#brain re-written

[aloeverawrites]

Me visibly shaken after reading And Then There Were None, in one go: Christie you madwoman

[deoidesign]

For my birthday... read my webcomic! It's literally free! (Unless you want books. Those are not free)

It's beautiful, it's gentle, it's funny, they're canonically t4t and gay... And it's about time traveling vampires solving supernatural mysteries!

I've spent thousands of hours writing and drawing it, and it's really good! I'm not biased!

It's on hiatus right now and coming back in 2 months, so it's the perfect time to get caught up

[hellsquills]

Disclaimer: I know about the duffle bag Filbrick threw at him, but you can ignore that if you want

My thoughts below the cut! (this turned into a whole ass fic lmao)

My personal headcanon is that Filbrick is as much of a coward as he is of an asshole. Therefore, he wouldn't have kicked Stan when he did in canon. Probably not for a while after that.

However, he does try to send him to military school. He keeps talking about how this kid needs to learn discipline and respect, and if he's not gonna bring money to the house, then he should at least bring some honor to his family.

Stan obviously does NOT want to go. Not only because it's a pointless war ("what've the vietnamese done to us anyways?") but because he remembers his mother's face when Shermie got drafted and he will NOT make her go through that hell again. Also, he doesn't wanna die!!!! Hello?????

He talks it out over the phone with Ford, who's obviously just as against it as he is. He tells Stan that, if he gets into a PhD program, he could skip military. Stan laughs in his face. It'd be easier to jump off the plane without a parachute.

And so, he comes up with a plan. When he goes to take his physical, he tries his best to botch it. If he is bad enough, if it looks like he can't do it, maybe he won't have to. Unfortunately, the recruiters are far too used to this by now, and they don't buy it. Stan goes home with a recruitment letter hidden in his jacket.

Everything goes downhill after that. He runs away from home, changes his name several times, does some crime here and there... The military is after him, and it doesn't take rejection kindly.

Stan stays out of contact with his family for a few years. He can't risk getting them involved in this mess. They don't deserve it. So he just leaves, without saying a word, in the middle of the night. No phone calls, no notes, nothing. Not even he knows where he's going. But if it just looks like he abandoned them, maybe they'll hate him. That will make them sound more believable with the police. They aren't covering for him, because they genuinely have no idea where he is. It's the best way to keep them safe.

In that time, Ford doesn't stop looking for him. He finds him every once in a while, but only his phone number, and he knows that could give away his brother's location and get the family in trouble. So, against his deepest instincts, he doesn't call.

One, three, five, seven years pass. Stan has been around almost all the country, and is genuinely considering leaving it. Maybe going to Mexico, or Colombia. Those sound nice. Maybe they'll be nicer to him.

He's passing his time and thinking about this in a small town restaurant in wherever he's in (somewhere he's not banned from, yet), when a family enters. He doesn't make eye contact, but he can't help but stare at them: a man and a woman, probably in their 50s, with 7 kids; one must be older than him, the second one around his age, the third one a little younger, the fourth one a teenager, and the last three between 10 and 15, no more. Except for the last three, they're all taller than him, even the mother, and they have various degrees of blond hair. Their clothes (overalls and plastic boots) suggest they must work in one of the farms he's seen around the state. They don't wear any accessories, except for the glasses that the father and four of the kids have. They're talking loudly and laughing. They look exhausted from a morning of hard work. They seem happy. They... look nothing like his family, and yet, he can't help but think about it.

He can't help the sob that comes to his throat. It's loud and messy from trying to suppress it, which obviously makes it worse. He covers his mouth immediately, and at that point he notices the tears that have run down his cheeks. "Great", he thinks, "that will make it easier to hide, for sure".

He doesn't move. He wants to escape, but that will draw even more attention to him, and he hasn't even paid for the food yet (normally he'd leave without paying, but the old waitress was kind enough to give him some extra food when she saw how little he ordered). He settles for not moving, lowering his head and covering his face, hoping that no one heard (unlikely) or cared (very likely).

"Ya'lright, son?"

The voice startles him. I wasn't very deep, but it was close enough to send his body into immediate danger mode. He looks up at the man towering over him, who's standing in front of him at a prudential distance.

"Y-Yeah, yeah, no worries."

He hates how broken his voice sounds. He's spent more than enough time sweet-talking his way out of trouble, he should be better at this by now. The man looks about as convinced by it as he is himself.

" 'lright then. Can I help ya?"

Damn villagers and their welcoming demeanor. If he wasn't a wanted man, he would appreciate it. But right now, it couldn't be worse timing.

"Come get ya food, kids!" The waitress' yell yanks him out of his thoughts.

"No", he blurts out, and he turns to the man. Least he can do is show him some respect and look him in the eyes. "I'm fine, thank you."

The man smiles lightly and nods. "Okay. Welcome to the town."

Stan watches as the man goes back to his table. He wishes he had been more polite, the guy was just worrying about him, but he can't afford it. They already know his face, he can't risk anyone else recognizing him-

"Sweet Mother of God almighty."

Stan turns to his right. One of the kids, the one about his age, is looking at him like he just grew a second head. He's frozen in place, his eyes wide as plates behind thick glasses. He doesn't say a word, and it's getting increasingly unnerving. Was the bruising on his face still visible? Maybe it's more apparent in broad daylight than in the shitty light that last motel had in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, I- Can I ask your name?"

The fuck?

"No", answers Stan. Considering how nice his dad was, this guy is pretty rude.

"Son, leave him alone." The mother seems to have manners too, good to know.

The guy does pretty much the opposite. He comes closer to him, until he's right in his path, blocking his exit. That can't be good. Stan feels trapped.

"Are you Stanley Pines?"

Well, that's about it.

Stan tries his best to stay still. This guy doesn't look like a cop, not even an undercover one. But he knows his real name, so maybe someone in his family or friends works in the police; or worse, in the military.

"Listen man, I don't know who you're talking about, but that isn't my name. See?" He reaches for his wallet. He pulls out an ID, with a very clear Jackson Cage on it. He makes a mental note to change it soon, just in case his hunch is right and this guy has connections. "Now, if you excuse me, I'd like to pay for my food and leave. Move."

Stan is already on his feet, but the guy hasn't moved. Stan looks him up and down, trying to appear threatening despite his face probably still being a little red from before. He also gauges how feasible it'd be to escape if things turned bad; the dude is taller than him, sure, but he's also as thin as a toothpick, and by the anxious look on his face, he doesn't seem eager for a fight. The real problem would be evading the restaurant's staff and the other costumers, which include eight carbon copies of the guy in front of him. Probably better to try to de-escalate the situation.

"I- I can't let you leave. Please. I know who you are."

This man is making it really difficult to believe he's not a cop.

"No, you don't. I'm new in town. Move."

"Listen, I-"

"Move out of my way."

"I know your brother."

The words are like a bullet between his eyebrows.

"You look just like him-"

Against his better judgement, he quickly grabs he guy and pins him to the wood in between the booth benches, arm to his throat. If he knows Ford, he knows too much. God he just wanted to have lunch.

The commotion is immediate. He doesn't break eye contact with the guy who's grabbing his arm, whose strength is frankly surprising. He can hear, however, the screams from the dad and the siblings, as well as a couple of gasps from the other costumers. This is not going to go well, but fuck that. He's escaped worse.

"Stop!", the guy shouts as he keeps Stan's forearm from blocking his airway. "Don't hurt him! Don't get closer!"

It takes Stan a second to process what he said. The first part, sure, who wouldn't shout 'stop' when you're being attacked? But the second half doesn't make sense. Is he protecting him? The attacker?

Whatever it is, it works. The family stops in their tracks, still very ready to attack if needed. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the three younger kids moving closer to their mother. For a split second, he feels a pang of remorse for the scene he just caused.

"Hang up the phone, Clarisse, it's okay. Please."

Stan looks in the direction the guy was talking to. Right behind him, the waitress reluctantly puts the phone down.

He looks back at the guy. He looks a little shaken up, probably from the impact his back (and his head?) made with the wooden plank, but he doesn't look scared. He almost looks... sympathetic? Stan is confused as hell.

"I know who you are", the guy whispers, low enough for Stan to hear alone. "You're Stanley Pines, and you have a brother named Stanford. I know him, okay? He's my friend. I met him a few years ago in a quantum physics congress and we've been talking ever since. He told me about his family in New Jersey, and about you. About how he hasn't seen you in years, and how he was trying to find you, to no avail."

Stan is gradually loosening his grip on the guy's neck, who takes a deep breath. He should know better, but- shit, hearing that Ford was looking for him was not what he expected. Even if he doesn't know yet if this guy is lying out of his ass, it's enough to make him doubt.

"I know you were called to Vietnam. He told me. I spent a week with him in his place when he found out, he was unconsollable. When you ran away, he called me. He knew what it meant for you and he thought he'd never see you again, whether you got caught or not. All because of that stupid war." Stan is now trembling a little, he knows it. This guy must know it too, with how close they are. If he stays here any longer he'll break down, but he can't move. Anything to hear his brother's name a little longer. "I know what it's like. Three of my cousins were drafted last year, and I know at least one of them won't be coming back home. Please... let me help you."

Stan meets his eyes. They're green and brown-ish, not unlike the immense fields he's seen in his last journey, the one that led him to this town. With the years, he's learned not to trust beautiful eyes, because they are better at hiding. These ones, however, seem serene and honest, just like his words, and he can't help but believing them. This guy, whoever the fuck he is, knows just about enough.

Stan lowers his right arm. The guy still has his hand on it, but this time is much less defensive and much more comforting. He doesn't complain.

"My name's Fiddleford McGucket, and I'm gonna help you find your brother."

______________________________

Essentially, after this Fidds calls Ford as if nothing happened (per Stan's request, since he's still paranoid about the police tracking his calls) and asks him to come to Tennessee. Ford argues that he's very busy and all, but Fidds convinces him in the end.

Obviously the twins have a dual breakdown and cry their heart out. In this AU they're much less emotionally constipated lol

Ford tells Stan that he's gonna build a house in a small town in Oregon as a part of his research, and asks him to move in with him once it's finished. Stan, of course, accepts.

In the meantime, Stan stays in the McGucket farm and helps them out as a way of laying low. He has a great relationship with his family, and they're very proud of him for what he did (i believe that the McGuckets are hippies at heart, and they're VERY anti-war, especially when it already took three of them)

I don't know how much of the canon storyline would this AU follow, but it's pretty much your average Mystery Trio AU with some different backstory

[dailymolars]

why does like. homoerotic queerbait-y media appeal to me so much more than canon healthy media. like if I want to watch a show about gay people there are plenty. but no I have to watch two men never say they like eachother but live together and work with conjoined balconies and be eachother's "one true love" as hugh laurie put it. AND NARUMITSU TOO THERES A FUCKING PATTERN HERE. WHY IS "UNNECESSARY FEELINGS" SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING THAN ANYTHING CANON

[pers3phone399]

sorry babe can't talk rn i'm letting another fanfic completely overtake all of my waking thoughts

(it's "Methyl Nitrate Pineapples" and its sequel "Cherry Bomb Alchemy" by @fablecore (razbliuto on ao3) if you like One Piece OC stories and one (1) emo Surgeon of Death you should go read it too)

[gaysparkler]

Ūru - Character Overview

Half-orc · Cleric of Ilmater · The Dark Urge · she/her

I've been teasing Ūru in tags so here is her grand online debut (let's ignore that I'm at 80+ hours with her in-game).

I love choosing names based on whichever fantasy language corresponds to my OCs, so I was very happy when I found a very limited orcish word list from Tolkien. "Ūru" means "sun" (makes sense considering, well, the Uruk-Hai LOL) and I felt it was very fitting for my most tragic girl of all time.

Ūru breaks out of her pod on the Nautiloid with no memories, an incomprehensible thirst for blood, and a sigil of Ilmater in her hands. Remembering her name feels like she tore another hole in her broken mind.

Though she has no memories, she can recall what a Cleric of Ilmater is supposed to do: heal wounds and limit suffering. This is why she spends most of Act 1 very distressed due to this internal conflict; her mind, her body craves and demands blood, but her conscience tells her that her duty is to heal.

That conflict has made her terrified of her urges and of the tadpole in her brain - there are too many missing variables, too many things that she can't understand, though despite all of it, she strives to do good.

Ūru found herself drawn to Shadowheart, not in small part because she also had amnesia and was a fellow cleric. Their gods were in opposition, she knew that, but to have someone who misses a part of herself but remaining devoted, was comforting to her. (Also the dynamic between someone trained to receive pain and someone whose very blood demands to inflict pain is top tier.)

Her goal early in game is to do her very best to ignore her urges and to get rid of the tadpole. Though she is a life cleric and her knowledge of anatomy is unparalleled, she let Volo attempt to remove the tadpole - knowing full well she would lose her eye in the process.

One of her solutions to quell the urges is to always put herself in harm's way, in the name of protecting her companions and others in need. The pain helps her distract herself from what her body demands, which she continually refuses. And it only gets worse for her from here ;)

[definitelynotshouting]

I just binged your whole hunger au and your prose and structure and literally everything is so masterfully done AHHHHH!! eagerly looking forward to the next update! do you have any particular inspirations for your writing/storytelling style?

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 THIS IS SUCH A SWEET MESSAGE WAUGH THANK YOU ANON,,,,

oh gosh honestly i get inspiration from all over-- my style was sorta cobbled together from a bajillion different sources that i cherrypicked what i liked from and then evolved it from there. A lot of it probably comes from growing up on fantasy books published in the 70s-80s, tbh; theres a very particular cadence to many of them that i think echoes in my writing quite a bit. I also uh, read Beowulf when i was 11, so that may have had something to do with it too 😅😅😅

Its funny looking back on things from my childhood and seeing where a lot of inspo comes from-- i also grew up reading norse and greek mythology so im pretty sure some of the poetry of those storytelling conventions rubbed off on me. I definitely know there are a few fic authors out there whom i shamelessly incorporated bits and bobs of their writing styles into mine because i loved them so much. But yeah its basically a giant melting pot of different inspirations in here SKDNWKDNSKS thank you for the question!! :DDD

[endlessthxxghts]

WIP Wednesday !!

Thank you @beskarandblasters and @sawymredfox for the tag!!!

Currently working on 3 things rn!!

Chapter 2 of New Beginnings

Part 3 of Dr. Miller

This one is being heavily edited, so I don’t wanna show anything quite yet because I don’t want to show y’all something that might not even make it to the final cut lolol.

An untitled fic that I’m not going to reveal much about just yet, but I will give you guys this lil snippet 😗

Np tags <3 @javierpena-inatacvest @honeyedmiller @joelsgreys @janaispunk @tightjeansjavi & anyone else !!

[hylaversicolor]

wait just kidding i have more to say

mgs is difficult to analyze. it’s extremely hard to watch a mgs cutscene and understand what kind of character emotions you’re supposed to be feeling from it in the moment. the story isn’t exactly character driven in that the characters’ relationships are mainly established offscreen or through exposition or both, often using shorthand (we care about the boss because she has a maternal vibe which kojima exploits for an emotional payoff; the boss isn’t a strongly written character, her relationship with snake isn’t organic, she’s a walking talking thesis statement on wars and borders). her and snake’s relationship in the game consists of her explaining her motivations to him and him reacting to it, then she defects and he asks her “why did you defect?” about a thousand times until she explains herself one more time and then he kills her. there’s nothing like “remember that time we worked together in xyz place,” they have no inside jokes, no flashbacks of them training or working together, it’s all meant to be filled in by the player and perhaps their own memories of their mother or some other mentor figure they have in their life. the same applies to ocelot. he always, always wears gloves (classic trope for concealment/hiding something) and he NEVER explains himself in his own words or if he does he uses half truths or ambiguous wording, or is obscured from the camera or the viewer in some way (x).

we’re not meant to understand ocelot’s intentions based on just what appears in the games themselves. and at the same time it feels like…cheating, almost? to take words from kojima that appear outside the games (even if they did come from kojima himself) and say “this one interpretation of the words is definitively what was going on”

because metal gear is not really about what kojima says outside of the games. mgs is not meant to be clear or unambiguous. the stuff on screen is just one half of the story; by design, half (more than half?) of the story comes from the player: from from the player’s decisions and preconceived notions and lived experiences. metal gear is about the player’s interpretation of intentionally vague storytelling. THAT is why kojima relies on movie tropes for shorthand. he makes games that can easily be interpreted in a variety of ways and that is the Point!! by the nature of the very thing there isn’t a clear answer as to whether or not ocelot’s love for bb is romantic or not. but regardless of whether or not it is, ocelot STILL did everything he did for bb and died for him in the end. there is no easy answer and there is no correct interpretation. thanks

[tovaicas]

anyways my friends activated my conlang brain and I've made smth insane as usual

red is influences, blue is Elezen-family languages, green is like a mix bc I see the Alliance cities as having a trade language (that critically is limited to them).

I see Duskwight as a separate language from Black Shroud Elezen (but sharing a lot - easy enough to learn for those speakers). Coerthan and all its derivatives are a whole different language under the Elezen umbrella and isn't mutually intelligible with BSE. Because they split so early, they probably don't share much more than root words and etymologies; within the same family so not difficult to learn for other speakers of Elezen languages, but very distinctly different.

(also I'm not listing them but the branches extend to include other diaspora Elezen languages)

[die-schwanenkoenigin]

any kinktober news? asking for gay and avorah reasons

never taken part before. also, generally speaking, i don't find these events, they find me 😂 so unless someone puts it on my dash or asks me outright, chances are i'll miss it.

if you've got any specific prompts though, let me know. i've been struggling massively with writing these past couple of weeks, so if you want to throw anything my way, it might help.

anyway, thanks for asking. i appreciate it. xx

[didhewinkback]

i know we are somewhat in the dark ages for fic engagement but we are in a golden era of fic writing OKAY so i wanted to shout out my fave writers on here bc you absolutely should be reading their work (everyone on this list is a legend who needs no help from little old me but wanted to shout them out anyway bc theyre talented af):

@oh-honey-styles, @harrytheehottie, @harry-on-broadway, @andwhenshesays, @harrysblackcoat, @for-fucks-sake-h, @hslllot, @harrystylesgotmefuckedup,

[crimeronan]

current status: wishing i was an idea factory because i keep wanting to make a post that just says "hunter adores luz" as if i have not already written literally every possible version of this text post and every possible version of this fic. but also hunter adores luz.

[swiftsaltsweet]

Me: Good news! I wrote like....12ish pages yesterday! :D Brain: Was it all attributed to a single chapter. Me: *walks away* Brain: WAS IT A SINGLE CHAPTER OR DID YOU JUST JUMP AROUND?! Me:

[deepwithintheabyss]

coming with a peace offering: bullying M and also Slade discovers anal toys after a night with Dick and starts using them :3

Slade could admit that it had been irresponsible of him to shove one of Nightwing's training batons up Grayson's ass, but at the moment it had seemed like a good idea. A good idea to test how far he could stretch the kids ass around his cock and how full he could stuff him.

"Next time," Grayson had gasped while he had fucked it into him "We're going to use real toys and I'm going to show you how to use them right."

The promise had been delightful cute, like a little kitten trying to seem fierce.

Even if Slade had been unaware up until that very moment, that there were toys for anal play as well.

In hindsight it made sense, not everyone could find someone to get fucked by, and just as womans had theirs, men sometimes wanted to play with something as well. It just was that well, Slade had never needed it. The thought of letting anyone fuck him had never seemed appealing to him, and if he wanted to fuck someone it was always easy to pick up someone at the nearest bar.

It was different with Grayson though, the brat had a way to get under his skin like very few people had managed. And unlike others he seemed to like to actually actively exploit it.

Slade had learned many new things abotu himself over teh course of their... transactions of intimacy, to put it simply.

So now that he had time to think itproperly over he found the thought intriguing. Not that he ever would admit it to Graysons face but perhaps, if he played his cards right the brat would just show him all about it.

[strawberryfaced]

I NEED. TO DO. OR MAKE SOMETHING. PLEASE