#if i have to read one more tma fic that uses this justification as a Means Of Comfort i am going to lose my mind

[arodrwho]

"you're still human bc you're terrified of xyz" and "you're still a good person bc you feel so overwhelmingly guilty about xyz" are awful takes actually

[marlasomething]

A Tight Weird Family 4: Daisy

Last October I wrote a TMA fic and posted it on AO3. However, I know it is veeeery long and only two chapters so…I decided to repost it on Tumblr chopping it off per character.

I poured my heart into this tale that I wrote because TMA, as silly as it might perhaps sound, helped me to actually be FAR MORE BETTER now at all levels that I was before I discovered it and…I cannot be thankful enough.

This takes place in my main AO3 TMA AU universe, but can be read separately (just: they brought their consciences back in time and had created a completely alternative timeline, the Institute now also serve as a refuge for runnaway kids because I have issues and Gerry is alive because I love him too much).

This is dedicated to Nadia and Paloma, thank you for  being there and indulging all my writing.

Characters in this chapter: Alice ‘Daisy’ Tonner, some random people (for now)

TW: swearing, mentions of police brutality and general violent tendencies, trauma, death

Words: 1232

Previous chapter: Sasha

Next chapter: Gerry

Daisy almost broke her phone as she hung up the fifth call of the day from one of her former colleagues, all using Christmas Eve as an excuse to give her conversation and discover whether she was going to speak about their… doubtful ethical practices with anyone that could bring about any sort of repercussions to The Force now that she had gotten out.

Fucking cowards; she thought. They were morons, too. How on Earth did they think Basira and her had had it so easy to resign without much justification or the appropriate time of previous notification if it wasn’t by some good old-fashioned blackmail?

She wasn’t proud of it; she knew Basira wasn’t either but…they needed out. Daisy in particular, in she wanted not to become even more of...

She didn’t recall much of their previous timeline between the other hunters’ attack and getting shot by Basira and, for an instance, finding herself trapped on a form that didn’t match her… No, that shouldn’t match her and, yet, had done so just perfectly.

However, she knew it had been bad, worse than ever before; nothing of the part of her worth anything left. The feelings, though…those she remembered with absolute clarity.

She had enjoyed it. She had loved it. The only thing she hadn’t enjoyed (to put it in words somehow) was the absence of Basira right by her side, and she almost got it by the end… It was terrifying to imagine doing something like that to the only person she had truly cared about for a very long time, willingly wanting her to turn into an equal monster to the one you had finally embraced...

Just as it was horrifying realising that, given the right context, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t do it all over again.

She didn’t want to; she wanted to try to be better. To not be a monster.

And, deep down, she knew the core of it all had little to do with The Hunt itself. It had just used what was already there, as so many other parasites do.

She contemplated calling or texting Basira about their former workmates, but she knew she was attending some important business today. She didn’t know the details, but she knew she wasn’t exactly comfortable speaking about them, and she didn’t want to push.

She was tired of pushing.

She caught her own reflection on a window and felt…rather small. When they were all somehow brought back to their former selves, she had found herself again in the ultra-trained slightly overly-human-strengthened body she had had when she had still been a cop. For an instance, she wanted to get rid of herself. Burn her own flesh if needed.

On the one side, it had been a relief to find a human anatomy, regular teeth, regular-sized limbs, not more hair than the regularly human-expected... It had been a welcomed change (that, and being alive again in general; that had been a fucking awesome change).

But, on the other side…This had been the Daisy she was still struggling to discover how she really felt about, the Daisy that had scared Jon so much ¡that he would have rather faced actual horrendous monsters than gone back to that time she almost killed him and not-so-almost Michael Crew.

Crew…she wondered; what was he be doing right now? Maybe she could track him…

Shut it; she growled to herself, she couldn’t give in.

She went back to the reflection on the mirror; the few months away from the Police, not feeding the Hunt as she had previously done, added to the fact that now she just exercised like a normal person instead of almost as a professional trained killer (she knew most of her new people would argue that was exactly was she was, but she wasn’t just there to admit it, out-loud or to herself) had made the extra-height and shoulder-width she hadn’t even notice before she had gained through her years at the security forces disappear, and her general appearance was thinner and softer. For a regular person, she would still look quite intimidating, but for her…

She found for the second time in less than five minutes fighting against herself; a voice that sounded just like she had used to telling her what a pathetic insult to her previous self she had become.

At least, I am not as bad as after that…

She struggled just picturing the letters that formed the word coffin in her head.

“So much to unpack…” she started muttering; this time actually vocalising, trying to make herself feel more real, more grounded.  She shouldn’t have stayed alone after the first two calls, she should have seen the pattern, she should have anticipated how much it was going to affect her, now that she was so pathetically weak…

…something interrupted her thoughts, as she saw two figures approaching her on the window.

She turned.

A couple, clearly disgustingly rich, was looking doing at her as if she was some, well, lesser dog.

If there was something she was actually proud about her time in the Police was how rude and aggressive she had been with every single rich stuck-up person that had come in with some nonsensical complain and/or request. She hated all those entitled bastards, from the first to the last of them (of course, this generalization had cost some serious aggravations in the life of people that had actually had serious matters to report and were badly dismissed…but she was not ready yet to open that particular door in her memories).

“Who the fuck are you? The Institute is closed, is bloody Christmas Eve” at their more than slightly scared expressions, she grimaced.

I still got it. She thought, proudly. As she feasted without even noticing for a second in the primordial fear to her predatory attitude, completely forgetting her previous concerns.

However, the woman reacted in a way she didn’t expect.

She slapped her husband (she supposed that much) whom, she realised then, was carrying a trolley with…a creepy looking baby, firmly staring at her, their eyes twitching from one colour to another, from one moment to the next.

As she looked at the child, she felt weaker again; as if they had fought and won against their own fears.

“What the…?” she didn’t know what she referred exactly, anything of the situation, actually.

“No time to explain to you.  Those are The Archivist’s office? Uh, changed places from Gertrude’s….”

She approached Sasha’s office and Daisy felt herself grew overprotective; of all the new people in her life, she believed Sasha was one of her favourites.

She guessed it was partially because she hadn’t had to deal with her before, but she didn’t really care much for the reason. She just liked the woman.

“You cannot enter there.”

She couldn’t describe precisely what happened next…

The woman took something from inside her locket, which seemed to be a folded piece of paper, stared at in for a moment and, before she could help it, she was moving away so they could enter freely.

Fuck fuck fuck.

At least, she knew who to look for.

If the couple were using cursed texts to help their way to get whatever they wanted, there was one person on The Institute that could be just perfect for assistance.

And she knew just where to find him.

[playfullyevil]

TMA fic - Comfort Food

Martin fluff

Hugs need to happen before the bad things come next week.

Martin had gotten rather good at avoiding eye contact with anyone who happened to be wandering the Institute’s halls as he made his way into work.  Walking through the main door, he cast his eyes to the floor, ducking the gaze of the person behind the reception desk.  He made his way to the recessed door along the left-hand wall and the stairs beyond. 

He used to be so social, stopping to chat at the reception desk, sometimes he even brought pastries.  Occasionally, he would pop in on the research department to say hello and check in on anything that may due to be archived.  At any other job, Martin Blackwood would have been known as, “friendly but a bit odd.” Among the institute staff, you had to be especially strange to be labeled “the odd one”.  The institute collected those sorts of people, or converted them. As an employee of The Magnus Institute, Martin was simply “the friendly one”. Not anymore, not since...

His once open, youthful face, with bright eyes and a quick smile now blank and dead eyed as those working in artifact storage. He had always been pale but now could be accurately described as ashen. A seemingly boundless optimism had fueled him through all his years in the institute including his stay in the archives, the incident with Jane Prentiss, and even its aftermath. All of that had reached its end with the disappearance of the head archivist.

Settling at his desk, the archival assistant took stock of the papers piled on his desk and sighed. No matter how hard he worked, it seemed he could barely make a dent in the chaotic shelves. He missed doing proper research on the statements, when he had the time to go out and conduct the occasional interview.  Really do the job thoroughly. 

There just wasn’t the time for that anymore and he rarely left the institute's basement.  Elias wanted the archives properly organized and he wanted it done yesterday.  Sometimes, Martin could do a bit of googling to verify or cross reference the occasional fact. More often than not the statements were recorded with only the sparse notes already included in the files. If there even were any.

He had weeks ago stopped asking Tim for help, not that he could reliably find the man. It didn’t look like he had been to his desk today, but it was early yet. His coworker had been showing up to work less and less. When he was in, he spent most of his working hours moving papers from one box and back again, on autopilot. More and more Tim would disappear into the storage room to lay on the cot there, staring blankly up at the ceiling. 

A flash of fluorescent pink caught Martin's eye from under a file folder. He shifted it aside to reveal a note written in flowing script. 

Martin,

You haven’t been by to see me in a while, we should catch up.  Meet me for lunch?

-R

The large, cursive R trailed off into a swirling floral pattern at the bottom of the note.

For anyone not assigned to the archives to make their way down here was a rarity. The archives weren’t a musty basement but a warm, welcoming place they are not.  There were enough strange things that go on in the rest of the building that few people deliberately seek out the creepier areas below ground level.  

Rosie usually kept herself busy on the third floor with the rest of the research staff.  Martin wasn’t sure if he had ever seen her down in his little corner of the institute. Obviously, she knew her way around as she was able to find his desk and leave a note without any difficulty. 

It had been at least two months since Martin had last taken lunch in the company of another person.  He’d barely been up to the canteen since before Christmas, preferring to eat at his desk. If he ate at all. He had skipped breakfast and the thought of lunch made his stomach voice its displeasure.  Martin affixed the sticky note to the clock on his desk and got up to make some tea.

Buried in work time lost its meaning, speeding by while at the same time passing in long, draw out stretches.  Boxes brimming with chaotic folders piled to the left of the desk were gradually, but steadily making their way to the organized stack on the right.  Statements were skimmed, supplemental material glanced at, and verifiable facts were typed into a search engine.  Most ended up in a box marked for the discredited section.  A yellow sticky note declared it the “Pile of Nonsense”. A few made it into a stack earmarked for further investigation and eventual recording attempts. First digitally, but if all else failed, out came the cassette recorder.

Martin was reading through the account of Rachel Tyler when a polite cough drew his attention.  Looking up, he saw Melanie standing in front of his desk. “Anything interesting?” she said nodding her head toward the paper in Martin’s hand.

“What? Oh, Ms. Tyler seems to believe the coffee shop that opened up near her office is run by witches.”

“Witches? The broom riding kind or the child-eating kind?”

“The kind with ‘satanic glyphs marking their pale skin and ornaments to their dark master embedded in the flesh of their face,’” Martin read aloud.

Melanie’s hands shifted to rest on her hips, “Sounds like a stuffy, old lady upset that the kids making her coffee don’t share her delicate sense of aesthetics.”

“Likely so, ‘The music pulses from the speakers in a dark rhythm that attempts to hypnotize the clientele.’” Martin continued. “Must not have been very effective hypnosis, the shop closed in 1989.” He closed the file and slid it into the box on the right.

“Too bad, sounds like a fun place.”

“Must have been ahead of its time.”

“Must have.” Melanie agreed, “Oh, before I forget, there was a woman up in the lunchroom asking after you.”

Martin’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Rosie, I think she’s called.”

“Oh no," he groaned, looking at the clock. "it’s nearly two.” 

“Well she was still up there a few minutes ago.  If you hurry you can probably catch her.”

Martin briefly considered the pile of work in front of him when his stomach made a conspicuous gurgle. Melanie raised her eyebrows at the noise before heading off to her own work. Getting up, he pushed in his desk chair and headed up the stairs toward the canteen. 

The lunchroom was empty except for Rosie, who was sat down at a table near a window.  She spotted him as he entered and waved him over with a warm smile.  “Martin, come over and have a seat.  I made lasagna last night and have far too many leftovers.”

He hurried across the open space toward the table and slid into the seat. A rare sunny day was pouring light in through the window and Martin squinted at its brightness.  He’d been working in a basement for over a year now and his eyes were out of practice dealing with this quantity of natural light.

“Christ, you look like hell.  You really haven’t been taking care of yourself very well lately, have you?”

The archival assistant looked down sheepishly and raked his hand through his hair. He idly wondered when the last time he’d actually run a comb through it. 

“Sorry, it’s just been a rough week,” he mumbled.

“It’s more than that,” she insisted. “I’ve barely seen you the last couple of months, no one has. I know things are… strained down there but you don’t have to avoid me.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother…”

“Nonsense! You’re no bother. Here, eat.” The older woman pushed a plate piled with lasagna toward him. He reluctantly picked up the fork and began toying with the food, eventually bringing a bite to his mouth. It was delicious, a perfect balance of pasta, sauce, cheese, and spice.

“Go on then,” she encouraged. “I’ve got a container for that Tim of yours too.

Martin choked on his food and stuttered out, “Tim's not! H-he’s not my, my— anything!”

“That’s not what I meant but that sounds like a conversation for another time.” She flashed a conspiratorial smile before knitting her brow in concern. “I worry is all, you’ve been skulking around like a kicked dog. I won’t make you talk about it if you don’t want to, but I need you to understand that I’m here for you if you do.”

“I, I uh, thanks,” he said quietly, speaking more to his plate than to Rosie.

“You’ve had a rough go of things this last year and it’s okay to need help dealing with that. I’ve spent my share of nights on the couch in my office but living in the basement of this old building couldn’t have been easy." She gestured to the abstract molding that gave the suggestion of eyes. "Even during all that you still managed to be your cheery self.  This has obviously hit you much harder and I want to help if I can.”

Silence hung in the air for several minutes broken only by the quiet sounds of Martin eating.  Not an awkward silence but one shared by people comfortable enough with each other they don’t feel the need to fill every empty space with words.

Eventually, Martin spoke up, “Thank you for the lasagna, it is really very good.”

“Thanks,” Rosie smiled, “it would seem that, despite my best efforts, I have become my mother after all.”

Martin looked up from his plate with a questioning look.

Rosie shook her head, “She had a habit of trying to solve problems by cooking them away.  Anytime someone she knew was upset she would be in the kitchen baking sweets. Which reminds me…” She reached down under the table to retrieve a container.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Martin dear, I baked these because I wanted them.  Believe me, I have a bigger tin in my desk right now and even more at home.  Save me from myself and take the damn biscuits.”

“If you insist.” Martin saw right through Rosie’s “justification” but he also knew better than to argue the point. Besides, Rosie was an excellent baker.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Martin said, “Thank you, for everything. The biscuits, the lasagna, the… everything.  I really should be getting back, there is so much work to be done.” He stood up and began to stack the containers Rosie had given him.

The older woman had risen from her chair and walked over to Martin.  Her arms slightly open, offering a hug but giving him the space to decline should he wish.  He hesitated briefly but stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her soft frame.

Surrounded by her warm presence, Martin felt safe for the first time in as long as he could remember. Something broke in his chest and he felt himself start to cry softly into her shoulder. He didn’t realize he’d been drowning until she offered him the life raft and Martin clung to it desperately. Rosie gave him a little squeeze but did not let go then began to rub circles into his back. 

Martin wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that.  Pent-up stress and grief bled out as tears into Rosie’s blouse.  She made no move to pull away even as he began to shake and make ugly sniffling noises. The older woman just held him, murmuring reassurances to the crying man.

Taking a shuddering breath, Martin gathered the broken pieces of himself and stepped away from the embrace.  He sniffled and wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just that-- I don’t know what… everything is--” he threw his arms up in exasperation and looked helplessly at the ceiling.

“You don’t have to apologize for being a human being with limits.”

Martin grinned sheepishly and huffed out a laugh. “It’s just, this place, it’s…”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” She smiled and scratched Martin gently between the shoulder blades for a few moments. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Honestly? I don’t know, but I do feel much better than before.”

“I’m not sure if a fortress made of pillows will help you endure everything but I’m willing to give it a go if you are.  My office couch may be hideous but it is comfortable and the cushions are sturdy.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Martin laughed and started toward the exit.

“Don’t forget your food,” Rosie called after him.

“Oh, right. Thanks again.”

Rosie handed him several containers of lasagna and a tin of biscuits. “Make sure Tim gets some. I don’t want him to think I’m playing favorites.”

“Will do. You’re the best Rosie.”

“So they tell me.” She smiled and waved her goodbye.

Crossing the main foyer, Martin smiled and nodded to the receptionist as he passed.  He descended the stairs with more bounce and vigor than he had in months.

[syrupwit]

Letter for Trick or Treat Exchange 2020

-

Hello there, and welcome to my letter for Trick or Treat Exchange 2020! I appreciate that you’ve taken the time to read this letter. I hope that it will provide you with clarification, inspiration, or at the very least a bit of entertainment.

Although I’ve written more for some sections and less for others, rest assured that I would be super excited to receive a gift for any of my requested fandoms, characters, or fanwork types.

Please see the table of contents below:

Likes

Do Not Want (DNW)

Fandom: The Bureau d'Echange de Maux - Lord Dunsany

Fandom: Carnacki the Ghost-Finder - William Hope Hodgson

Fandom: Invader Zim

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Fandom: Stellar Firma

-

LIKES

For Treats, some general things I like are:

Silly, clever, or situation-based humor

Surreality and weirdness

Lore and worldbuilding

Stories-within-a-story

Slice of life, especially light moments for darker canons

Unusual team-ups

Dramatic rescues

First times

Seasonal and holiday-related tropes -- autumn weather, changing leaves, spooky foods, candy, friendly ghosts, haunted houses, horror movies, costume parties

For Tricks, some general things I like are:

Dark comedy, gallows humor, horror comedy

Psychological, paranormal, and cosmic horror

Creepy lore and worldbuilding

Unreliable narrators

A lingering sense of unease

Examining darker aspects of canon

Obsessive, love-hate relationships between adversaries or people who are in conflict over something

Corruption

Dubcon where a third party or outside force is responsible for the situation, or where the dubconned party enjoys it

I have a very long list of fic likes here.

Please see my Multifandom Horror Exchange letter for more about my horror likes.

-

DO NOT WANT (DNW)

Characters under age 16 involved in sexual situations

Sex without mutual attraction

Hate speech

Harm to animals (the existence of ghost animals is OK, but I don’t want to hear about injury, abuse, or death of animals)

Fandom-Specific DNW Exception for TMA: Mention of canonical, character-motivation-significant cat death is fine.

Bestiality

Scat

Necrophilia (sexual activity involving ghosts is OK, just not corpses or remains)

Sexual activity involving worms / spiders / insects

-

THE BUREAU D’ECHANGE DE MAUX - LORD DUNSANY

Fanwork Types Requested: Treat - Fic, Trick - Fic 

Characters Requested: Shop Owner

This short story can be read online for free here. CW for brief antisemitism (it’s one line/mention, but it caught me off guard, so).

I actually hadn’t read this story before seeing it in the tagset, but what an intriguing premise! I’d love to hear more about the shop owner’s business and the bargains his customers make. The trades in the story seem intuitively equal -- life for death, troubling intelligence for happy ignorance, a phobia for a phobia -- but what more unusual types of trades might occur? Has anyone ever tried to rob the shop owner? What strange or ordinary-seeming locales has his shop traveled to, and how does he feel about them? I’m interested in Trick and Treat takes on all of these questions.

I really like Lord Dunsany’s style and would enjoy anything in that tone. If you wanted to bring in some of his other short story characters, like Nuth or the bad old woman in black, that would be great. I’m also open to crossovers for this fandom with all fandoms I’ve requested in this exchange or any previous one.

-

CARNACKI THE GHOST-FINDER - WILLIAM HOPE HODGSON

Fanwork Types Requested: Treat - Fic, Trick - Fic 

Characters Requested: Thomas Carnacki

The original nine short stories about Carnacki can be read online for free here. Project Gutenberg also has the first six stories.

Among fictional occult detectives of the early twentieth century, Carnacki has a special place in my heart. He gets scared, he makes mistakes, he does weird things with colored lights and electricity, and sometimes he figures out that the haunting was a hoax. While the supernatural cases that Carnacki investigates are (in my opinion) genuinely scary, those occurrences that turn out to have a mundane explanation are just as suspenseful.

Hodgson’s cosmic horror worldbuilding, as well, is inventive and unusual. My favorite Carnacki story, “The Hog,” concerns a malevolent extra-dimensional pig that attempts to manifest in the world by tormenting a frightened dreamer. Other adversaries include a ghost horse, a cursed ancient dagger, and a giant pair of whistling lips.

For Treats, I’d like to see Carnacki tackle a lighter-hearted problem or deal with an antagonist that’s more silly than sinister. The stories’ conceit is that Carnacki calls his four closest friends to dinner every so often and makes them wait until the meal is finished to recount his latest case. I’d also enjoy something about his relationships with them, maybe a situation where his personal and professional lives clash or he acquires a new quirk after an odd case.

For Tricks, I want ghost pigs and ghost pigs only. Just kidding! I’d really like to hear more about the creatures and lore of this universe, as well as the beings, texts, and rituals that Carnacki references or uses in his work. More mistakes, near misses, and terrifying encounters are always welcome.

-

INVADER ZIM

Fanwork Types Requested: Treat - Fic, Trick - Fic 

Characters Requested: Dib, Zim

Apparently one of my forever fandoms. To re-use my own words: There’s something irresistible to me about the blend of snappy comedy, unapologetic pessimism, and hints of a more complicated universe that we just get to see. I’m not up to date on the comics yet, but please feel free to include canon from comics, show, or movie.

Dib

I love Dib’s obsessiveness, his alienation, and his frantic pursuit of approval from a community and society that couldn’t care less about him. He wants to be the hero, but his actions are selfishly motivated and often result in catastrophe. I’m really endeared by his devotion to the paranormal and the ridiculous situations he’s drawn into. 

Dib/Zim is my OTP, but I also enjoy them interacting as enemies or frenemies. (I would prefer any sexual content be set when Dib is 16 or older.) For gen, I’m interested in Dib’s family relationship with Gaz, potential friendship with Tak, and encounters with aliens, cryptids, monsters, ghosts, and other paranormal investigator types.

Zim

Zim is a total disaster, and that’s what I love about him. Like Dib, he’s stuck in a futile quest for validation from leaders and peers who would prefer he not exist. I like that he’s gullible and easily scared -- cf. “Germs,” his meltdown over the VHS copyright notice in “FBI Warning of Doom” -- yet unusually chaotic and dangerous even among his species. He also has a subconscious layer of... neediness, I think? that could be really interesting to explore.

Again, Dib/Zim is my OTP. For gen interactions, I like Zim’s relationships with GIR, Ms. Bitters, the Tallest, and any other invaders, as well as random hapless humans and experiments and so on.

-

THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

Fanwork Types Requested: Treat - Fic, Trick - Fic  

Characters Requested: The Buried, The Vast, Adelard Dekker, Jurgen Leitner, Peter Lukas, Gertrude Robinson

My favorite horror podcast! I may be obsessed at the moment. I love the tone and worldbuilding of TMA -- the entropy and hopelessness, the way the monsters don’t play fair, the semi-religious devotion of avatars to their patrons.  I also love characters figuring out the magnitude of the awfulness they’re dealing with, and fighting against overwhelming odds.

The Buried

A fascinating fear! I’m really attracted to the Buried’s mix of attributes -- not just dirt, asphyxiation, and the subterranean, but also pressure, metaphysical weight, oppressive circumstances and hopeless struggle.

This entity’s particular aspects of denial, and of accepting increasingly adverse or strange conditions -- the pit, the statement giver from “Dig,” Karolina Górka considering a nap on the Underground -- both unsettle and delight me.

I feel that both the Buried and the Corruption have this compelling theme of like... suffocating, boundary-crushing love, that takes a person’s identity, will, and outside connections but leaves them a sense of belonging or importance. Then, on the other hand, the Buried can also belittle as it isolates. I thought Hezekiah Wakely’s identification of the Buried with rest and peace, and the Sunken Sky’s evocation as a mercy, were very interesting as well.

For prompts: I really love archaeology and ancient history, so I’d love anything about the Buried in connection to that. An anon on FFA brought up the Kola Superdeep Borehole as a potential hook for the Buried, and that idea is quite  interesting to me. I’d also love to hear about any of the statement givers from canon, the coffin’s other victims, or any main or original characters encountering this entity.

The Vast

Heights are one of my most visceral fears in real life, despite not being something I’m conceptually afraid of. I am requesting the Vast because I would like to be conceptually afraid of it!

Elements of this entity that intrigue me: the image of the Falling Titan, nihilism (and finding freedom in it), insignificance, call of the void, oceans / storms / cliffs, space, scales of size so large they’re not humanly comprehensible, Simon Fairchild’s love for the sky, delineation from the Lonely, opposition to the Buried, unusual manifestations.

As with the Buried, I really love the justifications that avatars give for their devotion to a power -- something exploring that, the choice to serve and the benefits that someone either gains or rationalizes after the fact, would be amazing. As stated above, unusual manifestations of fears are my jam, especially things that start out looking like one power but turn out to have a different affiliation.

I’d be interested in hearing about any canonical statement givers, avatars, main characters, or original characters encountering the Vast, or perhaps just a record of a past manifestation. I love stuff that’s grounded in a place, time, or feeling, so something super-specific or historical would be awesome. But, again, I really just want to be scared.

Adelard Dekker

Such an interesting character, and with depths yet to be explored! I enjoy his pragmatism, sense of humor, and relationship with his faith. I’m intrigued by the question of his allegiance and motivations, as well.

I’d love to hear more about Dekker’s pursuit of the Extinction -- perhaps the incident or incidents that first made him suspect its existence? accidental Extinction!Dekker? -- and his apparently far-flung contact network. I ship him both romantically and platonically with Gertrude, and I’d be interested to hear about their first meeting or other cases they collaborated on. Additionally, Dekker/Tim is a rarepair that intrigues me -- perhaps they meet in an AU where Tim becomes Dekker’s apprentice, and they take down Nikola together? I’d be open to seeing him interact with any character you think might be interesting, whether in a gen or shippy way.

Jurgen Leitner

I just want to know about the cataloging system he uses. Alternately, MORE LEITNERS. Alternately, ohh, the hubris! Leitner’s motivations for starting his library, vs. what he actually ends up effecting... aiii. I’m interested in what role the Eye played there, or how others may have manipulated him.

I don’t have any ships for Leitner, but for gen I would be interested to see him interact with Gertrude, his assistant, or Gerard Keay. Elias or Peter Lukas could also be interesting -- potentially funny, potentially sad or ominous.

Peter Lukas

On the one hand, a sinister sea captain and the heir of a frightening legacy; on the other, an annoying boss who refuses to learn basic computer skills and says things like “You and me, the dynamic duo!” I enjoy how petty and human Peter seems, at the same time that he’s this remote and gleeful monster.

I ship Peter/Martin super hard, but I also enjoy gen Peter & Martin and both gen and shippy interactions involving Elias. Additionally, I’m really interested in what happened for Peter to transport Gertrude to Sannikov Land, given their animosity. (Peter and Gertrude interacting seems like it could be hilarious.) For a fish-out-of-water scenario, I’d also like to see something where Peter feels out of control or threatened -- like, perhaps he’s caught in another avatar’s trap, or forced to be around other people for a bet or some strange purpose.

Re: Peter/Martin: I would prefer for Martin to gain the upper hand, even if it’s just in principle. I really like the idea of Peter going along thinking he’s in control, he’s seduced Martin to the Lonely, his plan is moving along -- and then he’s suddenly hit with all these feelings that he doesn’t know what to do with, because he’s never been in this situation before. On Martin’s part, I like it when he’s sort of reluctantly allured, but also contemptuous and focused on his own plan. And I would absolutely love some weird monster courting rituals -- Peter trying to impress Martin, but not quite pulling off “human” or “not disturbing.” I’m not married to these sorts of dynamics, though -- if there’s one you like better, please write it.

Gertrude Robinson

My favorite character! I love her practicality, dry wit, and self-control, but I also love stuff exploring her weaknesses, blind spots, regrets. I like that she can be smug and sometimes cruel, but not to the point where she violates her own principles (or, at least, not in her own opinion). I like that her backstory is so simple. I just really like Gertrude, in general.

For solo Gertrude, I’d like to learn more about her early days at the Institute -- maybe some of those heroic ideas she mentions she had, or their gradual dispelling. I’m also interested in seeing her solve problems, travel to unusual (or totally mundane) places, and face all kinds of supernatural nonsense. How did she get so unflappable? Is it mostly temperament, or was it a process?

For Gertrude ships, I could be convinced to ship her with pretty much anyone, but especially Agnes, Adelard Dekker, Emma Harvey, and Mary or Gerry Keay. For gen, I like her with everyone. I just want to see Gertrude interact with people!

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STELLAR FIRMA

Fanwork Types Requested: Treat - Fic, Trick - Fic 

Characters Requested: Hartro Piltz, Trexel Geistman, David 7, IMOGEN

I love this podcast so much it’s ridiculous. If I recall correctly, it’s been described as a cross between Brazil and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy; this strikes me as accurate. I love how the tone is at once silly and exuberant, but also dark and messed-up, in an absurd way that doesn’t try to hammer listeners over the head with its irony. (Please feel free to explore that darkness in a Trick.) Also, it’s funny.

Hartro Piltz

I fell head over heels for Hartro’s character somewhere between her first appearance and the Executive Quarterly mini-episode where she reveals that her alarm clock launches her headfirst at the floor every morning (“I like to really smack awake”). She’s such a fun villain, and her attempts at team bonding with David and Trexel are oddly endearing. I like that it’s made clear that she’s as much at the mercy of Stellar Firma as everyone else, just with more perks.

For ships, I’m really into Hartro/Trexel, and I could get behind some Hartro/Trexel/David 7 as well. (If foot stuff is opt-in, consider me opted in.) For gen interactions, I like Hartro with anyone -- not just the other main three, but Standards, Sigmund Shankeray, and other members of her team or clients.

Trexel Geistman

Trexel is the worst, and I adore that about him. I love how thoroughly the show demonstrates his jackassery, and how it’s still possible to sympathize with him and see how he got where he is at the same time that you (I) just want to shake him.  His responsibility-abnegating, depression, and alcoholism seem weirdly realistic, or at least reality-informed, and they weight his character in a way that I find compelling. I love his songs and weird shticks (Detectives and Detonations <3), and lapses into grandiosity and fantasy.

For ships, I like Trexel with Hartro or David 7 or both. Bathin/Trexel and Percy/Trexel, as well. Broom/Trexel, ehh. For gen interactions, I’m interested in seeing him interact with just about anyone -- but I’m especially curious what he did to Space Gertrude’s space tug (from Episode 25, one of the character witnesses from the trial). For seasonal-themed prompts, I am amused by the idea of Trexel as a horror host -- thanks, FFA -- or something else along the lines of the TMA crossover mini-episode.

David 7

Poor, sweet, innocent, possibly-doomed David 7. I love his rage, his affinity for crafts, and the bits where he gets swept up in the excitement of planet-designing (or planet-selling, or problem-solving) and can’t contain his enthusiasm. And I love his progression, over the first two seasons, from timid and cautious to just plain fed up.

For ships, I like David/Trexel, David/Bathin, David/Bathin/Trexel, and David/Trexel/Hartro. David and IMOGEN are interesting to me both platonically and romantically. For gen, I am again interested in seeing him interact with just about anyone.

IMOGEN

How much power does IMOGEN have, exactly? At some point, I hope we find out. I love her chipper sarcasm and barely-hidden dark side, and I hope that she eventually gets a vacation.

I don’t really ship IMOGEN with anyone, though the idea of David/IMOGEN is interesting. Her dynamic with David seems to have an unusual tension built into it, where they get along well and he trusts her but she can’t stop herself from threatening him with gun walls and there’s some murkiness about everyone’s motivations. Oh! IMOGEN and the Board, IMOGEN and the senior executives -- what’s going on there? IMOGEN and the station, IMOGEN and near-omnipotence -- there are a lot of fascinating things to explore about her as an AI.