of thing playing out with mean!kazuha.. he has his moments where he's just so gentle with you, but you can never be sure if he actually likes you or if he's just doing this to mess with your head (the answer is both). this is a special type of mean!kazuha, i guess!

✦ like the title says, love fucking bites, dude. this kind of love hurts.

[thetriggeredhappy]

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

-

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

-

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”


Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

[kekoma]

— semi as your boyfriend.

can’t imagine not crushing on this man. hope you enjoy.

many many thoughts with this man.

so many that it hurts in good way.

first of all, semi MOST LIKELY named one of his guitars after you.

and i’m not talking about some ordinary guitar that he may occasionally play or anything— nah, i’m talking about the most expensive one that’s gorgeous.

takes the utter most care of that guitar since he plays it often and no one is allowed to touch it.

def learns the songs you like and covers them because this man has bomb ass vocals. i said what i said and won’t take it back.

or he just plays the melody, asking that you sing instead (if you’re up to it)

when semi isn’t covering/playing songs for you then he’s writing them about you.

you’re his sole inspiration for most of the songs he ends up creating and you’re also the first one to hear it before anyone else too.

also something to point out— he creates most of those songs during the night when you’re around.

semi knows most late nights can pull out the strangest topics but it can also open you and him up at the same time when it comes to emotions.

so he’ll be staring at you from his computer chair with his guitar resting on his lap, listening precisely to every word that slip pass your lips as you laid on his bed; rambling about your emotions and how you’re thankful that the universe has put you two in the same timeline.

suddenly he starts strumming a soft tune that makes you feel like you’re floating and turning those words you said not too long ago into something lyrical, something that you two will understand but those that hear it would need to decipher (because there’s no way he’s making it easy for outsiders to understand)

AND if you know a few things about music, can sing well from taking lessons/taking a chorus class in school and/or play an instrument then semi is going AWOOGA 😍 

def can see him wanting to collab with you or asking if you could be his hidden vocals/use your voice in general (meaning he would ask you to record a fake voicemail or say his name a certain way so he can put it in the song)

although if you aren’t comfortable with that concept then he understands and won’t push you to do anything.

whew let me move on because i could literally go on and on about this man being musically talented.

anyways, semi def creates a bunch of playlist for you. 

each one having a description for why it was made and the feeling he wants to give off with it.

something i feel like he may also do is send over songs he currently listens to and says you should listen to it too so you both feel more connected.

BUT really stepping aside from music.

he’s extremely caring and respectful towards you.

truly studies you, making mental notes about everything and makes sure he avoids cause any discomfort.

when it comes to caring— semi semi here might go out his way to show you through his actions if he feels his words and physical touches may not be enough.

i’ll say he’s a bit clingy— dude loves being around you no matter what.

for sure invites you to his volleyball practices and games.

you’re his lucky charm and he enjoys the thought of knowing you’re supportive of him when it comes to volleyball.

also he’s supportive of anything you do as well, even shows up to your events too (but if it clashes with a volleyball then he won’t be able to go obviously but he makes it up by ordering food in and asking you to tell him all the details about what happened)

now i briefly brought pda earlier and its about that time to talk about it... does eita like it?

yeah he does but it’s not very common in public.

the best you’ll get from him is holding hands, small pecks on the lips/cheeks and ONCE in a blue moon will he wrap his arms around you from behind.

there’s no real reason for why he’s like that but hopefully you’re understanding.

now in private; he does a bit more pda. kisses become a bit more frequent, won’t pass up the chance to hold you in his arms through cuddling or whatever.

side fact: semi definitely likes when you’re in between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and the guitar would be settled on your legs— basically teaching you how to play (if you ever asked him to)

“where do i place my fingers next?”

“right here... you’ll bring your pinky up a bit but keep these two fingers on the the second fret.” he’ll carefully move one of your fingers just to put them in the correct place.

“then you’ll strum. i’ll let you try it without my help this time.”

literally would smile when you do it, finding himself falling deeper in love with you than before.

semi adores that you’re willing to learn something he’s very passionate about it and appreciates you for even taking the time for it when you could do other things.

vvv soft and we stan that here.

moving on— lets talk about nicknames really quick.

drumroll please 🥁🥁🥁 

top nicknames: my melody/melody, love, angel and occasionally he’ll toss in lotus along with bambi. 

had to keep it cute and interesting <3 semi isn’t going for the basics.

something to mention, we’ve all seen the way he dresses in casual clothes... now you can either a) hype him up about his clothes to the point he’s no longer concerned about how tendou says he looks uncool or b) help the boy out with his style just a bit. all up to you cutie.

heh now let me discuss dates right because whew~ dates with this cutie? hits deliciously.

of course most of the dates are music related so tickets to a concert is on there, going to certain places (such as a park with others and a little picnic set up) to see free performances from new/upcoming artists and etc.

“that last set was actually good, don’t you think so melody?”

“yeah~ i liked the emotions the singer had in her voice. it really connected with me but what do you think?”

“same thing as you. however, did you notice how they had a shift in the cords that created the perfect harmonic? and it wasn’t completely soft too.”

“now that i think about it, my ears didn’t catch on the first time but yeah. oh look! the next act is going up~!”

but when he isn’t dragging you out for that then he mainly takes you out for a drive/walk around the city, cafes, those karaoke places that also serves food, shopping and stay-at-home dates which he tries his best to make them fun (there’s probably more but im just naming a few here)

dates are normally chilled with him and always fun so we loving it.

bonus: semi FOR SURE has you as his lockscreen. no doubt about it.

he loves waking up to your picture in the morning or even checking the time because he gets to see how adorable his love is.

also on his sns (instagram mainly)— he has a highlight called ‘me and my melody 🎶🤍’ which is filled with a bunch of pictures of you two together.

the pictures are so cute that they end up on Pinterest and everyone starts  spamming your dms with “so 👀 does your boyfriend have any siblings?”, “can you drop a tutorial on how to get a fine boyfriend like yours?”, “ayo 😳 think i can have him on the weekends and you get him for the weekdays?” and much more crazier things we won’t mention here.

another bonus: probably sings you to sleep if you’re having trouble sleeping. don’t try fighting me on this because i won’t allow it.

ANYWAYS, to conclude this before i have complete semi brainrot— dating this man is a 10/10 and it’s worth it.

we love semi eita over here <333

© all content belongs to kekoma 2020. do not repost, modify or translate.

[rataltouille]

GEOMETRY OF THE HOLY MOON (1 AM): A SHORT STORY

GENRE: surrealism, literary fiction.

POV & TENSE: this little space is not enough for how wild the form is so i talk about this later!!

SETTING: a small desi village, 1924-25.

TONE: dreamy, unsettling, melancholic.

THEMES: faith vs reality, how people perceive others and how they perceive themselves, grief dealt the wrong way.

AESTHETICS: the splash of water on a quiet night, thick clouds obscuring the sky, rippling the moon’s reflection on the water. the intensity of a garden in spring, the emptiness of a dying town, the suffocation from being singled out. hands grazing lightly but never fully held. a lingering sadness behind your laugh. believing in things you shouldn't believe in. putting faith on a starless sky.

STAGE: completed first draft, 4085 words.

LOGLINE: a young boy, surrounded by loss, claims to talk to god. the story follows him and his conversations with this god, all while his village spies on him as he weaves his way around the two most crucial and lonely years of his life.

LITERAL LOGLINE: on today’s news let’s talk about a small backward town that hates sad little boys who worship god, even though the place is lowkey a cult!!

CHARACTERS:

THE SUMMER BOY: he’s around thirteen, and he’s very emotionally attached to his past. he lost his family at a young age to an unstable force, so he spends his time talking to himself. he’s a quiet, demure and sweet person, always willing to help others. he’s outwardly oblivious and sees only the good in people to a point where he doesn't understand when they’re trying to do him wrong. but! considering how the story [like a lot of my others] has themes of perception vs reality, it needs to be said that he isn't all that innocent. he’s rather impulsive and rash, never afraid of hurting himself [and thus accidentally harming others].

A GOD: is he real? do we even know if he’s an actual god? a very elusive figure despite having a lot of screentime. he’s a surprisingly humanised character and arguably the one with the most empathy. he has a soft spot for the boy and the two have a deep bond which is not common for a human and a god to have. you don’t get insight to what the other gods are like, but they’re implied to exist. this story has a very messy and hazy view towards religion and godhood and their nature towards humanity, and this vague figure, a dreamlike character, is proof enough of that.

THE VILLAGE: okay so in general these people suck. the village consists of, well, the village, but they’re very fluid in the way they appear in the story? as in for the most part they appear as a collective, a unit. one character, the summer boy’s “friend”, is somewhat separate considering he’s a pretty important character. it’s very hard describing this unit of a character but essentially they’re the main antagonistic force and they hate the protagonist for seemingly no reason.

WHAT GOES DOWN:

sometime around this time, the boy chances upon meeting his “god”, this being who lives up in the clouds and whom he talks with often, except you don't know if this god is real or not. that’s one of the recurring themes of this story: what’s real and what isn’t. it’s :) a fun time :) for sure :)

essentially Things Happen And It Only Gets Weirder. i cannot even try describing what happens because it’s all very spoilery but let’s just say that this is a very sad story but not even in a “this makes me cry” manner, but rather in a “this is so fucked up wtf why”. the prose of this is very, very hazy and thick, in a manner that’s both smooth and suffocating. there’s also a lot of moon and water imagery which we love. i love the atmosphere + the setting—colonial india— as it’s a subtle but key element to the plot.

FORM:

OKAY YES be prepared for the true colours of how unhinged i am. i apologize for the form brainrot.

POV: so in this story i really said “what if it had all three of the main povs... jk jk... unless 😳😳” and then proceeded to use all three povs. you’re probably wondering, how did i do that? WHY did i do that? and my answer to that is: 🙂

the first-person pov: the summer boy narrates in first person. his pov takes up about 40% of the story, and this is where we unlock family backstory + how he feels about the various forces playing into his life. he’s an extremely unreliable narrator and he knows it; his narration oscillates between very naive and very self-aware, and this effect is pretty disconcerting. the summer boy is kind of a walking contradiction and we love that conflict.

the second-person pov: a god narrates in second person. his pov takes around 20% of the story, and his scenes all involve his conversations with the boy. his pov is extremely detached, and suspends belief because he seems awfully made up. there’s an edge to the prose in his narration, where you know that something's off, but you can’t exactly pinpoint what.

the third-person pov: the villagers narrate, either as a collective, or as an individual figure, in third person. they take up the other 40% of the story, and there are so many different people and differing opinions with this, and every time we read a third person excerpt it’s a different person, and this is mostly used to add onto the different ways in which the boy is perceived. this is also where the structural part of the form gets really wacky.

STRUCTURE: if my story isn't told in vignettes is it my story though /j. gothm is told in vignettes, each one between 50 to 500 words. the first and second person bits are normal-ish vignettes, with straightforward narration. the third person vignettes, on the other hand, are super assorted. we have a lot of epistolaric sections— there’s a letter, a folk song [which was found around the summer boy], and most of the conversation is told as just plain dialogue without tags. there’s also a phone call transcript, and finally some normal chunks of prose. what am i doing wtf.

also to add onto this the story is told non-linearly. 😀 the only thing that keeps me from going insane is the fact that there are chronological tags before most vignettes [also the manner in which they're tagged differs from pov to pov. for example a few of the third person conversations are marked just as “sunday” or “thursday”, while the summer boy’s narration is marked with the full date and year]

in all this clownery i completely forgot to mention what the tense was [the way everything else was so complicated that i forgot tense was a thing lmao] and good news!! it’s the only sane thing about this story!! it’s told fully in present tense. thank everything.

AN EXCERPT:

okay i’m once again not sharing much because this will be submitted to litmags 🧞

[The boy is scrawny as always. He carries an air of diswant— even death had rejected him when the plague killed only his grandmother— but walks like he doesn’t notice. He smiles at them, jitters, and wipes his hand across his knees. Blood comes away in thin, translucent lines. He saves it on the kerchief he keeps tucked in his shirt, careful to dirty the cloth even more. The villagers scrunch their noses in disgust; who knew how old and rotten the kerchief was, or how long it had carried blood like the unwashed sword of a warrior?]

also by the way this excerpt is in square brackets because it is a third-person interjection in a vignette that is otherwise first-person [at this point...]

SPARE THOUGHTS:

this was inspired by a conversation i had with my grandfather, where he was telling me about how people used to sing songs to the skies, as a way of devotion to a specific god. he used the [loose translation of] the english word “yearning” to refer to the emotion the singers would invoke, and that sparked the concept of a disillusioned young boy who talks to the moon as a way to please the god he’s in love with. it’s a very softly disconcerting story and once again deals with the theme of “perception vs reality” which if you know me and my work, is the theme i’m forever obsessed with.

i really like how this turned out? the atmosphere is exactly how i wanted it to be, and there’s so much i have to add on as i edit and i’m really looking forward to that. this is also the only short story i’ve written where i knew which litmag i’d love for it to be published in? like i never write things with publishing in mind, but for some reason while writing this story it occurred to me that it would be a perfect fit for this specific magazine and i love that. anyway if you’ve made it through the post till here,,,, bless you and your braincells. and that’s all for today!!

[stupidzeldaaus]

Okay- here we go-

The Steampunk Minish AU

I'll leave a whole bunch of explanations under the cut because it's a mess. There's a lot....

Okay getting the minish themselves out of the way first- these are just three of them.

So first off is the minish girl with a mini guardian sword. She's the reason it turned into spirit tracks brainrot so it was fitting to give her an outfit based off of the engineers outfit.

She has a grappling hook as well, which is mostly for scaling up tables, chairs, and bookshelves in the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab. And the guardian sword, due to being effective against guardians, is used to sever connections inside of them.

I had a sibling ask (around the vaatea au) if the minish used acorns as coffee cups so she has coffee in an acorn. She needs it.

Next is this guy. I honestly haven't put much thought into him except he's probably alot older than he looks. Also I think he'd vibe with Robbie in Akkala. Those goggles he has probably move like Robbies do as well.

He was also the one who made the little guardian sword.

Oh and his tail is under his clothes. It's probably so it doesn't get in the way.

Alright- my personal favorite and also the one that will probably out me on discord cause they're based off another OC I've already shown off and do not shut up about. Anyway, they're a ray of sunshine.

So they seem to carry a lot of tools on them, some of which can't be seen. They also have a lot of belts on their jacket, which, while it seems like just a fashion statement, I think they have a use. Most likely for holding more tools. The big pockets probably have tiny nuts bolts and screws. Also snacks. They gotta make sure their partner didn't just have coffee for breakfast.

So Purah. She's actually pretty important since, not only is she a scientist, she can see them all as well. I had a theory a while back that she turned into a child to study minish and then that was cut from the game. She can see them but, can't quite understand them at that point. Maybe she makes a translator or finds a jabber nut later.

The minish trying to explain something here might be the first based off of handedness but also might be the first ones mother. The first picture has her speaking minish while the bottom has her drawing out a wrench, glasses, and a sword. The sword might be in reference to the minish cap.

Yep. They still wear leaf cloaks. But they're more for camouflage now. Botw may not have cats that I know of but they do have birds that typically eat mice. And the manga did show that yep animals can see the minish pretty well actually.

Alright- the fun part! It's mostly going to be explanation since- guardians...

Robbie studied guardians mostly so its probably his research that gave the minish the knowledge on their inner workings.

So the first picture has who I think is a younger version of the second minish.

We saw where Link had trouble climbing up sheikah walls and the minish probably had the same problem.

Theres one scene from secret world of Arrietty where they use double sided tape for climbing, and i wanted to use that but I didn't think tape was a thing invented in the zelda universe. And (after an adult timeline and beyond quest) SURE ENOUGH- Spirit Tracks wellspring station. Also possibly Purah or Robbies labs. So... I guess that can be a thing...

Secondly is the guardian labeled dead. It's been taken down. One thing I should mention- I'd like to think that if the active guardian stalkers are closer to towns or roads used regularly there's probably more of a chance that they'd be immobilized.

Plus the thought of the scene from revenge of the sith, with the AT-AT, would probably be cool with a guardian.

The guardians probably would go even more haywire than they already were while trying to shut them down and it's probably better if there isn't a giant spider robot running into one of the stables.

Link ran into this guardian, and knows he didn't take it down. So who or what did...?

There's a third unfinished doodle that I couldn't bring myself to finish, mainly because i couldn't figure out anything about the inside of a guardian. What I know is that there are gears, shafts, springs, and cores. I wanted initially to let them meet the hylian champion but- this link is more of an adult and he probably can't see them.

Finally- I did say it devolved into spirit tracks.

The first picture is a book on New Hyrule, which is covering the Spirit Train, The Hero of Spirits, and Byrne apparently. This book might have been lost somewhere in Hyrule Castle, since I'd like to believe the royal family would keep track of all the legends and history of Hyrule.

Finally, the final picture.

So the minish girl (Okay they all really need names...) is trying to decide on how to power the train. Sheikah technology or Lokomo technology. Two very different technologies.

They are not the same. Not even remotely.

The train she's in the middle of sketching was from the ST concept art. Apparently the book she was reading didn't have much on steam power.

(But that doesn't mean it's the only book. If I had to guess there's most likely a few more books on the technology from new hyrule.)

I'd like to have eventually a train going from Akkala to Hatenos lab, and eventually go across all of Hyrule

Anyway thanks for reading through! I know it was a mess.

[mengyan]

Just curious but how the heck did you get Duane into your server? Imagine being that iconic /pos

oh god okay anon would you believe me if i said it all started from me being a julethief simp because that is technically what happened—

so duane did a q&a livestream with alicyn on instagram right? and we were allowed to submit questions in the question box thingy, obviously i have brainrot so i asked duane “what do you like about carmen and julia’s dynamic?”

innocent enough question, was not expecting it to be answered, really. then alicyn picked it to answer and oh god the absolute chaos in the carulia server that ensued—

anyways. duane kept getting cut off, internet or device issues, possibly both. we were in hysterics at this point. discord was going at 5 messages per second. keysmashes. even the people in the livestream chat were crying. (slight exaggeration, but also not really.) all we heard was “captivated” “love story” “train scene” and that was all we thrived on for the next few hours.

no matter how many times they tried to redo the stream to answer the question (it was like three attempts i think?) it just didn’t work, so they ended it there. me being someone who can never leave anything well enough alone, i dmed alicyn immediately asking if duane could provide a typed out answer. she got back to me a few hours later, saying i’d have to ask him myself. so i dmed him, having no self control and all, explaining how our discord server was freaking out and needed a clear answer.

i wasn’t expecting a response! he replied to me the next day (?) and i’ve posted his answers somewhere down on my blog. anyway, we all freaked out again, sent him five more questions, he replied to those as well, and i thought that’d be the end of it.

wrong! i thought i scared him off but then he came back and messaged me asking if we wanted to set up a livechat interview through discord? he’d talk to us for an hour and we’d just have to pick a time and date and let him know.

more chaos. you get the idea. clearly we couldn’t let him into the carulia server, and we agreed that the main 2.0 server had too many people and would be overwhelming, so i made a whole new server (called “viva la femme rouge!” after a message he sent me) and sent him the invite for that. (we currently have 20 something members idk i haven’t checked)

anyways, he kept joining and leaving periodically “just to check in��� which was honestly terrifying for us because we didn’t know if he’d be staying or not or what convos he would walk in on 😭 finally on the 8th he stayed for a while longer to say hello, which then turned into an impromptu conversation / q&a with us!

he left again after that (we kept trying to tell him to just close the tab instead of the hassle of leaving the server every time but i don’t think he understood that concept) and then dmed me about the date and time again for the official q&a. we decided on the 14th at 8 PM EST.

and that brings us to sunday, the interview day! i did absolutely nothing productive that weekend and honestly, it was worth it. duane even went overtime to answer our questions thoroughly- it was originally supposed to be an hour q&a, but it went for two hours i believe- and it was a really fun time! (we were all hyperventilating on carulia server’s vc before it started though)

oh, and he’s still in the server, probably finally grasping the concept of not leaving, which is... mildly terrifying. it’s absolute crickets in there currently which is hilarious imo. he said he’d lurk around and read over his answers, let us know if he had any afterthoughts. he thanked us for having him which was really sweet!! we also said we’d love to have him join us again if he wanted, so yeah!

i think this sums it up?? kinda?? it’s like 3 AM here haha i hope this makes sense :D

[fakecrfan]

[Star emoji] for the ask!

Okay the star emoji means I get to pickk any selection of any of my writing to talk about and I am going to pic Codependent Horror Entity Seeks Human. Specifically, the Basira section!

(I was also going to talk about the Melanie section because holy shit that has potential, but I am running low on energy so I decided to just pick one section. Still, if anyone has thoughts about MelanEye, I am like 👀)

Anyway, onto Basira!

Let me first say--why Basira/Eye  as opposed to another pairing? Well, I think that Basira is, in canon, the character who is the most guarded about showing any sort of tenderness or vulnerability. She has a quote about how her father couldn’t stand “whining” about your problems so you can see she’s internalized this idea that anything she suffers she has to keep completely private.

That makes her so good for the Eye to fall in love with. It would just, love to pry her open and see all of the vulnerability she hides from people. That’s the angle I was going for with her section.

she can feel that thing at the back of her head tingling, appropriating her own eyes to size her up in an intrusive, alien way, noting the softness of her skin and the angles of her cheekbones. It’s not a way Basira sizes herself up--not on her own, at least.

Hey you know that one Margaret Atwood quote about having a social perspective (in the quote, a male one) imprinted into you so that you are always sizing yourself up as though you are your own voyeur? Isn’t that such an Eye-horror quote? Anyway this bit was inspired by that.

Basira doesn’t think of herself in a vulnerable, feminine way. The Eye’s perception of her sort of fucks directly with her self concept by turning her into an object of desire. It’s--she brushes it off, but it’s a subtle kind of violation that does a lot of damage.

(Just like Basira isn’t beautiful, she’s not someone who shakes or cries when people throw things at her.)

Again, Basira’s self-concept is reliant on her seeing herself as tough, as someone who doesn’t whine. It’s not an entirely healthy self-concept!

Jon is worse than Melanie, though. Not violent. Not irrational. Just  concerned.  

Jon was especially fun to write in this scenario. In Martin + Tapes classic his eye brainrot manifests as obsession and hyperfixation and inability to comprehend boundaries. But this is Jon in s4, when he wants to connect with people, when he wants to be a good friend and build bridges.

But Basira’s self-concept relies on her not sharing her hurts, so that makes Jon--to her perception--scarier than Melanie.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Melanie. Scissors nicked me."’ [...] Basira got control of her tongue again. “Stop that.”

Ahhhhh yes, Jon using his compelling powers to get Basira to open up about feelings. This was especially fun to write because I have been imagining the scenario of “using compelling powers to force someone to open up emotionally” since the beginning of my time in fandom. Mostly because it has great angst potential, especially for someone who is so averse to talking about things.

“You’ll feel better when you talk about it,” he says. Like he’s doing her a favor

Jon genuinely feels like he’s helping here! He genuinely sees that Basira is hurt, closed off, and alone. He correctly intuits that she could start feeling better if she talked to someone. He would probably feel these things anyway--in canon he tries to get her to communicate better--but this is where the Eye Brainrot sets in, and turns that genuine friendship feeling into an obsessive desire to know, even if by force.

she curls up on the cot, shaking in a way Melanie hadn’t managed to get her to.

The emotional intimacy, Jon knowing things about Basira’s hurts that she never wanted to share is legitimately more upsetting to Basira than outright violence.

Her phone buzzes. Martin, the screen says. Martin, who refuses to be in the same room with any of them, or respond to any of their texts. Except Basira.

(Not in the text , but I imagine in this AU Martin tries to balance the new Basira caretaking obsession with his Peter Lukas work. So he still isn’t there most of the time, and he ends up showing his affection and concern by ordering Basira takeout and coffee on Lukas’s card. He tries not to text too often.

This leads Basira to think Martin is less compromised than he is.)

  I was always safe with Daisy.

Outside Jon stops knocking and jiggling the doorknob. Quiet. As though he’s had an idea.

Jon is 100% going to bring Daisy back as a courting gift. And then Daisy is going to end up signing the contract. After that, Basira will be completely surrounded--and completely alone.

(Anyway what I am saying is if anyone has thoughts about this or another Basira AU I am like 👀)