#this feels more like a fragment than a full fanfic

[cornykrameri]

Silco x OC

PS from the author: This is a fragment from the fanfic I'm writing. Full will be posted soon on AO3 TW: Knife Play

I watched his hands as took the cigar, lit it, and let the flame briefly illuminate his face before it died. The sharp, bitter aroma of tobacco filled the air around us. I swallowed a hard lump in my throat as I watched him take a long drag.

Looking back at me, he held out the cigar. Without hesitation, I took it. As I thought about how it had just touched his lips moments ago, I inhaled. The thick smoke hit hard, and I coughed—cigarettes were much easier than this heavy, bitter taste. My head spun almost instantly, and I handed the cigar back.

— I still regret that you gave me that knife. Maybe, without it, none of this would’ve happened, — I admitted, feeling the words grow heavier on my tongue.

Silco took a slow drag from his cigar, releasing a cloud of smoke that seemed to envelop us in an unseen veil. His face was obscured for a moment until he set the cigar down deliberately in the ashtray and said:

— Give me the knife.

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. Obediently, I pulled the blade from its sheath and handed it to him by the hilt. His fingers curled around the blood-streaked steel, and his thumb traced the edge with a touch so light it felt almost reverent. His eyes flicked up to meet mine—a piercing gaze, sharp and unreadable.

— Hold out your hands.

I hesitated briefly but did as he asked, extending my palms. He placed the hilt back into my grasp and wrapped his hands over mine, steadying them.

Locking his hypnotic gaze on me, he guided my hands upward until the blade rested against the pale skin of his throat, just above the collar of his shirt. My insides coiled tight as a spring, but I couldn’t move—I was frozen in place, like a puppet held in invisible strings.

He released my hands, leaving the knife poised at his neck. One wrong move, one stray thought, and I could slit his throat. In my mind's eye, I saw it all: blood spilling down my fingers, his healthy eye dulling with death while the glassy implant froze in eternal stillness.

A strange cocktail of exhilaration and fear surged within me, and I wasn’t sure if I could resist it.

Silco smirked and leaned forward, pressing the blade more firmly against his neck. I went completely still, forgetting how to breathe.

What the hell is he doing? My gaze darted to his face, searching for some explanation. Did he really trust me this much?

— You see, — he murmured, his voice low and intimate. — The knife isn’t the issue. It’s just an object. You did what you did because you wanted to kill him. And I know you wouldn’t dare try that with me.

Forcing my trembling hands to move, I pulled the knife back from his neck and exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. But in the moment of hesitation, a wild, reckless thought streaked through my mind, sparking something primal and twisted deep inside me.

Without thinking, I shoved him, forcing his body down onto the couch. He didn’t resist; he yielded easily, allowing me to straddle him.

I hovered over him, my right hand still clutching the knife near his throat, while his thigh pressed firmly between my legs. His expression remained calm, curious even, as though he was indulging me in some sort of game.

Breathing heavily, I glanced between the blade and his eyes.

— Are you sure you trust me that much? — I asked at last. — What if I’m a born killer?

I traced the edge of the knife from his throat upward, skimming the curve of his jaw until it rested near his slightly parted lips.

— What if Muriel was just the beginning? — I continued, letting the blade’s tip follow the scar on his left cheek.

I wanted to see fear in his eyes, to watch him falter. Instead, he seemd intrigued, as though he was daring me to push further, to cross whatever boundary still remained in me.

His hand slid onto my knee, creeping under the hem of my long shirt and gliding upward along my thigh with maddening slowness and certainty.

My heart pounded, caught in a dangerous rhythm of desire and danger. I brought the knife back to his throat, leaning closer to his face.

— Then let it be the beginning, — he whispered, his breath brushing against my lips.

Desire flared in my chest like a wildfire, and just as I was about to give in and kiss him, he beat me to it.

His lips crushed against mine, demanding and unrelenting. I gasped, tightening my grip on the knife as his mouth devoured mine. His kiss was commanding, greedy, and when he bit my lower lip, a small moan escaped me, causing my hand to tremble.

His fingers gripped my thighs, pulling me down against him as the kiss deepened. Through the layers of fabric and skin, I could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, as though it matched my own chaotic pulse. His lips moved against mine with such perfect intensity that I couldn’t tear myself away.

My mind screamed that this was wrong, but my body refused to listen. It wanted him, and it was clear the feeling was mutual.

Without breaking the kiss, Silco shifted, lifting me slightly as he leaned forward. Now seated on his lap, I felt the unmistakable hardness between us. My grip on the knife slackened, and he seized the opportunity to snatch it from my hand with a sharp, fluid motion.

Fear flickered through me for a moment until his voice, rough and low, broke the tension.

— Don’t move.

He pressed his thumb against my lower lip, gently parting it. I obeyed without question.

— Don’t move, — he repeated, bringing the blade to my lips.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I watched the raw fascination in his eyes. Slowly, he slid the knife into my mouth, its edge resting against my tongue. This was madness—pure, unhinged madness—but I didn’t want it to stop.

The blade pressed lightly against the roof of my mouth, making it hard to breathe. One wrong move, one slip, and it would slice into the delicate skin of my lips or tongue.

His smirk was wicked, taunting, as he withdrew the blade slightly and tilted it to press against my tongue, pinning it down. With his free hand, he traced a finger down my chin, along my neck, and over the center of my chest, pausing just before it could venture lower.

It was agonizingly pleasurable. If not for the knife in my mouth, I might have begged him to keep going.

Finally, he pulled the blade free, and we both froze, caught in the weight of what had just transpired and what it meant for us now.

[latracyde]

armand trauma analysis

i have 1.5k of bullet point ramblings about armand that i wrote for myself intending to also show my therapist (because she is awesome). i've decided i also want to show Parts of it to tumblr

prepare for a lot of text!!!!!

armand’s memories are all fragments of abuse, and his concept of identity is nebulous. he cannot remember if “arun” was what his parents named him. he is given the name armand by the coven, new names mark an adoption of new identity (new fragments, all dissonant)

(s2ep4) when they finally commit to one another on the park bench: “i want you. i want you more than anything in the world” “you sure about that, arun?” “yes, maitre”

armand adopting that deference and submission is definitely some sort of regression to the role he played (was forced into) with his maker and as a young boy, because that is his point of reference as to what love looks like. akin to a fawn response. the need to be victimized is ingrained in him as it was a role he took on in his most formative years (both in his human and vampire lives). love is devotion: raw, scraping, violating.

though the fawn response does appear outside of sex, it is largely a role armand takes on during sex. relationship broken up into wildly different dynamics that they shift between

needs the other extreme (of being controlling, the abuser) to counter the raw vulnerability of being “arun”

this is how he overall maintains that he has agency within the relationship

dynamics where he holds power: the caring (in a self righteous sort of way - “prison of empathy” - when in actuality he is the one presumptively determining what is “good” for other people; he does not realize his projections of what other people want are not reality) and then the outright cruel, lashing out, violent

(s2ep5) re: "prison of empathy" - it's as if acting in (what he believes) is louis's best interest negates the deceit and the cruelty

“have i atoned for my part of paris? have i crawled an inch forward, or am i a reminder of the worst of it?” fixated with the idea of evening the score by “atoning” or erasing

armand believes his part in paris (though he has strategically obscured the full extent of his role) is the root of their relationship issues, shows how he views conflict as a chronic wound.

armand wants to kill daniel, louis goes to stop him: “after what you put me through here (self victimization) i deserve this”, louis concedes but says to keep daniel alive “as a testament to our companionship, of its endurance” a symbol (beyond his fondness for daniel) of this conflict. armand fawns “are you asking, maitre?” “no, arun, i’m not asking”

reason why he messes with their memories instead, needs another way to compartmentalize what happened. if louis walks away remembering & the boy is still alive, it still exists between them

deeply insecure in his relationship w louis, stems from falling in love w lestat and not having it returned. ironically the dissonant, fragmented roles that contain their relationship is what makes it stifling and boring for louis

rigidity and control and then eruption, it’s all him reacting to a feeling of powerlessness and insecurity

torturing daniel and trying to pick apart what makes him “fascinating”, is disappointed with what he finds. calls him an “eager black hole” but that is a mundane trait to him

(quote from fanfic), “ Armand could have … found the same streak of psychological masochism in half the room[at the bar they met], he was sure. He could have returned to the bathroom and found it in the mirror.” what he sees in daniel is similar to what’s underneath his own finely honed controlling-cruel persona

another dimension (which is explored in the same fanfic) could be that the similarities between armand & daniel only make him more frustrated at louis calling him boring vs daniel fascinating. he indulges his instinct to exploit daniel’s masochistic, eager, affection starved nature in the cruelest way possible and has to justify why louis shouldn’t do the same with him (“He’s Louis’s immortal companion and deserves to be treated as such. he’s allowed to be upset that Louis won’t give him that dignity.”), part of him still sees these aspects of him as deserving of cruelty and abuse. also demonstrates how he has to vie for affection and to be valued in his relationship with louis

really interesting how current daniel still has an "eager black hole" to him, but he has built genuine competence(analytical, committed to the truth) and self confidence over top of it. he was able to live and develop throughout his human life whereas armand was not - turning as a form of trauma that stunts growth/inclines one to maladaptive ways of thinking

reason why armand (in the book) was so adamant on daniel living his full human life & part of why both versions of them are so against siring a vampire of their own

“i won’t hurt you” → ”and i never have” compartmentalizes in an effort to maintain this unrealistic ideal of a relationship (and in particular, what role he plays in that relationship)

this desire to be a partner who has never hurt the other could be born out of perfectionism (meaning he really is consumed by the need to abide by this standard) or because being a perfect partner gives him some sort of leverage (think: “prison of empathy”, self righteousness)

i wrote this after finishing s2 when i needed to understand (not defend or justify) his actions

why armand would direct the trial

vengeance for the lack of control & guilt (which he would retroactively see as misplaced or a sign of weakness) felt when louis pressured him to turn madeleine

loyalty to his coven of 200 years, having created the great laws with them and wanting to enforce them despite him excusing them being broken earlier into knowing louis and claudia

obvious disdain (or even, a removed callousness) towards claudia, wanting to punish her

self sabotage of relationship with louis, this is his way of Escaping the relationship. convinced himself that louis does not really love him (think:lestat), needs to take himself out of this position where he’s in love and vulnerable because of it.

symbolic reminder of his own lapse in enforcement as coven maitre, him being stripped of that title serves the same purpose. form of punishment; even though he orchestrated the trial i do believe it caused him pain to see louis hurt (definitely not the case for claudia and madeleine)

re: symbolism, this could be part of why he is so passionate in his directing of the trial (as well as the fact that he is a long time play director, definitely has a commitment to his craft at this point)

notably, armand’s lies about paris start off as lies of omission (not saying he directed the trial) or adopting a narrative that is conveniently available (ie that he was the one who used his powers to save louis’s life, instead of lestat) and he explicitly lies afterwards in order to uphold them. he’s not just adopting the narrative that undermines his wrongdoings as something to tell to louis, but also to himself. when someone convinces themselves something is true the lies to uphold it afterwards are truths to them

in his reaction to lestat using his powers on the crowd, seeing that act of love from lestat blatantly shows him his lack of devotion to louis (ironic considering “but she didn’t love you! not like he did, not like i have”) in the form of someone who actually did something to protect him

because louis ends up surviving (i do believe his intention was for louis to die as a way to pull himself out of the relationship) he feels shame and cowardice for his actions. wants to “retry” in proving his commitment to louis as if he loaded up an old save and undid the events of the play.

(quoting another fic) "and now he must do something to make Daniel forget about the mistake, or move past it. So that the mistake no longer exists between them." armand has an obsession with evening the score (atonement) or cleaning the slate. he is incredibly unsettled with how conflicts will always exist as a scar in relationships, even if scars heal and just become part of one's skin. why i instead liken his view to a chronic wound. reflection of deep insecurity within relationships, feels a lack of stability when a relationship has scars (all of them do) and he compensates via memory manipulation/compartmentalization

feel free to reblog with your own additions/disagreements, etc. all that i ask is that you don't be hostile about it if our opinions differ, and also to keep in mind that i haven't read the books. :-)

[booksmood]

I humbly offer you a (kind of long) sneak peek of the fanfic I’m cooking up following the latest 19 days chapter

(I’m hoping to have the full thing posted on my ao3 @ sun_monsterz later this week, once my midterms are over and I can finish writing it!)

Mo had kept everything.

The proof was laid out right in front of him, yet it was still so hard for He Tian to believe. His old sweater. Their photos together. The studs Tian chose for him, and the piercing gun along with it. Even the note he’d written on scrap paper in middle school, a confession of sorts: ‘I don’t want you to like me more and more. Those words were lies.’

It was crushingly sentimental for Mo. Their relationship had been built up over the years on wordless affection rather than proper communication, especially surrounding matters of the heart, so Tian always had to assume that the love he felt was mutual.

Now, seeing all of this? It was as close to a confirmation of feelings that he thought he might ever get considering the new distance between them.

Following Tian’s sudden return, Mo seemed to have his guard constantly raised. Any hint of affection was met with immediate pushback, and any playful insinuations shot down with what Tian hoped were just harsh words that lacked truth, meant to hurt him as much as he now knew his departure hurt Mo.

Sometimes, when Tian tried to lighten things between them, he could see hints of the internal battle happening inside Mo. A blush that he tried to hide, or his increasingly delayed annoyance in response to affection. It made Tian hopeful that Mo still wanted him in this way, even if he didn’t trust Tian enough to accept being together again.

He knew everything that was broken between them was his fault, and that he didn’t deserve Mo’s forgiveness. Even still, the idea that he might no longer occupy a part of Mo’s heart remained an ever-growing fear that constantly ate away at him.

They desperately needed to talk, but neither of them wanted to make the leap towards that level of vulnerability. Communication was always where they faltered, but with Mo’s defences raised ever since he returned, and the finding of this box of keepsakes, Tian ached to be near him. To spill the contents of his heart until there was no doubt in Mo’s mind that he loved him unconditionally and always would.

It was all too much.

He couldn’t make himself look away from the box and its contents, the sides taped and re-taped several times over. It was clear that Mo had been through its contents with careful hands; everything was in pristine condition, as if handled delicately, though every remnant of He Tian’s face was carefully covered with thick white tape.

Tian picked up his old middle school ID card, feeling an overwhelming wave of emotion hit his chest. He swallowed down the emerging lump in his throat, his composure slipping away as the realization that he was remembered—that he could mean something important to someone—washed over him.

He knew he shouldn’t be seeing any of this. Mo had told him not to touch anything before leaving for work. It was just Tian’s luck that the first box he’d opened contained likely the most sensitive things of Mo’s that he would find in the apartment.

These were all the fragmented pieces of their past together. The fact that Mo still held on to them proved all of Tian’s desperate hopes, and simultaneously all of his fears. Because this was evidence that at some point and maybe even still, Mo really did love him. He hadn’t forgotten about Tian like he pretended to. The contents of this box proved that Mo treated their memories as something precious, not something to be discarded or forgotten.

But it was also clear that at some point, Mo decided he wanted to forget. The erasure of Tian’s face from every photo was telling of that deep hurt. Mo’s heart had been thoroughly broken by his indefinite departure, yet even still, he never let himself be completely rid of these special pieces of their past.

Tian decided he would never forgive himself for all of this brokenness he’d caused. As much as he feared being forgotten, he hated himself more knowing Mo was struggling with whether to remember him and live with the hurt of his absence, or let go and live peacefully.

When the tightness in his chest eventually became too much to bear, Tian placed the ID card back atop the pile of their memories, and slid himself backwards on the floor, further away from the box.

He buried his head in his arms and rested them on his knees, letting himself feel everything for the first time in years. It was a terrible truth, knowing Mo had been suffering through all the time they were apart. He felt a wash of shame for it, but even worse was the small part of him that grew sickly exhilarated, knowing the desperate love filling his chest was very likely reciprocated.

It felt like his heart would burst with all the warring emotions inside him. He was both desperate to see Mo, and terribly ashamed, wanting to hide from him until he could convincingly pretend he had never seen this memory box and learned the true contents of Mo’s heart. He wanted to kiss Mo until he knew Tian loved him like he would never be able to love another person, and he wanted to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness knowing he would never truly deserve it.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, regulating his breathing and scrubbing away the faint traces of wetness on his cheeks, he began moving himself around the tiny apartment unit in a blurry daze.

Minutes turned into hours as he made and remade the bed, cooked something barely edible with the leftover ingredients from last night, and eventually settled himself back on the floor, staring at Mo’s number on his phone as he contemplated calling him just to hear his voice and know that this man—impossibly—still cared about him.

He thought he should probably go outside, take a walk and get some fresh air to clear his mind, though he didn’t want to be away from Mo, and this place held all the traces of his presence. It was selfish, but learning of the box made him need Mo like the air in his lungs. The scary thing was, he didn’t think Mo needed him anymore.

He stared at his phone for another long moment, and then gave in and called.

[koskela-knights]

Female characters in AW2

Back in October I made a somewhat coherent observation post about masculinity in AW2 so now I'm back, pondering about the female characters in AW2 + Night Springs DLC (I still haven't fully finished watching the Lake House DLC so I can't comment on Diana Marmont or any further characterization of Estevez)

General: I like that Remedy doesn't really sexualize their female characters in AW2. No unnecessary fanservice/eye candy shots. They all wear practical clothes that still feel like they personally picked them. Although I feel most of the women aren't overtly hyperfemme dressed with Rose being the only one who has more typically feminine traits. If you'd put them on a binary scale of masc to femme i think most of them would fall somewhere in the middle.

I think there really should be more female characters though. There are really only 3 main female characters (Saga, Rose & Estevez) and then a few minor characters (Mandy-May, Charline, Tammy, in a way even Cynthia Weaver) of whom some we don't even really see (Logan only as audio and a pic, Charline is in a full body costume)

There are like 11 female characters (with an actual appearance & some importance) to 22 male characters of various importance.

Saga: The way too often forgotten dual protagonist of the sequel. I think she's a well rounded, likable character. She is a seasoned FBI agent taking the literal lead on the case in Bright Falls. She has a special gift (her Mind Place). She's a mom. Despite many obstacles, she overcomes them both physically (in combat) and mentally (case solving in her mind Place but also near the end when she's in the DP, overcoming her own uncertainties and fears). I wouldn't put her in the 'Mary Sue' category or her being 'a GirlBoss^tm' at all.

Early on, it seems the Deputies undermine Saga's status as they first address Casey, assuming he is the main lead of the case instead of Saga.

As the narrative evolves and Logan's life is endangered, her daughter becomes one of her main motivations to put an end to the nightmarish story. In her Mind Place you also see a card from her mother & the mom mug. It seems she had a difficult relation with her mom and often also worries she may not be good enough a mother to Logan. The latter made even more obvious when she's in the DP and self doubt begins to consume Saga.

Race wise, she is one of the few people of color in the game. The game doesn't really dive into this aspect of Saga, except early on with her meeting the Deputies and the remark that she defends the Bookers because 'they stick to their kind'' + in the Dark Place when she's in her MP "Another white asshole deciding what I get to do, how I get to do it." While some people brushed this aside as 'forced' or racist (lmao rly???) I think this was a justified thing for her to think. Whether this was during a despairful moment or not. While not touched upon really in the game, I think it's safe to say that Saga has endured racism and racist microaggressions as a Black woman in her work life and day to day life. (and on a meta level too with fans and GamerBros attacking the character and whining about reverse racism becos that one line she has about 'white assholes deciding what i get to do')

(Finally, and others have made posts about this before, I think it's a damn shame that despite Saga being a literal protagonist, gets not many spotlights or fanart dedicated to her by the fandom and even Remedy themselves. And sadly, I don't see much new art/fanfic being made of her. I fear that as time goes on, the fandom and Remedy might forget Saga as a character even more.)

Alice Wake: We don't see that much of her other than those scattered video fragments. She's clearly struggling with the loss of Alan and the hauntings of Alan/Scratch which is reflected in her dark clothes. Funnily enough, in the concept art we see her in slightly brighter more patterned colors and textures.

Rose Marigold: I think Rose is the female character most associated with typical femininity. Appearance-wise: makeup, the pink/reddish waitress outfit (even more saturated in the DLC) and job-wise: being a waitress and nurse. She has an outgoing, expressive nature which is even more highlighted in Night Springs. She still is clearly a fangirl and we even find some fanfic of hers through the Casey lunchboxes. However, she also is unfiltered, somewhat brash and knows how to wield a shotgun/fire weaponry. Something that isn't always allowed for female characters to have.

Kiran Estevez: Another new female character introduced as a competent FBC agent who abruptly takes over Saga's case. She's the lead of her team and has a pretty no nonesense attitude in the main game (saying again, I havent seen the Lake House DLC). She's practical but shows some dry humor when talking to Saga and Casey after the DP attack on the station. I think she's also one of the first openly queer character in any Remedy Game? And I like how casual this was shown to us by her mentioning her ex-wife.

Baba Jakala: We only see her in the short movie Yötön Yö. In the first game, Barbara Jagger appears as an antagonistic character who was once victim to the Dark Presence who now possesses her skin.

Baba in YY is described as the widow of the writer Veikko and she seems to want to resurrect her dead husband through the violent ritual. She somewhat acts as a femme fatale to Kesä: seducing him, playing into his reignited desire to be with her and drugs him for the ritual. Afterward, she acts violently, joining Ilmari (and Seine) in the brutal murder of Kesä. I can't help but notice that she mainly appears pretty throughout it all, though she manically laughs as she stabs Kesä to death but it's not in the same ugly, manic way Ilmari is allowed to kill Kesä or even Seine whose facial features are mainly covered by his hair, but is seen drooling in like a mili second frame.

Cynthia Weaver: Personally, I feel like she was done dirty as a character. I can't say much about the gameplay of her boss level, but it was nice to have a female boss fight too. One being an elderly woman at that (and again, without some weird objectification that many other games often fail in, even when it comes to villains the women have to be Sexy^tm) I feel she's a bit of a fridged (or rather drowned) woman in this story which is sad to me because she was such an odd mentor-like type in the first game. Now, very much stripped of her previous traits.

Mandy-May: I really liked her character and her banter with Norman. I just do lol. I feel she and the other nursing home residents gave more life to the game by being characters. Minor as they may be.

Tammy Booker: We don't see much of her save for the introduction scene and her echoes in the DP. I like her attitude and her dynamic with Ed from the brief interactions we see in the main game and I wish we could've seen more. Tammy also being a writer could've been an interesting jumping point for including them a bit more into the main story other than being the 'tutorial' intro characters.

And as always, feel free to add your own thoughts and views on characters in reblogs or comments or DMs ^^

[0utpost-alpha]

Personal Thoughts On Red vs Blue: Restoration

Alright so, it’s been a few weeks since Red vs Blue Restoration hit the internet. I’ve had time to sit, think, cry and process RvB and Rooster Teeth as a whole ending. As I stated on a previous post, I got into RVB around 2015? I think Season 13 had ended then. So I haven’t really spent as much time with the Sims Troopers as many others have. But those 9 years were wonderful and I’m grateful for finding such an entertaining show and fandom. Any show that can make me laugh my ass off and also make me full on sob my eyes out is 10/10 in my book.

Anyway, moving on. I said I’d put out my own personal thoughts and feelings for Restoration in the form of a Pro’s and Con’s post; so here it is:

THE PROS

The AI Fragments: I LOVE them going back and focusing on the AI fragments again. I remember hearing that Miles was talking about how he was going to do something similar with them after the Chorus Trilogy but things happened and Jason ended up taking over after Season 14. I personally always adored the idea of the Reds and Blues each getting one of the AI fragments that suited their personal needs and would lead to more character development for them later on down the line.

Tucker and the AI’s: On the subject of AI’s, After Season 13, I remember reading a lot of fan theories and fanfics that often brought up what possible side effects Tucker could go through with Epsilon not only shattering but having all those fragments at once helping him power the Meta suit. And it looks like a lot of them weren’t far off! While we will never know what actually happened once those doors were opened, at some point either immediately or not long afterwards, the AI took control and ran off with poor Tucker.

Caboose’s Voice: While it was a little jarring at the beginning, being so used to Joel’s, Michael Malconian did a phenomenal job as Caboose’s voice. I feel like he got that child-like, not all there, but still ready to help out however he can personality down perfect. NGL, I think I actually prefer this voice to the old one. I’m just sad that we won’t get to hear more of this Caboose.

Speaking of Caboose: I love how they had Caboose have a big brain moment. Instead of bringing back Church, something he wanted more than anything, he knew Tex was their best chance against Meta!Tucker. Also, destroying the Memory Unit. Talk about huge character development for Cabooses character. (It’s also possible that this was what Church asked Caboose to do when he was whispering to him in the ship? I need to go back and rewatch it)

Simmons: I know there was already an image or video around showing Simmons with the robotic arm, but I kind of fell off the RvB bus after Zero came out so I missed a bit of content that was floating around on the internet. So me and @yourscientistfriend were tickled pink when we noticed his arm for the first time. It’s small, but nice to know that RT remembered that specific detail about Simmons.

Sarge’s Sacrifice: alright, this one is probably on a lot of peoples Con’s lists but I personally feel like, if any of them were gonna be killed off Sarge was the best because; he died doing what he loved. Fighting. He protected his boys and went down on his own terms. His farewell to Grif definitely hit the hardest. I think deep down we all knew Sarge cared about Grif, but actually hearing him say it was so satisfying.

Memory is the key: the boys sitting around the campfire reminiscing about everything they had been through together in the last 23 years was such a bitter sweet nostalgia blast. The fact that they also got BNL to do a song over it was kind of a nice surprise too.

THE CONS

A lot of characters didn’t really get a chance to shine. It mainly focused on Simmons, Grif, Tucker and Caboose for a majority of the movie. Donut was only there in a thought bubble for a gag, Carolina didn’t even show up till the very end, and Wash didn’t even get to fight, he honestly didn’t really even serve a purpose except to fall off a fucking cliff to get Carolina’s attention and I feel like that wasn’t even necessary. Hell, I think they even forgot about Lopez after that one scene at the beginning. I honestly feel for the Donut and Doc fans. They seriously got screwed over.

“Come With Me”: So. Grimmons didn’t become canon. I am, severely disappointed as I’m sure a majority of the fandom is. I wasn’t expecting a kiss or a make-out section or anything that extreme. But I feel after all these years of teasing us they could have given us SOMETHING.

Tucker Trauma: As I said in the Pro’s, I loved the set up they did with Tucker and the fragments. However, what I didn’t like was how they didn’t address the trauma Tucker went through with them controlling him. They forced him to kill innocent people, attack his friends and mentally tortured him in order to get him to cooperate or wear him down enough to take control. But after they remove the fragments, he’s just ok now? Back to his regular bow chika bow wow self? Don’t get me wrong, like with many of my other cons I realize that a lot of things had to be scrapped or cut because of time and that because Season 19 had to be turned into a movie instead of a full blown season they couldn’t properly address a lot that they probably wanted to. But I wish we could have at least got something along the lines of Wash taking Tucker back with him to get physically and mentally checked out.

Also, wtf is up with Grif just up and leaving. I know Season 15-17 was retconned (update: they weren’t retconned) but damn man, Grif really doesn’t care about any of them? Even after the whole reminiscing scene? It just feels out of character for him. I feel like after everything was said and done he would have taken those papers and shot them or something. Said something about how someone’s gotta give the new leader of the reds a hard time, said something about not leaving till he figure out why they were there!?  Anything than whatever the hell that was.

Thing’s I’m sad will never happen now that Red vs Blue is officially over:

More time with Locus’s character as well as character development and redemption (as well as possibly becoming one of the Reds and Blues)

Grimmons

Simmons’s getting an arc that better fleshes out his character and would give us more background into his history (I mean come on. From the bits and pieces we got over the seasons, it’s very clear Simmons’s had a shitty past. Yes, I’m still mad that his labyrinth was turned into a alien probing joke)

Never seeing an actual conclusion to the fight at the end of Season 13. (I get they wanted to let the fans play around with ideas on what happened but it still bugs me).

Wash and Simmons bonding during a knife training session

Wash and Tucker bonding over AI Trauma

Tucker and Junior bonding

Overall, it was an ending. And probably the most decent one we could have gotten considering everything that was going on. A lot of other shows didn’t even get that. So I honestly can’t complain too much. They also deliberately left the ending pretty open so the fandom could easily write their own ending if they wanted to which is awesome of them.  

[enihk-writes]

[when i was still the one you want]

based on lyrics from right where you left me by taylor swift

paring: various!hwasan characters x gn!reader

summary: it's breakup season (because everyone around me are ending their relationships so something's in the air)

characters: geumjon (pbss) // geumhyeop (mhdd) // tang bo // baek cheon // jin geumryong // namgung dowi // jang ilso // tang soso // yu iseol

author's note: so funny story,,,,,,, i saw that post about gaylors being less credible than jungkook as reincarnated princess diana truthers... went on a taylor binge, and had some fanfic thoughts,,, so now bone apple teeth for yall ig <333 i would have added tang gunak but me personally? i would NOT fumble a dilf like that ever.

GEUMJON thinks it was nice while it lasted, like a sparkler you play with on summer nights — a passionate romance that ignited and died out by the end of a season. he was the pinnacle of your youth, but everyone had to grow up someday. and when neither of you felt that same fluttering sensation in your stomachs. you both agreed that you should end things. there was no hard feelings from either side, that's just how life was. and he heard years later, through the grapevine, that you had gotten married. to which he raises his cup of wine to the full moon in your honour.

GEUMHYEOP was the type of guy to try and fail. he'd be the first to lose interest in a relationship, and he was honestly a little panicked by that revelation. it didn't make sense to him that this could happen. you hadn't done anything wrong, you didn't deserve that. how could he have let this happen to you? he would shift his attention more on you ever so subtly, trying his best to rekindle whatever feeling he used to have for you as you remained blissfully unaware. though he finally gives up, and can only hope that you would notice. you do. but only when he starts to avoid you more often, missing out on almost every milestone in your relationship. avoiding confrontation, making excuses so that he doesn't have to come face-to-face with the hurt and confusion all over your face. this back-and-forth wears you out, and things just die out without so much of a word.

TANG BO was only with you because amongst all the marriage candidates the elders of his family had him meet, you had been the most tolerable one. you were easily forgettable, and something about that intrigued him. he was sure that one day, he would come to love you the way you had with him. it didn't. and it never did for all those decades, and he always remained as your betrothed up until the very end. you had both grown old, and it became ever so obvious that things just weren't going to work out the way either of you had hoped. he feels guilty for wasting a good chunk of your life with so much will-we-won't-we, and tries to help you stand back on your feet when you finally leave the tang estate. somewhere along those lines you two became a little more then friends, definitely far from lovers, maybe you and him ended up a little bit like family, or the next closest thing to that. you passed not too old, not too young. and he made sure that he sent you off to the afterlife proper. not realising you had taken a fragment of his heart with you.

JANG ILSO is a fickle guy. his obsessions die out as quickly as they appear. in exchange for the luxurious life you were gifted as his lover, you were expected to be at his every beck and call. can't be too obvious about it, he hates clingy lovers. can't get too nonchalant, he loves a little chase, sure. but he hates having to lower himself to ask for attention. he wasn't a needy dog. it was commendable that you lasted as long as you did — a whole three years wasn't an easy feat. you were lucky he felt nice and had only kicked you out of his estate with your belongings. including the gold and jewels he had gifted you. there was nothing more you could have asked for, you never had to work another day in your life, and thank god it seems his new obsession was keeping him busy enough to have him forget about you.

NAMGUNG DOWI wonders if he had done something wrong for you to come up and tell him you wanted to break up with him. you both wanted something different in life, he never really seemed to be on the same page as you when it came to things you both wanted for the future. he was distraught, telling you he would change and please stay here — you would but you had dreams too, and he had his commitments he had to fulfil. maybe, someday in the future, you both might find each other again but right now, you bade him adieu with kisses on his tear-stained cheeks.

TANG SOSO, she kept you like a secret while you kept her like an oath. something, something about how it wouldn't end well for either of you if you were found out. her, the daughter of the tang patriarch and you a child from a branch family she had supposedly fallen for. you only realised she wasn't that serious about you when she eventually left home for mount hua. you had seen the way her eyes sparkled when that girl with amethyst eyes cut down a new path she never knew she could have taken in life. she left because you didn't have the cards to give her what she wanted. well, at least one of you was happy. at least one of you found something they wanted to do.

YU ISEOL hasn't been the most vocal person between the two of you. it was always you that had to pull the weight, always you that had to watch out for the other. you had fallen in love with her because of her deep passion for the blade, it was also this deep passion for the blade that had driven her further and further away from you. somewhere along the way, you realised that there was almost nothing you had in common with her anymore. you had cried yourself to sleep that night, only waking up the next morning to end things with her properly. she was the same as always, swinging her sword, retracing her steps ever so diligently. even as you poured your heart out, she never once faltered — that's good. because you know that if she had staggered for a single moment, you would know she still cared, and you would have taken back everything you'd said. she didn't lose focus, and that was what you used to love about her. you let her be, not once turning back.

JIN GEUMRYONG could only watch from the corner of his eye what your expression was like as the elders brought him to meet the guests. with how he had been pushed forward as the leader of the next generation, the elders — his father included, had been looking into suitable marriage candidates for him. what they all didn't know was that he was already seeing someone. that someone being you. and what you yourself didn't know was that the elders had been looking into potential matches for him, something he hadn't told you about up until the day of the marriage interviews. you'd believe he'll explain it to you, assure you that you were still the one he'd choose. but you should have known he was a man who was duty-bound, and he would have never picked you above what he believed was his duty to the sect. if this was how it was going to end anyways, why did he even bother to ask you to be his?

BAEK CHEON knows he's never been good enough to call himself your lover. not when there were so many others that could fill his spot. you could assure him all you want but it wasn't enough to convince him, he was always trying his best, and you had always been so happy with it. but it wasn't enough. nothing you did or said was ever enough to calm his paranoia. all these feelings bubbled over to a tipping point, an argument of no return and you decided enough was enough. he had never known what it was like to actually wake up without you by his side until then, and he knew it was too late to take back all that he'd said. how dare he have the audacity to break your heart and try to fix it? he did this to himself, and now he has to lie in the grave he dug out.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

10, 11, 13

10. which character(s) turned out differently from what you had planned? how so?

Royston in "From the Other Side of the End of the World" was supposed to be dismayed at his war-torn world and in need of the hope that Rachel's future perspective provides. He was also supposed to have more of a sense of humor, maybe some cynical wit. In practice, I couldn't fit in his road trip or his arc. The story became more about Rachel's grief, so he had to be the voice of reason and comfort.

11. which scene was harder/easier to write than anticipated? why?

Harder to Write: The ending of "A Garden of Wishes" was so hard to write that a flash fiction I should have finished last year became a long short story that I posted this year. Part of the problem was that the characters and story became much more detailed than anticipated, so part of me wanted to revamp it so it wasn't in second-person and became a more fleshed-out retelling.

I finally decided to just commit to second-person and finish it, but the scene with Sonatina telling her sisters tripped me up for a long while--I wasn't sure exactly how I wanted Sonatina, her sisters, and Michael to react to different parts of the situation.

I finally figured out a path, so "A Garden of Wishes" became one of the only stories that I abandoned for a significant time, yet still managed to finish.

Easier to Write: Once I had the concept of "Heartsong", I found it was surprisingly easy to weave it into a story.

13. how did you change as a writer? did you learn anything new? started to plan instead of pants? share your wisdom!

I became more willing to see fragments and short scenes as short stories in their own right, rather than thinking of them as the beginnings of longer stories. This was a great way to prevent my pile of WIPs from reaching overwhelming levels--I can just have an idea, do something with it, and satisfy the storytelling urge without spending a lot of time on it--but it did lead to a bunch of stories that feel more like fanfic of an unwritten series rather than full stories.

I also learned that I'm much more of a discovery writer than I ever realized. While I need to plan a basic shape to the story, I also need to keep things loose. I often have a lot of possible things that could be included in the story, and I won't know which ones work until after I start writing it down. Writing concrete story details and putting things in chronological order can help me understand what does and doesn't make sense, and can give me more ideas. Letting the brainstorming happen while writing is a good way to keep me from being upset that my beautiful layered idea doesn't translate into words-on-page.

[psalacanthea]

Fanfic Friday

voted most (when I closed voting in my head {i will get to 3rd place possibly}) was a Dragon Age WiP well GUESS what they dropped DA4 news and I was too bitter to acknowledge it, but it got into my brain anyways.

So here's a bit from the next chapter of that old fic (that I am still editing yes) When the World Fell, starring two idiots that doomed each other to godhood.

...

Ellana and Solas travelled the streets of Minrathous together the rest of that night.

Hands remained apart, hearts shuttered back to the private spaces, protected from the nighttime miasma of the city that grew more dangerous with each passing day.  Minds in sleep were twisted by the growing public perception of their presence to give even more pressure to force them into their roles.  Again, however, Ellana realized they weren’t evil roles.  Not precisely.

Adversarial, yes, but not evil.

But oh, how thin that thread was separating the two.

Solas became but a shadow, stalking her footsteps.  Occasionally he would emerge as a wolf, brushing against her thigh before returning to the swirling darkness between the magelights.  She did not begrudge him the escape.  It was difficult for her to keep moving, to not hunt after those small sparks of pain and suffering she felt in the air.  How difficult would it be for him to resist, twisted so harsh and cruel by their sleeping thoughts?

The world was full of traps, lures to drag them further into godhood and away from reality.

He had been gone too long.

“Come to me.”

She knew that he heard her.  A spike of annoyance lodged itself inside her mind when he failed to appear immediately.  Frustration made her voice all the sharper.

“Come to me.”

The Lady's steps stalled, pausing at a railing that overlooked a lower, dingier district.  He was there, in the maze hunting something, and she had a feeling if she did not distract him it might not go well.  It had been foolish for both of them to come here, but it was unthinkable for only one of them to be here.  This place was miserable, a pit of opinion and views that twisted them heartlessly into something they did not wish to be.

“Give it to them,” her shadow suggested.

As she glanced back to it, the blue-washed blot of darkness rose from the ground, its vague form gradually gaining sharpness.  The Wolf emerged from that darkness, stepping out of the shadows to join her at the railing.  His temptation was ignored.

His bad behavior was not.

“Return my shadow.”

“If you insist,” the wolf said amiably, a small opalescent orb appearing in his gloved palm with a flick of his fingers. Glints of icy reflection danced across its surface, picking up distant flickers of ruby, green, gold. Opalescent.

Almost too pretty to destroy.

A manipulation.

Irritated with him, she glanced from the sphere to his face, taking it from him in her fingertips.  It felt like glass, but far finer than any glass created by sand and hands.  It reminded her of the windows in Arlathan.  “Why do you do that?”  Frowning, she stared at the orb, turning it over in her fingers.

Her shadow was within, a blot of darkness in the center that shifted as she rotated it.

“I feel a need to wander, and wished to bring you in some fashion or another. You could give it back if you liked.”

“Why do you do it to other people?” she said, ignoring his deflection.

“It is harmless, if unnerving, and I find it satisfies the desire for mischief they seem insistent I should have.”

Well, when phrased in such a fashion, how could she find offense?  Sighing, she offered him the orb back.  “Then you may keep it.  I have little use for my shadow, unlike you, but I think people may find my lack of one unnerving as well.”

“Forgive me saying so, but people already find you quite unnerving.”

“True,” she acknowledged tiredly.

The orb shattered in her fingers, turning from fragments to a scattering shower of glittering dust. Her shadow slithered free of her fingers. It dripped like ink, pooling at her feet and then reforming away from the light.

"I know a better target for your mischief, Fen'harel," she said, turning her attention from the cries of suffering back to the heights, the source of it.

Why not?

They were leaving tomorrow for the Deep Roads.

"Then, my Lady, my I have this dance?"

[wyverningx]

Um hi. Just wanted to say that last night I read your beautiful 'We carry our own weight' (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55452148) and I'm fully aware of the blasphemy but I enjoyed it more than tsc itself.

Your fic is brilliant, powerful, meticulously devised, perfectly executed and so full of heart. The 'screenshot saved / deleted' thing is so touching I feel my chest implode whenever I think about it.

A bit of context so you get a better sense of its impact...

Despite how active I've been here the last few months I've never read anything on ao3 and could never get into fanfics. I'm like... you know when an ant tries to interact with a water droplet but the surface tension forms a barrier? That's what I'm like with the tiniest hint of ooc. Although lately my whole 'I don't swing' with fanfics has started to bend under the weight of some amazingly written posts. I've even tried to write my own (and yes, the ant thing happens).

Then this week the latest scandal breaks over a once beloved author, and I don't want to go into all that but I was reeling in shock. The entire internet was telling me with great confidence the correct way to think / feel / respond but I guess I was doing it wrong, because I kept thinking that everything was poisoned, that the air was poisoned, and worst of all, WORST of all, that writing was poisoned.

So in this numb and shaken state I remember a fic I started reading a while back because the recs piqued my interest. I'd made it through several pages before my brain cut in with 'hmm, interesting, pity I don't like fanfics' and closed the door. I guess not entirely successfully though, because it kind of haunted me.

Which is why last night, in the depths of misery, I again started reading, and I kept reading, all through the night, and with every line I felt I was being saved along with Jean, every line firmly and gloriously restoring my faith in writing.

Sorry this is so much oversharing, I should just say 'screaming crying throwing up' like a normal person but the point is that's what I WAS doing, until your story saved me.

oh my goodness, friend, i cannot even describe to you how much a message like this means to me. thank you so, so much. all of my articulate words of gratitude could not adequately cover how reading your ask made me feel. to hear that something i wrote could impact you in such a way is heady and flattering in equal measures. i am simultaneously grateful that you let me know this by opening your heart and being so vulnerable as to tell me any and all of this, and also so, so humbled by the opportunity to connect with someone through such a meaningful artform as fic.

i am so thrilled that textfic (as i affectionately call it) resonated with you so much, especially in these excruciatingly trying times. we must find joy wherever we can, and i hope my little story continues to be something that restores your faith in writing and the possibility of good existing in art.

the act of creation is a funny thing — humans are so wonderfully (and so tragically) complex. sometimes it can break us into fragmented pieces, and sometimes it can put us back together again. i sincerely hope you're able to enjoy stories and fiction and reading again, as well as beginning the journey of writing yourself. it doesn't have to be fanfiction unless you want it to be, but i think it speaks loudly to your faith and optimism that you even gave my fic a chance. we must perservere, even in the darkest of times. stories are what give us hope and help us make it to the other side. it would be a lie to say that life isn't painful or bleak a lot of the time, but i think there is so much power in the unique and sometimes-overwhelming world of writing that connects us together in ways just like this. and that's meaningful, don't you think? worth celebrating, even though it might also hurt?

thank you, again. <3

[throes-of-redemption]

"hey you": a submission to a departed blog

You'll never see this. You'll never post this. Unless they have Tumblr in whichever realm you exist in now.

I have regrets. The last time we spoke I was dismissive. I honestly didn't think it would be the last time we'd run into each other after a long absence. Well, it wasn't the first time either. But before then I was convinced I'd never hear or see you again. I was wrong twice. Fuck.

Anyway, since we last spoke I've felt like been an asshole. A selfish pervert with bad habits and boundary issues. It's disgusting.

At first, my decision to leave you alone was to protect my emotions.  We've already talked about it, but it was impossible to settle for just being friends. It was painful. You deserved better-so much better than me tbh. In retrospect, I wonder if you were trying to protect your friends from the heartache of your sudden loss. I suppose I felt justified in letting you go. I finally found someone to fill the void that you were never meant to fill (see, that already sounds dumb as hell cause people aren't responsible for filling each other's vacancies). Besides, reigniting our friendship might have caused unnecessary drama in my current relationship. Nonetheless, it felt right. 

Now that you're not here anymore it feels like I miss you a bit more all the time. I miss your new obsessions every month, and the way your eyes light up whenever you talk about some fictional character in some obscure piece of media only nerds like you know about. Shit, I logged back into Tumblr for the first time in like 6 years, and in less than 3 days I'm here scrolling through your blog checking out the last things you posted. I miss your queer fanfics and head canons. I miss the eloquent way you spoke when you read. I miss you tryna bake, even though I would sit there and eat them burnt cookies. I miss bickering about Star Wars v Harry Potter. I miss you teasing me about my cishet masculine insecurities. I miss the way you stood firmly against injustice and oppression, particularly your arch nemesis the fuckin patriarchy! I miss how you really didn't give a damn how anyone saw you or tried to squeeze you into their little box. I miss how you would drive people nuts just being yourself. I miss how loving you were even when you tried to hide it from the world sometimes. 

Remember that one time you spotted me on the bus all zoned out, and you sat right next to me and forced me to practice our lines for that play we were in? I was annoyed and happy at the same time lol. This year I did 4 plays. First one I did was HAIR up in Harrison, and you would've loved some of my cast mates. At one point we had a recasting...um..."crisis" to find a new Dionne. I couldn't think of anyone else but you. Except you'd already been gone for some eight months by then. That almost broke me. Oh! And one of them was this bizarre musical parody of Hamlet (I was hamlet btw). It made me think about hearing how you were such a talented Lady Macbeth in high school that the production was requested at Purchase Collage. So whenever I prepared to step on that stage, I thought to myself secretly "I hope she's watching and I hope she's proud." Honestly I felt that way for every show, but that's the one I wish you could've seen.

When you left it seemed like all of Mount Vernon came to see you go, probably a lot of people you didn't even like. But as each person got up to talk about their favorite memories of you, I realized as much as we talked and hung out, all I ever experienced of you was just a fragment of who you were. And I always knew you had heart issues, but I didn't realize just how sick you really were because you were so fiercely independent and full of life despite it all. As we left, my friend asked me how I thought I could honor your memory. I told him "By doing everything with as much passion and energy and purpose as she did." 

The problem is that when I had an opportunity to be friends again, I took you for granted. There was only one of you. Anybody similar to you by comparison was a bootleg with missing pieces. You were the genuine article: the Real Deal. I'll be processing the guilt of how things ended for quite a while longer than I should. I don't know if you were upset or indifferent, or if there's any slight that you held against me after we parted ways for the last time. But I hope, if it's okay with you, that I could take part of you with me in my journey through life.

You are missed, and you are loved.

Beloved (11/18/1993-6/21/2023)

[eveningspirit]

I'm still idek. In the morning I thought I was fine, but I'm still overwhelmed with all I want to do in two days and won't be able to, because it's not even full two days anymore, so...

The rest of whining goes into hiding..

I have a little bit of feelings about original stuff. That would be figuring out taglines for some of the fourteen short stories I have mapped out the other week. I want to write a solid short story that I could publish. They are all set in the same universe (The Triad) and tell its history over about 300 years. But idek.

I want to see where I'm at with Duke and the B Brothers. I kind of want to make progress on this story in February, but I'm not motivated enough. Like I said; idek.

Also, I want to make a patreon and kofi entries about the above mentioned Triad System. Maybe I shoud do that? Hmm..

Might want to post Scene #6 of Black Wings on the other blog. But. I would have to decide what to cut, because the fragment I prepared for now is too long. I may, of course, post it whole, and do the "Keep reading" cut. But. idek. Not today, I guess.

Then, there's that longer entry for wordpress blog, which... no, I definitely will not do today, or this week, most likely.

I'm beginning to have feelings about Specters. That's next on the agenda, in March hopefully. And that's Im happy about. :)

o

Then, there's fanfic (and general fandom) things. I wanted to write thoughts on episode 6 of The Pitt, but I started and idek. It seems too big a task. Maybe I'll make another attempt, maybe today, or maybe tomorrow. *shrug*

I have an idea to write Chapter 2 of the "dog fic" which is not really about any dogs. I mean Chapter 1 wasn't, I brainstormed dogs for the second ch. with @doughnuts-5ever (YaY!). It could be fun. Especially with all the angst that will inevitably come after all the fun with puppies. ;) If this sentence doesn't make much sense, it's probably because it doesn't. And I call myself a writer?

Okay. I have other *vague* ideas for fics, that will probably not materialize. But I want them all. Or I want someone to write a story that would cater to my specific expectations. Eeeeehh.. That's the thing that I think mostly kills me about not having more time to entertain myself.

Oh. I might do Frank and Mel picset for the second episode. But idek.

I think that's that? Other than house chores, of course. Uh.

[wordsandrobots]

Falling for a Fool: Afterword

A confession: I cannot get through episode 45 of Iron-Blooded Orphans, properly, without coming to the verge of tears. I have discovered that if I turn the sound off, I can make it about as far as the back half of episode 46 without that happening. Which made it a lot easier to take screenshots, but it still got me, in the end.

And that's exactly why I fell in love with this show.

It's trite, but I think everyone should have the chance to be moved by something, whatever it is and wherever it comes from. Stories, all artworks in fact, are there to make us feel something. To convey emotion and meaning, to play on the keyboard of our minds and allow us to hallucinate meaningful things in safety. A couple of years back, the thing that moved me was an anime about child soldiers in space, produced to sell model kits. It worked. I did buy a lot of model kits. I also got to have my emotions twisted to bits by a superbly crafted tragedy.

I can wax lyrical about the technicalities of that process. I can do the writerly bit, as I've said before, of pulling apart the mechanics of how this show works and why it hits me so hard. That doesn't change the fact it *does* hit me, hard, and that's why I've spent my time since first watching it writing so much about it. It was exactly what I needed to see, when I saw it, and the inspiration it has given me has been absolutely wonderful.

I guess the reason I decided to run back through the imagery of the series, and specifically that concerning Yamagi and Shino's relationship, is that I wanted to check my working. I'm nearly at the end of the huge story I developed off the back of my first fanfic for IBO, the culmination of two and a half years of work. When I post it, likely at the start of August 2024, I will have approaching 650,000 words worth of 'here's how I would do a follow-up' on Ao3. That's a lot. For me, it's a hitherto unheard-of amount of consistent work.

Yet it started, very simply, with this: how do you save Shino?

Because the end to his arc in the show is a moment of deliberate pointlessness. It's got to be, for the narrative to work. But I have a soft heart and more than that, I'd fixated on what precedes the failure of Shino's daring gambit. Those scenes between him and Yamagi throughout episode 45 and the fundamental, unintentional cruelty of asking someone who adores you to enable what is, however much it wasn't supposed to be, your suicide run.

There are any number of ways to save Shino, in the sense of imagining he wasn't actually dead when Flauros was blown off into space in the next episode. It's easy! But which option allows one to best drill into what he and Yamagi are to each other, in that moment where he finally demonstrates he isn't the totally oblivious himbo after all? What is the method that allows them to come together again, not as comet and tail, but something more equal? Something that, rather than just clicking one's fingers and declaring, 'all is well', admits to everything dire and disturbing about Tekkadan.

Because those things are the point. And to me, they are vital to my love of the original work.

So. My apologies for a couple of days of scab-picking on main. I needed it, I think, to look back and see that, yes. What I have done follows (in my own mind at least) from what's on-screen. As much as my fic is essentially a work of reconstruction -- of redeeming love from hopelessness -- the heart of it remains full of rust and sharp fragments, of blood and pain, and a bitter understanding that the world does not care about you in the slightest.

And that the point is to care anyway.

[lil-melody-moon]

Hello darling! Finally Friday, huh? I bet you’ve been waiting for this day to come 🤭 Well, I’m bringing you two new fragments today, very creepy ones I must say 🤣

But first, I want to make the release day official. You’re going to get the first chapter of the fanfic in two weeks, starting on the 1st of November. I know you’re impatient, but I still need to finish the fic, correct the grammar, and also figure out how to publish it on AO3 🤣 That last part shouldn’t take long because I’ve got half of it sorted already.

Anyway, the chapters will be published daily, which means it’ll start on the 1st of November and end on the 5th of November. Is that alright with you? If not, please let me know when you’d prefer them, but it has to be in November.

Now, enjoy the first fragment of chapter three❤️

————————————————————————————

You needed to get out of the house, and fast. The encounter with Ernie at the pub had been playing on your mind ever since, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thought of him. He lingered there, like a song you couldn’t quite get out of your head. And then there was the other thing. You still weren’t comfortable at home. Every time you were alone, it felt like someone else was there, watching. It wasn’t rational, you knew that. But it was a feeling you couldn’t ignore.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a bit late for your usual evening walk, the sun was already beginning to set, casting a soft golden glow over everything. But you needed the fresh air, needed to clear your head. Sitting inside much longer and you were sure you’d go mad.

It had been two days since you last spoke to Frank, and the worry was beginning to gnaw at you. It was a strange kind of worry, tangled up with so many other things. You were worried for him, yes. But there was also that creeping fear that he might come back. The very idea of Frank returning was enough to make your stomach twist, to make your eyes sting with the threat of tears. The guilt that came with that fear was like a shadow, always lurking.

Pulling on your coat, you stepped out into the cool evening air. You told yourself you’d walk just a little while, enough to clear the bad thoughts from your mind. The streets were quiet, mostly empty, save for the odd car passing by or a couple of people making their way home. You tried to focus on your surroundings, the familiar rows of terraced houses, the soft hum of distant traffic, but your thoughts kept drifting back. To Frank. To Ernie. To the uneasy feeling that had settled in your chest.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back home, the sky now fading from gold to deep blue, that you noticed something. A feeling, more than anything. Someone was behind you. At first, you brushed it off, telling yourself you were being paranoid. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. You picked up your pace, your heartbeat quickening, and turned your head slightly to glance over your shoulder. Sure enough, there he was. A man, walking right behind you. His face was obscured, and that made your stomach lurch.

You walked faster, hoping he’d lose interest, but no such luck. You could hear his footsteps quickening to match yours, and then, just as you were about to break into a full sprint, he spoke.

“Hey! you alright, love? Fancy a chat?”

His voice made your skin crawl. There was something off about it. It wasn’t just that he was too close, it was the way he spoke to you, as though he had a right to your time, your attention. You tried to ignore him, walking faster still, but he kept pace with you, getting closer.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he persisted, his hand reaching out, brushing against your arm. “I just wanna talk. What’s your name, eh?”

You flinched at his touch, feeling a surge of panic. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. His hand lingered on your arm, and before you could react, his grip tightened. But then, out of nowhere, came a voice you recognised all too well.

“Oi! Leave her alone, you bloody fucker.”

Ernie.

He was there, storming towards you with a look on his face that could’ve melted iron. Before you could even process what was happening, Ernie had grabbed the bloke by the collar of his shirt, almost lifting him off the ground. The other man’s eyes went wide, his cocky demeanour crumbling instantly.

“I’m sorry, mate, I’m sorry,” the man stammered, hands up in surrender. “I just wanted to talk to her, that’s all.”

Ernie’s grip on his collar tightened, and he leaned in close, his voice a low growl. “She’s my girl, yeah? You don’t talk to her. Now piss off before I make you.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stand there, stunned. His girl? The possessiveness in Ernie’s voice sent a strange warmth rushing to your cheeks. You could feel yourself blushing, even though you weren’t sure how you felt about the whole thing. Still, hearing him say it made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

The man in Ernie’s grip was practically shaking now, his eyes darting to where Ernie’s hand had slipped into his coat pocket, as if reaching for something. The bloke must’ve thought he was going for a gun, because in the next second, he was scrambling backwards, muttering apologies as he bolted down the street.

“Bloody coward,” Ernie muttered, watching the man’s retreating form with a smirk. Then he turned to you, his expression softening. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath. “No, I’m fine. Just… just shaken, I guess.”

Ernie took a step closer, his eyes scanning your face, checking for any signs of distress. “Good. If he’d laid a hand on you, I swear…”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, though your voice was a little shaky. There were so many questions spinning around in your head now, and one of them was particularly loud. “Ernie, what are you doing here? You don’t even live around this area.”

His grin widened slightly, and he shrugged. “What, I’m not allowed to take a walk?” But then, more seriously, he added, “I had a feeling. Thought I’d come check on you.”

The way he said it, so casual, yet with something deeper underneath, left you speechless. There was something about Ernie that unsettled you, but in moments like this, when he was standing there, having just chased off a bloke who was making your skin crawl, you couldn’t deny the sense of safety he seemed to bring.

Hello, yes I was waiting and I thought I'll die in the process - Gosh, this is a torture! 😂

I'm very happy about the release dates and the AO3 instruction I've promised you will make its way to you, I swear! 😂

Now to the comments!

Sitting at home alone can drive one nuts and I love how you portrayed it there - with addition of one pervert occupying my mind. There's also a slight confusion on what I'm feeling inside, which is honest to God, very good. I'm torn inside and I'm starting to fear, literally fear Frank's coming back home. Everything that once was would come back and the guilty feeling would eat me inside. You've actually showed it very well in one paragraph 💜

That fragment of a random guy following me, it so reminds me of the creep I've met a few years ago. The same behaviour and truly, there's no way I would speak at that moment, my mind rushing to a way to escape this situation, but it's night already so that would be even more problematic. But then here comes someone who saves me!

The impact of Ernie's behaviour is huge, I'm actually left speechless - wonder if Frank ever did something like this. The possessiveness though

This was me inside at this moment when I read it, I'm not joking 😂

Love the last fragment when we have a conversation. Ernie seems to genuinely worry about me and I can see a bit of a difference in his character. I don't know if you've mentioned it in send fragments or you just told me, but there is that different atmosphere to him when we're alone, in such rare moments. Lovely 💜

And yeah, just on a walk, walk to my home to peep on me!

[chewbokachoi]

For both Cassan and Ryu!!

8. What are some internal obstacles that your character has to overcome?

18. Who/what comforts your character?

36. What are the things that make your character enter a full rage/cold mode? (Depends on their character.)

:O

CASSAN:

8. What are some internal obstacles that your character has to overcome?

Ohohoho--so many.

Her "thing" is quantum immortality gone awry. Rather than "waking up" in the 'what if you narrowly avoided getting hit by the bus' universe after getting hit by a bus, she'll wake up with a version of her that led a totally different life. She doesn't know why, but sometimes when a version of her in another world dies, it wakes up in her. Hence her awareness of the multiverse as well as her fear of it--she's terrified of what she could wake up with next. It's totally random--she can go for months without a 'fragment' (as she calls them) showing up. Other times weeks--but never a full year.

She's terrified of what she could become given what she's woken up with at times, and she always absorbs something from a fragment. Which she also can't choose or predict. This has resulted in her developing mod-severe OCD where she "has" to do a number of things to keep herself in check.

18. Who/what comforts your character?

Who: Avery, Max, and Ryu are the most reliable people for her. Avery's the one she goes to for a hug--he's huge and can pick her up like she's nothing. She goes to both Avery and Max when she wants to fangirl about something (or bitch about something). Ryu is her adopted father, so he's the one she goes to when scared about her fragments.

What: Reading or jigsaw puzzles with something on. She loves movies. And fanfiction. So much fanfic.

36. What are the things that make your character enter a full rage/cold mode? (Depends on their character)

Oh boy. When she was much younger and not good at understanding her mind reading, she had a tendency to bide her time and go after those who hurt the people she cared about. But that made her "the weird" kid and so very few friends stuck around. But ultimately, threatening her found family is a good way to think you have spiders crawling on your face for the rest of your life.

RYU

8. What are some internal obstacles that your character has to overcome?

Did he end up creating a new family on accident via taking in a bunch of wayward misfits and addicts trying to recover and did he really make their lives better? OR did he take advantage of equally broken and devastated people and is using them to avoid the pain of losing his own family?

The world will never know!

Hint: it's the former, Ryu.

18. Who/what comforts your character?

Who: Those who he has deemed to be part of his new family. Avery and Cassan are more or less his kids (there's a couple others, I think). So, they make him feel better by just being around and not dead--bonus points if they're having a light saber fight in the staff room with taped-together paper towel tubes. Max is like an obnoxious younger sister that keeps him on his toes. Marle, as Ryu describes their dynamic: "One of us is the left arm and the other's the right arm." To what, Ryu won't say.

What: Drinking barley tea at the base of his eldritch tree. Or sitting in the sun and photosynthesizing. It's unknown if he's serious or not when he says he goes outside to photosynthesize.

36. What are the things that make your character enter a full rage/cold mode? (Depends on their character)

A shocking amount of things. Ryu may or may not be living off of spite, love/hate, and barley tea. The top No-No list

-Threatening his new family, those in his community, his bookstore... -Telling him to forgive Liu Kang -Standing by and insisting nothing's your fault

Doing any of the threatening things (and we're talking actual threat--like Frost walking in and deciding she owns the place, not some idiot blowing hot air) and he won't regret taking a life in the slightest. Telling him to forgive Liu Kang will result in him kindly asking you to leave. If you don't, then he kicks you out--literally. Standing by and insisting there was nothing wrong with that results in him deciding that person is worthless of his time--and that's a big deal. Ryu thinks everyone should be forgiven.

Except Liu Kang, apparently.

[ferusaurelius]

Get to know your fanfic writer!

I was tagged by @callista-curations and actually got to the end of the week with a bit of energy for once, so... here we go. ;)

When did you post your first ever fanfic?

The first EVER was on ff.net probably around 2000-2004? For a friend, for an obscure show nobody's heard of. My first fic I posted for myself was 2020.

First Character(s) you wrote?

I actually wrote original characters in the Mass Effect fandom. My short thought experiment on machine translation.

Main Character(s) you’re currently writing?

Nihlus Kryik, David Anderson, Commander Rentola

Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan to write about soon?

Nyreen Kandros, Ashley Williams. Though they might take a bit since I'm still kinda marinating on what I want to do there.

Fandom(s) you’re currently writing?

Mass Effect! Hyperfixation fandom, go! (I write meta posts for Our Flag Means Death, but do not intend to write fic.)

Platonic pairing(s) you’re currently writing?

Commander Rentola and Ashley Williams

Romantic pairing(s) you’re currently writing?

Nihlus Kryik/Saren Arterius, David Anderson/Saren Arterius (yep!).

Your top AO3 tags?

Romantic Comedy (LOL). Good job, barfics!

Current platform you use for posting?

AO3. I've read a bunch of fic for different fandoms over the years and I'm pleased to be able to contribute when I have the energy.

Snippet of the WIP you are currently working on?

So bar!fics are going to have a long!fic sequel. Keep in mind I AM A SLOW WRITER with multiple wips, to the point where the 'easy' one-shots get published first.

I'm not sure about POV or pacing, but it'll be in a different voice and tone than the originals and have actual mission-oriented plot and some developing relationship stuff.

If you don't want spoilers, I've put it below the cut. ;)

This is a Very Rough high-level outline of a fragment of the entire plot, because my 'other' current WIP is maybe gonna be a nano project. I have various wip possibilities dueling it out for my attention and will see you in December. xD

Normally I would tag a few people to play (and if you feel like playing and you are reading this, IT IS YOU WHO IS TAGGED xD), but specifics are beyond my brain tonight.

Outline time~

Saren entertains Nihlus with his own history and experience of the Skyllian Verge, as well as being a sort of guide to the full intelligence picture, as he understands it.

Nihlus (with a snap of intuition) puts together that something bigger and more urgent than Saren thinks is happening or likely to happen, and it makes him restless and want to investigate immediately, because what if his intuition is right?

Saren insists that Nihlus should go as soon as his ankle’s recovered. He has his own authority.

Nihlus declines to ‘rush’ into something and presents an alternative of walking Saren through his process and treats this as a getting-to-know you thought exercise to keep Saren distracted from how fucking miserable the detox process is.

Saren and Nihlus together, working the problem over food and no access to other sources of information beyond what they can recall, come up with a terrible plan.

Nihlus can infiltrate the merc group by having a public falling-out with Saren.

Saren can get sent to hunt down “Rogue Spectre” Nihlus in the Verge.

Nihlus treats this seriously and starts workshopping different options while Saren is getting increasingly agitated about the whole concept of the frame-up.

Saren: I can’t ask you to do this.

Nihlus: Fine, you’re not asking. I’m volunteering.

Saren: I don’t know if I can let you do this.

Nihlus: It’s my decision.

Saren: -can’t dispute this, even if he doesn’t like it-

Saren: -eventually agrees, though he doesn’t like it-

Saren: Alternatives.

They come up with others that have less advantage in discretion, timing, or access.

Saren is forced to admit that Nihlus’s idea about infiltrating a group directly is the best one, since it allows them the most flexibility in cover story and depth of access. Plus, Nihlus is marked.

Saren: I’ve never asked.

Nihlus: -tells him-

Nihlus: What are you going to need for your part to work?

Saren: You, eyes open, and no hesitation. Trust me to manage my end no matter what you hear or what happens.

Nihlus: -kinda loves this about Saren- With my life.

Saren: It may come to that.

Nihlus: We’ll worry about that when it happens.

It will happen.

Saren: A better medical regimen.

Nihlus: I’ve never asked.

Saren: -tells him-

... and that's all you get to see for now. xD Be intrigued! Be very intrigued. If you can guess what canon event this is gonna be AU for, you get bonus points. ;)

[witchtwig]

More Fragments of Writing

Part of this I did use in a fanfic, but cut the end of it out because it didn't work for where I transposed it into. I wanted to explore Rio when she first met Agatha, under the idea that she has gained a lot of her humanity from Agatha. I wrote this probably around episode 6? Someday I'll come back and pick at the idea of weird, awkward Rio early days.

Again, not revised. Just rough writing tossed onto the page. But enjoy!

-

            She was young once.

            Hah, what a concept. Agatha Harkness young.

           A time before the bitter bile that filled her lungs and ribcage overflowed quite so much. Only half-full, easier to play pretend at a sardonic optimist then—like the world wasn’t out to get her (she had been out to get the world, instead, raw and fierce).

-

            The blue of her eyes is cut down to shards as lids lower, sharpening her vision to take in the spindly delicate creature swaying beside her. “What are you doing?”

            “Watching you.” Eyes like sockets stare back, the darkness of pupils and iris synonymous in the night’s shade. Arms are slung over her knees as she squats beside Agatha. Fingers wrap about one another, moving sometimes to readjust their lacing, always shuddering like a leaf hanging from a branch in a breeze.

            The young woman snorts. “Clearly, but why.”

            “So I can do it right.”

            Eyebrows twitch as Agatha pushes with her elbows to sit up further, to watch Rio’s face closer. “Do what right?”

            “The bones and the skin, the movements—how the eyes nerves grow roots, attach to the brain and roll just so, when the muscles along your jaw twitch. I want to do it like you—right.” A singular owlish blink follows as Rio’s fingers crawl up her own wrist like a spider to hold tight.

            A moment, a breath, and Agatha reaches up with her own young hands, still new to the world (metaphorical blood upon them, but still so new). Fingers slowly round about Rio’s wrist. “Maybe try breathing more than once every five minutes.”

            “The ribs expand and take it in, I know that one, I remember that one. It is how I know when they are starting to slip out, when the root system isn’t taking the oxygen to the heart and brain anymore, when the slow down begins—“

            “Rio.”

            Wide eyes turn and capture Agatha’s again.

            “I like you the way you are, even if you do not remember to breathe the right number of times a minute.” Fingers pulse about Rio’s wrist, press down and then release. “But how long have you walked amongst man and not learned how to play the part?”

            “I never had a reason to before you.”

            The laughter that roars from Agatha feels like fire in her chest, warming some part of her heart she had forgotten. “You are going to give me an ego.”

            Rio’s hand jump like a spider, grabbing ahold of Agatha’s. Blue meets the encompassing darkness of hers. Her teeth are white, and remind Agatha of a wolf as she opens her mouth. “Yes. You deserve it.”

-

            They are both young still, then. Decades young, but young in the grand scheme of everything to come.

-

            Rio grows into her role in the Grand Guignol of playing a person. The awkward ticks stay—her tongue always counting her teeth when she is still for too long, her need to move in swaying lines and feel the bones in her fingers each separately. But she moves with liquid now, and wears a grin that is a mirror match to Agatha’s own.

Agatha grows too, from gawky teenager into a woman, confidence garnered at every body emptied of essence. Every cajole escaping Rio’s lips encouraging her further. They grow into creatures with teeth and claws. Limbs that move with a smoothness now, a gait that foxes know and snakes manage without legs.