#i know this dynamic was all but canon for them already but seeing the cut scripts was still fun for me! 🥹 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bananarrlele · 2 months ago

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Dornröschen

tags: gore, dark romance, power dynamics, psychological horror, vampire, horror, obsession, gothic, supernatural, non-canon elements, erotic, blood play, seduction, smut (explicit sexual content), dub-con, female reader, dominant male, size difference, oral sex (fem! receiving), lots of terms of endearment, rough sex, biting, creampie, brief aftercare, literature mentions (goethe's poem 'heidenröslein'), title translates to "little, thorned rose" or even "sleeping beauty", in german. everything written in bold is otherworld language.

plot: "after a violent earthquake shakes the underworld, you rush to mr. silvair’s lab for help. but everything feels wrong — he’s no longer the cold, distant figure you know. transformed into a vampire, silvair pulls you into a surreal dream where your unrequited love finally finds its answer."

Knabe sprach: 'Ich breche dich, Röslein auf der Heiden.'

The boy said: I will break you, little rose on the heath.

The depths trembled like a heart in agony, and the ground opened like a hungry mouth, swallowing everything in its path with an intensity you had never deemed possible. It was as if a slumbering giant was writhing in its sleep, as the walls shook and the floor shattered, as if hell itself was opening beneath your very feet. Losing your balance, you could do little but emit a gasping murmur of exasperation, followed by a piercing cry of pain as your head collided with a rock, and your vision darkened as if an ebony veil was cast over your eyes.

When you were finally able to open your eyes again, you groaned painfully upon touching your head and feeling a warm, sticky liquid gushing from the deep cut, but a fleeting, perishable sense of relief filled your chest as you noticed that the sound of the rumble had subsided.

With your eyes wavering and blurred by agony, you hesitantly extended your hands before you, only to see them smeared with blood as red as cracked rubies. A silent scream escaped your lips. It was a nasty gash, the reddened flesh spasming, and the quick pulse of hot blood eagerly pouring out. The sight of the blood transported you to a dark, unknown place, where physical pain mingled with the anguish of the soul. But a persistent force within you, perhaps fear, perhaps intuition, kept you moving toward an uncertain destination.

Or perhaps, not so uncertain and unknown after all. The throbbing wound in your head was a map, and the pain a compass, guiding you through a tortuous but familiar path: the small room of the doctor. The space occupied by Mr. Silvair wasn't far, but the darkness caused by the stupor threatening to close your eyes was like a sea of ink, hungry and eager to suffocate and end you. Your body protested, stiffened in an aged armor of pride, keeping your legs nearly rigid, but you knew you needed help. And the Doctor had always been there, like a precious clock never moved from its place, a faithful shadow, the only constant in a world of perpetual changes. His words were law, and his judgment, always reliable.

Upon reaching the door, you pushed it with a trembling hand, entering with a firmness already frayed. Your body, already exhausted and weakened, finally succumbed. The merciless darkness took over once more, and you fainted, falling into a deep, involuntary sleep.

Consciousness returned slowly, like a mist dissipating in an eternal twilight. Your eyes opened, unsteady, as if being pulled from a deep, viscous sleep. Your eyelids twitched gently against the velvety gloom that enveloped the room. A canopy bed cradled you, soft as a cloud, with columns carved from an exotic and distinct wood. The heavy, opaque crimson velvet curtains filtered the faint, almost nonexistent light seeping through the cracks in the windows.

The air was dense, laden with a sweet, almost cloying perfume reminiscent of wilted roses and incense. A slight tremor ran through your body, and you stretched, feeling your sore muscles. As you sat up in the bed, your eyes adjusted to the dimness and began to distinguish the room's details.

The walls, covered in rich scarlet fabric, were adorned with a profusion of paintings. Portraits of men and women, all with impassive expressions and penetrating gazes, dominated the walls. They were figures of authority — kings, queens, generals — who seemed to observe you with curiosity. Among the portraits were also still lifes, with lush fruits and wilted flowers, and dark landscapes, with abandoned castles and twisted trees.

Beside the bed, a black marble fireplace held embers that lazily glowed, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Above the fireplace, a Venetian mirror reflected a distorted image of the room, doubling the sense of opulence and decadence.

A solid mahogany desk, filled with old books and yellowed parchments, occupied a corner of the room. A raven's feather rested on a silver inkwell, inviting you to record your thoughts.

As you stood, your bare feet touched a Persian rug, soft and thick, cushioning your steps. The high, vaulted ceiling was decorated with frescoes depicting mythological scenes, filled with dark gods and fantastic creatures.

With a tilt of your head, your eyes fell upon the silhouette of a man of imposing stature, unmoving on his own feet before the fireplace, with the flames dancing and illuminating the profile of his pale, almost translucent face. A shiver ran down your spine with the realization. Mr. Silvair was there, more sumptuous than ever. But not the Silvair you knew, dressed in his usual bloodstained, worn lab coats. No. This was a transformed Silvair, almost unrecognizable.

His long, silver, misty hair fell loosely over his shoulders like liquid mercury, framing his ivory face with a slight smile. His eyes, if they still existed in their sockets, covered by bandages stained in crimson, contrasted with his attire, so different from anything you had ever seen. The one who once presented himself in sober, functional garments now wore an extravagant and dark ensemble. A silver velvet coat, embroidered with delicate arabesques in a deep burgundy hue, draped over his broad shoulders. The piece, though luxurious, bore a certain carelessness, with undone buttons revealing layers of fine, lace-trimmed shirts. Tight leather pants, shimmering like silver, clung to his legs, contrasting with heavy, high-heeled boots, more suited for a battlefield than an opulent hall.

The gothic, antiquated, and aristocratic look was a shock, but there was something familiar about the figure. The same aura of mystery and power that once defined him was now amplified by his new attire. It was as if, by shedding his physician’s garb, Silvair had revealed a part of himself that had always been hidden — a dark, enigmatic facet that coexisted with his scientific nature.

A sigh escapes his lips as he unsettlingly notices your gaze and steps closer to the bed.

— Finally. You're awake.

You furrowed your brow as you noticed him communicating perfectly in your human tongue, not resorting to the one of the underworld. Your bewilderment deepened when you detected a hint of an accent in his voice, rough and archaic.

You blinked, disoriented by the sudden shift in his tone. The man who had once appeared as a cold, detached doctor now revealed an unexpected, almost tender side. The strangeness of it lingered, but it soon gave way to an intensifying curiosity that tugged at you.

— You know my language? — You murmured, your voice hoarse with the remnants of sleep.

— Naturally, — He answered, his tone dripping with a quiet superiority. — I speak all your tongues.

Your eyes widened in disbelief.

— All of them?

He gave a slight, almost theatrical tilt of his head, his movement elegant and assured.

— Yes, all of them. French, German, Spanish... Even the most obscure dialects.

A shiver crept down your spine. How could he know so much?

Before you could form another question, he continued, his voice a little lower, almost intimate now.

— Do you remember Goethe? A poet of some renown in your world. Heidenröslein, my dear…

You shook your head slightly, intrigued.

— "Röslein auf der Heiden..." A delicate little rose, growing in a wild place. A thing of beauty, surrounded by chaos. Just like you.

His voice had taken on a new quality, smooth and sensual, each word weighted with meaning. He took a slow step forward, deliberate in his movement, and with it, the distance between you shrank. It wasn’t just a physical approach — it was as if he were pulling you toward him in ways you couldn’t quite explain, closing in on you, emotionally as much as physically.

— But I don’t wish to pluck you just yet, like the boy in the poem. No. I want to tend to you. I’ve kept you safe, you see...

His words lingered in the air, hanging heavy with an almost unsettling promise. His gaze, once clinical and detached, now held something deeper — something possessive, something darkly protective. The room, once oppressive and filled with an eerie void, now felt thick with an intimacy that you couldn’t escape. The air around you seemed to hum with a dangerous allure.

You took a shallow breath, entranced. For a fleeting moment, the world outside his presence disappeared. All the uncertainty, the strangeness, the tension, everything faded into irrelevance. The man standing before you, no longer the cold, calculating doctor, had transformed into something else entirely. Not in appearance alone, but in the very essence of the atmosphere he commanded. A weight hung in the air, drawing you in, an undeniable pull that made everything else seem insignificant, distant.

Your skin prickled. His comment, his proximity, everything was so intense. You tried to compose yourself, but his voice was hypnotizing.

— How do you know so much?

— I have plenty of time to read, my lovely. And language, it is like a labyrinth. Once you find the thread of Ariadne, all the paths reveal themselves.

He extended a cold and elegant hand, gently caressing your face to trace the outline of the wound on your forehead, before stepping back slightly, his expression becoming more distant. It was if he were withdrawing into his thoughts for a moment.

— But let us return to the present, shall we? I am most pleased that you have awakened. You were in a profound, consuming slumber, one that could not be easily disturbed.

His attention shifted, and he gestured towards the opulent attire that lay upon the chaise longue beside the bed. His voice took on a more formal, commanding tone.

— Ah. As for your attire, I have taken the liberty of selecting something fitting for the occasion.

The garments were nothing short of extravagant. The gown, composed of rich crimson velvet, shimmered under the dim light. Its delicate embroidery of silver threads formed intricate patterns across the fabric, while the lace at the collar and cuffs added a touch of elegance. A corset of dark satin cinched tightly at the waist, lending an air of refinement. The voluminous skirt cascaded in soft folds, adorned with dark pearls that sparkled faintly. Beside the gown, a pair of knee-high boots crafted from supple black leather stood, their heels elegantly designed.

He moved closer once more, his voice taking on an even deeper resonance.

— The banquet will commence shortly, my dear. It would be most unfortunate for you to keep the others waiting.

His covered eyes possibly locked with yours, the weight of his words leaving little room for dissent. His presence, once again, enveloped you entirely, as if the evening, and the role you were to play within it, had already been carefully predetermined.

You nodded timidly, your eyes trailing over your worn clothes. The rough cotton scratched at your skin, a constant reminder of your simple life. Mr. Silvair had left silently, leaving you alone with a whirlwind of emotions.

With a sigh, you approached the ancient mirror, its golden frame chipped and faded with age. The reflection that stared back at you was pale and tired. You disentangled yourself from your old clothes, feeling a mixture of relief and sorrow. The silk gown, however, was a revelation. The vibrant red seemed almost incandescent, contrasting sharply with your skin. The soft texture slid over you, caressing you like a warm breeze. The golden embroidery glittered in the candlelight, casting an almost hypnotic glow. As you donned the dress, you felt yourself transform, as though you were a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

You paused for a moment, studying your reflection in the mirror, seeing a stranger before you, yet somehow, it was you. The gown seemed to mold perfectly to your form, highlighting your features in a way you had never experienced. There was a sense of power in the transformation, but also a haunting vulnerability, as though you were about to step into a world from which there was no return.

A deep breath escaped your lips, as you attempted to calm the storm of nerves within you. The gown seemed to murmur as you moved, its fabric flowing over your skin like the whisper of something unfamiliar, something unsettling. You stole one last glance at your reflection, noting the stranger staring back at you, before turning toward the door. Your footsteps were swallowed by the thick carpet as you made your way forward. The banquet called, and with it, the grand spectacle Mr. Silvair had promised, waiting to unfold before you.

The banquet hall was shrouded in a pulsating gloom, its walls draped with ancient, tattered tapestries depicting scenes of vice and decadence. The clinking of golden goblets against plates and the muffled murmurs of distorted conversations echoed through the vast space. As you stepped further inside, the mingling scents of roasted human flesh and fresh blood intertwined with the heavy aroma of incense, creating a sensation both repulsive and fascinating.

The table stretched endlessly, covered by dark cloths stained with blood and other viscous fluids that glimmered in the candlelight along its length. The golden cutlery, polished yet tarnished, gleamed ominously in the flickering light, as if eager to delve into the human flesh displayed upon the table. The meat was raw and grotesque, human flesh skinned and scattered across the surface, some pieces nearly unrecognizable, as if the victims had been torn apart in a frenzied, animalistic rage.

The air was thick with the oppressive weight of ritualistic depravity, and each step you took, hidden, resonated with the echo of past horrors embedded in the very stones of the hall. Shadows danced mockingly on the walls, and the grotesque feast laid out before you seemed to pulsate with a life of its own, a grim testament to the dark desires of those who gathered there.

Monsters draped in black, flowing veils sat around the table, their bony, misshapen hands grasping pieces of flesh with their utensils, sharp teeth gleaming as they chewed with sadistic pleasure. The men and women at the table were pallid figures, their skin ghostly white or tinged with shades of blue and purple, their eyes hollow yet ravenous, surveying everything around them. Some had eyes as red as blood, as if they had already feasted but still hungered for more.

At the far end of the table, a grotesque spectacle: a severed head, its eyes alert and full of devilish mischief, rested as a macabre trophy, draped in strands of auburn hair. Its expression was frozen in a roguish grin, yet those around it, including Mr. Silvair, seemed utterly unfazed. The lifeless body of Mr. Chopped, its parts scattered along the table, appeared as nothing more than a grisly decoration, an addition to the feast that all knew was not merely of flesh and blood, but of twisted power and perverse pleasure.

The scene was one of decadent horror, a nightmarish tableau where the boundaries between life and death, pleasure and pain, were blurred into a single, horrifying reality. The monsters reveled in their feast, their laughter a chilling symphony that resonated through the hall, mingling with the crackling of the fire and the murmur of ancient, unspeakable rites. The banquet was not just a meal, but a ritual, an affirmation of their dominion over the grotesque and the macabre, a celebration of their insatiable appetites and unholy desires.

They dined with their golden utensils, the forks and knives glinting as they sliced through pieces of human flesh with precise, almost surgical accuracy, as if they were handling something as ordinary as a regular meal. The decaying flesh was brought to their lips with a monstrous slowness, their sharp teeth biting and tearing as if they were predators in their purest essence. Blood flowed freely, staining the edges of the plates and the tablecloths with a deep, crimson hue.

As they ate, strange toasts were made, crystal goblets raised and filled with thick, dark human blood. The hoarse, rough tone of one of the monsters cutted through the room.

— To those who dare to cross the boundaries between life and death! A toast to the darkness! — He said, his voice deep and almost reverberating.

The others echoed his toast, their voices blending into a chilling chorus. Mr. Silvair, at the head of the table, nodded with a small, enigmatic smile. His presence commanded attention, and even in this macabre setting, he exuded a sense of control and authority.

Suddenly, the gaze of the guests shifted, drawn to the far end of the table where the decapitated head sat atop a silver platter, lightly dusted with blood. It was unmistakably Mr. Chopped Head, as previously stated, his body gone, yet his head remained, almost absurdly bubbly and elated in its stillness. Beside it, a hand was carelessly splayed across the table, grotesquely stitched back together with crude thread, as though hastily reattached to the lifeless flesh.

A woman in a black veil raised her goblet, her voice dripping with soft sarcasm as she addressed the head, her eyes flickering with dark amusement.

— And a tribute to our dear Mr. Chopped, who, even without his body, continues to grace us with his joyous spirit. — She said, her lips curling into a mockery of a smile. She lifted her chalice of blood high, offering a morbid salute to the decapitated head. — May his absence inspire us.

You watched from the shadows, a strange sense of detachment gripping you as the grotesque scene unfolded before you. Your presence went nearly unnoticed, blending into the darkness, like a silent observer in a nightmare too absurd to feel real.

Then, in an instant, the room fell deathly quiet. Ravenous eyes locked onto you, as if devouring you with their gaze. A low growl rumbled from a few of the monsters, followed by murmurs — a mix of repulsion and primal desire. Hands rose from the table, the pointed fingers of creatures lightly grazing the silverware, poised to strike. The air grew thick with tension, as if it might snap at any moment.

But before any move could be made, a silky yet powerful voice interrupted the impending chaos.

— Quiet. — Mr. Silvair's voice sliced through the silence with a hypnotic smoothness, yet it carried a force that silenced them immediately. He rose from the table, his slender and elegant figure standing out against the shadows. — She is my guest. Mind your manners.

Mr. Silvair made a graceful gesture with his hand, inviting you to come closer.

— A night of celebration and pleasure becomes even more intriguing with a special guest. — He said with a soft smile that seemed to hide something deeper, darker. His voice was a seductive whisper that somehow eased the tension in the room. — Please, my dear, come in and enjoy the evening with us. Are the delights of this night to your liking?

As he spoke, the monsters at the table quieted down, their predatory gazes now softened, as if somehow controlled by the host's power. Some of the darker figures at the table, covered in veils with deformed faces, still watched you with subtle hunger, but it seemed Mr. Silvair's presence had temporarily calmed their more primal instincts.

A woman in the back, with skin white as wax and eyes like red blades, raised a goblet of blood, making an exaggerated gesture of greeting.

— A human, at this banquet of monsters... — She muttered, laughing lightly, her sharp teeth reflecting the candlelight. — How delicious and dangerous she must be.

Mr. Silvair turned to her, the smile never leaving his lips, but his eyes gleaming with something deeper.

— She is not just a human. — He approached you again, his steps silent. — She is a new kind of delicacy, my dear.

The monsters at the table clapped subtly, with the excitement of those about to taste an exotic dish.

The vampire leaned close to you, his mouth almost touching your ear, the weight of his presence completely absorbing your attention. The heat of his body contrasted with the coldness of his skin, and you could smell his fragrance — something between incense and hot metal.

— You are safe, my dear. Do not let the terror of this place consume you. — His voice was soft, almost like a promise, and you realized how he seemed to be attuned to your thoughts, as if he controlled the very space around you.

He then kissed your hand, a cold gesture, but one that brought a sense of calm, as if the chaos around you could be controlled by his presence. When he lifted his face, his features glowed with a deep hue, the candlelight reflecting in them with an intensity that made him seem more than just a man, more than just a vampire — but an entity that understood the balance between life and death, pleasure and terror.

— I will take care of you, in every sense, my sweet human. — Silvair’s smile was soft, but full of second intentions. He somehow still gave you the impression of being the greatest predator in the room, and at the same time, the one offering you the strangest of refuges.

The banquet continued, but now, with every bite, every smile, every laugh, you felt as though you were being slowly and inevitably woven into the web he had created around you.

The laughter and hushed murmurs gave way to an unsettling silence, broken only by the sound of knives and forks sinking into flesh. With each sip, the blood goblets were raised, staining the guests' throats a deep crimson. But there was more in that room than just monsters and their carnal indulgences.

As the night deepened, a new kind of spectacle began. At the far end of the table, near the large silver candelabra, the acrobats started to move. However, they were no ordinary acrobats. Their figures, skeletal and disjointed, seemed more like entities than human beings, their bodies twisted into impossible shapes. Their arms and legs, thin as broken branches, bent and contorted, as if defying the laws of physics, while they danced among the monsters, leaping from one side to the other with a disturbing agility.

The most unsettling part, however, were the sounds that followed their movements. Every contortion of their bodies emitted a sharp crack, like bones breaking, but none of them appeared to feel pain. Their skin, a mix of soaked flesh and exposed muscles, slid as if bereft of any trace of normalcy, each movement resulting in an explosion of macabre beauty. They were like ghosts of acrobats, created solely to entertain while the banquet continued.

In one of their leaps, one of the acrobats landed with a soft sound beside Mr. Silvair, his bones breaking grotesquely as he bent into position. The vampire, without averting his gaze from you, raised a goblet and offered it to the acrobat, who, without a word, took it with a visibly dislocated hand and raised it to his lips. The dark liquid was slowly poured into his mouth, his neck arching with the movement, before he passed the goblet to another of his kind.

Silvair watched them with a contained smile, and as he leaned slightly, his deep voice reached your ears, almost a whisper.

— Are they not marvelous? — He uttered subtly, without much emphasis. — Before, they were like you. But the true transformation comes when you know the limits of flesh and pain. Like a doctor who understands the deepest aspects of human nature, I perfected them. Now, they dance in decadence.

A chill ran down your spine. The way he said it, the lightness and at the same time the veiled threat in his words, made your stomach churn. But you didn’t have time to react, for Silvair’s hidden eyes were on you once again, as though he knew exactly what you were feeling, even without showing any expression.

You tried to pull away, moving slightly back in your seat, feeling strange, exposed. But before you could say anything, he extended his hand with a firm yet gentle gesture that made you stop. He took your hand, his cold skin against yours, and brought it closer to him, not with brute force, but with an undeniable persuasion.

— Don’t be afraid, my dear. I’ll take care of you as I always have. Do not fret, my delicate heart. — His voice was now softer, almost seductive, like a mist enveloping your thoughts.

But before you could react, a low scream cut through the air, and your eyes were drawn to the center of the table. The woman with red eyes, who had made the toast earlier, was being touched by one of the bone-ridden acrobats. He approached her with monstrous grace, his skeletal hands taking hers with a slow and inevitable gesture. Their movement was hypnotic, like a dark dance atop the table, almost ghostly in its lightness.

The acrobat drew her towards him, his bones groaning as he bent low, his face close to hers. But instead of a mere kiss, his teeth sank into her neck, the bite deep and unrelenting, causing blood to spurt in a vivid jet, partially staining the acrobat’s face. The crimson liquid poured forth, bright and grotesque, as the monsters at the table raised their goblets, eyes locked on the flowing blood.

The woman, with a sigh that mixed both pleasure and pain, made no cry. Her expression, one of twisted ecstasy, swept through the room, infecting it with a dark fervor. The acrobat continued, his feeding violent yet graceful, and the room thrummed with satisfied murmurs as the creatures, monstrous and depraved, reveled in the spectacle.

At that moment, a figure arose — a creature with skin as cold and blue as the sky on a frozen day. His eyes, like spheres of ice, gleamed with an unnatural light, and its voice sliced through the tension like a sharp winter wind.

— A lattermost toast, then. — He announced, his gaze never leaving you, a sinister smile twisting its lips. — To our new guest. May she become one of us. May her flesh also transform, and may she share with us the eternal banquet.

The blood still poured from the pale-skinned woman, but now all eyes were on you. The room seemed colder, and the monster’s invitation wasn’t a proposal, but a veiled threat, with a supernatural weight that made your breath catch. Silvair’s fixed gaze was there, a contrast to the scene of violence, but with the same intensity. He didn’t seem concerned, but rather expectant.

You felt a chill crawl down your spine as the room waited for your response.

[...]

— No.

The tension in the room was still alive, pulsing in the air, but when your feet finally moved, you felt a sudden wave of panic. The banquet was not a safe place. There was no rest among those creatures, among those monsters disguised as elegant hosts. You didn’t know if it was fear or the desire to escape, but something inside you screamed for freedom.

The door to the hall opened with a creak, and as you took your first step into the mansion’s corridors, you noticed something unsettling. The hallways seemed to shift before your eyes. The walls distorted, the floor molded itself as if it had a life of its own, and the paths that had once been clear turned labyrinthine. The portraits on the walls watched you with vivid, threatening eyes, their smiles becoming even more grotesque. The tension was in every corner.

You moved forward with quickened breath, almost feeling the claws of the monsters drawing closer, their unmistakable putrid scent in the air. The murmurs and laughter of your pursuers echoed through the hallways, but before they could reach you, a hiss of command cut through the air, coming from somewhere deep and distant. Silvair’s soft voice, like a snake hissing, made the monsters retreat, pulling back with visible fear. He had given the order, and none of them would dare disobey.

Without thinking, you ran even faster, until a gallery of mirrors appeared before your eyes.

The mirrors were old, with intricate golden frames, but the reflection was not yours. As you passed in front of each one, your image distorted, stretching, deforming, as if the mirrors were toying with your perception. A ghostly figure, a reflection that was not yours, began to follow you, making your steps tremble.

You moved forward, but the mirrors seemed to conspire with the shadows, amplifying your insecurities, making you doubt your own direction. The air felt heavier, as if charged with some sickly magic, and you felt like you were being watched with every move. The murmur of a distant laugh echoed through the mirrors, and you hurried to reach the end of the gallery, where a pair of double doors opened before you, revealing a room.

You entered the room, the air cold and thick. You didn’t know where you were, but a sense of discomfort enveloped you immediately. The room was opulent, decorated with dark tapestries and velvet black furniture. The furniture was classic, with details in aged gold. Your gaze quickly passed over the immense canopy bed, and the heavy curtains, when something, something you couldn’t quite place, made you turn and look at the large wall on the other side. There, an ancient grandfather clock stood, its hands moving with disturbing precision.

Before you could understand what was happening, a figure materialized behind the clock. Mr. Silvair.

He didn’t need words. His crooked smile, his imposing posture, the aura of power emanating from him — everything made your body freeze for a moment, as if he were a predator and you, his prey.

— You will not escape, my dear. I know well the desires that stir within you, the silent yearnings you dare not speak aloud. I understand the depths of your needs, as if they were my own, and I assure you, there is no sanctuary beyond these walls. — Silvair's words were laced with subtle yet dangerous promises, resonating in your body in ways you couldn’t comprehend. He drew you closer, his dominant presence enveloping you, as if trapping you in a deadly embrace. — Don’t be afraid, you are exactly where you need to be.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps came from the balcony. A desperate impulse surged through you. You moved toward the window, your fingers trembling as you struggled to open the door leading to the porch. If you could just reach it — perhaps you'd have a chance to escape.

But before you could act, he was behind you, a shadow that seemed to grow as you tried to resist. His hand gripped your shoulder, the pressure light but inescapable.

— Don't be foolish. — He whispered, his voice now a seductive murmur, his lips almost brushing your skin. — You think you can escape from me with mere flights? You belong to this place as much as I do. And we belong to each other.

Time seemed to cease, the echoes of the banquet and the distorted whispers fading into nothingness as the tension between you became the only reality. Your body, though reluctant, responded to him, as though drawn by an unseen force. Each movement of his left your breath heavier, your heart racing, as if the very air around you were aflame.

Silvair withdrew slightly, his gaze fixed on yours, a blend of dark pleasure and eternal patience painted upon his face. He examined your eyes with an almost predatory focus, as though seeking something hidden within, a vulnerability, perhaps, or a capitulation. His fingers remained lightly upon your skin, as though making a vow unspoken, a quiet promise of what was to come.

— Do you understand me, my love? — His voice drifted like a velvet night, smooth but carrying a dark command. — You feel it, do you not? You know what I am, what we are.

His hand traveled to your neck, fingers grazing your skin with the lightest touch, almost tender, yet laden with ownership. His fingers drew invisible patterns along your skin, lingering where the warmth of your pulse beat strongest. What he did was not mere physical touch, but a deeper tether, a silent binding, as if he were slowly remaking something deep within you, something that once felt unyielding.

— There is no flight from me, sweet prey. — He whispered, his voice a silken rasp, rich with finality. — No matter where your feet wander, no matter how far you flee... I will find you. Within you, beside you, until the very last breath escapes your lips.

The heat of his presence was palpable, the charge in the air almost unbearable, but still, something within you resisted. Your mind struggled to hold onto who you were, to remember the reason to run, but his touch, his murmurs, they clouded your senses, intoxicated you. Each word he spoke was a spell, weaving its tendrils around your soul, and with every breath, the pull grew stronger, making it harder to recall why you had ever fought.

He leaned in again, his lips barely brushing the edge of your mouth, his breath mingling with yours in a quiet, forbidden symphony. His kiss was light, like the softest whisper of the grave, but imbued with the dark promise of something far more perilous. Something you did not know whether you feared, or whether you were already doomed to crave.

— There is no turning back now, my beloved. No more choices to be made. — He murmured, as though delivering a final decree. — It is your fate, as it is mine.

His hands, once gentle, now roamed with more intent, one sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he could not get enough of you. His lips moved once again, brushing more fiercely against yours with a slow, deliberate heat, each touch coaxing a soft moan from your throat. There was no room for hesitation, no space for escape. His kiss was all-encompassing, exploring, claiming you with a possessive need that made your heart race and your pulse quicken.

His tongue teased at the edge of your lips, coaxing you to open, to let him in, and as you did, he slid deeper, his kiss turning urgent, hungry. The sensation of him in your mouth was intoxicating, a mix of sweetness and something darker, more primal. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, a slow burn that ignited every nerve in your body.

His hands drifted lower, tracing the curve of your back, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. His body pressed against yours, the rhythm of your breaths syncing, his every movement a tantalizing promise of more.

His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw and neck, each kiss a spark, each touch a fire that consumed you. You could feel his breath on your skin, hot and uneven, as his hands moved to the hem of your clothing, lifting it slowly, teasingly, as if savoring every moment.

— You are so exquisitely beautiful, my fragile rose. Your lips, they taste like a forbidden indulgence. — His voice lowered, thick with longing. — You make me dizzy with desire, aching to consume you entirely, to lose myself in the depths of you.

— Your kisses leave me yearning for more. Would you indulge me with another fragment of yourself, my beloved? — He inquired, his voice soft but laden with a deep desire, as his hands rested delicately on your chest, fingers lightly brushing the contour of your bust.

— Let me tend to you. — He whispered, and the gentleness of his words, like a spell, seemed to envelop every fiber of your being. With a smooth, almost ethereal movement, you, like a puppet in the hands of fate, walked, your steps inaudible like a shadow, toward his bed. Your fall was gentle, like a petal in the wind, as you settled onto the mattress, your senses lost in the vortex of that palpable tension.

The atmosphere seemed to pulse with the rhythm of your breathing, each movement of yours a silent dance, where desire and fear intertwined in a choreography you could not, or perhaps did not want to, interrupt.

— Good, small thing. Do you trust me? — He asked softly, his words barely a whisper as they hovered on his lips. You could only nod, a delicate movement of your head, before he continued, his voice like a velvet caress. — Let us remove these garments, shall we? Here, allow me to assist you, my dear.

His hands, cold yet gentle, moved with unsettling precision as he undid the fabric of your clothing, each touch lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. His fingers traced the curve of your body with an almost reverent slowness, as though savoring every moment, every inch of your exposed skin. The clothes fell away like a shroud, discarded and forgotten, leaving you bare before him in the dim light, a silent offering to the darkness that surrounded you.

— Don't tremble. I am here for you. — He commanded, his body hovering above yours. His lips found yours once more, kissing you deeply, passionately, as his hands explored every inch of you. When his mouth trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin, you arched into him, your nails digging into his back. You could feel his clothed hardness pressingly gently against your bare center, as he moved above you and momentarily buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent with an ecstatic expression.

He devoured your skin with hungry kisses, his teeth nipping at your tender flesh. His fingers traced a feverish path along your spine, igniting a trail of desire. Your breasts, swollen and taut, were his focus, his lips and tongue working their magic, coaxing sweet cries from your throat. A moan escaped your lips as he deepened the kiss once again, his tongue exploring every secret corner of your mouth.

His kisses trailed downward, a fiery descent, consuming your body until they reached your core. You writhed, your impatience a fleeting spark that ignited a slow burn within him. With a gentle but firm hand, he stilled you.

— Be still, little one. I will have my pleasure, and I intend to savor every moment of it.

His free hand slid between your legs, finding you slick and ready, and he groaned again, a primal sound that only heightened your need. Without warning, he lowered himself, reaching the apex of your thighs. You were so fucking needy, and he, so fucking mean. Sensing your desperation, he paused, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. A cruel smile twisted his lips as he reveled in your growing impatience. Another whimper escaped your lips, and he purred.

— Very well, my dear. I do enjoy hearing you whine. You've ruined my dinner, you know... but I cannot deny myself this indulgence for much longer, my dark rose.

He didn’t make you wait anymore. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he leaned in. The first lick was slow, deliberate, his tongue dragging over your slick folds. A moan escaped your lips, your head falling back as pleasure shot through you.

— Sweet. Intoxicating, sweet nectar. My dear, this is as intoxicating as the blood that courses through your veins, the blood that I feel thickening, driving me wild. Simply delicious. — He mumbled, grinning like a madman against your weeping cunt.

It was a pathetic spectacle, really, the way you crumbled so easily, so utterly consumed by hedonism with the barest of temptations. Yet, it was intoxicating, this display of your surrender.

— How exquisitely sensitive you are for me, my love. — He murmured, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as his fingers invaded you. Your head lolled back, a silent moan escaping your lips as his fingers hit your most vulnerable spots with practiced ease.

His tongue explored the depths of your being, while his long, icy fingers plunged within, their rhythm slow and deliberate, savoring every intense sensation. You cried out, your hands entwined in his silver hair, holding him captive as he consumed you. His tongue circled your core, teasing and tormenting, until you writhed beneath him, desperate for release.

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh, a low growl rumbling in his chest. As your cries echoed through the chamber, he paused, his clothed gaze intense, drinking in your every reaction. Then, with a predatory grace, he resumed his assault, his movements intensifying, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

— Look at you. Completely at my mercy, fucking yourself on me with such abandon. You want it all, don't you? My hands and mouth, simultaneously. You're insatiable. What a greedy little lady. — He breathed, watching you subtly grind against his mouth and fingers, with a pouty expression. — Poor soul. You're so close. Just let go.

— Silvair... I'm...

— Hush. Come for me, my dearest.

His words unleashed a torrent of ecstasy within you, a primal scream escaping your lips as you climaxed. Your body arched, limbs trembling, your nails digging into the sheets. He held you close, his own breath ragged, as the tremors subsided, leaving you weak and utterly surrendered.

He rose from between your legs, his lips stained with your essence. He kissed you passionately, sighing in satisfaction.

— Simply exquisite. You taste better than anything I've ever had. — He mouthed, running his tongue over his lips. His fingers traced the contours of your face, your jawline, your cheekbones. The intimacy of the moment made you feel vulnerable, and you nestled closer, feeling a deep connection.

He pulled you closer, deepening a kiss. His fingers roamed your back, searching for a specific spot. When he found it, he pressed harder, making you arch your back. Your breaths mingled, a frantic rhythm that made you dizzy.

— You're so delicious. Your taste has me leaking. — He whispered, gently caressing himself through his clothes. — Pardon my bluntness, little lady, but I need to fuck you so badly.

His fingers lace with yours, guiding your hands to the button of his pants. The warm skin and the texture of the fabric beneath your fingertips excite you even more. You help him shed his clothes, revealing a muscular and desirable body. The atmosphere is electric, and anticipation builds with every passing second.

A thrill of excitement and a flutter of nerves coursed through you. Your eyes widened as you watched his massive member sway freely, an overwhelming urge to touch him, to explore every inch of his body, consuming you completely.

— Let me return the favor. Please... — Your voice resonated across the silence of the room, more whiny than you have actually intended. Your hands tentatively extended to grab his shaft, your eyes posessed with lust and your lips twitching, desperate to please him.

Before you could act, though, he captured your wrist, his head shaking slightly.

— That won't be needed, my darling. If you want to truly satisfy me, simply surrender. Let me show you.

With one swift motion, he swept you from the bed, lifting you onto his desk, scattering papers and books without a second thought. The cold wood pressed against your back, but all you could focus on was him, his consuming presence dominating your senses.

— Spread for me. — He commanded, his voice low, dripping with dominance.

You obeyed without hesitation, your legs falling open instinctively. Your body was still humming from the aftershocks of your climax, but the hunger in him told you this was far from over. He stepped closer, his hand trailing up your inner thigh, teasing just enough to make you shiver.

— Do you know how much I’ve wanted this? — He purred, his thumb brushing over your slick folds, wet and aching for him. — How much I’ve wanted to claim you completely?

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your mind was fogged with desire, your body betraying you as you arched into his touch, silently begging for more. He smirked, a slow, wicked curl of his lips that sent a jolt of anticipation through you. Then, without warning, he pulled you to the edge of the desk, his cock pressing against your entrance, cold and heavy.

— Look at me. — He ordered, his voice firm but laced with something softer, almost tender. — This is what you've been fantasizing about, my sweet.

You gazed at him with desirous eyes, and in that moment, you felt utterly exposed and vulnerable. But there was no fear, only a raw, desperate need. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed into you, inch by agonizing inch. You gasped, nails digging into the edge of the desk as he stretched you.

He paused once he was fully sheathed, his breath ragged against my ear.

— You feel heavenly. — He mouthed, whispered, his voice trembling with restraint. — Like you were made for me. So impossibly tight.

You whimpered, hips instinctively rocking against him, urging him to move. But he held still, savoring the moment, the connection. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck.

— So sweet. So perfect.

Then, with a low growl, he began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in with a force that knocked the air from your lungs. Each stroke was deliberate, deep, hitting spots inside you that made your vision blur. You clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.

You sobbed under him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he set a relentless pace, his hips slamming into yours with a primal rhythm that left you breathless.

He remained silent, his senses consumed by the primal dance of your bodies. The sounds of your skin against his, the rhythmic groans escaping your lips, filled the room with a raw, animalistic energy. His breaths came in ragged gasps, mirroring the frantic rhythm of his movements, each thrust pushing you closer to the precipice while he deliberately held back, savoring your growing desperation.

One of his hands moved between you, his thumb finding your clit with a predatory precision. You arched beneath him, a raw cry escaping your lips as he applied the perfect pressure, circling in time with his relentless thrusts.

— Silvair, please. It's too much for me...

Silvair tilted his head, his covered eyes seemingly fixed on yours. Beyond your whining, there was much more to capture his attention. The skin of your neck, flushed and damp, pulsed beneath his fingers. With every movement, you writhed more, pleading for a brief respite. Yet the vampire only quickened his pace, his breathing growing heavier, mirroring your own.

With a guttural groan, he moved closer to your neck, his teeth grazing your soft skin. His eyes narrowed in an intense gaze, a silent promise of what was to come. In a swift and precise motion, he sank his teeth into your skin, feeling the flesh give way under the pressure. A wild moan escaped his lips as he deepened the bite, marking you with his brand.

The initial pain was sharp, like a needle piercing your skin, but it quickly gave way to a strange, intoxicating pleasure. You could feel his fangs sliding deeper, the sensation both alien and exhilarating. Blood welled up around the punctures, warm and thick, and he began to suck with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

His grip tightened on you, his hands like iron bands holding you in place. Each pull of his mouth sent waves of heat and weakness through your body, your senses overwhelmed by the duality of agony and ecstasy. His tongue lapped at the wound, the rough texture adding a new layer to the sensation as he drank deeply, savoring every drop of your essence.

The room seemed to fade around you, the edges blurring as your vision tunneled to the sight of his silver head bent over your neck. You could hear the wet, obscene sounds of him feeding, the soft slurps and groans filling the air like a twisted symphony. Your pulse pounded in your ears, each beat pushing more blood into his eager mouth.

— Magnificent. This is ambrosia, my dear. You have the taste and allure of an outlaw, a queen, a harlot, a goddess. — He moaned, his voice thick with desire. — Bloody hell! I dare say that you taste of life itself, my darling.

Warm blood trickled down his chin, mingling with his saliva. You arched, the pain morphing into an intense, addictive pleasure. The sensation of being possessed, of having his mark. The feeling was almost too much to bear, a relentless onslaught of pleasure and pain that left you gasping and trembling in his arms. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into your flesh, each touch sending shivers of sensation through your already overloaded nerves.

As he fed, you could feel a strange connection forming, a bond of blood and darkness that tied you to him in ways you couldn't fully comprehend.

— I drink your blood, and I would eat your skin if I could. But you're too beautiful to waste. — He uttered with his sardonic voice, while resuming his thrusts, each one deeper, more painful. With each penetration, a guttural moan escaped his lips, echoing through the damp walls of his chambers. His fangs gleamed with a sick intensity as he watched you writhe beneath him.

The wound on your neck throbbed, a constant reminder of his mark, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the lingering pleasure that coursed through you. Silvair held you close, his touch gentle now, as if he was cradling something precious, in a sickening contradiction.

— I yearn to see your face, your delicate features, twisted in ecstasy once again for me. Come, my rosebud. Come for me. — He tried to sound tender, his voice a low growl against your ear as his cock continued to pound your poor cunt. You felt as if your body were no longer your own, sore and filled with lust, before jolting at the imperious voice of Silvair. — Come on, you little minx! Come for me! — The control slipping from his grasp was evident in the way his hands tightened on your face, his knuckles white against your skin. Each thrust was a hammer blow, driving you deeper, faster, until you couldn't bear it anymore.

As a thread silently snapping, you were engulfed by a wave of ecstasy, a primal scream escaping your lips as your body surrendered completely once more. He followed moments later, a roar of triumph echoing through the room as he spilled himself deep within you with a low hiss.

— By the underworld, you're too beautiful to be real. — Silvair murmured, his voice soft and full of admiration as his fingers traced the line of your jaw. — You felt so good, my precious.

He reached for you with a possessive sense of care, a mix of lust and something deeper. With careful movements, Silvair began to clean you, his hand firm but gentle. He used a damp cloth to wipe away the sweat, the traces of blood, and the other fluids from your skin, each touch a silent promise of care and protection.

— I always knew you were special. — He said, his voice a soft whisper in the quiet of the night. — Now, you are mine in every way. And I will cherish you as the rare jewel that you are.

He wrapped you in his arms, pulling you closer, the proximity of your bodies bringing a sense of security you had never known. Silvair kissed your forehead with unexpected tenderness, his cold lips contrasting with the warmth of your skin.

— Rest now, my love. — He mouthed, his voice like a balm to your exhausted senses. — I am here. I will always be here.

He continued to care for you, each gesture meticulous and full of devotion. His fingers gently combed through your hair, and he whispered words of comfort and affection, as if lulling you into a peaceful sleep. Feeling the weight of your weariness, you closed your eyes, surrendering to Silvair's care, knowing that despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was a strange and profound love in his touch.

As you began to drift off to sleep, his last words echoed softly in your ears.

— You are my eternity, my treasure. Nothing will ever separate us ever. — The soft tickling of his silver hair against your cheek roused you slightly, but you did not stir. Your breath was slow and even, your chest rising and falling rhythmically. He smiled to himself. In this moment, you were his, and he was yours.

Ah. Wild rose, my black rose. Finally, I have plucked you.

You wake up abruptly, your eyes snapping open and locking onto the stained ceiling of Mr. Silvair's underworld laboratory. Chains sway ominously from above, the frigid air pressing against your skin like an unrelenting force. You frown, pushing yourself upright, only to realize you're on his inspection table. Your hand slides over your face as fragmented memories flash before you like feverish dreams — the bizarre notion of Mr. Silvair being a vampire, your unreturned passion, and the sense of suffocating helplessness.

The metallic clinking of chains echoes faintly as you shift.

— Where is he? — You murmur, your voice cracking in the cold silence.

Moments later, a lean figure emerges from the shadows, his presence unsettlingly silent. Mr. Silvair’s lifeless, bandaged gaze fix on you as he approaches with measured steps, a syringe glinting ominously in his bony hand. His clinical gaze sweeps over you, dissecting every detail with unnerving precision.

— You awake. — He states, his monotone voice devoid of inflection. — Big head wound. Bleed. Me treat. Medicine give.

His abrupt, fragmented words make your chest tighten.

— Me medicine need don't. — You stammer, shrinking back slightly. — Me good. Really.

He tilts his head, studying you like an anomaly he can’t yet classify.

— You hurt. Pain slow heal. My job ensure you recover. Medicine now.

You flinch at his commanding tone, instinctively pulling your legs closer to your body.

— No, Silvair. I said I’m fine!

For the first time, his brows twitch — an almost imperceptible reaction. He steps forward, syringe poised.

— Humans lie. Body does not. Me prevent worse outcome.

— Why are you so... — Your words falter as he looms closer. His detached demeanor burns like frostbite. — So clinical about this? Can’t you just... talk to me like a person? Not a science experiment?

Silvair pauses, seemingly processing your outburst. His head tilts once more as if precisely calculating the significance of your plea. — Talk unnecessary. Healing priority. You live, that all matter.

You sigh, passing your hands through your hair.

— No, you don't understand. I've.. Ive had a dream, alright? Me dream.

Mr. Silvair pauses for a moment, his head tilting slightly, like a curious bird.

— Dream? Me not know dream. We not dream do. You must rest.

You furrow your brow, feeling the weight of his words, but something inside you pushes you to continue.

— You blood sucker creature were, in dream. Hostile, but fascinating. And I... I was... — Your voice falters, hesitating to reveal more.

He seems more intrigued now, though his expression remains calm.

— Interesting. Human imagine strange. But you speak strange when weak. Me care for you. Me reverse pain.

Before you could protest, he leans over you, his eyes scanning the fresh wounds on your head. His proximity is unsettling, but somehow comforting. He offers a soft smile, something rare and unsettling.

— Human curious make me. — He murmurs, his words sounding like a mix of observation and fascination.

You shiver, not from fear, but from the intensity of his gaze.

— You don’t understand. — You mutter, trying to look away. — In dream, you want me, but you know not how to show. Like now.

He blinks slowly, pondering your words as though trying to decipher a complex code.

— Me not know want. But me try. For you. Me learn.

Your breath falters for a moment. He is always so cold, so indifferent, but now he seems vulnerable, in a peculiar way.

— Do you really think you can learn to feel something like that?

He tilts his head again, as if considering.

— Feeling is strange science. Me study. You teach?

The question catches you off guard. Could you really teach a being like him the meaning of feeling?

man, if there were doubts before about god’s existence, then all of them have been cleared for me, because i finally managed to finish this text, once again, massive. i can’t measure my words, unfortunately. but i’ve had this idea in my head for about two or three days. initially, this story was supposed to be written with mr. crawling in a gothic setting, but i felt i couldn’t do justice to the vampiric atmosphere with him — not this time. i needed someone more detached, yet complex. and mr. crawling would be too sweet for this, in my view. maybe i’m a bit biased, too. writing for silvair is so much fun, and he’s underrated. it’s a shame, because i think he’d make a great vampire.

i hope you forgive any possible mistakes. this time, i had some issues with my laptop and had to switch to my phone in the middle of writing. please overlook any weird formatting or grammatical details. as always, this text may be revisited for adjustments.

in fact, i've written this whole ass text with only one hand, because...

now, about the smut. usually don’t feel entirely comfortable writing smut, but i think the situation and the whole vampiric act would eventually lead to something like that. i hope it's at least decent.

anyway, have a lovely day or night, and take care! xoxo! ♡

#homicipher #mr silvair x you #mr silvair x reader #mr silver hair #mr silver x reader #mr silver x you #vampire #smut #homicipher smut #this weird doc is mine

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pachimation · 1 year ago

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redrawing my very first chiscara comic/art i ever did for chscr day!!

old comic under the cut!!

lol a bunch of sappy semi serious stuff below bc i cant help but be a bit genuine about this ship today :’3

i cant possibly put into words how important this silly little ship and its community mean to me haha,,,, this comic was made in 2021 but i didnt really get serious about chscr until late 2022 after a bunch of pretty bad interpersonal stuff happened and i needed an outlet,, COINCIDENTALLY a certain someone was announced to be playable around then and i was already thought chscr was Pretty Neat™️ so i ended up diving headfirst into the ship. it also gave me a good excuse to work on more comics too!! i’d done a pretty big zhongven comic earlier that year in the summer, but in terms of lore there was only so much i could have worked with at the moment.

childe and scaramouche have that perfect combination of silliness and angst and violence that could be explored or expanded in so many ways and i love love love seeing other people’s interpretations of their dynamic and relationship. they’re so complex,,,,they’re narrative foils,,,they’re narrative parallels,,,they’re trans allegories,,,they’re flies in the spiderweb of the games lore,,,they’re my stupid little meow meows,,, they’re just two losers i want to see make out,,,

in a nutshell, they’re everything to me. well, i hope i get that kind of sentiment across in my own comics,,,,

and i cant get started on all the people ive met through chiscara or the way that having something i can call “my thing”, as in, the thing that i like and that i will spend a lot of time and effort (and money, but lets not talk about that) to surround myself with because it makes me smile. its stupid to say, but being a nerd about these two stupid guys who have never had a single canon onscreen interaction in some random game has made me a much happier and confident person that i could have ever imagined back in my freshman year of college,,, when i say i dont know who i’d be if i hadnt gotten into chiscara, i really do mean it lol

i’m actually surprised i’m making it to over a full year of regular-ishly making art, especially for the same game and ship! thats never happened before and my art has improved so much over this past year!! more than anything else, i’m happy! i get to be excited talking about these characters with my friends and i love to see art of them pop up on the tl. i make stickers of them and decorate my phonecase with them and have little figures of them in my room that i look at when im up late at night working on schoolwork. sometimes just the thought of finishing a comic or daydreaming about a scenario or seeing what my mutuals are up to are some of the few things getting me through a tough day.

,,,,so believe me when i say, to both childe and scara and to everyone else as obsessed with these pathic losers as i am, thank you! i’m having a lot of fun!!!

(also i just found out tumblrs copy/paste doesnt work on my ipad??? idk if this ends up legible i may or may not have deleted smth by accident and im not in a mood to proofread haha)

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #scaramouche #chiscara #scarachilde #my art #comic #no super long rant in the tags this time bc i already made a chscr rant haha #happy chiscara day everybody!!

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welcometothejianghu · 3 months ago

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Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 致命游戏 / The Spirealm.

The Spirealm is a 2024 drama about two young men who fall in love while basically playing a whole bunch of horror-themed escape rooms that can for-real kill you.

This show/book combo has gripped my entire ass. The second I knew I wanted to watch this, almost immediately after it started airing, I muted the tag. I was so right to do this, because this is worth not spoiling yourself about. If you are a Guardian fan in particular, you owe it to yourself to watch this for reasons I think will become clear as you go about watching it.

So! If all you need to know is that I think you need this show in your life, great! You don't even need to scroll down to the end of the post for the links; go to Viki and press play. In case you need more convincing than that, though, I'm going to give you here five reasons to watch it that are as spoilerless as I can make them.

Before we start, though, I'm going to take a moment to note that I had to torrent the video files so I could make screenshots of my own, and if I hadn't, this would have been a much uglier rec post than the others I've done. Not only were there not many promotional materials or official stills released, the show itself barely stayed up two hours on iQiyi, and that's because this drama is a...

1. (Barely) Censored Adaptation Of Same-sex Original Work

Ah, you know that MyDramaList tag well, don't you? Yeah, the original novel, Kaleidoscope of Death (which has a rec post of its own!), is supernatural story about grief and loss built on the love story between the two male leads. Now of course you know already that a mainstream Chinese television adaptation of something like that is going to straighten up everything and turn the horror romance into the sci-fi platonic love of besties.

...But damn, folks, it's still real gay.

Ling Jiushi, the sweet-faced newbie, is a canonical virgin and loving cat dad who plays the mysterious video game once, then finds himself suddenly able to enter the game worlds bodily -- and of course, if you die in the game, you die in real life. He's pretty much doomed, until he meets...

Ruan Lanzhu, the cool-as-a-cucumber veteran of the door worlds, who falls pretty much immediately for the completely oblivious Ling Jiushi, then has to spend the rest of the series consumed with lust while trying to keep him and a couple other dipshits alive.

The show preserves so many overtly gay beats and declarations of affection from the novel, to the point where it's just this side of suggesting that the romance is actually, textually happening just offscreen, every time the camera cuts away. I am forever grateful that working with Zhu Yilong on Reunion seems to have perfected sweet baby Junjie's ability to look at a man with nothing but love in his eyes.

I adore so much the dynamic they have, one where a man who has never told the truth a day in his life encounters a man so sincere and naive that you cannot seduce him with anything but absolute honesty or he's never going to get it.

There are three (3) separate door worlds where they share a bed, and in every one of them, they both sleep with their shoes on. Like the absolute freaks they both are.

2. It's puzzle solvin' time!

So if you've read some of my rec posts before, you know that I am critical of stories that center around cases that are unfollowable, uninteresting, or both (e.g., Mysterious Lotus Casebook and White Cat Legend). I am therefore thrilled to tell you that the door worlds are actually (largely) thoughtful mysteries with reasonable solutions, where you care about what's happening and why.

The way each door world is set up is that you have to solve the puzzle to find a key and unlock the door that will let you leave. One of the challenges is each world's door ghost, who has the key and does not want to give it up. The other challenge is the world-specific set of taboo conditions, where violating them means the door ghost can kill you -- and you are not always told what those taboo conditions are. That means that solving a door involves 1) figuring out what will insta-kill you, 2) not doing that, 3) finding where the hell the exit door is, 4) placating and/or scamming the door ghost long enough to snatch the key from them, and 5) running like hell to the exit door with that key before the door ghost fucks you up about it.

As the show goes on, you get introduced to the concept of door-passing shepherds, which are experienced door-finishers who take through lower-level players, building them up in the process. A lot of these shepherds work for organizations, such as the one Ruan Lanzhu runs. And a lot of them are ready to reach the exit by climbing over everyone else's corpses.

That's part of the fun of the setup: You're not just thrown in alone. You show up with a random number of other players, some with very different levels of experience. At least one of you will make it out; not everyone will. So you can add a step 6) to the list above, which is: surviving all the other players who will gleefully stab you in the back in order to be the first player out the door.

The door worlds are also lovely. They all feel like sets -- and I know that's a weird thing to say about places that are literal sets, but they manage it feel it even on film. In fact, even the show's uses of clunky-ass greenscreen feel appropriate, because of how unreal everything is supposed to be. Everything looks like a dream, which is only amplified by how beautifully everything's shot.

(What's that you say? You say the guy who directed this was the editor on Infernal Affairs? No kidding.)

From a fandom perspective, what's great here is that even though there are technically just twelve doors, there are canonically way more than twelve door worlds out there. That means that whatever worlds you want to create are valid. The best pieces of fanfic I've read are the ones that dream up their own door worlds, complete with taboo conditions, key puzzles, and world-specific perks that lead to gay sex, because come on.

3. A good middle ground of horror

So at this point you are perhaps wondering: How scary is it?

And the answer is, kind of as scary as you're willing to let your mind go with it. Everything has been science-fictioned real hard, including the video game premise that "explains" what's happening with these doors. It relies on dread way more than jumpscares. The blood/gore/gross content is extremely low, again on account of Chinese content censorship. Most icky things are done with offscreen sounds and shadows. I'm pretty squeamish about pain and injury, and I can't recall a time I had to look too long away from the screen.

However, that means the show works some real conceptual horror. That picture up there is of a man forcing three young girls to hold raw eggs unbroken in their mouths. There's nothing about that image that's not technically G-rated, and it's awful in context.

The best bits are when the monsters don't need a lick of CG to become horrors. They cast a contortionist in the Waverly Hills door world, and she absolutely earned her keep.

I have a lot of critiques about how the show handles things, especially in terms of defanging the horror elements (which it does), but one thing I think it absolutely gets right is that it understands that ghost stories are first and foremost tragedies. That's a thing I've always liked about Asian horror in particular, how often you wind up siding with the ghost. Yes, sure, she tried to strangle you with her hair, but have you ever considered she's the real victim here? There's always a bit of a calculus: Can you negotiate with the door ghost, or do you just need to stab them and run? The Spirealm prefers negotiation, and frankly, so do I.

So yeah, it's about as scary as you let it be. If your horror tolerance is low, watch it in a well-lit room and focus on the unreality of it, and you'll be okay. If you're looking for something genuinely spooky, spend some time thinking about the existential dread of the entire situation, and that'll be good for a couple good spine tingles.

4. The Obsidian Family (& Friends!)

In a show where death is always an option, you have to have characters where you actually care if they live or die. Fortunately, all your allies are charming and loveable enough that you are going to be real upset every time they get put in danger!

Obsidian is one of the organizations I mentioned earlier. It's run by Ruan Lanzhu, and it includes a cool and collected doctor, a mom friend who cooks for everybody, a guy who's maybe not having the best mental health day of his life, and two identical twins who could not be more different if they tried. They all live in the same amazing big fancy house, which is where Ling Jiushi too goes to live when he joins the group. They have big family meals, they look after one another, they hang out together -- I mean, if this is the kind of setup you love, then you will love this setup.

There are also plenty of allies who aren't technically part of Obsidian, but who are our friends nonetheless, and who come over to hang out in the Obsidian house from time to time. Some of them are rivals turned friends, some of them are clients turned friends, and some of them were just friends all along! Surely nothing bad will happen to any of them, and they'll all live happily ever after, right? ...Right?

5. Toast and Chestnut!

Of course, the true heroes of the show are Toast the Corgi and Chestnut the Kitty.

Animals are so good.

Truly, I love that one of Ling Jiushi's defining characteristics is that he is a Cat Dad. He is a simple man with simple needs, and one of those needs is to pet his kitty or he'll explode.

caveat: Some thoroughly bad adaptation choices

Yeah, so I keep talking about the novel (and talk even more about the novel in its own rec post), but I assure you, you don't need to have read the novel to feel the degree to which this is an adaptation -- and one that's had its rough, nasty, spooky, gay edges all sanded off in the desperate hope of ever seeing daylight.

Now, sometimes I consider batshit nonsense janky creative decisions to be a selling point for a show (see: Mysterious Lotus Casebook, Legend of Fei, Sand Sea)! In this case, however, I'm going to have to take points off for how incoherently bad they are here. We're talking Psych-Hunter levels of Why Would You Do That-- and the answer, as always, comes down to how you write around what censorship won't allow on television.

The novel says the doors are supernatural. The show says they're a virtual-reality computer game. Now, on the surface, this move sort of makes sense -- you can't have ghosts, but you can have computer games that make digital ghosts, which, sure, okay. But then the problem quickly becomes that the plot of the novel is not remotely built to support a sci-fi premise, so a lot of things have to be grafted awkwardly on. Like, say, a bad guy who stole his corporate logo from Even Worse Twitter. Or a game-designing bestie whose face is never seen. Or [late-stage spoilers about a major character].

The eventual explanation is that this whole setup is a righteous and good game that has somehow been corrupted by evil game-designing capitalists from the West, and that's why it can abduct you in broad daylight and kill you if you fail it. There are good people who want to purify (???) the game, and evil people who want to make money off the game. And I don't mind spoiling you for that part, because it's garbage nonsense. You will be deeply unsatisfied with the show's half-assed attempt at resolving it all. (You may, however, have that disappointment tempered with the amazing concurrent display of heterosexuality that is apologizing to your best bro by coding his perfect man for him. The Spirealm is a land of contrasts.)

Look, I consider myself a mild to moderate socialist, and even I was yawning and making jerk-off motions every time someone started to wax halfheartedly poetic about how evil American capitalism is. Like, yeah, but not because some college student made a vile and wretched video game that eats people! This show is a critique of capitalism like a five-year-old crying because he doesn't get ice cream before bed is a critique of authoritarianism.

And even this, I can't be too mad at it about, you know? I just assume that this was some absolute Hail Mary attempt at getting past censorship -- you know, maybe if we make all the right "grr, USA bad!" noises, they'll let our gay ghost story slip by? And it worked! I mean, just barely, but it did.

So yeah, fair warning that the Spirealm is a show that, if you love it (and I do), you will have to love despite some glaring flaws that haunt it all the way through and hit especially hard during what should otherwise have been an amazing endgame. But hey, we're c-drama fans! We're good at loving janky things, right?

Want to enter the World of Doors?

As I said at the start of the post, Viki's got it -- and only Viki. I'm not sure what circumstances got it up on Viki after iQiyi pulled it, but I'm glad. Watch it quick, before Viki changes its mind!

Hug him! Hug that boy!

#the spirealm #致命游戏 #kaleidoscope of death #rec post #i made this

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multimousenette · 3 months ago

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bkdkbk longfic recs

for @miss-multifandom-mess, who wanted fics that are:

Long & completed ☑️

Good balance of genres: angst, comedy, romance, the package deal

Accurate bakudeku (as a pair and individually)

Great dynamic 👍

Izuku is not ‘feminized’ or made uwu

I'll give title (linked to the fic) & author, word count, rating, dynamic if relevant*, content warnings, major tags and a synopsis.

I'll also put them in the following categories:

Canon compliant: this does not disagree with canon in any way (eg. character study of Kacchan during dark hero arc, anything during the 8 year time skip that has Kacchan saving up/Deku teaching)

Canon consistent: yeah that could more or less be canon (eg future pro heroes especially where deku keeps OFA)

Canon divergent: something during canon actively changes, but the world is the same (eg. becoming friends in middle school, one of them is on a different course, pro heroes but my gut says it's too far away to be really canon consistent)

Canon adjacent: feels like canon except for one Major Thing (eg. omegaverse, (non-quirk related) hanahaki but still heroes)

Alternate Universe (AU): completely different universe (eg fantasy, sci-fi, or no quirks)

*it ended up being mostly either bkdkbk (ie switching) or dkbk -- I've highlighted these red just in case, but I've included them cos people tend to use bkdk for the ship generally if they don't have a preference, and I couldn't see anything saying you were fixed bkdk on your acc

... and I'll put them below the cut cos this is already so long oh my god

In order of word count (high -> low):

I Will Find You by Purple_Insomniac (174k, T, canon consistent)

CW: Alt universe character death

Major tags: Parallel universes, angst w a happy ending.

Deku disappears in the middle of a rescue mission. Turns out, thanks to some OFA weirdness, the person who sent Izuku into an alternate universe… doesn’t know which one he’s in. Somehow, Izuku and Katsuki can speak in the OFA Vestige Realm, but it’s still a total nightmare trying to find which universe Izuku’s in — let alone bringing him home.

For it is Something That We Lost by TheGraveyardChild (160k, E, top Deku, canon divergent)

CW: past domestic abuse, past child abuse.

Major tags: Kidfic, angst with a happy ending.

Number four pro hero Dynamight returns to his hometown, but — to (number five pro hero) Deku’s surprise — he’s kind of flaky now. Turns out, this is because he has a daughter, and they’ve only just escaped his abusive ex. Slowly, Katsuki and Deku grow close again, but everything’s complicated when they start work on a child kidnapping/trafficking case — especially when Katsuki’s daughter is caught up in it.

Halfway to the Moon (But the Sun is So Bright) by Catsired (105k, T, canon divergent)

CW: Graphic depictions of abuse and self harm; depressed & suicidal Izuku; physically, financially, emotionally and verbally abusive Hisashi; bullying; mild homophobia.

Major tags: Middle School AU, Slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending.

Izuku has a lot on his plate. It’s his final year of middle school and between his training with All Might, the part time job he’s picked up to help his mum with bills, and Kacchan… being Kacchan, he’s about ready to drop. And then his dad comes home, and his mum is so happy he can’t bear to tell her that Hisashi hits him. Meanwhile, Katsuki notices there’s something up with Shitty Deku and somehow decides it’s his responsibility to fix it. And maybe, as they grow closer, he finds that doesn’t hate Deku so much anymore. Maybe he never really did.

Surprise Reunions and Childhood Rekindlings by ladyofsnails (90k, G, AU)

Major tags: Slice of life, no quirks AU, uni/college AU, mutual pining, FLUFF.

Izuku and Katsuki haven’t seen each other in five years, but it turns out their friends are friends — and incredibly shocked (and concerned) when the first thing Katsuki and Izuku do upon meeting is start roughhousing. The two of them fall straight back into their chaotic childhood dynamic… and in love. Obviously.

After All We’ve Been Through (You get turned into a fucking rabbit) by TigerLilies64 (88k, E, switching, canon consistent).

Major tags: crack treated seriously, fluff, hurt/comfort.

Pro hero Deku gets hit by a quirk that turns him into a rabbit hybrid. To make matters worse, he shapeshifts into an actual rabbit when his heart rate gets too high. Kacchan... helps.

Tidal Hearts by macksmilesback and SamIsNotLegend (83k, T, AU)

Major tags: h2o just add water/early 2000s mermaid AU, high school drama, mild angst, fluff.

Izuku and Katsuki were best friends as kids, but that all changes after they nearly drown while swimming in the ocean and Inko moves her and Izuku away. Years later, they reunite, and after Katsuki saves Izuku from a nasty hazing prank, end up… growing a tail any time they get wet. Well, that’s one way to spend their senior year of high school!

The Spell in Her Name by MerryWeatherWeather (62k, E, top Katsuki, canon divergent)

CW: Past OC teacher/student relationship, past minor character death, past child abandonment.

Major tags: kidfic, domestic fluff, mutual pining, angst.

Pro hero Katsuki returns from working in the US and due to some complications, has nowhere to live, so pitches up at Deku’s house — and is shocked to discover that Deku has a child. Turns out, she was abandoned on his doorstep as a baby, and he took her in. When her mother initiates a public custody battle, Deku will do anything to keep his daughter — and Kacchan will do anything to help.

just for your love (I’ll give you the world) by thwnderpoint (52k, E, top deku, canon consistent)

Major tags: idiots to lovers, (light) angst with a happy ending, mutual pining.

Katsuki confesses to Izuku, and Izuku doesn’t want Kacchan to suffer or feel like he has to hold back his feelings. So he tells him not to. Kacchan takes this offer and runs with it. Izuku quickly realises that while he hadn’t considered Kacchan as a romantic option, he is in fact absolutely in love with him… but Kacchan thinks Izuku deserves better than him. Izuku, of course, can’t let that stand. And now they’re engaged in some sort of psychological flirt-off, much to the dismay of everyone around them.

Photo Op by whitetail (50k, M, top deku, canon adjacent)

CW: transphobia, gender dysphoria

Note: I LOVE the characterisation of Deku, he’s an absolute disaster, but I can see that it might be love it or hate it as the author does exaggerate his social issues a lot. This Deku is explicitly, intentionally autistic and it's a close third person POV so we're very much in his head... which is kind of a mess.

Major tags: trans izuku, autistic izuku, massive simp kacchan, comedy of errors, miscommunication, light angst.

Pro hero Deku has PR crisis after PR crisis and now the whole world knows about his Dynamight thirst blog and he’s newly insecure about his bottom surgery. And for some reason, Kacchan won’t stop asking him (him!!) to join him for a photoshoot, as if Deku’s stupid ugly face won’t ruin everything again. Still, he can’t say no to Kacchan…

In Another Life by hollyandvice (44k, M, canon consistent)

Major tags: Parallel universes, grief/mourning, angst with a happy ending.

While fighting a villain, Kacchan disappears. Turns out, the villain has a parallel universe swapping quirk, and he was aiming to swap number one hero Deku for a quirkless civilian. Except, the only world the villain could find where Deku isn’t a hero is one where Kacchan is dead — so when Katsuki took the blow, no one swapped with him, and now no one knows how to get him back. Meanwhile, Katsuki discovers a dystopian world where half his friends are dead or injured — not to mention this world’s Deku, who is all sorts of broken up over meeting an adult Kacchan. Will he be able to fix the problems with this world before he gets home? And which world will he choose to stay in?

last days of war by antisora (44k, M, AU)

Major tags: Pacific Rim AU, Sci-Fi/Dystopian, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings.

Note: I've never watched pacific rim and had no issues with understanding what was going on. Author said there were lots of references, but you don't need existing knowledge to enjoy this.

All Izuku’s ever wanted is to save the world with his best friend… but his life doesn’t seem to be headed in that direction, especially when he doesn’t make it through the physical entrance exam for the best Jaeger pilot training school, UA. But after seeing him ace a Kaiju simulation, the world’s greatest ranger, All Might, intervenes, and Izuku is able to enrol at UA after all. Unsurprisingly, Kacchan’s there too — and their drift compatibility is through the roof. Much to Izuku’s dismay, even piloting a Jaeger together isn’t enough to regain their close friendship as children. Will almost dying (twice) be enough for them to finally be truly honest with each other?

The Time Between Our Lives by Fitzrovia (36k (56k inc. sequels), E, switching, canon divergent and AU)

Major tags: Hurt/comfort, angst w a happy ending.

Deku and Kacchan are sent back in time by a villain’s quirk and end up in an abandoned temple, quirkless. In order to escape — and return to their old lives — they must rake the gravel in the garden into a design that shows the beauty of all life. It takes a very, very long time.

Spacewalk by SamIsNotLegend (35k, M, AU)

CW: Major character death

Major tags: Sci-Fi/Horror, angst w a happy ending, grief/mourning.

Astronauts Izuku and Katsuki are set to co-lead the first manned mission to Jupiter… but a year and a half before launch, Izuku is hit by a car and dies. Katsuki has to lead the mission — their mission — alone, and sure enough, everything goes wrong. And keeps going wrong… until it starts going right.

and a bonus totally-not-a-longfic-but-it-slaps:

Vertigo by Cyhyr (15k, T, canon adjacent)

Major tags: hanahaki, angst with a happy ending.

Pro hero Deku has hanahaki. He makes a plan to run away and just... die (when it gets too severe to keep working), but he didn’t account for Kacchan.

#bnha #mha #fic recs #bkdk #dkbk #bkdkbk #bkdk fic recs #dkbk fic recs #longfic recs #is it weird I didn't reply to your post? idk probably sorry #I wanted to get notifs if anyone commented on this tho lol #anyway enjoy. that's an order /silly

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holy-puckslibrary · 11 months ago

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━ 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.

──────────── 𝐰𝐜 — 1.9k 𝐜𝐰 — everyone is aged up / non-canon compliant ages bc i said so; rafe being an emotionally constipated, toxic douche-canoe 3000; an unhealthy dynamic; suggestive moments but not explicit; w*rd + substance mention, wheeze bein' a savage; and a potential cliffhanger? 𝐚/𝐧 — this is a lil nugget from a mini-series i have in the works :) lmk if you’d like to see more in the future! 💌 ────────────

main masterlist | MDNI

IF EVER THERE were a time when a human being might actually be capable of blowing steam from their ears, it would be this one.

Rafe Cameron has been pacing the length of the chapel's private lot since he dragged you out here who knows how long ago. Mumbling crudely configured sentences and half-baked schemes under his breath, he looks every bit the loose canon he's been branded as.

While not ideal, things could be worse—a lot worse. At the very least, he hasn't punched anything yet; concrete wall, tree trunk, or otherwise.

The "otherwise" in this situation (and most, to be frank) is JJ Maybank's pretty face.

Apparently, Rafe doesn't appreciate the way he's been touching you all afternoon.

"If that fuckin' pogue knows what's good for him, he—he'll keep his filthy hands off what's mine."

Strong words for someone who refuses to even attempt exclusivity, or make any sort of commitment whatsoever.

You gnaw on your cheek until copper stings your tongue.

JJ has to touch you, it's unavoidable.

Sarah, his younger sister and your lifelong best friend, has asked you to be her Maid of Honor and, to absolutely no one's surprise, John B, her fiancé, asked JJ Maybank to serve as his Best Man.

Sarah's older brother doesn't see it that way.

And why would he? That would involve rational thinking and a modicum of maturity—two things Rafe is allergic to.

In his perfect world, you would walk in the procession having left a him-sized gap, and, even then, he'd probably decide that wasn't enough. Knowing him, there would need to be an ocean between you two before Rafe was finally satisfied. And still, you know for certain he'd find something else to bitch about.

It's almost like he enjoys getting himself all worked up.

"Rafe, I'm not a pet or a toy to play tug-of-war with on the playground."

At your sudden burst of exasperation, the pacing comes to a screeching halt. And thank god for that; the repetition was starting to make you nauseous.

Just as firmly as his jaw, Rafe's fists clench at his sides.

"When did I say that you were?" he spews his venom at you, but his fervid attention remains fixed on the cracked pavement baking in the late afternoon rays. Rafe kicks a pebble into the side of a parked car, then continues, "—because I don't recall saying that. And you know how I feel about words being put into my mouth."

"No," you all but growl. "—but that's what you meant."

Your teeth ache from grinding them together. A migraine is forming at either temple, but you're already too exhausted by this conversation to massage it away before it takes root. You have your hands full with one headache right now, there's no room for another on your plate. But, like the eldest Cameron's emotional maelstrom, landfall is inevitable.

Rafe glares at you, but doesn't say anything to the contrary.

This begrudged acquiescence is the closest you ever come to Rafe admitting that you were right about something.

Or apologizing.

"Well, whatever you are, you're still mine. Something he doesn't respect and you seem to have forgotten—and I think we're overdue for a little reminder, sweetness."

He reaches for you, and you halfheartedly bat his hands away.

"Rafe, can we just... can we please do this some other time? I have to get back to—"

"—to your side piece from The Cut?"

"—to Sarah. Your sister. Y'know, the one who's getting married this weekend?" You cross your arms over your chest. Rafe rolls his eyes, clearly irritated you decided to cock-block his ogling. "—in case that bit of information got lost in your ego."

"Wow, you're really antsy to get back in there." His eyebrows jump, somehow unfettered by his audacity. The supplemental away from me is omitted, but deafening. "There's no need to be so defensive—if you have nothing to feel guilty for, that is."

You don't dignify his badgering with a response.

His tongue punches his cheek, and he looks away, as if depriving you of eye contact is a punishment in and of itself.

Rafe is trying to bait you into an actual fight so that he can exercise his big, bottled-up emotions without having to acknowledge their existence or their cause. There's too much left to do before the ceremony; you don't have time to spare for something as juvenile and pointless as feeding into his emotional scapegoat.

"If you're spreading 'em for Maybank, at least give me a head's up so I can get tested. It's common courtesy, sweetness."

Cold and debilitating, like a scorpion's venom, his accusation is devoid of the familiarity you've grown fond of. Under Rafe's prickly carapace of indifference, he is spiteful and chronically insecure.

This is what happens when you don't purge yourself of whatever is bothering you. Pent up, the negativity builds and builds day in and day out. The knot gets bigger, stronger, and harder to ignore the longer it's left undealt with. The conflict between inner turmoil and externalized chaos, often projected onto an underserving substitute, is harsh and bitter, persisting until there's nothing left to leverage. Denial is a dreadful opponent and an impenetrable armor.

You are the frog today, and you are more often than not. Perhaps there was a time when turns were frequently taken, but you can't remember.

In shooting to sting, he'll kill himself just the same. Yet, despite the assured detriment to your livelihood, you put your faith in rational deterrence and permit the arachnid to crawl onto your back.

A sense of duty is easily preyed upon, and a desire for benevolence can leave you blind to the true nature of things. Instinct, natural or nurtured, doesn't have to be a death sentence. Nor is it a prescription for life. Villainy, like goodness, is a choice.

The frog may not be able to sting or fight, but it can leap.

"Would you just shut up?"

You bring his mouth to yours before any more garbage can spill out.

He's keyed up on jealousy and, most likely, something else. Rafe's intent on pushing you away with tired cheap shots in a fit of anger. You've known him long enough to know that, in the absence of control, he does and says the exact opposite of what he feels.

He refuses to be vulnerable in any healthy way, instead preferring to throw double-edged rocks at your window from behind a wilting bush.

Words are incompatible with Rafe's trauma-soaked mind. He'll hear whatever it is you have to say—Hell, he might even believe it for a few minutes—but a life of too many broken promises and poorly disguised lies depreciated their value.

Action—that's what Rafe can grasp. For something to click and stick, it must be tangible. You kissed him to express your loyalty in the only way he understands.

And to make him shut up. Definitely that, too.

"I should've ignored Sarah when she said a spray bottle was a bad idea."

Your eyes are slow to open, but you jump away from Rafe anyway. As if you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, or like you betrayed some great conspiracy. Like he burned you.

It may not have a label, but your charged relationship with the Cameron heir is an open secret on Kiladare. Still, you're not too keen on public displays of affection—if anything you subject each other to could even be considered gentle or loving.

Intimate, sure. An attachment, definitely. The jury's still out on the health of such a volatile symbiosis, but such an entanglement is a bitch to bury.

You've tried.

Rafe's jaw clenches, annoyed by the irksome interruption now more than any slight you've perpetrated. "Wheezie, can't you see we're in the middle of something?"

"Something I saw a little too much of," she retorts with an exaggerated gag.

You bite down on your cheeks to keep your laughter at bay. You're in no mood to poke the bear further than he's already stabbed himself.

"Run along, the adults are talking."

Again, Rafe reaches for you. This time, you step out of bounds.

She means well, but the youngest Cameron has a big mouth and a propensity for gossip. She's also a compulsive eavesdropper. Wheezie might butt in and stir the pot far less now than she did a few years ago, but when it comes to Rafe, all bets are off. They may be each other's preferred sibling, bonded by their inability to best Sarah in the rat race for their father's attention and approval, but in their household, it's everyone for themselves.

And she's had her eye on the special edition Animal Crossing Switch console for weeks; she'll throw you both under the bus without a thought. Especially, if it means not waiting 'till Christmas to have it in her tween-age hands.

You throw her a bone, and yourself a lifeline. "What's up, Wheeze?"

She gives her brother a final glare, then turns to face you fully. Her features are twisted with exasperation, an understandable feeling considering who her siblings are and the family she's had the misfortune of being born into.

"Sarah wants to practice the rings. Again. So, hurry up and finish sucking face, adults. We have more important things to do."

Wheezie stomps off before either you or Rafe can get a word in. For her, the conversation ran its course. No need to stick around.

"Can I ask something stupid?" Rafe asks once his sister is out of earshot.

His voice is a bit wobbly, and while you know he'll make you regret it later, but you just can't help yourself: "Don't you always?"

Rafe clears his throat, then rubs his jaw like it might grant him the right words.

"We only... y'know with each other, right? I-I mean, I just figured since you're stuck to me like fucking velcro you're in the same boat. I mean—talk about stage five clinger. And, don't get me wrong, I would've unstuck you, but this," Rafe gestures to what little space remains between you. "—is way more convenient than all the hoops and shit of getting with someone else."

You know what he's actually asking—you've been fluent in "Rafe" since the fourth grade. Just one of the many, many joys of your fathers' life-long bromance.

He wants you to spill your guts before he does. He wants certainty; a safety net of prior knowledge.

—Rafe wants power.

"Totally," you drawl, humoring him with half the effort you normally would. Rafe squirms under your knowing gaze. "All for convenience, babe."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Don't I always?" you counter through a smirk that makes Rafe feel as though he's staring into a splintered funhouse mirror.

Rafe watches you slip back into the chapel, wishing that he said more... wishing he'd said less. He follows your figure down the hallway until the metal door shuts with a rancorous thud.

When he shuts his eyes—a lukewarm attempt to calm his racing heart in the relentless summer sun—all Rafe can think about is your parting wink.

And the God-awful churn of emotion it triggered.

────────────

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

⬸ back to the catalog (masterlist)

⬸ back to the main blog

#*ೃ༄ by holy-pucks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks #rafe cameron x kook!reader #kook!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey

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loving-family-poll · 2 months ago

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2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament- Round 1

Propaganda under the cut:

Shauna/Callie:

Shauna is an insane woman with a psychology stuck in her late teens due to the huge trauma central to the show and the loss of her homoerotic friendship Jackie. Callie is her daughter who reminds her a lot of said homoerotic friendship a lot.

The first scene we see of adult Shauna is her masturbating on her daughter's bed looking at a pic of her and her boyfriend which tied back to how Shauna stole Jackie's boyfriend because she couldn't have Jackie.

Callie starts the show as a normal snarky teenager who might look down on her mom a bit, until she catches her cheating on her dad (the boyfriend she stole). Also, Callie is wearing Jackie's old uniform at this point (thinking it was her mom's). They have a talk about the affair and Jackie and it's one of the first times we see how much she wants to learn about her mom and her crazier sides.

Shauna is completely incapable of acting like a normal mother and doesn't know how to give Callie proper displays of affection.

As season 2 rolls in Callie wants nothing more than help her mom escape prison after killing her new boyfriend and for her mom to show her dangerous side to her and to include her in everything even if it's illegal.

At this point, we're at a point where Callie is just as into the freaky headrush of survival-type situations and that probably will keep entangling her with her mom more and more.

Shauna also had an arc about remembering her first baby she lost and how that and so many other things get in the way of her to show proper love to Callie even if she wants to protect her more than anything.

Shauna inadvertently got her best friend, Jackie, killed and is haunted by her memory. She attempts to replicate that dynamic with her daughter Callie but also refuses to let herself love her because of the pain of losing Jackie

mom who masturbates in her daughters room looking at photos of her daughters boyfriend. daughter happens to be an exact replica attitude-wise of the mother's childhood best friend who she killed (accidentally) and ate (not so accidentally) and still has romantic hallucinations of. The daughter dresses up in the dead situationship's uniform and mom mentally can't tell them apart….the good stuff

Stanley/Stanford:

Look. they are brothers. they are mirrors of each other. they are the only people that understand each other. they are possibly the guys that understand each other the least. their relationship to each other is the most important one in either of their lives.

We already got near-canon Old Man Toxic Yaoi with BillFord. Now get ready for Old Man (potentially toxic) Yaoi 2 Electric Boogaloo! Now with more incest and love/hate relationships depending on where in the timeline they are. They even sail a boat together completely alone on the open sea! That's as gay as two old men can get (joking)!

All of their problems would be solved by incest tbh and i love them for that

#tournament polls #tumblr polls #incest poll #shauna/callie #stanley/stanford #stancest #round 1

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andrea-lyn · 8 months ago

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Roswell New Mexico - Master Fic Rec Post

See under the cut for thirty-four total recs, predominantly Malex. There's also 10 additional in the "Recs Less Travelled" project here.

a few drinks and some conversation by @christchex

Michael Guerin makes a friend who isn’t his sibling, an ex, or a sibling’s ex.

Astriferous Sea by hrhbrittany, Sismyn

Alex has always been the baby among the sirens in the Dead Sea. Michael is performing beard services for his sister. Communication is a little wishy-washy.

This AU came out of nowhere and smacked me right with the ‘I’ve always wanted this and I just never knew’. It has sirens and rescues and bad guys and false relationships and real marriages and rings and drama and romance. It honestly reminds me (in the best way) of an exciting romance novel and I’m so jazzed there’s still one part left to it.

The Bachelor by Sweetgirl2019

After the events of high school, Michael, Isobel & Max moved to California while Liz, Maria & Kyle stayed in Roswell and Alex went to war overseas. Once his enlistment period ends, Alex gets thrown into something that brings him and Michael back together again.

So I think this might be my favourite to see updated right now. It should be a run-of-the-mill fluffy AU, yet the author threw this incredible curveball by using the alien background in a canon divergence to turn The Bachelor into both a romantic dramedy for the boys, but also keeping the looming threat of people finding out about aliens in the background. Also, I think this is top tier pining that you will actively feel in your own chest, that’s how good it is.

blink back to let me know by haloud - Roswell New Mexico

Alex doesn’t have important conversations over the phone when he can avoid them. It feels too much like going in blind. But in some ways, the phone makes it easier–it’s easier to break when no one’s looking.

It’s Mylex and the 5th in a series, and every part is worth reading, but I definitely re-read parts 4 and 5 a lot. It’s so well written and the dynamic is mwah and I love how Kyle fits into this. One of my favourite pieces in this is how Kyle reacts to his father in relation to Michael & Caulfield and it’s an amazing read.

built this house on memories by @villanellve

He wakes up eight years in the future, and everything is strange, but Alex is there.

YOU GUYS. If you were to write a list of tropes I adore, this would be way up there at the top because of how much I love it. I am a sucker for a character having to be removed from their situation to learn (whether it’s an alternate universe or the future or the past), but this one is so achingly painful and perfect and hopeful. I love the callout that the situation is almost too hard for Alex, I love the resolution at the end on Michael’s part, and you could just soak in the happiness and comfort of their future lives if you let yourself.

Can’t Get No by one_flying_ace

“They’re on round two already,” he says, tilting his head towards the truck again, “or maybe three.” Guerin grimaces, and that’s fair; it’s his brother, after all. “You know how they’re feeling. Could I handle it, if you stopped-” being in control, he doesn’t say, but Guerin shudders. “I’m good, Alex. Just keep the hell away.” (Or: alien sex rocks don’t make them do it, but they sure do help.)

Sex pollen/sex-or-die fics are pretty much a requirement, but this is my absolute favourite and I have re-read it more times than I can tell you (let’s put it at six or seven?) The restraint that Michael has in this is amazing, but the mental images of it are incredible as well. I loved Max and Liz’s secondary presence as well and how each character was tonally perfect down to the little things (like Max not noticing Michael’s sex marks). What a good. What a hot. What amazing.

Constant as the Northern Star by celzmccelz

Michael stares at Kyle. “But I’m a guy! How can I be pregnant?” Kyle looks embarrassed. “Well, you appear to have a fully functioning set of female reproductive organs—or, I mean, like, the kind of reproductive organs that are associated with a double X-chromosome in humans, so I’d assume that you probably became pregnant when semen was introduced into your reproductive tract—” “Jesus Christ, Kyle!” says Michael. He could have happily lived the rest of his life without ever hearing Kyle Valenti say the words “semen” and “reproductive tract.” Kyle’s eyes widen. “Have you been having unprotected sex?” “Oh my God, I am not having this conversation with you!”

Yes, going in, there are some warnings to be cognizant of. It’s mpreg, there’s a lot of medical stuff to go through, but I think this is my absolute favourite of the mpregs I’ve read and it actually comes down to Michael’s support system outside of Alex, namely in Kyle. There’s no sudden BFF bracelets being given, but that morality that makes Kyle Valenti who he is, that’s right there. Also, given that this is an mpreg fic, it delves into family and plot in a way that I haven’t often seen. Plus, you get the ‘getting back together’ Malex that I so deeply crave.

Contigo me encontré by beautifulcheat (Katalyst), ladynox

The Lockhart House was once a home, although it was never a happy one. Steeped in tragedy, it still stands today, in the heart of Old Town Roswell, attracting ghost hunters and those seeking to catch a peak of something from beyond the veil.

Contrary to popular myth, it wasn’t currently haunted (except by one paranormally talented docent). It was Michael’s favorite job and the best part of his summer home from UNM. Or at least was until Alex Manes was hired to man the gift shop, complicating an otherwise fun and easy job.

everywhere on earth you go - @evepolastried

Across the room, he can still see how Michael Guerin is looking at him. And that’s something different, something new, something so very familiar. The thrill of nerves, of guilt, of want. Alex smiles, and he starts to sing. (OR: Alex Manes grabs his guitar and gets the hell out of Roswell in 2008, and he leaves behind a letter. Here’s what happens ten years later)

I love this. This one has something incredible, and it’s something I called out, but it has this amazing work with pace. There’s a frantic moment at the bar and it’s chaos, and you feel it. It’s rushed and wild and crazy, but then everything slows down and it gets perfect. There’s Michael, there’s Alex, there’s music, and it’s such a great ride.

Family Matters by @bestillmyslashyheart

Isobel is telepathic. Most of the time she ignores it. She used to pick up on other’s people’s emotions but she’s long since learned to tune that out. Until one night she can’t. Someone, somewhere is in such a state that it’s spilling over and she’s left to deal with the brunt of it. Or, Michael keeps things close to the vest until he can’t. The night after Alex leaves him at the drive-in, everything he’s feeling bubbles up inside until it spills over onto Isobel. Suddenly he’s left with no other choice but to open up.

This is an early fandom piece, but I still think it’s held up to an immensely amazing rate. Not only that, but I love how it delves into powers, Michael and Isobel’s relationship, and the incredible idea of spillover, which I still actively wish would become canon because of this fic. I think it’s so IC, especially with Michael’s active wish not to talk about it that he screws himself over in his sleep and seriously, it’s such a good read for both Isobel & Michael stuff, but also Michael & Alex.

the first who ever did - nostaljinks

Five times Michael saves Alex + 1 time Alex saves Michael back.

I feel like there aren’t enough words that I can heap onto this of praise. This fic is well-written, well-plotted, well-thought out, well-everything. It’s a beautiful emotional roller coaster and will make you ACHE, but in a great way. It also is the right amount of long that you want more, but you also get it, and it’s just as quality as the rest. ABSOLUTE must read.

fish bowl by @sabrinachill

Alex makes a series of phone calls and bad choices that lead him directly here — an Airstream on the edge of a junkyard with a distractingly attractive mechanic showing him how the dining table converts into a bed that he can sleep on for just $75 a week. It is, of course, completely absurd. But there’s something cozy about the fuzzy yellow blanket on the bed/table and the sparkling sunlight streaming through the mostly-clean windows, in the smell of leather and motor oil and aftershave and summer storms, in the hopeful half-smile on Michael’s face. That’s his name — Michael. Alex’s potential new roommate and landlord. (AKA An AU About Quarantined Roommates Who Fall in Love)

I highly recommend anything by @sabrinachill, but this fic is a really clear argument about why. It’s an AU that involves quarantine, and you might think ‘oh, I’ve read that before’, but then it will take you down the unexpected road that you didn’t expect to go down, but as soon as you take that twist, you instantly realize how much better it is that way. Hats off to the clever plotting not just in Fish Bowl, but other fics!

Funny How Things Never Change - @waroftheposes

“What can I do for you?” Michael asks, turning to face Alex. Alex can tell the moment that Michael’s mind registers who he’s addressing, because the polite smile drops from his face and the hat falls from his hand. He stands there, eyes wide and unbelieving, looking at Alex. Alex takes a deep breath, willing his racing heart to settle. “Well,” he begins and is his voice shaking? “For starters you can get your stubborn ass over here and give me a divorce.” – (A Sweet Home Alabama AU)

Yooooo, guess who was bereft when she thought she lost this link. It was absolutely me. This AU makes me happy in so many ways, especially the storms in the desert motif that keeps coming back around, and also that it’s messy. I like that it’s not cut and dry, that it goes right up until the wedding, and that it takes some real talk for them to get back together. I love fics where they all get to be human and this one is just so good.

I Know Nothing Stays The Same by aewriting

“Alex doesn’t believe in miracles until one happens to him. His father has a hammer in one hand and Alex’s throat in the other. As Alex’s consciousness fades, he’s dimly aware of movement. His father’s about to swing the hammer, and this is how Alex will die.” When an unexplainable force puts a stop to Jesse’s attack in the shed, Alex and Michael are forced to go on the run. Leaving Roswell is an easy decision, but navigating the consequences of that choice months and even years later proves to be much more complicated.

I think this one became a must read very early on, but then it’s continued to deliver. There’s been a few stories that delve into the characters getting therapy, but there’s a whole chapter here where it genuinely feels cathartic as we go through the process with Alex. This fic also is an excellent and long version of an AU I think that we’ve all wondered, about what would happen if they ran away, and it’s so well written and so real that I know I will be re-reading this a ton. Like many of the others, why I love it is because it’s not perfection, but it’s the kind of real where I want to wrap myself up in it.

i won’t go, i can’t do it on my own by @queersirius

alex tries to let go by giving back the pieces of michael he’s kept

Millie has a bunch of AMAZING AUs (guys, the 10 Things I Hate About You is something I never thought I’d get, especially from a favourite author), but i think this one is actually my favourite, especially when it comes to the ship piece that Alex has. Again, when I talk about ‘fics that make me want to be better’, this one was one. The writing is engaging, the characterization is fabulous, and the emotions are so honest and real. Then there’s this line, like a gut punch: “Because it’s the last thing I have of you,” he admits. “The last piece of you I have to let go of.” which I love because it’s still Alex’s journey, an honest attempt to offer closure (if closure is wanted).

in some other life - @spaceskam

michael tries to build a time machine, but ends up in a different reality all together

There are a lot of these that have been written and they are all quality, but I love this one especially because of how we get into Alex in the other universe, get the glimpse of this unknown Michael, but also the scene that strikes this one out for me is that Alex doesn’t want to let him go. I love that Alex gets to be selfish, that he begs for him to stay, and that we don’t get the automatic happy ending in that, but there’s still the hope for it. Also, Alex the Angel, unf.

intimate encounters of the third kind by @alexmanes

Three years after Antar and its people take Earth under their wings, Roswell becomes the epicenter for human-alien relations between both planets. It doesn’t take very long for Alex Manes to find himself embroiled in a scandal that threatens this intergalactic partnership, all thanks to a beautiful man named Michael Guerin who is not nearly as human as he claims to be.

Okay, so, if you like No Love Like Your Love, the truth is that you have this fic to thank. This was my first introduction in RNM fandom as to what a really amazing fic could be that incorporated the royalty elements into the pairing. Once 1x12 aired and we met Michael’s mother, it was pretty much a done deal that I wanted to do something that played with that, but this is the actual inspiration. It’s well plotted, it has a great ensemble cast, and plays with the kind of care that it takes to know your plot inside and out, but also to leave breadcrumbs that guide the reader along. It’s very methodical in the sense that nothing is by accident and it has you on the edge of your seat.

It’s a long road back to you by @magsthemagical

Michael finds out that Alex is dating Forrest and he’s okay with it, until he’s not. Maria suggests a double date to show they can all hang out as friends. But they can’t… not really. [OR the one where Michael & Alex realize that they belong together and so they say goodbye to their respective relationships and start anew]

Honest truth time - in terms of ‘ships, while I always love people to ship and let ship, my personal preference for both Michael and Alex is one another, so both Maria/Michael and Forrest/Alex aren’t things that I usually seek out when trawling Ao3. This fic is so good to all parties involved. No one is a villain and I appreciate that they get to talk about things like Alex’s reticence to do certain things in public, but also being aware that Alex deserves to have something new as much as Michael.

Last Stop: This Town by @ubiestcaelum

Someone asked what it would have been like if Michael had gone home with the Evan’s and I couldn’t let it go.

Am I cheating because I requested this? idk, maybe, because another one I requested will end up here too. I am addicted to the idea of Michael getting the support system he needs, but THIS FIC takes it to the most impossibly amazing level and fleshes out the Evans parents in such an incredible way. I love that it’s not super sunshine and rainbows, but it’s an honest telling of raising kids (and maybe too many kids versus what you expected). I know this is only in progress (several today will be), but even as it is, it’s worth reading multiple times, because I know I have.

let me count the ways by @queersirius

liz ortecho isn’t allowed to date until her snarky, determined-not-to-date brother, alex ortecho, does. luckily, one of her suitors has a plan. well, max goes to isobel for a plan, which involves getting their brother, michael, to woo alex. or, the 10 things i hate about you AU

Obviously this needs to be here as I desperately pleaded for it to exist, but it’s so beyond what it might be as a mini tumblr ficlet and has become a whole world. It’s not just a great Malex story, it’s an amazing story for all the characters and really fleshes out a world, but weaves in the RNM characters perfectly, but also gives me a dynamic I want more of, in Alex being an Ortecho. It’s not quite finished yet, but Millie has never steered us wrong and I can’t wait for more.

Loathly by @aewriting

When King Manes and his sons are caught illegally hunting on Antarian lands, King Noah gives King Manes a choice - correctly answer a riddle or accept death. A year-long search for the correct answer ensues, leading the youngest son of the king, Alex, to strike a bargain with a mysterious woman who claims to know the answer. This is an AU of the Arthurian legend “Sir Gawain and the Dame Ragnell.”

Love at First Sass - @daffietjuh

Taking a class of 30 high school kids on a school trip to an Air Force base was about as exhausting as it sounds, luckily, the Captain giving them the tour is perfectly capable of handling a group of rowdy teenagers. Michael may be slightly in love Okay, so first of all, if you haven’t read any of the author’s other work, you should. The AUs are fantastic and the hockey one is still one of my favourites ever, but this one also just was exactly what I needed. It was sexy and flirty and fun, but also fit their personalities perfectly!

Everything in the Michael Sanders AU, by prouvaireafterdark which is a fantastic series that gives us what we all wanted, which is Walt Sanders giving Michael the home he deserved (and getting one right back).

My love is a life taker by @jocarthage

By the time he turned 15, Captain Alex Manes had been to every war zone and unofficial conflict the United States of America was involved in. It wasn’t regular practice, or even heard of, for a Colonel to bring his son along on combat missions; the exception was if the child had been identified as Time Aware, able to travel in time along their own timeline using stolen alien technology. So here Alex Manes was, 28, and ducking bombs, killing who he’s told to. On his way back from a mission, Alex slips into another timestream. It should be impossible. But he can hear a child crying and he heads towards the sound. This is the story of how Alex saved Michael and Michael saved Alex, with lots of time travel shenanigans and angst.

This story is incredible for so many reasons and one of them I continue to praise is the balance. It’s an Alex driven story, but you can break his life down into friends, mission, family, and Michael, and often those elements combine, but there’s never any update that doesn’t give you enough (imo). It’s excellent writing with engaging OCs and wonderful plot, and the most incredible love story.

not in this world (or the next) by @hannah-writes

It isn’t until he realises he can’t find the keys for his fucking truck anywhere and that there’s mail on the table addressed to Mr M Evans that Noah called him ‘Evans’, too. He fumbles inside the wallet that he’d managed to locate and pulls out a New Mexico licence with his picture on it; he doesn’t have a black eye and a split lip in this one, his hair’s tamed and he doesn’t look like he’s gone three days without showering. His date of birth is stamped, clear and correct, but then where his name should read ‘Michael Guerin’, it reads “Michael Evans’ and the address registered on the license is that of Max and Isobel’s childhood home. Noah had also said ‘your mom’s’. Not ‘Mrs Evans’. It feels like a bucket of ice water’s dumped over his head as he finally accepts that something is very, very wrong. (aka, the fic spawned from a tumblr prompt about Michael waking up in a parallel reality.)

This one, guys. This is an absolute beast of angst and love and a really well plotted story, but also is really amazing for how it creates Mikey, but also creates motive behind what drives both Michael and Mikey in ways that are the same, but also different. Genuinely, this fic is a great read because you get so much attention to the characters while also driving along the relationships, and who they are.

nursery sharks by christchex

Six firsts in the Sanders household and a second.

Otherwise Engaged by JustAsSweet

Alex Manes was perfectly happy with his job at Colden Records but when his visa is rejected and deportation looms, marrying his assistant Michael Evans is his only option. And when they make a trip to Alaska to see Michael’s family, everything becomes a lot more complicated.

AKA: The Proposal AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway.

Shadow Work - @myrmidryad

After his discharge from the Air Force, Alex Manes is working as a shade - a professional ghost hunter - when Michael Guerin tracks him down. Alex left Roswell thirteen years ago and never went back, but overnight Michael’s family has vanished and the supernatural activity in Roswell has exploded, and he wants Alex’s help. Featuring: ghosts, more ghosts, metaphorical ghosts, and a lot of sex without talking about feelings. Also missing family members, government conspiracies, and gratuitous worldbuilding.

No, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I can’t rec this enough. Literally, this is a novel-type rec. If this were a book on a shelf, I would be shouting that you need to go read it, because it is literally good enough to be a published work on a best-selling list. It’s so fucking good. Every time you think it can’t get better, it does. It has nuance and plot and world-building and it is So. Fucking. Good. I could sit here and sing praises all day and it still wouldn’t be enough. Please give yourself a holiday treat and read it.

The World Forgetting, By The World Forgot by Anonymous

Michael and Alex erase each other from their memories. It does not go according to plan. [Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Roswell style]

I mean, I could rec anything by Anonymous and it would be worth your read. They’re so good and so in character, but this one is my favourite. It’s angsty as fuck, don’t get me wrong, but it plays with the movie plot in such a Roswell-specific way that makes sense that I honestly never even compared or contrasted it to the movie past the first few beats. The pain is visceral, and the memory loss segment is incredible, but also delivers on a positive ending.

To Trust Love by @laughsalot3412

The prisoner’s voice sounded like home. He could have been raised in Roswell, the way his accent stretched his vowels. He definitely hadn’t been. Alex would have remembered eyes like those. (AU where Alex Manes goes on an undercover rescue mission in Caulfield Prison and forms a bond with one of the prisoners in the process.)

I don’t have enough words in the English language to praise this one. Honestly, I don’t. For one, the pace and the length is perfect. That we got the parts as quickly as we did was honestly such a treat, but then every part was just as high quality as the last. There are chapters in this one that made me go, “holy shit, this would’ve been a novel I read”, and then there are little emotional impacts where the tone shifts, but it works so well. It’s SO HOT, and the AU is so perfect, and also helped inspire the one that I wrote last night with the “genie”.

Unwind Me - delgay

“Think you can manage that? Sitting next to me, without picking a fight?” Michael challenged. “Can you?” Alex returned. “No idea,” Michael admitted with a sideways grin that never failed to make Alex’s stomach turn over, “But I’m eager to find out.” Alex is avoiding everyone, but he can’t seem to escape Michael.

This whole fic is intensely amazing, but it got on my rec list for the absolutely electric scene with the dancing that was absolutely beyond incredible. You also get Michael courting Alex, which is something he utterly deserves and I love the way Michael goes about it.

we feel so american by thepredatorywasp

“Papa’s on the spaceship again?” River asks, his bright green eyes welling with tears and his face growing red. “Comin’ back?” “Of course he is,” Alex says, smoothing down the son’s hair and adjusting the Mickey ears atop his head. “Always.” There is no easy way to explain to your three year-old that not only is he an alien, but his Papa is an alien and that apparently, Michael loves leaning hard into irony because he has gone on Space Mountain approximately ten times over the course of four days.

LOOK. I LOVE A SWEET KID FIC. The next rec will prove this, but this one will melt your fucking heart. I love it because it’s not perfect and easy. There’s difficulties, there are issues, but it’s Michael and Alex and their baby boy in Disney and if you do not come away feeling warmer from this, then I just don’t know.

We’re Waking Up Slow by myrmyriad

“I think need a little time to process all of this. Um. Storm’s getting closer and I don’t really wanna get snowed in here, so…let’s just talk later, okay?” What if the storm that blew in during S01E10 came in a lot faster and heavier, and Alex was snowed in at the junkyard?

Again, fic that makes me wish that I could write as well as this. This one makes you feel it all. You’ll feel the cold, the wet, the storm, the pain, the hope, the healing. You feel the connection between Michael and Alex, and you’ll be left wishing at the end that this had been how canon went, but also that it’s justifiably not that far off from how it could have, had they taken a different tack, because of how well it’s written.

What’s Up, Pregnant? by Marie_L

Michael Guerin is broke, practically homeless, and a knocked up secret alien. What now?

Speaking of kid fics, this mpreg is one that I really like, because if nothing else, it introduced the concept of mpreg using pods to me in the fandom, and I kind of went, “YES, of course”. I love that it’s got everyone rallying, but I mostly love the psychic connection between Michael and his baby, and the softness of loving sugar and Alex.

With Love Overflowing by Nestra

"We both agree that this is not the place we belong, right? Please say yes."

Michael tossed his hat on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch. "If you mean that your dad's been dead since CrashCon and some kind of crazy shit is going on, then yeah, I agree."

(This one was for me for Secret Santa, it is just THAT GOOD that I want everyone in the world to read it)

x marks the spot (where we fell apart) by catching_paper_moons, preciousthings

“Don’t write it off,” Alex says, and Liz is so relieved someone is coming to her defense, even if it’s someone who already knew beforehand. “Liz and Kyle have ideas, and there are people in this room with literal superpowers. It’s pretty much our only option.” “Our only option?” Isobel scoffs. “What are we, Ocean’s Eleven?”

#malex #malex fic recs #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic recs

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shadowgast-recs-weekly · 1 month ago

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Works in Progress Recs

This week, we've got nine (nein) works in progress to ring in the new year with! Check them out beneath the cut, and as always (but especially for works in progress) - if you like them, be sure to let the author know!

A Favor Accepted by Samjoinedthereconcorps (211727, General)

Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Picks up after canon right after the Essek reveal, Essek goes to Rumblecusp with the Mighty Nein and works to earn back their trust. Feelings with Caleb ensue.

Reccer says: The slow burn for the two builds up off of what has been shown in canon but viewed through a Shadowgast lens, making the characterizations feel grounded and accurate. The Mighty Nein dynamic and how the bring Essek into their fold is just great :)

Re-sublimity by OMGitsgreen (18505, Mature)

Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

What happens when one who should be long dead is suddenly once again in front of you? Their voice, their face, even seemingly their morals and inclinations? A Shadowgast Jupiter Ascending AU, where Caleb while visiting the planet of Roshona with the Nein for spaceship repairs learns his existence itself proves astronomically impossible odds: a true Recurrence.

Reccer says: I'm StreetwiseFool on Ao3. I have ADORED this work for the years since it's latest update. I will adore it evermore. Please give it love, as I yearn for that final chapter. It takes the most fun concepts from the (not so great) film where derives its au plot and makes it SO heartrenchingly shadowgast and spectacular. There's whump, there's affection, all of the Nein are wonderfully done here. Plus I love how they adapted the film's worldbuilding to Exandria's and vice versa. My heart broke in the best way and you can't help but fervently wonder how it'll all play out as you read. I hope the author sees this and knows no matter finished or unfinished I'll love this work forever. I'm stoked for the chance to recommend it.

Wizard Brunch by RainbowBard (25485, Mature)

Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek gets a mysterious message from a stranger asking if he wants to join him for brunch.

Reccer says: I love this. The idea of Essek meeting and hanging out with Gilmore is something that should happen all of the time.

Fortune's Favor (Fortune's Fools) by Flashhwing (30289, Teen)

Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

Essek gets stuck in the past and meets the M9 while they are still disorganised hot messes. Artagan is along for the ride.

Reccer says: It was probably the first Shadowgast and M9 fic I read and it set the tone.

the golden thread around your neck whispered visions of my undoing by MarsBar2019 (191412, Explicit)

Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

Caleb Widogast does not belong here.

Reccer says: The best sort of plotty smut.

Soak me in your sin by witches_chant (12712, Explicit)

Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent

When Essek and Caleb confess that they have had secret, slightly exotifying fantasies about each other, they decide to test it out in role-play. The indulgent weekend brings them closer together, and reveals new layers of both their sexuality and darkness.

Reccer says: Delicious cnc rp between Caleb and Essek!

Cascade Effect by firefright (6867, Teen)

Reccer's Content Notes: Omegaverse

Essek follows the Nein into Aeor, where the already daunting task of saving the world is further complicated by yet another twist in his and Caleb's fractured relationship.

Reccer says: Always here for some good omegaverse! A wonderful take on how Essek and Caleb's relationship has become strained after the exposure of Essek’s lies.

Temporal Shunt (The Art of Vanishing in Place) by Inanerial (43419, Mature)

Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Essek struggles with past trauma and his eating disorder

Reccer says: A wonderful look into a possible Thelyss family dynamic that takes into account the religious trauma Essek might have experienced. The food struggle is real and handled very well.

The Kitchen Sink by mousecookie (17126, Mature)

Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Modern AU - Caleb has many odd jobs, which means he keeps accidentally running into supermodel Essek Thelyss, who is concerned Caleb might be following him (he’s not)

Reccer says: Very cute and scratches multiple ‘modern AU’ tropes at once (coffee shop, superstar, museum curator, etc)

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation.

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring BDSM!

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list

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blacklegsanjiii · 7 months ago

Note

So I've had a thinking about mom!robin and child!sanji au and was wonder what are some of your head canons! Maybe robin picked up a 7-8 sanji when she was 16 or 17. This could maybe fit under nico!sanji but where robin actually adopts sanji. Feel free to make as fluffy or as angsty as you want I'm just looking for ideas :)

The first ever Nico!Sanji was them staying together and working in Baroque Works together and she did find him around eight. Instead of sending him to the Baratie to work. However I love the idea of Nico!Sanji and Robin just having a child/parent dynamic of overprotective Robin who found Sanji lost at age eight, starving and alone and she's not in much better shape at age seventeen. Sanji is so small and fits so well into Robin's arms and Robin who hasn't had companionship in so long, he holds her hand or one of them as they walk in deserted parts, when they camp for the night Robin wraps him in many arms and holds him close to her.

I feel like Robin would rarely let Sanji out her sight for years to come, between the Navy and whoever may or may not be after Sanji she likes to play it safe. Sanji is eager to please and follow her every word. She sings to him and tells him stories because she will not lose him like she lost everyone else. Sanji lets her, the first set of soft touches that he's had in years. He still flinches sometimes, involuntarily. It's not that he wants to, afraid he'll offend her or hurt her feelings. That she'll leave him, he doesn't want her to leave him, he likes her a lot! She's so nice and loving and caring, like his mom! He accidentally calls her mom about a year after they start traveling together and when Robin starts crying he thinks he fucked up and apologizes and says he can go! He's been alone before it's fi-!

But she cuts him off and pulls him to her and just says she's happy, hasn't been this happy in a very long time and that she would like it if he wants to keep calling her that. He nods and says he would like to, if she really doesn't mind. They stay sat together for a while and he does get used to calling her 'mom' more often than not. She loves it and smiles so fondly whenever he does it. They're inseparable basically.

When they make it to Alabasta, Sanji is fifteen and Robin is twenty-four, the coup has already happened and they begin to work for Sir Crocodile. Miss All Sunday and Mister Prince working together. It weirds some people out this teenager is calling this woman who definitely isn't actually old enough to be his mom 'mom' and she goes along with it and smiles so fondly to him. Crocodile doesn't bat an eye, the kid cooks well enough to make him not care and Miss All Sunday is on the hunt for Pluton so he really doesn't care as long as he gets results. If anyone does try to pick a fight with Sanji they do have to deal with Robin though, it doesn't happen often but Robin is known for being protective of him.

Sanji still cooks, he cooks for all of Baroque Works when he sees them or they're around and not off fulfilling their duties. He still wants to find the All Blue but he fights with his hands and he listens to Robin as she explains the difference in the poneglyphs to him. Their both multilingual and he knows how to read some of the language the poneglyphs are written in but not all, it's a tricky language to learn to read let alone put together. The other members of Baroque Works tend to tune them out when they start speaking other languages they don't understand, Crocodile sighs in irritation every time it happens.

Sanji is sent to Little Garden to help Mr. 3 ahead of the Strawhat's arrival and he finds it rather interesting that they're helping the princess of Alabasta, finds it hilarious the princess had to get help from pirates but then he watches them take down Mr. 3 and well, it would be nice to have company on the way back to Alabasta so he offers the Ever Pose in exchange for a lift, and he offers to cook for them as well. Only to be roped into the shenanigans of Drum Island and shit is his mom going to be pissed when she finds out he broke his fucking back kicking these idiots out of the way of a fucking avalanche. He's going to be in so much trouble, he's going to get glared at and talked to in several different languages oh no.

When they're in Alabasta, overthrowing his boss for pete's sake, he avoids Crocodile because he'll be in trouble otherwise, great trouble, but Crocodile falls and Alabasta is free. To keep appearances he pulls a gun on Robin on when she boards the ship, him having been fully invited into after Drum Island. She smiles sweetly at them and during the night, during Sanji's watch after the galley is cleaned, she finds him and they speak in a language only they know. She strokes Sanji's hair as he leans his head on her shoulder. No one really clocks it as they sail together, at least not until after Ennies Lobby and Water 7. When they get the Thousand Sunny and Robin is free for the moment and wants to live and has the freedom to live now. I feel like Usopp stumbles upon them sleeping together, just passed out curled up around each other and he fucking tells everyone their dating. Despite the visceral reaction from most of the crew. Robin and Sanji are asked about it at lunch the next day, Franky wiggling his eyebrows and then bawling when they say they're not an item, far from it. Everyone does notice they are close but can't figure out how close. They hear them talking in the other languages and falling into a mix of languages that no one else can understand.

After Thriller Bark and all the parties Sanji finds her and it's rare, he's taller than her now after all, but she pulls him into her lap and cries quietly as she pets his hair. He doesn't say what happened, but she knows he's keeping whatever promise he made to the swordsman but still. She doesn't begrudge him, never, not after what happened with Cipher Pol and Aokiji. Not after working in Baroque Works for a warlord. When he apologizes later she shushes him and makes sure he's calm and the tear stains have calmed before he leaves. She's so soft, still creepy but he's creepy right back. But then everything keeps going wrong and they're separated on Sabaody. The pacifistas, the quick vanishing and appearing in a random place, rushing to get back together, only to fail, only to see the note in the paper, only to rely on whisperings to see how their crew is doing. Ivankov and Dragon seem to be questioning of the relationship between the two of them after their meetings when they have tea with Koala and Robin. Robin simply says Sanji is her son which makes Koala lose it as Iva looks confused and Dragon shrugs it off because yeah, sure.

When they all come back together she checks Sanji over and nods approvingly in private, fussing over him publicly would only lead to the crew questioning them again when that wasn't the case. They could just come out and say it but they don't need to, not right now. Their convictions towards each other are strong and unyielding. Which is why Robin also goes to WCI, she doesn't dissuade Nami from going but does ask that she give Sanji grace. Nami gives her a questioning look but agrees hesitantly. There's so many questions going through her mind but she leaves without asking any, Luffy and them promising to bring Sanji back to them. When the crew is headed to Wano it's Usopp who asks Robin why she asked Nami to give Sanji grace for leaving. Robin clarifies that it's not for him leaving but what he's going to do while gone, what he feels he'll have to do to protect the crew. Zoro asks why she didn't go if she cares so much and Robin says every parent must let their child make mistakes, she's no different and that if she goes she will not listen to Sanji or Luffy and it could end just as badly as Ennies Lobby if she had. When everyone, Heart Pirates included, ask what she means when she said 'parent' she laughs and says she and Sanji's relationship is much more of a mother and her son than siblings, he was so small at age eight that it was easy to fool people while they ran and it became less of an act over time. Franky asks what Sanji would do while he's gone and Robin answers that she wouldn't put much past him, they were in Baroque Works for a while and have been running from the Navy for most of their lives so there's not much they wouldn't do to protect those they care about. Everyone just stares at her and Robin laughs lightly to herself and bids them all a goodnight and goes to bed.

When they're all in Wano again and Sanji is concerned about what Robin will do to him but she simply hugs him and says she's happy he's safe. Sanji nods and hugs her back and Franky is bawling saying it's SUUUPER to see mother and son reunited after everything that has happened which makes the rescue team balk at them in surprise and start questioning them. It's a long and awful conversation because Sanji didn't really tell Robin about his family either. When he's done though Robin simply hums and says it's a good thing she wasn't there because she would have defied his wishes because hell hath no fury like a scorned mother.

#black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #nico robin #devil child nico robin #nico!sanji #answers #one piece au

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purplepeptobismol · 3 days ago

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Doctor Kenneth McCormick & The Beautiful Concept of ‘Love To The Point of Invention’

Okay! So I could not stop thinking about the dynamic between Dr. McCormick and Victor Chaos, and more importantly— chapter 13 of my fic… I’m sorry y’all. It’s just,,, there was so much discussed in this chapter and I just wanted to talk about it MORE. I wanted to voice everything out, even revealing some behind the scenes stuff, implications, deleted paragraphs, investigative research, and my thought process throughout the chapter. It was a long one; it could’ve been longer, but I genuinely forced myself to stop. Anyway, feel free to read my very own ‘directors cut’! Just letting you know ahead of time that it WILL be containing spoilers for Chapter 13 of ‘I Will Make of You’ and my one-shot (Un)Forbidden Love.

The backstory starts off as newly graduated Kenny and Butters, with Butters asking him to run away together. The reason for his hesitation is explored on (Un)Forbidden Love, but actually a big scene I cut out [and was going to be featured in this chapter] was —

The one where Kevin gifts his truck to Kenny and Butters. I was planning on hinting that Butters had explained his plan to Kevin beforehand, and had asked for his help into getting a truck of his own. Kevin, being literally the coolest person ever, basically told him that they can take his truck, and he will be gifting it to them. Butters and Kevin go back and forth about it, Butters being “no, I can’t possibly take yours! That’s unfair and selfish”, until Kevin hits him with the “I’m not doing it for you, it’s for him. We both want Kenny to be happy.” Obviously, Kenny doesn’t know this conversation happened 🥹, but caring older brother Kevin tugs at my heartstrings. I also wanted to add a tidbit where Kevin is helping them pack their things in the truck, he whispers to Leo to “make him happy and give Ken the life he deserves.” KILL ME NOW, I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!

—

Moving on past their new established relationship, we get the first hints of Vic’s negotiating skills. It is already established in the canon universe of the Post Covid South Park specials that Kenny is a very talented scientist who’s done all these amazing things— but we also find out that Butters (Vic Chaos) is the one that actually funds all of Dr. McCormick’s projects! I tried to mess around with this concept in my own story, but the one thing I always wondered was: What made Kenny want to become a scientist in the first place?

Love to the Point of Invention

I think there is something so pure, and so genuinely beautiful about loving someone so much, you’re capable of inventing something revolutionary BECAUSE of them. There are many examples of this actually happening in real life:

Kenny seeing Butters come home— fatigued and stressed from all the workload— it motivated him into creating something to help Butters feel better. And it not just worked, but someone actually bought Kenny’s invention. Of course, if it wasn’t for Butters [Chaos’s] negotiating tactics, they wouldn’t have secured the millions of dollars that helped them get into an Ivy League Uni.

Personally, I feel like Kenny truly is talented when it comes to being an inventor, but both in canon and in IWMOY, his main motivators where always the people he loves. Butters is also canonically good at running a business, and his Vic Chaos persona proves that he’s capable of getting some good money off of investors. Scientist Kenny who invents all these crazy things and Vic Chaos who invests, sells, markets, funds his inventions— It’s literally a match made in heaven y’all 😞, they’re a power duo!

—

There are a lot of other things I want to get into but I’m going to skip ahead a bit to talk about the main event of this chapter: Cooper’s creation! I’ve always headcanon that Stan and Kyle are more family oriented and the more likely to have kids first, while Kenny isn’t as caring about the concept. So when Kenny witnessed their joy and Butters cuddling up with a baby, it sort of planted him with an image of a family in his head. What really sold the idea was that conversation he had with Butters. Kenny wasn’t aware that Butters was having daydreams of starting a family with him until that very night 🥲, it once again motivated him into creating something that will make Butters’ daydream a reality. LOVE! CREATION!!

Now, the concept of bringing a human to life in the ‘non-traditional’ sense is actually very complex AND controversial 💀. I was aware that there were some negative views towards the study of human cells and artificial wombs, but I didn’t know just how bad it’s perceived… Bro, even IVF and surrogacy are still somewhat frowned upon. I’m the type of person that even if it’s not mentioned or come up in my essays, I still do extensive research so I can get a general idea of what I’m writing about. For Cooper’s ‘birth,’ there were three main things that needed to be focused:

The study of cells and how to make gametes of two people of the same sex to successfully produce a zygote (fertilized cell/embryo)

Artificial Wombs, how they work, and how will they function for a developing human fetus

The weekly development of a baby and what they will need inside a womb to grow/develop healthy

All of these things have their own concerns that required different forms of investigation, and it brought up a lot of moral dilemmas that I REALLY (and I mean really) overthought during the entirety of my research and writing process.

One

In real life, the use of animals for scientific purposes is controversial because, let’s be real— no one wants animals to be abused for humanity’s own desire to learn. Hell, I wouldn’t want that either! Yet, in my fic, Kenny does use lab mice and monkeys and it’s actually an integral component for this experiment. Personally, I do believe there is an ethical way we could use mice and monkeys for research; and that’s if the experiment doesn’t cause deadly risks and physical or psychological harm to the animals. You can let me know your thoughts! I feel like Kenny would actually be less empathetic about it than Stan, which is why I made him call Kenny out on it. Lol. Getting that out of the way, how would Kenny use those animals to reach his goal?

Lab mice are actually used to this day, and they’re a valuable species for the study of human biology, pathology, etc.. Mice have 20 chromosomes in their haploid genome, their gestation period takes on average 19-21 days, their genetic complexity is pretty low; there’s also low ethical concerns due to their rapid reproduction, small size, and short lifespan. Scientist already have a general understanding of their genetics so it makes the testing more straightforward. Kenny will definitely find more early success and failures during this section since the breakthrough can be proof that conception is possible with two species of the same sex.

I stated this in chapter 13, but the next animal they tested on was the Rhesus Macaque; they’re the primates most genetically and physiologically similar to humans. A single rhesus macaque contain 21 pairs of chromosomes, gestation period is roughly 166 days, and their maternal health has a big influence to a baby’s development much like a human. Kenny testing with these animals will help bridge the gap, enhance the technology, and address any issues that happen throughout the process. But since they’re pretty similar to humans, especially with their reproductive biology, it raises more ethical questions than with the lab mice. The failed attempts of gestation, fetal development, and the long-term health would be very hard to ignore. This step would take significantly more time and patience, lots of care will need to be taken place before ANYTHING becomes feasible. So once everything is overcome, then we could possibly move to humans.

The ultimate and final goal would be testing this technology with humans. Human genomes are extremely complex, they have 23 pairs of chromosomes (which is 46 in each cell), gestation is roughly 9 months, human embryos require precise conditions, and their long-term health need to be carefully monitored years after their birth. The testing of this would definitely be frowned upon by society. Realistically, we would need highly advanced technological breakthroughs to make this happen— it is very likely Kenny would’ve gruesomely fail this step many times. But I didn’t want to make him suffer the losses of his potential children :(, that’s too cruel. Besides, Cooper is a strong kid, and Kenny used his cursed blood to create him!

Overall, it truly isn’t scientifically possible for two species of the same sex to procreate because their biological mechanisms lack the components for fertilization (yet👀). They’ll probably need to reprogram or edit genes and cells to transform at least one male gamete into an egg-like cell. (I’ve sort of drawn inspiration from stuff like CRISPR-Cas9). Then, similar to that of IVF, mimic the fertilization of both of the cells, continue editing the genes to make them compatible, remove any harmful mutations that might occur, and ensure the embryo has the necessities for proper development. What I’m trying to get at is that either Kenny or Butter’s gametes had to be transformed into an egg so that Cooper could exist [and also Tweek and Craig for Emilio if you think about it] 🫢. Y’all can decide on whose cell it was.

Two

Artificial wombs are an actual thing being developed and tested— mice embryos have been used on clear rotating vials and they’ve actually attempted to use an artificial womb for a premature lamb who needed help with their lungs! When I first thought of using the concept of an artificial wombs back when I was drafting this story, the first images that came to my mind were something like the scenes from ‘I Am Mother.’

This technology was my main inspiration for Cooper’s creation because— really guys— how else would Kenny and Butters have a biological kid of their own if not with the use of advanced technology 😭??? Before I reached this scene, even as far back when I revealed the explanation back in chapters 2 and 8, I didn’t think much about this; truly, I wasn’t even thinking of making it a big deal. But then it was time for me to finish drafting chapter 13, and I decided to make more research on the concept, this video by Cleo Abram appeared on my recommended!

It completely changed my perspective on the concept and even made me want to tread with the idea more carefully. I really recommend watching it if you’re interested on what I’m going to be talking about. I didn’t realize how controversial or even the complexity of it. So, not only did I do research, but I also did a deep dive on motherhood and pregnancy 🤓….

Let me start with the negative conversations: The main issue people have with it is that this technology breaks the ‘idea of childbirth’ and the ‘beauty of pregnancy.’ Many mothers believe that it’s an amazing thing to grow a human inside of them, and they feel some type of bond between their child as they grow. It’s a sacred thing and ‘part of being a woman’, and they don’t want technology to take that away from them. *Though the concept of artificial wombs being an actual thing is purely fictional and theoretical, I’d like to point out that alternatives such as surrogacy and IVF are real options and even those are controversial till this day*

The positive side: some mothers believe that this technology could be a great alternative since child birth can be very dangerous to certain women whose biology doesn’t allow them to carry, or can’t conceive at all. Others simply don’t want to experience the labor. Pregnancy in general could be a very difficult thing for both the mother and a baby, this alternative could help alleviate those concerns.

In my heart of hearts, I couldn’t make Kenny be the one to invent this because honestly, he just wouldn’t understand; Heidi Turner was the best decision in my opinion. I always wanted to make her be a part of Kenny’s scientist team, and this experiment felt like the right opportunity. I don’t feel qualified to put my two cents on the topic, so I’m gonna end this segment by quoting what one of my friends said.

“For starters, I don’t want to have kids of my own, nor do I plan on ever becoming pregnant due to my own personal circumstances. But if I were to have a choice, I would like this to be one of my options. I have heard both the horrors and positives of what pregnancy does to a woman and it makes me not want to be pregnant even more. In the end, idk what the process would look like, let alone the aftermath of both my and the babies health. Of course not everyone would agree, and maybe there would be pushback for this sort of advancement, but I feel like we should focus on the idea of giving women more alternatives to choose what they could do with their own bodies instead of being self righteous about what’s natural or not.”

Three

Y’all 💀 a baby developing in a womb is really no easy task. We don’t know what happens inside a uterus when a baby is inside, it’s not like we can peek inside a womb, so we mostly just go by the current research of the weekly gestational period. But I tried my best to sum up how the process would be like. A fetus in an artificial womb would have to be in an environment that replicates the uterus. Nutrients and oxygen need to be exchanged, facilitate waste, hormonal changes that happen during pregnancy need to be mimicked, temperature and pH need to be regulated, amniotic fluid is important for allowing a fetus to move— well, pregnancy is complicated. Not to mention how foreign and disconnecting it could be for a baby to develop outside of their mother’s womb, that connection could be crucial too, no machine can mimic that warmth and feeling, and I made sure Heidi be the one to point that out.

Literally a single wrong move could be the end. It’s a very high level risk… This is a gamble with human life. Everything could go so wrong in many ways if they aren’t careful. Nothing about this could be considered natural.

No matter how you view it, what Kenny is doing is selfish. He is messing with natural order of life to have a son of his own with his husband. He knows this more than anyone else. That’s why when Craig also wanted to try to have a son of his own using this method, Kenny felt displeased. Craig CANNOT be having a spur-of-the moment baby fever, this isn’t something to FOMO about— this is a human they are attempting to create. Conscious human life. If they die in the middle of gestation, or they suffer long-term— it is entirely on their selfish fault. I wanted to add a scene where Kenny straight up tells Craig “NO” and that he wasn’t ready for it. It would lead to a big thing where even Tweek gets involved and explains his side and wheewww would it have turned out way longer.

Though this entire experiment was kinda Kenny’s sort of selfish desire of creating a family— it’s that LOVE he has for Leo that pushes him to invent this (love, invention…. *sighs*), and it was love for his son that pushed to save him in the end. It really is romantic and beautiful to deeply love someone 🙁..

This is such a heavy and interesting concept that I feel could bring on a lot of conversation to the table, I want this to be an open discussion so feel free to comment your thoughts and opinions. I also want to iterate that I AM NOT A SCIENTIST NOR AM I AN EXPERT IN ANY OF THESE CONCEPTS OR TOPICS THAT I’VE DISCUSSED. IM JUST SOME SILLY AND STUPID GUY WHO WRITES SOUTH PARK FANFICTION ☠️

—

Small little things I like to add from this chapter:

Craig living in Houston because he worked for NASA is so funny to me. Idk much about how they work over there but I do know that those roads and highways are no joke. Bro was fighting for his life in those 14 lane roads 😭. They always have construction and accidents too, shit is stressing me just thinking about it </3

Stan and Kyle being family oriented feels so right to me, and Stan getting cold feet because he doesn’t want to end up like Randy 💔 my shaylaaa. Idk what’s it like to be a parent so I hope Stan’s dialogue felt realistic 🙁. I didn’t want to include too much of how they adopted Robin, but I also wanted to give a bit of a recapped explanation that was somewhat realistic. Cartman’s death and the adoption happening around the same time would obviously stress them even more so I feel like anxiety is normal in the situation. It worked out in the end tho hehe 🫶, and it was thanks to this scene that motivated Kenny into starting his family.

Butters saying Cooper was “cooped up in there” and didn’t “want him to feel lonely” down there ☹️

I also wanted to add a bit of background Tweek being an engineer and more of Doctor Heidi Turner, but,,,,,,, chapter too long. We did decent amount of Heidi content tho, but no Tweek. He will appear in chapter 14 y’all 🙏Trust.

—

Anywho— I feel like I went overboard with this deep dive but if you have any input with the topics discussed or the dynamics between Kenny and Butters as Doctor McCormick and Vic Chaos, or literally anything else, please feel free to share 🥹

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neopoliitan · 8 months ago

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RWBY Evermorrow Ep.7 Director's Commentary (or something)

The newscast segment was a late addition, we decided it was best to move a scene to a later episode for a better sense of narrative. I even already animated that whole scene so we don't need to worry about it!

We were gonna use Lisa Lavender here, but decided it was better to use Cyril due to availability of existing cast members as the scene was kind of last minute. We see it as Cyril being the guy in the studio, and Lisa being the reporter in the field.

Khaki's prison number is funny if you can decipher it.

Originally this episode was a big ol scene of RWBYCRDL recounting the mission to Oz and Glynda, then the punishments being dished out, but I was having such a dull time writing it that we decided it was best to cut the recap of the immediate previous episode and hope the teams' reactions did the work. I think it was for the best, a glorified recap episode seems like it would've been a waste of production; if it wasn't fun to write it wouldn't have been fun to watch.

It was a good time to bring in Glynda as she's always been Beacon's voice of reason around Oz's more whimsical tendencies. She's to-the-point and will make no excuses, which sells the teams being reprimanded more. Plus the added questioning of what exactly Ozpin is saying to Cardin offscreen is an interesting question in the viewer's mind.

(Also our Ozpin VA was kinda unavailable but for a very good reason lol)

Let's talk Dove. You've probably noticed he's very much the reasonable one on EM CRDL at this point, which is very intentional as going in I wanted to make them more interesting than Cardin and the Cardins. CRWBY once said Dove was the most skilled of CRDL, which is an interesting angle, and Doves are a symbol of peace which inspired me to make him the """nicer""" one, albeit a bit embittered by his lot in life. This episode has a montage of the moments in ep5-6 that really lay it all out that he's a little better than the others on his team, which is why Ruby vouched for him.

There was going to be a decent focus on family in this episode, but eventually we whittled it down to just Russel's and Dove's. Being like "oh and here's a character's parent being funny and mad" worked twice, but three to eight times might have gotten old lmao

Why did I pick Bertilak for Russel's guardian? Green. Mohawk. Moody. Not a big Faunus fan.

Okay so that's only part of it. Russel has been consistently portrayed as a bit of a doormat in EM, following Cardin's orders or deferring to the next biggest fish if he's not around. His actions around Bertilak imply that the latter is the source of all that behaviour.

Dove offers Ruby an "Olive Branch". I don't know if I can get more unsubtle than this.

Don't ship them they literally feel nothing about each other. That's canon.

Why did I pick Shopkeep for Dove's grandpa? Closed eyes, and Shopkeep is everywhere. That's literally the joke.

Pyke Rite from The Grimm Campaign.

There were a few characters I really wanted to get involved sooner. Can you believe it took us till Ep7 for Ren or Nora to say anything? It felt good to have all of JNPR and OP(A)L fully animated in the same scene, and was fun to set up dynamics like Oscar being a fanboy, Alyx being a little shit and the two teams generally getting along.

In comparison to 6 this episode was a lot calmer and a lot more talk-y, but hopefully we managed to make it fun. The animators and VAs did amazing as always (the former has basically eclipsed my efforts at this point), and I'm looking forward to ep8 very much! Bigger and better!

If you have extra questions about this ep you can shoot me an ask, I'm always down to self-indulge lmao

#rwby #rwby fan art #rwby art #rwby fanart #rwby evermorrow #rwby au

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vaxieth · 1 year ago

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because something really did ask, have a much too long post about my thoughts on laudna’s individual dynamics with the rest of bells hells.

under the cut because it’s almost 3000 words.

laudna/imogen

i struggle to find something to say about imogen and laudna that hasn’t already been said a million times before. the core concept—the thesis—of their arcs, together and separately, is choice. so much of their backstories are defined by helplessness. laudna was chosen and killed because she happened to look like someone else, she was resurrected because she happened to be there. imogen’s mother left, she was burdened with powers she didn’t understand and meant constant pain and isolation. so, they make sure to constantly emphasize that the other person has a choice in everything. imogen tells laudna she only has to come back if she wants to, even though it would have devastated her to lose laudna forever. laudna tells imogen that the gods can’t control her, that no matter what her “destiny” is, if she wants, they can leave and live in a little cottage and raise horses together. the way they love each other unconditionally is all the more incredible given how cruel the world was to them for so long. laudna’s “you make me better” is true for both of them. they give each other a place to be vulnerable and feel all their messiest, worst feelings because they know the other one won’t judge them. they’ll support each other no matter the choices they make.

something i’ve mentioned quite a few times but never gone in depth about is that imogen and laudna do have a fairly significant age difference, and i do think that affects their dynamic. on the one hand, they both have a bit of arrested development—imogen due to her isolation from the rest of gelvaan from 18-26, laudna because she died at 20. on the other, laudna has so much more life experience than imogen. she spent almost 30 years traveling and interacting with the world even if was mostly people trying to kill her, maybe even because of that. the “laudna is imogen’s aunt/mother/older sister” takes were obviously ridiculous, but laudna does canonically look at imogen and see someone young who she wants to protect in a way she never was. she said as much to fcg after the gnarlrock fight. laudna acts as imogen’s rock, her tether if you will, a lot of the time, and part of the reason she can counterbalance imogen’s anxiety is because of the experience that comes with age. for example, during their conversation in episode 49, laudna is able to stay more “rational” and level-headed even when imogen is scared and overwhelmed.

one of my other favorite things about them, specifically from laudna’s point of view, is that with a few exceptions (the gnarlrock fight, her jealousy of frida), she doesn’t seem insecure about their relationship. again, during episode 49, laudna mentions that she knows they haven’t talked in a while, but she didn’t worry because they “transcend words.” she didn’t need outside assurance from imogen because she felt confident in their love for each other. something i love about that episode 39-49 period is that they didn’t interact a lot, but when they did, they slipped right about in the same kind of intimacy they’d always had—imogen holding launda’s hand when they went into her dream together, laudna’s protectiveness of imogen after she interacted with ludinus. but anyway—that confidence is why i believe the transition from friends to lovers was so easy for laudna. laudna’s unsure of herself, of delilah and what she might do, but she’s absolutely not unsure of the love between her and imogen. that’s why as soon as imogen tells her she’s not a bad person, that she wants to be with laudna in that way, she lets herself embrace it entirely.

in conclusion: they invented romance, they’re the best canon pairing critical role has ever had and one of the best dynamics in general, etc., etc.

laudna/orym

oh my god, WHERE to begin? i feel like my take on their dynamic is slightly controversial. at the very least, i get more push back from people when i post about it than anything else, so let me start with this: orym cares deeply about laudna, i will never dispute that. however, orym is uncomfortable with laudna and has been since the very beginning of the campaign. she’s his friend and he recognizes her beautiful heart and resilient spirit, but he’s uncomfortable with her appearance and her messages in his head, with her macabre humor and her deadness. he can’t reconcile that laudna his friend and laudna the dead woman can’t be separated. laudna’s deadness is a part of her, one laudna embraces. orym, for better or worse, is “normal.” he grew up with a loving family and he had a husband and a career. will and derrig’s deaths were an unbelievable tragedy but one that never challenged his place within the status quo. (sidenote: i’ve always wondered if part of orym’s discomfort with laudna come from the fact that her proximity to death is a reminder of the resurrections will and derrig never got.) he sees himself as a follower, someone that doesn’t stand out, then there’s laudna, who does nothing but stand out.

something i find fascinating is that orym is the first person to find out laudna’s backstory, and it affects him so much he can’t sleep that night and takes a point of exhaustion. he even explicitly recognizes the dehumanization she’s gone through and how laudna’s relationship with puppets like pate and sashimi mirror that. yet, he still never apologizes for trying to disguise her appearance, something without even asking. yes, i get it’s tactical and for “safety” (though that argument falls a bit flat for me when there’s also a glowing rock person and a fully conscious automaton in the group, but whatever), but it still hurts laudna. even beyond that, orym always qualifies his friendship with laudna to other person, making some mention of how she’s dead-looking and isn’t that crazy, wow, almost as if he wants some validation that it—laudna—is weird (one he, interestingly, rarely ever gets, given how enraptured most of the other pcs, including guests, and even some npcs, are with her). he does this even in situations he absolutely doesn’t need to like, for example, when maeve says laudna “looks cooler than i thought.” all this just sucks. it’s not that the love isn’t there, it is. it just isn’t unconditional, and laudna deserves better than that.

finally: the delilah in the room. no, it isn’t orym’s “fault” delilah is back. yes, he was also having an extremely bad time during the bor’dor fight and it wasn’t his “responsibility” to save laudna from herself, but laudna is orym’s friend. he listened to laudna tell him the trauma delilah put her through, he fought through hell to save laudna from her, and still nodded because part of him thought maybe delilah could help him and that was selfish. the fight against ludinus is important to of the bells, but for orym, it’s personal. it’s been his mission for six years. meanwhile, laudna is the one with the least enthusiasm about this. she has no connection to the gods. in fact, she actively thinks they dislike her, but he’s willing to sacrifice not just his safety, but the safety of her and all his friends for a cause they never set out to fight for.

in conclusion: i want to put them in a salad mixer together and watch them go around and around and around and around and around, then let them out to scream at each other a little.

laudna/ashton

if i had to explain laudna and ashton’s dynamic in one word, it would be “projection.” i adore their relationship, it’s one of my top 5 c3 dynamics, but oh my god, so much projection, and it’s so interesting because of that. ashton thinks he understands laudna, but in reality, he doesn’t at all. i’m an absolute sucker for characters that look very different on the surface but in reality are much more similar than they know, and ashton and laudna are that to a tee. they are very much narrative parallels especially regarding their feelings of “brokenness” and how their traumas are physical, visual parts of themselves, but the ways they diverge are almost more interesting.

certain people have said that her conversations with ashton are the only time laudna is “honest” or that, at the very least, she’s more honest with him than she is with anyone else, and i couldn’t disagree more. laudna can be a joyful, optimistic person and deeply traumatized with a core anger she hasn’t truly processed. laudna is a high-charisma character, and in my opinion, part of how that manifests is her ability to adapt her demeanor to the person she’s talking to. she speaks gently to imogen the same way she matches chetney’s hyperactive energy when they go sky-sailing. of course when she’s with ashton, who makes no effort to hide his anger and bitterness and doesn’t want her to be soft, she isn’t. none of these laudnas are more “real” than the others, they’re all laudna. what those people, and ironically, ashton themself, don’t get, or won’t let himself get, is that all those things can be true at once.

with ashton specifically, i don’t think they want to believe that because then they’d have to admit that growth and healing is a real possibility because anger is so much easier to deal with. people talk most about orym’s choices during the bor’dor fight most, but i’m fascinated by ashton’s as well. i wouldn’t be surprised if there was a part, no matter how small, that wanted laudna to break, to prove to himself that he was right and laudna was just as broken and fucked-up as them. so, laudna killing bor’dor was almost vindication, evidenced by their “what have i done?” “nothing i haven’t done.” exchange afterwards.

i don’t want this to sound like ashton doesn’t care about launda, they do. ashton cares about her so much, and besides imogen and fearne, is the most unabashedly into laudna’s aesthetic. i love how much they love all the weird shit she does. i love how protective ashton is of laudna, especially during battles and their willingness to go above and beyond for her—he carried laudna when she was dead despite his chronic pain without complaining once and were willing to make a deal with hexum after going through an entire museum heist to repay their debt. i love the moments when ashton sees how much laudna is struggling and tells her, as gently as he can, to take a moment and do what she can to ground herself. i love that when laudna way too dramatically assumes they kidnapped imogen, their response is “that’s very fair.” it’s all wonderful, and i love them.

in conclusion: I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AND I WANT TO LOCK THEM IN A ROOM AND FORCE THEM TO TALK ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS FOR HOURS.

laudna/fcg

laudna and fcg have been getting more attention in the past few days for obvious reasons and that has me rubbing my hands together maniacally because even though they have very little actual interaction, the subtext is delicious.

besides ashton, fcg might be the character laudna parallels the most, especially their struggle with their humanity (if they’re even human at all), which isn’t helped by the constant dehumanization they face from outsiders, including the almost continuous comments they get when they meet someone new. people look at launda and see a horror while they look at fcg and see a novelty (he’s a robot with personality??), and those both suck. i think, for fcg, laudna is an uncomfortable reflection of himself because everything they’re afraid is true about themself is true about laudna. finding out they had a soul was such an important moment for his character (also remember his early campaign habit of calling other people “soul-touched folks”). as a hollow one, who knows if laudna even has a soul. if i’m honest, fcg seems to think less of laudna than the rest of the party (see: him calling her a “former person,” his speech before casting turn undead including, “no offense to laudna but can you please shine your light and wipe these evil, dead souls off the face of this flat planet?”) and that’s probably why. they have such strict ideas about “good,” which has become “godly,” and “wrong,” (“ungodly”), and within that framework, everything seemed to point to laudna as “ungodly,” which is why their empathy towards her is lacking.

the biggest conflict between fcg and laudna right now is obviously their feelings on the gods. the changebringer brought fcg purpose and tangibly helps them on a daily basis. of course they want to share this incredible thing with everyone they meet, especially his friends. yet, time-and-time again, the world has shown laudna the gods don’t seem to care about her. before someone says anything, pike resurrecting laudna doesn’t automatically mean she has to trust the gods. clerics and paladins spent 30 years running her out of towns for existing and trying to kill her in the name of their gods. if the circumstances were different, there’s a good chance fcg could have been one of those people. for fcg, the world is black-and-white. for laudna, it’s all gray. laudna was able to have a conversation with imogen about the ruby vanguard’s message and the purpose of the gods because she understands the need to question things and thinks that’s a good thing even if she doesn’t agree with the conclusions. fcg’s not there yet, and until he is, their friendship with laudna will never be able to progress past where it is now.

in conclusion: please have a conversation, maybe even two or three. it’d be so good for fcg to learn the world’s incredible nuances and for laudna to see how faith in the gods can be an empowering force for good, not just something beyond her grasp.

laudna/fearne

out of all launda’s dynamics, this is the one i desperately want more of. we’ve gotten so little! almost all their moments are interactions between the three witches that tend to center imogen (making the red-string friendship bracelets and comforting imogen after she talked with relvin come to mind) OR center imogen and fearne’s mutual appreciation for laudna’s… everything. one of my favorite about fearne is that, like imogen, she doesn’t think laudna is gross and creepy, she thinks laudna is gorgeous and charming without any caveats. even ashton, who also loves laudna’s laudnaness, tends more towards “yeah, you’re disgusting and THAT’S why it’s great.”

the other main part of their dynamic i want to sink my teeth into is the coin-toss, more specifically fearne’s guilt over the coin toss. regardless of whether you think fearne lied (i personally find that headcanon FASCINATING but to each their own), she clearly feels so many emotions about having to pick whether to save laudna and orym that she hasn’t even begun to unpack. one of the few sole moments we’ve gotten of them was in episode 42 when laudna asked fearne to help teach her to cast fireball, and in it, fearne, unprompted, blurts out, “how’s it feel being alive again?” almost immediately. she also apologizes to laudna, says they’ll fight any piece of delilah that’s still in there, and tells her, “i missed you terribly for that moment in time.” even when laudna gives her the chance to make the conversation light-hearted, fearne stays so genuine, which is all the more-noteworthy because she’s usually so flippant and almost always keeps her real feelings close to her chest.

some other examples of fearne’s guilt include: the 4sd where ashley said part of why she was so protective over imogen during their separation arc was that she couldn’t bear having to tell laudna anything happened to her and just this past episode when fearne’s protectiveness after laudna made her only cast first-level cure wounds on fcg after they cast turn undead.

in conclusion: PLEASE LET THEM INTERACT MORE. THERE’S SO MUCH JUICY POTENTIAL AND I WANT TO SEE IT EXPLORED.

laudna/chetney

i don’t have that much to say about them except that their dynamic is absolutely delightful. i love that we’ve gotten to see more of it in recent episodes, and i hope that continues.

chetney exists at an interesting place between orym’s genuine discomfort and fearne and imogen’s complete enchantment with laudna’s undeadness. he is sometimes grossed out, but he also seems to accept it as a thing about laudna without too much judgment, or at least, that “judgment” is light-hearted in a way orym’s or even fcg’s isn’t.

i love that they’re the characters with the most life experience (even if laudna is technically the fourth oldest, fcg only has two years of memory and fearne is a 100+ but spent 99% of that time in one place) but also embrace being “childish” and silly together, like the entire sky-sail sequence!

in conclusion: *gently holds* i just think they’re neat!

that’s all! if you read this whole thing, you get my eternal love and gratitude. thank you.

#laudna #imodna #laudmoore #orym #fresh cut grass #fearne calloway #chetney pock o'pea #bells hells #critical role #my posts #textpost #i’m weirdly more nervous about posting this on here than on twitter #but i spent like three hours writing and am pretty proud of the result #in case it isn’t clear i want to reiterate that i love ALL these characters #including orym and fcg #but they aren’t perfect #that’s what makes their dynamics so interesting!

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