#this has been in my drafts for 2 months if you were curious

[storyteller-ish]

Yiyong + text posts

[miviaceleste]

A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

[poppadom0912]

Dr Dean Reybold

Warnings: Cancer, chemotherapy, hospitals, evil doctors

Summary: Unfortunately for you, some cancers are genetic. Also unfortunately for you, some doctors don't have good intentions.

A/N: Based on Season 1, episode 5 of Chicago Med (Malignant) and Season 3, episode 10 of Chicago pd (Now I'm God).

So I had this idea towards the beginning of when I first started watching pd and I am not kidding when I say this has been sitting in my drafts for over two years now. I thought I'd finally get to finishing it after a really good day today since the fic I posted like 2 days ago wasn't that nice. Hope you enjoy!!

When your mother died from cancer, it took a toll on your entire family. Everyone was struggling to grieve and the emptiness she left behind was unsettling. Even now, the empty chair at the dining table looked so wrong.

So when you were diagnosed with ovarian cancer seven months ago, you felt extreme deja vu. Life was repeating itself again and nothing good was going to come out of it.

While at work, your patient got a little violent and when you woke up, your dad and Erin were at your bedside. They were in the middle of a case when Hank was suddenly called, being told by Sharon that you were hurt.

Luckily, several tests and scans later, you were perfectly fine, coming out with nothing but a concussion.

Alas, your body seemed to hate you because fast forward two months later and you found yourself in a private doctors office, the man confirming you had ovarian cancer.

Looking your dad in the eyes that night, mustering up everything in you to tell him you had the exact same thing that killed your mother; you could see the world fall apart in his eyes all over again.

From that day on, you did your chemotherapy while going to work. Being a psychiatrist, it didn't entail much physical work and your hours were decreased due to manage your treatment.

But the cancer got worse, that's what your doctor said at least. You probably would've gotten your treatment done at Med since they were renowned for their chemo regimens and it would've been more convenient.

But your doctor was the man that treated your mother. Seven months into your treatment and you found it a little difficult to leave.

*****

So, it was just another day at work.

You near threatened Doctor Charles to allow you to take his place as the psychiatrist for the ED and after lots and lots of convincing, he caved but with the conditions: you took regular breaks, everyone kept an eye on you, don't take such a big load, update him often and not to turn Sharon away when she to check on you.

There was a sudden influx of patients due to a fire and you were finally able to help after Maggie stopped being so annoying very, constantly hovering over you when she wasn't with a patient.

This wasn't anything abnormal - the injured people - but what was weird was the lingering members of firehouse 51 and the arrival of Jay.

In one of the spinning chairs, you pushed yourself over to the group of people huddled at the front desk, curious to what was up and needing to do something after sitting duck for half an hour now.

"Oooh, what's this?" You looked at the zip lock bag in wonder, only opening it when Jay gave you the okay, nodding his head with a smile at your presentable face.

The last time he saw you, you were a struggling mess at your dad's having come back from getting treatment.

After explaining briefly, you gladly opened the bag and scanned the items. While flicking through receipts, you could hear Erin stop in front of you, letting the three of you know it was looking like a suicide. Giving you and Erin some time, Jay and Kelly gave their goodbyes and went back to their respective jobs.

"You look much better." Erin looked you up and down, noticing that your skin was still quite pale, the bags under your eyes were still there even with the makeup and you were wearing your usual bandana, a staple since the hair loss started kicking in.

"Well thank you very much." You said truthfully despite some part of you believing that she was lying and you looked worse than you did the last time she visited you. "How are you?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Erin asked, smiling as she watched you skim over the few items she had no interest in. "I'm fine, everyone's fine. This seems pretty simple which is good, less work for us."

You hummed nonchalantly, her words going through one ear and out the other. "Do you mind if I give these to Dr Charles? I want to get his opinion real quick."

"Sure." Your sister in everything but blood shrugged her shoulders, seeing no harm in getting another opinion. "Just don't lose anything, yeah?"

"Ha ha, very funny." You said smiled sarcastically, rolling your eyes at her undertone as you rolled your chair away to find the head of psychiatry.

*****

It had been a few hours later. The fire incident from earlier was no longer at the forefront of your mind as you busied yourself with your actual patients. Doctor Charles was back in the ED and you had several meetings scheduled.

Signing off a treatment sheet for some new medications, the silence of the psychiatric ward was interrupted by heavy feet rushing towards you.

Looking up, your were caught off guard. You were not expecting to see your dad and Erin again till later in the evening for dinner.

And by the looks on their faces, this wasn't going to be a happy little visit.

In fact, your dad looked conflicted. A myriad of emotions painting his face, so many that you started to get scared. You hadn't seen him look like this since-

"Dr Dean Reybold. He's your doctor right?" Your dad asked, skipping past any pleasantries.

You felt time slowing, almost struggling to hear what he was asking.

You could only nod.

You felt like a child again being scolded watching how he reacted. It was like you had hurt him. Watching him try to compose himself made you want to be sick.

When your dad looked back at you, his eyes bright in unshed tears, you felt your heart stop.

*****

It was a lie.

All of it, everything. It had all been a lie.

It felt like going through the five stages of grief, grappling with the news and the reality of this situation.

You along with way too many women had been lied to and deceived. In your most vulnerable positions, you had all been manipulated just for his selfish, disgusting needs.

At your most emotional, he lied. He used your personal connections, your past with your mother. What a sick sick bastard.

Sitting on a bed at Med, Natalie showing you your test results, you didn't even have it in you anymore to cry. You were just so tired.

Going back home to your dad, you felt like a little girl again. You felt like that five-year-old who would lie about her nightmares just so she could sneak into her parents bed and sleep with them.

His arms opened up instantly and you didn't need anymore prompting. Dragging your feet towards the couch, you sat and folded yourself up, tucking your feet under yourself as you tried to hide and make yourself invisible in your fathers embrace.

Closing your eyes, you told him the news, the inevitable that you both had been dreading. Deep down, some sick part of you wished to have cancer just so that you could feel better, just to not feel like a victim who was a ploy for some psychopath.

His arm squeezed you as your voice became breathy, words shaking as all the emotions all came crashing down once again.

You had been crying way too much recently.

The plans for the future were still a little blurry and you weren't too sure how you were going to cope. Your body needed to heal and go back to being its usual healthy, as if you and so many other women hadn't had chemo and unnecessary radiation pumped into your body for no reason at all.

You had met all the women at the court hearing, seeing just how many women and families he had hurt just like yours.

And for once, being a psychiatrist didn't feel like the most important thing.

You were struggling to grapple with your emotions but the easiest part of it was being a helping hand to them. Perhaps it made you feel better to help the other women, trying to help them mentally when you can't physically.

And your dad and Erin were your biggest supporters like always.

This had brought back so many memories from the past that it was almost too painful to recollect, especially considering you were now at the forefront of the exact same event.

You weren't too sure what the healing and recovery process was going to look like - that's what scared you the most.

But the most reassuring part was that the sick 'doctor' wasn't going to do anymore harm and you had the best family supporting you every single step of the way.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

August | Mathew Barzal

wc. 2.7k

"August slipped away into a moment in time, cause it was never mine. "

You had always kept an eye on Mat Barzal’s budding career. 

Growing up with the up and coming hockey player you always knew Mat as the dorky kid in your Algebra class. However, when he was drafted by the New York Islanders in 2015, you couldn’t help the glances towards his career every now and then. Everyone saw him as a hometown super star and you weren’t immune to the affects of celebrities unfortunately. 

You had stayed in your hometown, wanting to help out your parents as they started getting older and you found a teaching job not too far away too. It was the perfect balance and you were happy with your summers off and free time. You subconsciously knew the hockey season had ended in the middle of April overall and when the Islanders were knocked out of playoffs at the end of the month, your mind had wandered to Mat once more, and you couldn’t help the casual google search. 

When you discovered that he had plans to come home from the summer you were intrigued. Why come back to your hometown after traveling all over the United States and having more than enough money to travel all over the world? Of course, you wouldn’t find the answer to that until later. 

You didn’t expect to see Mat around your hometown. It was small but not small enough for you to run into a boy you hadn’t seen in years. You didn’t even expect for him to recognize you and yet you still did it anyway. 

You were driving to the beach, wanting a break from everything and to just sit with the wind blowing through your hair and your book in your hands. It had to be close to midnight and your habit of not being able to sleep was creeping up on you again. You didn’t expect to see anyone else on the road at this point but you could recognize him a million miles away. 

You’re still not sure what prompted it, but you found yourself slowing down on the road. 

“Mat?” you called and watched as he paused in his step and you laid on the breaks in your car till you were at a full stop. 

You watch with curious eyes as Mat walks towards your car before leaning over and peering into your passenger side. When he spots you, a look of recognition and then slight shock washes over him. 

You can’t help the light laugh that washes over you at his shock, a reaction to the absurdness of the Mat Barzal being in your hometown. 

“Oh my god,” you let out quietly and Mat tilts his head at the words. “Get in.” 

You gesture for Mat to hop in your car and you’re surprised even by your own actions. Mat takes it in stride though, climbing into your best up old car and clicking his seatbelt like this whole interaction was completely normal. 

“Let’s drive,” he finally responds and you step on the gas. It’s quiet for a moment as you drive and eventually you turn to look at him. 

“How have you been?” you ask, the question feeling odd but a glance at Mat shows him nodding in response. 

Your original route towards the beach is paused opting to just drive around your small town as you and Mat catch up. You tell him about what you’ve been doing since high school, how college was and how your job now is. He tells you all about the NHL and training and how lucky he has been to play professionally. 

“I’ve kept track of your career,” you mention as nonchalantly as you can afford. 

“Really?” Mat says and he can’t help the jolt of happiness that hits him at your words. 

“Vaguely. You’re supposed to have a 50 goal season this year or something?” you say but there’s a note of teasing in your voice. 

“Something like that,” he grins back at you and that smile has your heart zapped. 

“Shit I’m almost out of gas,” you curse quietly. 

You look over to Mat who offers an almost imperceptible shrug and you nod slightly. You start to head in the direction of your apartment, realizing that it’s almost 2 in the morning. You didn’t even feel the tiredness in your body just yet. 

When you get to your apartment, you tell Mat to keep quiet since your roommate was definitely asleep already. You both sneak in, collapsing onto your bed as Mat shuts the door behind him. He relaxes next to you, continuing the conversation you started in the car. 

Your eyes trail his features as he talks and you’re suddenly struck at how beautiful the man in front of you was. He was damn near a Greek god, chiseled features, bright brown eyes, flowy hair that falls over his eyebrows occasionally. He could have been a model if he wasn’t a hockey player. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” you blurt out, feeling all of 16 again staring at him. 

Mat nods in response and you take a deep breath, leaning closer as your eyes flicker from his to his lips. You try not to over think this, reminding yourself of the unspoken tension surrounding the two of you ever since he got into your car. 

When your lips ghost over his you can’t help the exciting pound of your heartbeat that only goes crazier when Mat pushes forward, truly connecting your lips. Your hand tangle in his hair as he carefully maneuvers you onto your back. His knee is pressed between your legs and his presence is so overwhelming you feel like you can’t breathe. 

He pulls back, granting you much needed air and after placing a few kisses on your exposed neck, he looks you in the eyes again. 

“Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly and you flush under his intense gaze. 

“I’ve never,” you trail off, the implication of your silence saying everything else. Your inexperience rolling off you in waves that Mat takes in strides. 

“But yes,” you tell him nodding and he smiles and meets your lips once more. 

The next morning you’re awoken by movement and a feeling of confusion takes over until you see Mat laying next to you and your cheeks flush at the memories of last night. As your eyes gaze over his features, you’re hit with the question what now? You had never done anything like that before and you gave it to a boy you went to school with and connected again with after one night? What were you thinking? 

Before you can spiral any further, Mat wakes up turning to see you and there’s an unreadable look in his eyes. 

“Good morning,” you whisper and Mat smiles lightly. 

“Morning,” his voice is rough from sleepy and the scratch in his tone sends a shockwave through you. 

“What time is it?” He asks, now sitting up and reaching for his phone. When he checks it, his expression changes quickly to one of frustration. 

“Ah fuck,” he curses and you tilt your head in his direction, a form of a question towards him. 

“I’m supposed to meet my friend for lunch soon,” he explains and you nod. 

Mat gets up and quickly dresses, running his fingers through his hair in a nervous manner before turning to look at you. Before you can process it, he’s pressing a kiss to your lips and whispering a promise that he’ll call you later tonight. 

When your bedroom door clicks shut, it finally occurs to you what happened last night. You slept with someone for the first time ever. Not just anyone either. Mathew Barzal. 

Your mind starts to scramble and before you have a chance to let your anxiety ruin the whole thing, you reach for your phone. You need to call Gianna. 

Gianna was your best friend ever since middle school. Well, at least you thought she was your best friend, but deep down you knew she preferred her friendship with Inez, a girl who lived in New York that you forget about half the time anyway. 

“Why are you calling me before noon?” she asks when the line finally connects. 

“So I met a guy,” you start, unsure of how to segue into one of the biggest moments of your life. 

“Ooh! This has to be good if you’re calling early.” 

“I slept with him last night,” you blurt out suddenly. 

“You what?” 

You explain the whole situation to her, omitting his name, and more so who he was until the end. When you tell her that he just left and promised to call you tonight, you listen intently as she sighs quietly. 

“Gianna?” 

“Yeah?” she asks, still not offering a full reaction. 

“It was Mat Barzal.” 

The bomb drop leaves the two of you in an awkward silence for more than twenty seconds, each one painfully ticking by and making you flinch inwardly. Gianna knew Mat a bit better than you, the two of them were both on sports teams and their friend circles constantly overlapped. You and Gianna however, had become friends in choir class. 

“I heard he was back for the summer,” is all she says in response and your heart clenches at her uncaring tone. 

“G? I really fucking like him and I’m happy,” you tell her, hoping this admission of feelings pulls more of a reaction out. 

“He’s only here for the summer.” 

“It’s different,” you demand, knowing the underlying meaning in her words. “Last night was amazing.” 

You drown out her response, anger clouding your judgment that Gianna couldn’t be happy for you. You had just slept with a guy for the first time and all she can do is imply he doesn’t care about you? That he’ll go home and everything won’t matter anymore? You hang up shortly after, still slightly fuming that your supposed best friend wasn’t being supportive. 

You knew. 

You knew though deep down, no matter the words you spat at Gianna or the delusional thoughts in your head. You knew you and Mat were going to be nothing after this summer. You just really didn’t want to believe it. 

known there was another girl back in New York. You should have known that she was the one he really wanted. The one he’d give it all for. He was never yours. 

Sometimes you really wished you listened to that doubting voice in your head. 

Maybe this wouldn’t hurt so fucking bad now if you did. 

Mat calls that night, tells you about his day and asks about yours. You make plans to go to the beach tomorrow. Your heart feels lighter when you go to sleep that night. By the time morning arrives, you’ve forgotten all your worries already. 

The knock on your door has an unconscious smile creeping up onto your lips and you jog downstairs and swing it open to see Mat. 

He’s leaning against the door frame, soft smile on his lips, arms crossed over a plain t-shirt and a blue open button down. His legs are crossed in a manner that is so effortless you wonder if he’s even a real human. 

“Ready to go?” 

You nod and he pulls you close, slipping an arm around your shoulder as you walk over to his car. Mat drives to the beach, hand on your thigh and an easy smile on his lips. Your heart raced twice as fast whenever he touched you and you couldn’t help but think you’re in love. 

You get to the beach pretty fast, the two of you finding a place to set up and relax for the day. Mat had been in and out of the water while you had relaxed back in your beach chair and read to your heart's content. You couldn’t think of a better day than the one in front of you. 

Mat flops down onto the beach towel next to you, a bright smile lighting up his perfect features. You gaze at him and he throws a wink in your direction and it feels like your body is lit on fire even just by the thought of him staring at you. 

He lays on his stomach, his head rest on his crossed arms and you find yourself dropping a hand to his back and tracing patterns on his bare skin. You’re tracing your name and then his when you finally break the silence. 

“When are you going back?” 

“Couple of weeks,” he answers noncommittally. 

“Do you think-“ you start to say and just when you’re about to push away the rest of the sentence Mat looks at you expectantly. “Will you call when you get back to New York? Keep in touch?” 

Something flickers in Mats eyes at your question, you’re not sure if it’s sadness or frustration or guilt or what. It seems to pass quickly though, a smile plastered on that doesn’t quite reach his eyes is thrown in your direction as he nods. 

“Of course.” 

You end up in Mats bed that night, twisted in bed sheets, laughs soaring in the air and good feelings wrapping you up so tightly you could almost choke on them. By the end of the night you fall asleep with a smile on your lips and Mat’s arms wrapped around you tight. 

The weeks slipped away from you, warm summer months slipping through your fingers until August arrived. Mat was due back to New York any week now and you found yourself begging for his attention. You dropped anything and everything when he called, something Gianna was getting angry about. 

“Hello?” you answer, looking over at Gianna who gives you an annoyed glance. 

“What are you doing right now?” Mat’s voice greets you and you can’t help the smile that slides on your lips at his voice. 

“Not much. Why?” 

“Meet me behind the mall in 20 minutes?” 

“I’ll be there,” you say, a giddy feeling rising in your chest. 

When you hang up, you stand up searching for your shoes, completely forgetting that Gianna was sitting in front of you. 

“Earth to (y/n)?” she asks and you look over with an awkward smile. 

“So that was Mat,” you start and Gianna huffs in frustration as she stands. 

“So you’re canceling plans again?”

“I only have so much time left with him,” you respond, tugging on one of your sneakers. 

“Of course,” she mutters, anger filling the room. 

“What?” you snap, frustrated that Gianna was still giving you shit for going out with Mat. 

“You’re leaving your best friend for some guy who will leave you in a week?” 

“I’m not-“ you start to retort but she cuts you off. 

“He has a fucking girlfriend in New York!! You’re the other woman!” 

The words are a complete and utter blow. The reality hits you full force and forces you to face the thing you never wanted to. That Gianna was right. That this summer was all you were to Mat. A distant memory. More likely, a mistake he made. 

“Whatever,” you mutter, left with nothing but the last word as you storm out of her apartment. 

You meet Mat behind the mall and he’s quick to hop into your car and press a kiss to your cheek. Your previous argument with Gianna is already fading to the back of your mind. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask Mat when you’re sitting next to him on the beach, the sun setting quietly against the crashing waves. 

“I’m going back to New York tomorrow,” he tells you quietly and the shock is plain on your face. 

“They called me to come back early,” he explains and all you can do is nod slowly at the news. 

“Will you stay until the sun sets?” you ask, the words wavering in your throat. 

“Of course,” Mat tells you but the words sound hollow like he’s already thousands of miles away and in a whole different life again. 

Mat had appeared in your small town like a reoccurring dream, lost memory, and perfect fantasy wrapped up in a six foot tall, brown haired, bright eyed hockey player. For a while you questioned so often if he was even real or not. 

And during that time you let yourself be delusional. Let yourself believe all the times he promised he would call when he got back to New York. That the two of you would stay in touch but as you sat on your bed a week later and no calls from Mat you knew what this was all along. 

And it still hurt just as bad. 

[sgt-scottymoreau]

Beginning of the end, End of the beginning - CIAJ

Summary: A few years after the first kaiju came throught the Breach, more breaches appeared throught out the world focing almost each nations to make their own line of defense. In England, 4 SAS soldiers decided to join the Jaeger program. Throught hardship and derermination they built themselves a reputation and are known the TF-141. Camille, or Scotty to her friends, is freshly new arrived J-tech at the Plymouth Shatterdome. She has no trouble blending in the new crowd and make friends easily, even with the Rangers. But there might be something more going on between her, Soap and Ghost. Life is about to change for all of them, not in a way they expect.

Warning: None

Words: 4.2k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: Welcome to my new AU of an AU where I get to be a huuuuge nerd about Pacific Rim because, this my favorite movie of all time! This will be a multiple chapters project. I don't know how long or how it will evolve, but it will be fun to find out. Here is some more info I have about it before I started to write if you are curious. Althought some might change as I write as the post was sort a draft, take it with a grain of salt :)

Feet hanging down, she looked at the jaeger's core from a distance. It was always a sight to be seen. Although the Mark-4 didn't have the same feelings as the nuclear core of a Mark-3, Scotty was still in love with it. A quick glance at her watch, she had half an hour before her shift would start. She grabbed a piece of food from her tray and kept eating in silence. Or as much silence the maintenance area provided with the drilling, metal clinking, shafts and other mechanical engines roared in a harmonized cacophony. 

Scotty had been transferred to the Plymouth Shatterdome six months ago. They needed extra hands and she proposed herself. After all that happened almost a year prior, she needed a change of everything. A new place to sort of start anew. At her arrival, she was assigned to Bravo Tanker, one of the two Jaegers of the TF-141. 

TF-141 was composed of 4 ex-SAS members who joined the Jaeger Program a few years back. Johnathan “John” Price had been the oldest member as he was part of few people who piloted Mark-1. Lucky enough he didn’t for long before moving to Mark-2 who were slightly safer and didn’t leave terrible health consequences on his body.

Simon Riley, mostly referred to as Ghost by many, was a rather mysterious pilot. His academics, results and training were very honorable and an example to many. One of the best pilots. However the mystery around laid in the fact that the man would always be wearing a balaclava for a reason no one knew. He kept his past a secret to everyone and was a man of few words in his free time. He wasn’t cold or asocial per se, but he kept some interaction to minimum. But once you knew him, you would be surprised that he had a sense of humor and quite enjoyed his little army jokes.

Kyle Garrick, nicknamed Gaz by Price quote “he doesn’t talk much”, wingman of the ex-captain, he had a great tactical mind who often proved to be a great asset during deployment, he also had very good academic records. He held the record for the longest simulation training; twelve hours. Stable and came out feeling perfectly fine.  He had a quick reaction time and would find solutions to many problems in a few seconds. He was reliable and someone you rather liked as a friend than an enemy. 

John MacTavish, alias Soap, a name he got from his time in the military, was the fairly newer member. Always eager to jump in the cockpit to defeat the Kaijus. But his playful demeanor is only the tip of this iceberg. Under his optimistic charm was also a tactical man who knows his explosives and weapons like the back of his hands. He learned a few tricks from the J-Techs on how to fix small issues on the Jaegers if needed. 

Price and Gaz were pilots of Bravo Brawler, a Jaeger made to fight in a close combat ranger, but was also armed with four missiles, two in each arms for distance. Soap and Ghost, Bravo Tanker, Jaeger build to endure hard blows and take repeated hits. Which means a very high maintenance mega weapon sadly. 

On her first time at the Shatterdome, she quickly blended in with the crew. Two weeks later, the chief engineer took her under his wings as an assistant. He was impressed by her knowledge and there was a little something that felt that she knew more about Jaegers than she let know. Although she was very capable of fixing any part of the mecha, Scotty was assigned to the Conn-Pod or cockpit. Again, she surprisingly had a very good knowledge of everything that happened there. Being a J-Tech, Scotty never really expected to befriend pilots, it felt like an honor. For a while, she admired the TF-141 from afar, or close in her case when she would help them suit up or briefly pass them as she entered the cockpit for maintenance after their deployment, never really pushing herself to get to know them better. Until her third week at her new home. 

She was elbow deep in grease, trying to fix one of the enormous ankle joints till she heard someone clearing his throat in the back. Hands still inside the construction, Scotty looked over her shoulder to see who it was. Mohawk and bright blue eyes stared at her with a smile. It was Soap. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, I’m just looking.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the metal, eyes looking inside the opening. 

She stared at him a little longer before shrugging it off. “What would a Ranger do down here with the mechanics?”

“Learning. Is that bad? Never heard the other complain before.” 

“Not at all.” She chuckled. “How much do you know about this big girl? For a Mark-5 she is impressive, don't you think?”

“Aye. Very smooth riding if I compare it to the Mark-4, but not by much, and a not so different interface. Definitely better than Mark-3.”

Scotty finally loosened the bolt she was working on, almost the size of her head, and turned to face him. “Someone seems to know his jaegers. That’s interesting. Ever been in a Mark-3? You don’t strike me like someone who did.”

“Are you saying I’m old, bonnie?” He scoffed. “I did, in during my training. They feel so clunky once you try a newer model.” And this is how their friendship started. Nerding over Jaegers, then went out to talk about what they did before the program. 

Eventually, after a few days Soap invited her to sit with the rest of the team. Scotty was a little surprised by the invitation and honestly wasn’t too sure about it. She was so used to eating with her crew. Not that sitting next to the pilots was anything special, in the cafeteria you took the first seat you could find. It was talking with them and being so friendly that she wasn’t too sure; she didn’t want to look like she was privileged. It was some friends who pushed her to accept because honestly, it was obvious. They had seen her talking for hours with Soap, also opening up more to Ghost. It was more than just the regular crew and check up talks nowadays. She did accept the offer and was thrown under the spotlight by Soap who introduced her more informally to Price and Gaz. Because of his background, Scotty felt like she wouldn’t never be as friendly as she was with the Scotman towards Price. An old captain deserved more respect, but it wouldn’t stop her to warm up and tease the man along with Gaz. Gaz had been easy to befriend just like Soap. Being around the same age was actually an advantage. That and he was a nice person in general. It was nice to have some deep conversation of all and nothing during calmer moments. Just like now.

Gaz took a seat next to her, his tray in hand. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.” Scotty moved slightly to the side, although there was enough space for ten people around them. “Aren’t you and Price supposed to train?”

“Finished. I swear he really wanted to push the limits today, I’m done and hungry.” 

She glanced at her watch again. Another ten minutes. Her eyes trailed to her own tray, half full. She grabbed whatever dessert was proposed, some strange sweet thing that resembled cake, but didn’t have inviting colors. Yet it tasted good. She handed him her left over. “You need more than I do. Make sure you have enough energy.”

He laughed at her remark, yet appreciated the extra ratio. They kept talking for a little longer till they sat in silence, enjoying the calmness. Her time was up and she had to leave to start her shift. 

Her shift was assigned to the Conn-Pod today. Last Bravo Tanker’s deployment had been a little rough. A very hard blow to the head left some damage to the moving system. On the report, it was said that the left leg remained stuck for two minutes. It didn’t sound long, but in the middle of a fight against a twenty-five thousand tonnes monster, it was an eternity. Ghost and Soap were able to unjam it, but to say they didn’t feel fear for a hot second would be a lie. Toolbox at her feet, Scotty engaged the safe switch and jumped in the movement center, wiggling a little between the pipes and gears to reach the troublemaker. Her eyes looked one more time at the tablet. She analyzed the graphics and waves. The malfunction was definitely mechanical in origin as there was no misalignment registered from the pilots. Their neural handshake was almost perfect the whole time, even after the damaging blow and the panic that followed. They remained in control without flinching. It read the most beautiful thing. It brought back some memories, memories that she quickly pushed away and focused on her task ahead. It took five minutes to find the culprit; a rode had broken off from the walking mechanism and lodged itself between gears. From the look of it, it eventually broke off under the pressure, releasing the jammed leg. Not without damage. They would have to install a new rod and change two gears. That should take a whole shift or two, if they didn’t have the pieces yet. It will be a long night.

It was five in the morning when her head hit the pillow. Every muscle was painful and sore. The mattress was so soft and welcome. At least, this would be her last night shift for a few weeks and today was her day off. As usual, she would sleep a few hours before going on with the day. Maybe nap later depending on how tired she was. 

Her alarm bipped around ten. With a groan, Scotty woke up and jumped in the shower. She didn’t stay long to ratio the water, but long enough to wake her up and give an appeased sensation to her body. She grabbed her phone, quickly looked through her messages. Some quick replies to her family, more technical answers to her colleagues who need another refresher on what had been done last night and where they should pick up. Mindlessly walking towards the hangar bay, always looking on her phone when she bumped into someone. “I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be.” Ghost replied unphased. “You shouldn’t look at your phone while walking though.” 

“I was almost done really.” She shoved the device in her pocket. Soap popped behind Ghost.

“Where are you going like that, sweetheart?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me that, sunshine. Well I’m off for today, I was thinking of going into town. Get some fresh air. What’s your plan?” 

Ghost brushed off the casual flirting of these two. They had been at it for a few weeks now and he didn’t mind. “Training. As usual.”

“Tanker will be under heavy repair for another day at least. If anything happens, you won’t be able to deploy yet.” Scotty informed them.

“That’s why I was thinking after our workout, maybe we could all go out for a drink? Price and Gaz were up for it.” Soap smiled. “What about you?”

“Sounds good, count me in!”

The shatterdome being a few kilometers away from any big cities made the small town that was nearby thrive with all the workers. While the main base provided lodging and food to everyone, the town did provide the recreational aspect allowing the hard workers some possibility to unwind. Despite the Kaijus’s attacks, the civilians went on with the regular days. They became part of the routine. People would still go to work, go out with friends, do their grocery shopping, take a drink at the table outside the cafe as if nothing was going on. Of course when the alert rang across the land, they would all run to the nearest bunker and wait till the Jaegers took down the beast. For now, they could enjoy one of the rarest sunny days in a long time. Scotty wandered around without a goal. All she needed was to be out of the overcrowded building. Hear other sounds than drilling, welding, clanking. The birds, the kids' laughter, the car, the casual discussion of strangers. A change of scenery. A little after noon, she stopped in a restaurant to grab some food and then went on to walk along the coast. 

There, it was truly calm. Only the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Sat in the sand, she allowed herself to close her eyes and let this moment last for as long as she could handle it. The breeze was soft today. Scotty shifted her position to lay down and look at the sky before closing her eyes again. It wasn’t the best idea but…

She woke up to the sounds of seagulls fighting somewhere. Half a mind present, her watch showed five. She must have slept for a good two hours! Her phone buzzed. It was Gaz saying they were on their way to their regular pub. They should be in town in half an hour. She decided to make her way there. She dusted off the sand on her clothes and returned to the center of the town. The sun was slowly setting in the distance, painting the sky in a bright orange blue color. Reflecting on the water that slowly disappears as she makes her way through the small street between the buildings. If at first she had been a little intimidated by forming a friendship with the TF-141, now she actually appreciated their time together. It brought back good old memories.

This was the seventh day of her day shift schedule and it was coming to an end. Not her best day in terms of repair. Bravo Tanker had been a breeze to fix recently thanks to the very little visit from kaijus. Bravo Brawler was a whole other story. A lot of the pieces needed to fix her had been late on the delivery and the Marshal wanted her fixed since yesterday. Didn’t like the idea to have one less Jaeger operational in case of. Their Shatterdome was yes the main base of the well known TF-141, but also three other Jaegers. It wasn’t like they didn’t have the ability to operate with one less team. But out of the three, two were new hence why he would rather send more experienced pilots with them than face the monsters alone. Because of this, Scotty had been pulling extra hours on fixing Price and Gaz’s jaeger. Help that was well appreciated by the crew who was being pushed in the back all the time. A quick chat with the person in charge of the night shift to explain what still had to be done and Scotty was on her way to her quarters. She could feel the sweat and grease sticking on her skin. She wanted a shower, now! However on her way there, she made a little detour to the Kwoon Combat Room. 

As she walked toward it, she caught the noise of a familiar training. Someone was there. Maybe she could just look a little. Hidden by the corner, she leaned to see who it was. Ghost and Soap were in the middle of the mat, readying their stance from what looked to be another round. She watched as they began. Just for a minute or two she told herself. 

Scotty didn’t mean to peek for so long. Neither peek in general. But watching them dance on the training mat, the sounds of the wooden poles knocking on each other, the soft silence except for a few grunt here and there, it reminded her of her pilot days. Drifting with someone was the most intimate thing of all, something beyond anything else. It had nothing to do with the romance or things you would keep behind closed doors. Being drift compatible wasn’t about this. It was about letting someone inside your head, share their memories, let them see your memories. All your secrets are bare to them to see. You had to trust your co-pilot more than anyone else. A wave of sorrow passed through her body as she was reminded of her previous partner. How they had such a strong connection, how she could still feel his fear when he died, how his last words were to his wife and kids. It broke her to be the one to tell them and not him. Yet as she cited his words, his voice echoed in her mind. This was the reason she wasn’t able to drift after that. She tried, but the memory was too strong, no matter how hard she tried to keep it out, it crawled back. She was always out of alignment with other pilots to the point that she simply gave up. Not wanting to stop helping against the Kaijus, she took a job as J-Tech and eventually landed where she was now. It was for the best that she didn’t know if she would ever let someone else in her head ever again. 

It was obvious that Ghost and Soap were a good match. Her eyes could follow each of their attacks and parry with ease and it was easy to see that they knew each other well. She had also seen Price and Gaz training, it was the same. However there was something a little more about the pilots of Bravo Tanker. A detail she caught as easy as their fighting style. They had something going on between the two of them. That didn’t stop her from letting her eyes linger on their muscles. Who knew that a tank top and sweatpants would be so sexy. They were both a sight for sore eyes. Her cheeks turned into a soft pink as she caught herself thinking of that. 

The room became very silent. Scotty realized that they had done their training and were looking at her. A wide smile on Soap’s face and she swore maybe on Ghost but it was hard to see behind his balaclava. “Enjoying the show?” The Scotsman laughed. 

“Oh hm me? No! I mean yes. But not how you think!” She stumbled on her words. 

“Relax, we won’t eat you.” Ghost shook his head. 

As much as they were all up to keep going with the conversation, the alarm went off. A sound they knew too well. A kaiju had crossed the Breach. Ghost and Soap didn’t waste a second and hastened to the Drivesuit Room. Brawler still being under maintenance, they were the only available at the moment to support the other teams. 

It took them less than twenty minutes between the suit up and being waist high in the water. One advantage of Plymouth Shatterdome was that it was enough on the coast, Jaegers could directly walk in the ocean, they didn’t have to wait to be dropped far away by helicopters. “What now, Ghost?” 

“We wait.” The Brit contacted the other team to know their status. They were in the area also waiting for any sign of Kaiju approaching. Both Jaegers’s radar bipped steadily. They hated these moments. Standing still, being a perfect target for surprise attack. The LOCCENT kept updating them on the possible location of the threat. It was moving fast, coming South-East of their position one moment and then full East, back to South. Then West! Whatever this Kaiju was doing it was all over the place. They looked in all directions hoping to visually see something that radar had not picked up, in vain. The water remained calm. 

“I don’t like that, Simon. Why is it moving so-” Soap was interrupted when their comms was flooded by the other team. They had a visual two klicks away from them. The water was slowly rising while advancing. It was their target! The Jaeger reacted fast, running towards it ready to attack. But as soon as they were in range to punch it, it slipped away quickly. The old Mark-3 was a little slower to respond to the pilots change of position; they didn’t have time to react to the clawed hand that pierce through the water behind them. It clenched, ripping all the back’s plates. The pain receptors connected to their suits send a signal so strong they surprised themselves to still be conscious. However, damage had been done. 

“Bravo Tanker we are done! All systems are not responding! What the fuck! We need back up!”

“On our way! Stay put!” Ghost acknowledged. He lifted his right leg, starting to run in unison with Soap and the mecha eventually responded to the speed they wanted. They wouldn’t let the monster attack a second time. At the same time, Ghost and Soap locked the right arm to punch the creature. Their Jaeger reacted accordingly, landing a powerful blow at the top of its head. The Kaiju wailed before being engulfed under the water. They punched it a second time. On the third, the beast dodged by swimming away, its tail hitting the leg of the Jaeger. They didn’t flinch. Bravo Tanker was ready to chase it, but revised their plan when they saw the wake it made as it swam back in their direction with a lot of speed. They braced themselves for the attack, well aware of what to expect. The claws screeched on the metal, automatically the two pilots were met with a jolting pain on the chest. Nothing they couldn’t handle.They shook it off repositioning themselves to return the favor. 

‘‘Hull is badly damaged, but still holding!’’ Soap shouted, dismissing the alerts that popped on the screen.

‘‘LOCCENT we need back up! I don’t know what this bastard is made of, but it is shredding us!’’ Ghost demanded on the comms.

At the Shatterdome, the Marshal weighed his options. He could send another Jaeger or two, but the more, the longer it would get for them to reach their allies. Could Tanker hold till then? However this Kaiju rendered one of his mecha inoperative with just one slash and his most resilient Jaeger was already fighting. ‘‘Tanker hold, help is coming. … Brawler, I want a fast deployment!’’

Bravo Tanker dodged another attack by a few meters. To last till back up, they used the blade weapons. With them they had been able to hurt the beast, but quickly it destroyed one of them. This fight was straining the pilots, physically and mentally. ‘‘I swear when Price shows up.’’ Ghost groaned. He could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead, his suit more sticky than usual.

‘‘What will you do when we show up?’’ The ex-captain voice came through the open channel. ‘‘Take a breath, we will handle it for now!’’

Bravo Brawler was being carried by helicopters. Price ordered them to release the cable who dropped them right on top of the Kaiju. The beast was crushed back into the water, wiggled its way out and went for its first attack on the newer opponent. Ghost and Soap only took a minute breather; the bastard was tough and they couldn’t let it win. Two against one was the upper hand they needed. Something the beast realized quickly and decided to hide underwater for surprise attacks. Thanks to their radar, both Jaegers avoided them. It began to circle them. Suddenly jumped on Tanker jaw open ready to take a bite. The fang pierced the Conn-Pod not so easily, but with a secured anchor, its claw dug deep in the chest and neck’s connector. The pilots were flooded by alarms blaring, pain in their whole body and view of the monster’s mouth. Its maw closed further onto the head, bending and crushing the metal. The mechanism which normally held the pilot in place was heavily damaged on Soap’s side. As Price and Gaz closed the distance to remove the beast, Soap was disengaged from the lock system and in the heat of being tossed in all directions, he was sent flying up and down, landing then in the back of the cockpit where the door was. Ghost didn’t have the time to realize what happened. All he felt was the sudden overload of pressure on his brain as he was now the only pilot in control of the mecha. It made him feel dizzy, his movements slowed as he raised his arm to grab the Kaiju and throw it away. With Brawler's help, he was free. Gaz refused to waste another second. He engaged the missile and fired two of them. An option they only want to use as a last resort. The beast was already damaged; this should be enough. Indeed the Kaiju went down in one last screech. 

Sure that everything was cleared, Ghost disconnected his side as well before the load would kill him. With a heavy breath, he gave a quick sitrep of their situation, to which the LOCCENT replied they will have a medical team right away. Ghost scrambled through the damaged cockpit and found Soap lay, unconscious. His helmet was broken, blood tainting the suit and floor. ‘‘Soap? … Johnny!’’ He checked his vital signs; they were steady but very weak. He needed help now!

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Did I ever tell yall about my mother's habit of sitting me down once a month to have a Serious Developmentally Appropriate and Relevant Conversation? They started when I was about 5, and continued until I was 17 (with some inconsistencies when the two of us were on the outs), and we talked about SO many things. We had the same conversations multiple times at different levels of depth, complexity, and nuance too, which was a really cool way for me to learn what it feels like for knowledge to be inherently cumulative in nature. I feel like that's part of what has made me as curious, as prone towards positive change over time, and as analytical as I typically am.

Anyway, these conversations were all about important life issues. Body health, drugs, sex, relationship dynamics and boundaries, the different ways people harm other people and what it could look like to react to that, racism, gender, war, death, sexuality, capitalism, surbival resource obtainment, sexism, ablism (although I don't know my mother called it this at the time), etc. My mom's general approach to "risky" information with me was essentially "you're going to find out eventually, whether I try to intervene in that or not. I'd rather your first awareness of these things come from me so it's easier for you to recognize when someone is selling you a load of bullshit." My mom and I have a lot of very different ideas of what it should look like to be a parent, but this was absolutely something I think she did right. She was frank and open, she never made me feel like a question or tooic or even certain words were dangerous or "wrong", and she was careful to scale her approach to the conversation in relation to my own emotional and psychological development. I still actually remember a lot of these conversations, tho of course some stand out better than others.

It took a while of me percolating on our conversation about war and intercommunal conflict before I asked her why people fight in wars if they're so awful for everyone involved. She explained a few different reasons, and things that might draw a person to this one or that one, while acknowledging opposing logic where she could.

Then she describes to me the draft. The act of a political entity compelling its own people to put their lives in harm's way for political interests or assets. She explained different ways the draft might work, and different kinds of people who might or might not get drafted. And then, she says,

"Not everyone obeys when they're called up." She watched me very carefully whenever she was using my reactions to gauge her next words. "In fact, several people in our family have refused to be drafted. Some because of their beliefs, some because of their circumstances. A lot of people do. It's called draft dodging."

See, my grandma was born in 1931. She spent most of her and her brothers' childhoods growing up in the place where her father's family had lived since about the 1500s, up in the Virginia Appalachians. But then Pearl Harbor was bombed, the USA joined world war 2, and a draft came up. It'd been calling up so many of the local men who simply. Did not come home. My grandma's parents knew that the family absolutely would not be okay without her father for any significant length of time, let alone forever. Her mother, Josephine, was visibly brown skinned and a first generation orphan immigrant who had already raised her own siblings by the time they'd eloped at 17. It wasn't that she wasn't capable, it was that she didn't have the bandwidth for any new traumas. They didn't trust that she could hold herself together for their kids and her siblings if she lost the one person who made her feel safe. (Ultimately her husband did die young, several decades before Josephine, but after all the children were grown and married. As expected, she did not take it well, and lived with my uncle for the rest of her life grieving)

So when his number came up, he dodged the draft. Sold everything the family had, packed them all into the car, and fled the state. (Apparently a Canadian radio jockey bought the family land back in the 90s and was incredibly frustrated that he couldn't convince the people in town to start calling it after his name instead of my family name lmao) My family was lucky. They had the resources to do this, and to arrange an exemption when they arrived in their new home. Not everyone manages that. And the alternatives can sometimes be a lot more impactful than "just" blowing up your entire life. Jail time, bodily harm, communal rejection, even death. It depends on your circumstances.

And yet people ALWAYS do it. They dodge the draft, or they go AWOL, or they find SOME way to stay out of the war machine. There will ALWAYS be people who choose and prioritize saving lives and denying a war more cannon fodder.

I think about this a lot when I hear about military, militia, or otherwise militarized organizational violence and human rights abuses. I think about the way humans tend to chafe at being denied their autonomy. How in intense hierarchies, people who are belittled by their higher-ups may often lash out at those they are above when they feel a compulsion to re-exert control. I think about the history of asymmetrical warfare, and what we know about what soldiers tend to do in those environments.

And at the end of the day, I think about how when these things happen, when they KEEP happening. Everyone has the choice to refuse. There have always been people who make that choice, even under the worst of consequences.

So what makes the difference between a person who refuses to supply the state with more power to exert violence with, and the person who complies?

[starzzmissthesun]

I'm here to hear!!!! Please rant about whatever you want cause I want to know everything abt this fic

Hii!!! So first and foremost I made a basic post about this and the characters' roles a while a go here,->

But I'll go into more depth now, because I have the full idea of exactly how it'll all go, though I still want to keep some stuff secret just cause it'll be more fun for y'all I think. As I said, this isn't going to exactly follow the plot of preachers daughter, but I will be using the main themes and subjects surrounding it, along with ones to do with the individual identities of reg + barty. This is set in Louisiana between 1995-1999, though there are memories to when they were kids(but not very often). Sirius is about 10 years older than reg and left the family when reg was just 8. And once his dad died 2 years later, his mother (who was already dealing with some issues) falls completely grief stricken and falls further into her mental illness, leaving Regulus to take care of both of them for her. Barty and reg used to be friends when they were quite young, but the first few years after orions death kept Regulus quite busy and he was kept home by his mom most of the time to "protect him" so they grew distanced. Eventually they got competitive with their schooling and all that. So this is where we pick up the story, Regulus is on his first day of grade 10, and because it's such a small town, they're in all the same classes. Now, the things I used from the story of PD especially were the different parental relationships, generational trauma(for both of them, but shown in VERY different ways), religious trauma(specifically Catholic because that's what I grew up in so it's the deno. I know best, but also. Cults. ), lots and LOTS of fate, the American Dream and pressures from it. This story is very dark and is very horror adjacent, but more so in an eery "some things not right" , disturbing kind of way, though there are some VERY in your face moments that are used for very specific reasons. The main settings for this is the small (made up) town of St peters louisiana, a road trip up the east coast, Nebraska (😧), Helena Montana, and California. There is SO SO SO much foreshadowing and metaphors/symbols I've hidden all over the place. Like genuinely, every thing they do or don't do is incredibly intentional for each character and themes. There is extreme foreshadowing within just the first few chapters. Anyways, any other questions, feel free to shoot another ask!! Also I will be putting out the pintrest board I made for it soon(which has lots of main plot points littered throughout it), and the chapter by chapter playlist because each chapter has a specific song. It's gonna veryyy long, ive still got the last quarter give or take to finish drafting out and I'm at 53 chapters so far. Anyways! I've started writing it finally cause I've been drafting this out for the last 4 months🙏 but, yeah, any thing else at all you're curious about to do with this send me an ask cause it my favourite thing ever😭

[saberpastel]

An update on where I've been

I've been gone for a month and will continue to be gone as I am Sick As Hell (insert awesome sfx here 😎⚡️🎸)

Seriously though, I thought I'd give you all and update on where I've been because I never actually told anyone. I actually am super ill right now, so what was a 2-3 week hiatus from the internet to lock in on making some stickers and bleaching fun designs onto hoodies and sweaters is now a month long hiatus. Because of sick.

What I'm hoping is that Christmas will mark the end of this icky sicky hell I'm in, and if not by then, then the New Year. And once I'm free? Oh boy do I have plans.

---

First off, I'll be finally figuring out a way to sell posters and other things I've made. I've been meaning to do this for a little over a year anyway, but now I have a good amount of stuff to actually fill a shop with. This is going to be one of the first things I do in the new year before anything else, so you can look forward to that if you were losing hope I'd ever get it done. :)

Second, if you're seeing this on my blog for Hiro of Hyrule, great news! Progress will continue as usual. (Aka: slow as shit, or at least thats what my brain tells me) I'd say I'm about halfway done with the sketch draft of the prologue as of right now, but if everything goes according to plan you'll be seeing the first finished pages of Hiro of Hyrule sometime in January.

Third and finally, I'm finally going to start making comics out of my dreams so everyone can experience the horrors with me! (Hahaha yayyyy yayyyy yippeee) This has been something I've wanted to do for a long time, if you've seen some of the posts about my dreams you'll see why. To save you from a lot of reading, the "why" is because my dreams are surprisingly cohesive, at least in terms of having a plot.

In case you were curious, the first issue in this series will be called Mother Rabbit. It's about a dream I had where I got lost in the woods and taken in by a family of rabbits. And nothing bad happens. :) (/lie)

---

Of course I've got much more planned after all this, in fact I think all the projects I've planned out could last me like 10 years or more. Turns out when you spend all your formative years building up ideas and never executing them, you get a lot of stuff to revisit when you're older and more capable of executing the ideas you had in your head.

Anyway, I'll be disappearing again ✌️ See you all next year

[physalian]

The Woes of Formatting

I am… 22 hours into formatting ENNS for print (now ebook) and am making this post for posterity’s sake to say: Formatting is so. Tedious. I had to start over thanks to Amazon going “ha you didn’t set your margins properly,” and also some last-minute changes to the text. Yesterday (7/24/24) after a full day of work, I worked on Book from 2:30pm to 11:30pm. Today is probably going to be about the same.

My neck hurts from staring at my monitor, my pinkie hurts from the strain of holding a computer mouse in one position since 6am. I have forgotten to cook lunch and dinner, but I did have breakfast.

It doesn’t even feel real yet. I am exhausted. But you know what feels great? Eliminating widows and orphans on the pages to erase the page count only by one. If you don’t know, those are the little hanging words on the bottom line of a paragraph or the top of a page that can be resized to fit on the line above it.

Getting to the last page of the chapter and realizing there’s only 3 or 4 lines of text left eating up an entire piece of paper, and then scrolling back through the chapter like a madwoman to nudge other paragraphs around to eliminate that extra page… I was literally cheering in my room in satisfaction.

For the record it shouldn’t take you this long, but I wanted it to be pretty, and Amazon is incredibly precise with their formatting requirements down to 0.001inches. So I had to reformat the cover art, which took a while. Then I had to fix the margins at least 3 times until no more errors showed up. Then I had to reread the entire book for last-minute changes. Then I had to format the chapter header pages.

Before that, though, I had to make the art for the chapter header pages. And re-learn how to do all of the formatting on InDesign.

So here I am, 22 hours in, finally onto the ebook that will be done tonight goddamn. And I just want to say, if it’s within your power to do as much of the work yourself as you can, fucking do it.

I’d be losing my mind with stress if I was waiting for a cover artist to make adjustments whenever they deigned to find my order a priority. Or the person I’d be paying to format this book. Losing. My. Mind. Maybe after the ridiculous goose chase I have been on with editors for this book has completely murdered my faith in paid beta readers to do shit in a timely manner (ENNS' first draft was written in 31 days, it took from 2/25/24 to 6/10 for my tiny army of betas and the AWOL failed betas to deliver, then 6 weeks for the professional copy edit). Anyway.

Yeah it’s taken me a long ass time, on top of two full corporate-nonsense workdays, but the satisfaction I have felt hammering this project out isn’t comparable to paying someone to do it for me. I got the manuscript back from my copy editor and I wasn’t excited, I was like “I needed this 10 days ago thanks” (in my head) and then got right back to work. Copy editor is necessary, don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely necessary, but the catharsis that I have now was definitely absent then.

So. Yeah. This is rambly and I’m not sorry. Even after the ebook is up for preorder there’s still work to be done and money to be spent. But I’m forcing myself to take a break, pause, breathe, appreciate the work I have already done.

I am hours away from launching my first published novel. Hours.

It doesn’t feel real. August 25th, 2024, Eternal Night of the Northern Sky's official release date. Gahhhhhhh.

—

For anyone curious:

Cover was done in Photoshop (I have the Lightroom student package for $9.99/mo)

Formatting was done in InDesign (%#&%# $35.99/mo after 7 day trial choke on rocks, Adobe)

Formatting did not need to be done in ID, but other one-time fees were either more expensive when I can cancel my subscription after the month is up, or the free versions were too limited and constricting in their capabilities.

I’m far too nitpicky to not have complete creative freedom and control over my work, with all the hours I have put in. So Adobe it is.

Back to work!

[cafeinthemoon]

Ruins - Part XV

Chapter 15

Wordcount 2,2k

Title Part XV

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warnings: none

Tagging @holdyourwine @lilacshouko @shirayuki-ayumi (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: I've been thinking that this chapter should have been more intense, and longer, and that has been holding me back, but after revising its draft I decided that it's good the way it is: direct, simple and romantic just as their relationship. The dinner/picnic scene was actually an idea I had a long time ago, when I was still writing the first chapter of this story, and I almost discarded it because I couldn't find a moment to include it in any of the previous chapters, but the idea of turn it into one of the most important moments of their relationship came recently, and I decided to try it out. I hope it turned out good XD

In your heart, you already decided you would stay with him.

Every moment you’ve spent together in that blessed land, from the very first words you’ve exchanged to the latest goodnight, every meal you shared, every study session, every conversation, every new, sweet discovery – everything you’ve experienced together wasn’t but the confirmation of what you knew by instinct since that day at the Library, when you’ve put your eyes on him for the first time: your dreams didn’t lie, and your souls belonged together.

It’s been months since then, and the guardianship period was approaching its end. Each human present would have to decide their destiny, whether staying with their gods or returning to Midgard, leaving their position to the ones who would be chosen the next year. Most of the girls to whom you’ve talked already did their choice, and they were as anxious to formalize them as yourself, but when they questioned you about your own future, the only thing you were able to say was that you just wanted your announcement to be a special occasion for you and for the god you loved.

***

You were on your day off and went to the kitchen by afternoon, by the hours that preceded the preparations for dinner: you knew the elves would be too busy soon and wanted to avoid causing troubles for them. Besides, the human girls used to arrive after those hours, and you were trying not to face curious inquiries, thus becoming the topic of gossip.

There were three elves at the kitchen by the time you entered it. If they were surprised to see a human there at that moment, they hid it very well, but no questions about your coming were necessary, for you soon asked their permission to use a corner with a sink and a small table to prepare a meal for two. As soon as they allowed you, you started to work. Of course, they were curious – maybe more than the girls would be if they saw you there – but no one dared ask anything.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been there, but you only noticed you were completely alone when the playful voice of Hermes reached your ears since the kitchen’s door, making you stop your hands and raise your head from the bowls.

– Diligent as always.

You turned to him and your heart warmed up to the smile he had on his face. It’s been a while since you had the chance to properly talk: Hermes was occupied with the matters of the guardianship and the personal needs of the girls, and you were busy with your own preparations and the management of your relationship with Hades, so that your tasks and preoccupations would mostly lead you to different directions, but you still had that friendship you started developing since the when you came to his chambers to talk.

– It’s good to see you too, Hermes-sama – you replied, turning back to your task – I’ll be leaving soon, I promise. I don’t want to disturb the routine of the elves and make my human friends starve.

The gods’ messenger laughed as he stopped by your side, observing the progress of your work. You didn’t need to give him any explanations about it.

– You are really invested in your new role, aren’t you? – he commented, smelling the content of the bowl you had before you; and, with a smirk, – If all of this doesn’t convince him that you will be the perfect wife, I don’t know what will.

You couldn’t see your own face when you heard that, but you were sure you became the personification of embarrassment; you knew that if you tried to hide it from Hermes, you would just make a mess instead of finishing your work, so you just stopped and decided that he was going to be the first person to know about your choice.

You leaned on the sink, cleaning your hands with a cloth.

– Hermes-sama… since you were the first person to whom I talked when I met him, I think it’s only fair that you become the first one to hear about this – you left the cloth on the sink and smiled – I will formalize my decision of staying by his side this evening. Of course, my wish to stay is clear to him, but I want to give him a proper answer, so I’m working on it right now – you indicated the food.

The god opened a genuine smile of contentment with your words.

– So, there is no longer doubts in your heart, y/n?

You sensed your eyes getting filled with tears.

– No, not a single one!

– Are you scared?

– Yes, of course I am! – you laughed – But I don’t care! I’m going to do what I have to do, that’s all that matters!

By everything you’ve seen from him, you could tell that physical affection wasn’t among the most prominent trait of Hermes’ personality (given that he barely hid his surprise when you hugged him after leaving the party), but he seemed to find appropriate to make an exception that time: approaching you and holding your face, he left a tiny kiss on your forehead, as an uncle or an older brother would do.

– If this is the case – he stated with a proud smile – Welcome to the family.

You thanked his reception and, precisely because of it, you felt a bit ashamed for what you were going to do next, but you also knew there wouldn’t be a better time for it.

– Hermes-sama, I know it can sound absurd to do this when I just joined your family, but…-- you brushed your hair behind your ear – May I ask you a little favor?

He laughed.

– If it’s under my reach, I don’t see any problem.

You shrugged.

– Well, I believe it is, because it’s about a message I want to deliver.

His eyes glowed.

– A message?

– Yes. Today is our day off, so we have no studying sessions – you explained – Hades-sama has been occupied with other things and I decided to take the free time I have to manage the matters concerning us. I want to communicate my decision to him, but I want to make something special – you indicated the things you were preparing – So, if it’s not too much trouble… Can you tell him to meet me in the Secret Garden, near the fountain, this evening? He would know exactly which place I’m talking about.

– Ah, I know that place too – he gave you a playful blink of his right eye – And let me say that you couldn’t choose a better spot for this. So, of course I can deliver your message. I’ll talk to him as soon as I can.

You nodded in respect for the god’s help.

– Thank you so much, Hermes-sama. You’re really a true friend.

– You don’t need to thank me, y/n-chan – Hermes gave you a soft smile – I am a messenger. This isn’t but my job.

***

That evening was as beautiful as the ones that preceded it, but to you it was superior: the rosy and purplish shades of the skies were more vivacious; the warmth of the air was more pleasant; the song of the birds sounded sweeter to your ears, and the perfume of the flowers was more seductive.

You were on the bench at that spot in the Secret Garden where the fountain was, the same place where you talked and shared your first kiss. Besides the main recipe, you’ve put in the basket some of his favorite desserts, as well as a pair of fine tea cups that matched the teapot where you’ve put the pomegranate tea. As you organized everything upon the bench, you couldn’t help wondering if everything was well settled, if the food was really tasteful or if you chose the most appropriate spot to eat.

You were so concentrated in your task that his arrival went unnoticed by you until he decided to speak.

– Hermes said you wanted to meet me here.

You startled when Hades’ voice reached your ears, which made both of you laugh.

– By the place you chose, I can tell it’s something special – as he approached the bench, the sweet smell of the pots seemed to please his nostrils – Yes, not only by the place, but by your work as well.

You smiled.

– Thank you – you opened a pot and started to fill a plate with food – I was never good with surprises, but I thought it was worth trying this time.

Hades sat by your side, and you gave him the plate and the cutlery.

– Thank you – he whispered; then, looking around, – Isn’t it curious that the moths and bugs didn’t come to share the dinner with us?

You stopped and looked around too, surprised.

– You’re right! It’s strange I didn’t notice it until now...

He didn’t continue to discuss this, but you observed the way he looked at the surroundings as if he had something in mind; whatever he might have thought, however, the time to speak about it didn’t come yet, and you forgot the case.

Hades changed the subject.

– So… Won’t you tell me what is this all about?

You took a cup to yourself and filled it with the tea.

– I will, but, first, I need you to try this – you pointed the plate in his hand – Depending on your response, I will decide how I will proceed.

– You’re acting so mysterious that you’re starting to scare me, little one – he smirked, alternating his gaze between you and the food – What are you up to?

Your cheeks warmed up and you laughed.

– Don’t worry, there’s no spell in it! You haven’t told me anything about magic yet, remember?

Laughing too, he accepted to try your food at last, and you followed him before the bugs appeared to participate in the feast.

***

In the end, Hades approved the dinner, and he made sure you knew it while helping you to put the used plates back inside the basket.

– So, you did all of this by yourself, little one? – he was saying – It was wonderful. Why did you hide such talent until now?

You laughed.

– It wasn’t on purpose, I swear. I just don’t see it as a great talent – you shrugged – I only know the basics on cooking. But, if this is your response to it, I think I can continue.

He crossed his legs.

– Well, I’m all ears.

You breathed deep, took the basket and placed it behind your spot, approaching him.

– The period of the girls’ guardianship is almost over. It means that my time here is almost over as well – you took his hands on yours upon your lap the same way you did when you talked at the night of the party – And I made my decision.

You saw the glimmer in his eyes, preceding the emotions you later sensed in his voice.

– You did?

– Actually, I did it a long time ago, but I wanted to make a proper announcement – a tear fell through your cheek, tickling your skin as you smiled; you wiped it and approached his hands to our lips, covering them in kisses – I’ll stay with you.

After saying those words, you caught every subtle change in his ecstatic expression, the slight blush on his cheeks and the sweet smile growing on his lips, and the first sign of tears filling his eyes, and everything you saw there convinced you that there were few things in this world that can compare to seeing true love in someone’s face.

Heavens… he never looked so beautiful.

– So... you’re saying yes, y/n? – his hands cupped your face, his thumbs caressing your skin as if you were his most precious jewel – You’re staying with me?

You put your own hands upon his.

– I am... To you, I would say yes a thousand times.

Your throat tightened with emotion when you realized that, given you just accepted to be transformed into a goddess, your words gained a literal sense, and you would have the chance to give him thousands of positive answers for the next ages. Hades was aware of this too, and his response to this was to uncross his legs and take you on his lap and, just like he did when you went there for the first time, cover you in kisses; you, surrounding his neck with your hands, focused all your attention in giving him the sweetest reciprocation, enjoying the remaining taste of pomegranate on his lips.

For the past months, you’ve worked well in your verbal communication, but that time no words were needed: your mutual understanding has reached a point where entire sentences could be replaced by a touch, a caress that would say the same twice as deep, and where you didn’t have to worry about anything, for the kind of love you built was functional with both your mouths together or separated.

There were still other important matters to solve, of course: you would have to send a message to your family; you would have to talk to your parents about the future you chose to yourself, apart from your people – apart from them; Psyche’s ritual, the celebration, your presentation as a new deity and your honeymoon. But that wasn’t the moment to discuss any of this: that was the moment to enjoy yourselves. The time to plan, to manage and organize the officialization of your union was yet to come.

And, fortunately for you, time was the least of your preoccupations now.

Part XVI

[thefandomlesbian]

Hello hello!!! Your posting about typing up (or rather, procrastinating typing up, lol) your notebook has me curious: what's your writing process like? 👀

Process? We're supposed to have a process?

In all seriousness, my writing model has more or less stayed the same since middle school, where I didn't have access to any devices but a pen and paper were always within reach. I've been a fast touch typer (~90-100 wpm) since sixth grade, so when I had downtime at school, I would write in a notebook and type everything I had written when I got home.

At that age, I generally just typed exactly what I had written down. But as I got older, I started revising as I typed, even going over my drafts with a red pen and a highlighter to point out things that were inconsistent, overdone, unnecessary, or just didn't fit with the narrative. It wasn't (and still isn't) unusual for me to axe multiple pages, hundreds of words, when I realize that a scene doesn't work or I don't want to keep it.

I did go through a phase early in college where I skipped the notebook. Frankly... You can tell. I wrote an AHS fic over half a million words (and I'm proud of myself for it--but if I had stuck to tried and true, I would've told the same story with the same themes and symbols at a much more readable length). It took a few years for me to realize the reason I was struggling with being so verbose, unable to cut anything, was because the act of staring at a document on a screen forces me to skip a vital step in my storytelling.

For me, typing is revision. If I don't like the direction a scene is going, I skim it to get the point of what I need to communicate, and then I close the notebook and rewrite without looking at the original, generally with a better notion of what is going to flow with the final draft. The original doesn't interfere with my thought process because I'm not staring at it. It's something I haven't been able to do on a document. With the existence of copy and paste features, I cheat myself and keep too much. Handwriting also forces me to slow down, since I can't churn out 90+ wpm by hand, so I can't vomit every purple prosey nonsense that crosses my mind, and by the time I catch up with what NEEDS to be on the page to communicate my point, I'm ready to move on. The overall quality of my work improves dramatically when I force myself to take the second step instead of writing directly into my document.

Obviously I still use a lot of tech features--Ellipsus has been a total game changer for me. And depending on the story, some things I do write directly in a doc, usually if it's going to be short or if it's something lighthearted and unserious where I don't inordinately care if it's not perfect. But for the stories that I churn out with the intention of having some quality, I always do the overwhelming majority of it by hand, and then revise by typing.

Which is all fun and games for stories <100k, but for stories like JOY (which is currently 188k, about 2/3 finished in my doc, with an entire notebook-and-a half not yet typed), it becomes extremely cumbersome. I wouldn't want to handle a story like JOY without the revision process, as it would be prohibitively long. But with my process, it's also unsurprising that it takes me months or years to get things straightened out in a way that satisfies me.

And it doesn't help that I've got this habit of simply *skipping* a scene that isn't interesting me in the moment, so like the picture of my notebook, scenes are scattered in non-chronological order, tabbed by post-its with the label of what is happening in the scene and, according to the outline, what chapter the scene is supposed to occur in. With the dynamic nature of things, it's par for the course for me to move a scene to a different area of the story, rewrite it beginning to end, swap POV characters, or strip it of the original context to give it a different thematic implication for the overall narrative. And since I often go 6+ months before I double back to do my typing and revising... By the time I get around to it, I don't remember jack diddly shit about the changes I intended to make (hence margin notes, post-it notes, different colors of ink, highlighted areas, often with few clues so I still wind up confused as hell).

So that's the process, if you can even call it that. It's confusing as hell, but it works for me, at least a significant portion of the time. Needless to say, I am a true believer in writing by hand for rough drafts, and I encourage all writers to give it a try--not for a few minutes, but for a few hours, with NO tech available, with an analog clock nearby if time is important. Put the cell phone in another room on silent. Turn off the TV. Don't listen to music with lyrics; if silence is disturbing, white noise, instrumental music, or sometimes music in an unfamiliar language. I very sincerely think most writers would have an entirely different relationship with their work, their writers' block, and their overall creativity if they spent even a small amount of time disconnected for their work.

[thelaurenshippen]

this month’s mixtape is for Sawyer Watson, one of the protagonists of my queer outlaw western (currently drafting). if you subscribe to my newsletter (linked in the previous sentence), then you’ll have already read these, but for everyone else, my notes:

Similarly to last month's Tex Bullock playlist, I'd never actually written annotations for this playlist, despite the fact that I made it all the way back in 2019. And as I did last month to catch you up if you're new: Desperate Hollow is my currently unpublished queer outlaw romance. Tex Bullock and Sawyer Watson grow up in a gang together before Sawyer shoots Tex and leaves him for dead. Seven years later, they end up in the same dead-end town and have to deal with everything they've never said. 

But. Yeah. 2019. That's when I made the original three playlists for this story (this being the third I've shared, though it was made simultaneously with Tex's). It's odd listening to them now, because the characters they were made for feel like sketched versions of them, rather than the completely filled out people they are now. But they didn't change too much from their original conception, so everything still holds. 

Sawyer does not belong in the life of an outlaw. That's not to say he's bad at it--as Tex swoons over observes when they're in their late teens, Sawyer is exquisitely good at violence, he just hates it. He'd much rather think or talk his way out of a problem, so it's a good thing he's incredibly smart and persuasive. He isn't charismatic in the traditional sense - not flirtatious, but commanding. He knows how to tell a story or express an idea and make people listen. And he's curious about everything - always reading any nonfiction tomes he can get his hands on or learning a new skill. He plays piano beautifully and when he lets himself feel joy it is all encompassing. Sawyer has the reputation for being the one person who can truly rein Tex in, but he doesn't like being viewed as Tex's handler - he doesn't think Tex needs to be handled. Tex, the unholy terror of the West, needs to be protected. Which makes it hurt all the more when Sawyer is the one to shoot him and leave him for dead.

1. "Sad, Sad Song" - M. Ward

This is where Sawyer starts the story--he's been living on his own for seven years, with the assumption that Tex is dead in the ground and that Sawyer is the one who put him there. And there's something so beautifully tragic to me about someone going around and asking the entire universe why their true love is gone. I especially love that idea in the context of Sawyer fully knowing that he's the reason. 

And so I went to my mom/I said "Mama, please, what do you do when your true love leaves?"/She said "the hardest thing in the world to do/Is to find somebody believes in you" - Sawyer, made an orphan in his adolescence, would love nothing more to talk to his mother and father about what's happened. But they, like Tex, are gone, so there's no one left in the world who believes in him.

God, I promise, the whole playlist isn't going to be dour sad songs, I'm realizing now this is sort of a downer opener. Tex's is a lot more energetic throughout and that's because he's the one who basically had to crawl out of his grave. Sawyer's the one who has been living like a ghost himself, weighed down by grief. 

2. "Me and Mine" - The Brothers Bright

This scene isn't really in the book the way it used to be, but the idea of Sawyer - someone who hates violence and has never killed anyone in his life - going completely bonkers scorched earth because someone hurt Tex is one of my favorites to think obsessively about. If anyone else had shot Tex, that person would have absolutely been the first and last victim of Sawyer Watson. But instead, he has only himself to blame and I'm sure he won't punish himself in any kind of really sad and mournful way or anything. 

I'm a man of my word/I will burn your kingdom down/If you try to conquer me and mine - Sawyer is absolutely a man of his word, and he is also definitely deeply possessive. A thing that Tex would be totally normal about of course if he knew. 

3. "House of the Rising Sun" - Lauren O'Connell

What would a moody Americana playlist be without an even moodier cover of this song?

Sawyer is not a gambling man, nor one who drinks to excess, nor does he ever partake in the saloon girls all over the Wild West (he is very, very gay and demisexual - also, I know this song isn't explicitly about sex work as much as it is the other two things, but idk, the first time I heard the phrase "House of the Rising Sun", I just sort of thought of a brothel), but he is the sun to Tex's moon, so I do like that imagery. 

But that's not all - I like that the lyrics have so much about parents - a bit of a running theme for Sawyer, who had parents who were wonderful and actually had an impact (positive) on him. I think Sawyer would see the life he leads after they die as some kind of let down for them - that he's been led into ruin and vice, when they were such upstanding moral people. But, then again, Sawyer wouldn't trade it for anything because his "house of the rising sun" isn't a place or a vice at all, but Tex Bullock, an addiction he'll never give up. 

4. "Jolene" - Mindy Smith

See first bullet on previous song. 

Gay demisexual Sawyer jumps out here in full - Tex is the only one for him and always will be. So he watches Tex - bisexual and promiscuous (I know it's a bad bi stereotype - one that, as a bi person myself, I find deeply annoying but...Tex just enjoys sex. Idk what else to do about it) - go to bed with person after person and just...silently sulks about it for years. One of those "both of these people are so jealous that they're blind to the other's jealousy" situations. 

(It should be noted, if its of interest, that these are the sexualities I see them as having from a writing standpoint but from a story standpoint, it's 1898 so of course they weren't using any of these words. Mostly their sexuality is something demonstrated rather than talked about, which is partly why Tex thinks Sawyer is probably interested in nothing at all).

5. "Take Me to Church" - MILCK

Okay, jeez, this playlist is, like, mostly covers. I love a cover, but this is excessive even for me. 

But there is something inherently queer about this song (originally by Hozier, patron saint of lesbians; also, watch the music video), and I love this female cover that maintains the pronouns, to make it explicitly gay. There was also a half intentional/half subconscious thing of filling Sawyer's playlist with female artists. There's a lot of subtextual gender fuckery in the story (necessary for any good Western in my opinion; see also, last week's newsletter) and whereas Tex is a construct of American masculinity covering up a classic "pretty boy" exterior, Sawyer is classically handsome and strong, but much more comfortable in both his masculinity and femininity. 

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies - I am rotating like a rotisserie chicken about this line when I think of these two. I was going to explain more, but I'm basically already writing out the whole story here, so I'm gonna hold back for now. 

Sawyer grew up going to church and is mostly ambivalent about God now,  but his and Tex's devotion to each other is something holy to him, even when they're just friends.

6. "Lemons" - Brye

A bit of a hard tonal turn, but there needed to be some lightness in the midst of all this angst. This song and the next are representative of those moments when Sawyer tries to remember Tex's frustrating qualities or, eventually, when Tex is back in his life and just as infuriating as ever.

You're a sour little boy, with a fragile masculinity

I've tried to remain patient with your stupid shenanigans/But you've given me no other choice/You've tried to knock me over by acting like you're above me/And pretending that I don't have a voice - this is exactly what Sawyer felt about Tex when they first met and how he feels about a lot of people through the years. Sawyer has very little patience for bullshit. 

7. "High Horse" - Kacey Musgraves

See the last bullet on the previous song. 

Oh, I bet you think you're John Wayne/Showing up and shooting down everybody/You're classic in the wrong way/And we all know that you know the story - see: Tex's playlist featuring "John Wayne" by Lady Gaga

And also, I think Sawyer sometimes feels a little this way - that he kills the buzz by opening his mouth and being practical, that he's too stuck on his high horse to be fun. 

8. "I Walk the Line" - Halsey

Female cover strikes again! 

So. I have a terrible confession to make. I'm not a huge fan of Johnny Cash. Don't get me wrong, I think his songs absolutely rule, I'm just not a huge fan of his vocal style, which is why I end up with a lot of covers of his stuff. 

Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you/because you're mine/I walk the line - now, Sawyer, deeply uninterested in anyone who isn't Tex, doesn't have problems with fidelity (to be fair to Tex, neither would he if he actually had what he wanted with Sawyer - that is a bi stereotype that I just fully hate and, in general, I'm just not interested in cheating storylines), but he's still walking a line. He's walking Barlowe's line. He sees how dedicated Tex is to the gang and even though Sawyer could break out on his own, he stays and follows Barlowe so that he can be by Tex's side. 

9. "Missing Me" - Angie McMahon*

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the line loving you is lonely is just sooooooooooo. Well, that's the whole thing, really. 

This song is about someone who is being ignored by their paramour, so not a perfect 1:1, but the object of affection being someone who swaggers, chatters, talks them to nothing...well! That's Tex! 

And, to get back to the point: loving you is lonely. That's how Sawyer feels. He knows that Tex is devoted to him as a friend and brother-in-arms, but he doesn't think that Tex loves him the way Sawyer loves Tex and that is so lonely. And then, once he's gone, all that Sawyer has is that loneliness and missing Tex and still wishing that, somehow, wherever he is, Tex misses Sawyer too. 

Loving you has thrown me/You have been my only rock on the ground

[lifeofkaze]

Hello,

I hope you're well. I've been meaning to ask you a few questions about the process of turning your fanfic written with the-alchemist "When stars Ignite" into an original story, particularly as regards the characters.

I don't have any similar projects, but I'm incorrigibly curious.😅 That said, feel free to ignore my questions if you don't want to answer.

How do you manage to give the characters a new depth and an identity of their own, while retaining the essence that appealed to readers of the fanfic?

What difficulties have you encountered in transforming fanfiction characters into original characters?

To what extent do you change their story arcs and character traits?

Thanks in advance for sharing your experience and I wish you all the best in this project (and in life!!!)🌺🌺🌺

This ask has been sitting in my ask box for an embarrassingly long time, and no small part of the reason was just how absolutely emotional your interest in the project (despite having read the first version already) has made me.

Knowing that there are people out there who are interested in this project I've put (and am still putting) the greatest part of my blood, sweat and tears into... I am very, very grateful for that.

And ofc, I'm grateful for these incredible questions too, so let's get into them!

How do you manage to give the characters a new depth and an identity of their own, while retaining the essence that appealed to readers of the fanfic?

If you looked at the latest draft I have sitting printed out on my desk, you'd notice that the characters are anything but consistent (yet). That is because, as in fanfiction as well, the more you write them in their adapted state, the more you get to know them. Towards the end of the book, the characterisations become more and more consistent as compared to the beginning, when you can still see the "old" personalities shining through. It's a hard balance to strike between wanting to preserve personalities that have made the story work and trusting your characters enough to let them grow into their own, at the risk of running into dynamic problems further down the line.

Ultimately though, I have yet to go wrong with trusting my gut.

2. What difficulties have you encountered in transforming fanfiction characters into original characters?

When the rewrite process started, I thought it was a matter of splashing some new paint (aka names) on the established characters and polish up the writing. I thought, it would take maybe one or two months to do.

Oh boy, was I wrong.

As well as the points mentioned in question 1, the safety net of background knowledge fandom characters bring to the table cannot be overestimated. With my new set of characters, and an audience in mind who had no idea about the quirks, personalities, or conflicts of these characters, you slowly begin to realise that a whole new method of introducing them is necessary. Also, many things you'd put into an AU as an easteregg suddenly doesn't make sense anymore in an original story, looking very strange and out of place if left in the manuscript, so all these things needed to change and be adapted.

That being said, the biggest difficulty I encountered was the added pressure of knowing that the characters only have one chance at a first impression. Only the things I put into this book and the way I make them translate to the readers are how my characters are going to be perceived. It's a very scary and stifling thing, which took me quite some time to overcome (and might still take a little more).

3. To what extent do you change their story arcs and character traits?

It's hard to say at this point. Some of the background stories obv were very different, with esp dynamics being entirely new compared to the canon characters back then. Most of these things were kept, but even early in the writing process, the characters began to diverge from where they started (esp Orion/Leon were growing apart in personality so quickly, it was astonishing). I've tried to retain their core characteristics but as mentioned above, at some point I decided to go with my gut and let the characters do as they saw fit. For some, this resulted in monumental changes, for others less so, but I think we've reached a good balance by now, or so I hope.

[brookezephyr]

Brooke's Children (Canon Divergent)

(A version of this blog was originally posted on my Kofi)

!WARNING FOR NSFW SUBJECTS/SEX TALK!

Haven't decided if Brooke will canonically have children in the future or not... but I have a few drafted.

Includes some of my head canons on the boys.

I don't have a particular interest in being pregnant/giving birth, but I thought it would be fun to theorize what my children with my fave boys (Lucifer, Simeon, Levi + others opinions) would be like. (might change them in future) 

Lucifer

 Lucifer is inpatient when it comes to intimacy. If there is something wants he'll ask for it. However, he is a very private person and likes to be in control of who he shares things with. He would prefer to have Brooke to himself, but hes not upset that they love his other brothers romantically. Hes cool with polyamory (hes also with Diavolo). At the very least he might be a little annoyed that Simeon made a move on Brooke.

Side thought: Do condoms exist in the demon realm?? 

Lucifer likes kids, he's used to taking care of his brothers. But he's kinda traumatized after raising his first child, Satan, who is prone to outbursts and doesn't appear to like him. When he finds out Brooke is pregnant he has a bit of a panic moment "Oh crap I made another one."

Once hes over his shock, Lucifer is very happy and supportive. Dotes on Brooke. Diavolo also offers a lot of support for the two of them. The others while a bit surprised do their best to help. 

Lucifer is even more attentive when the child is born. Determined to give this child more support and love then he had been able to give Satan. 

Child #1 - Hes a lot like Lucifer, but a bit softer. Thinks his older brother is a bit manic, but cool. Doesn't get along great with Child #3.

Child #2 - Brooke wasn't sure who was their father until they were born. Lucifer was scared it was him: was not ready for another kid. Levi to his despair knew it wasn't him. Everyone thought it was Beel for a while. It turned out to be Simeon, who was also surprised, but very happy. 

Levi when they were trying to figure it out: "You aren't sleeping with anyone else right?"

Brooke: "No, only you three."

Child #2 is very baby like and joyful. Child #1 and #3 baby him a lot despite him not being the youngest. 

Levi

Levi is very shy and has trouble expressing his feelings to Brooke tho they are clearly expressed on his face. Cuddling before and after intimacy is very important to him! He would prefer a mono relationship with Brooke, but also doesn't want them to be sad, so he tolerates it. Things get better after having the kids and he learns to respect Lucifer and Simeon's contributions. However, he is very upset finding out he is 'third' once again (honestly probably what leads to baby number 3 being conceived).

Kids? Levi never really thought about it. They seem like they would be a pain and disrupt his otaku activities. He's very good with kids tho, from helping with his younger siblings. Levi is very happy when Brooke is pregnant because they are happy. He is very clingy during the pregnancy.  

Levi has a bad habit of being envious of his son. 

Levi: "You were inside her 9 months. That's longer then I ever was."

MC: "... please stop saying stuff like that to our child."

***

Levi: "If you want to hug someone with my face hug me."

Brooke: "Levi he's four."

Child #3 - hes more outgoing then his parents (would willingly go camping with Lucifer). He loves his parents and siblings, but doesn't get along with Child #1 very well. Thinks hes stuck up. Also thinks Levi is cowardly; rolls his eyes at him a lot for it. 

Simeon

 Simeon is just going with the flow. He loves Brooke and is curious. But he listens to her when they say no. Open about his feelings, but doesn't go out of his way to make others notice. Hes not really sure how to take the lead, but learns quickly. Doesn't mind Brooke having children with others. Has a bit of a breading kink.

Simeon always wanted a big family that was close, like he and Lucifer's brothers used to be. Wanted more kids, but Brooke said no. Uses gentle parenting style.  Always willing to help out with any of the kids. 

Wasn't in the Devildom for part of Brooke's first pregnancy, which he feels bad about. Would be troublesome if the celestial realm found out about his kids, so he's not around as often as he would like to be.

Child #2 - looks a lot like him.

Child #4,5 - twins? look more like MC?

Diavolo

Diavolo  wants kids. He's also supposed to give birth to the next demon king, but can't with Lucifer. However his father is asleep and can't say otherwise at this time. Mostly involved with Lucifer and Brooke's kid. He's willing to babysit to skip out on work if needed. 

Mammon

 Mammon is not okay with this. Wanted to be the one to have kids with Brooke,  but its kinda too late for that. He has bittersweet emotions hanging with the kids. He tried to put on a brave face for her, but was a crying mess during every labor thinking Brooke could die. He always insists on being the first one to hold the babies. 

Asmo

Asmo is super cool with all this. Overjoyed to have such cute nieces and nephews. He's a huge support to Brooke during and after pregnancy since everyone else was a mess. "Solomon aren't they cute little creatures? What if we made our own :3." 

Satan

Satan was not too pleased with the pregnancy announcements. He thinks Brooke made the wrong choices. He is particularly mad at Lucifer who neglected him when he was younger and is now having another kid. He vows to have nothing to do with 'Lucifer's spawn', but once Child #1 is born he changes his tune and becomes determined to be the best big brother! 

Beel + Bel

The twins are specifically attached to the children of Simeon and MC, always spoil them. Maybe its due to the fact they have both Lilith's and and angels blood. They found out the hard way how far that bond would go when MC was pregnant with Child #2. Beel became aggressively protective of MC (Hence why everyone thought Beel was the father) and could not be left alone with them or no one could get near them later.

When Beel started acting weird again, MC knew they were pregnant with Child #4,5.

Bel feels very relaxed with the kids, like a missing part of him has been filled again. 

Barbatos

Barbatos is cool with the whole thing as long as it doesn't cause him more trouble. 

Luke

Luke doesn't understand why MC would chose to have children with demons. Hes disappointed in Simeon for getting involved, but won't expose his secret. Would Simeon's kids be Luke's siblings? 

Thirteen

Thirteen is not sure why she was asked her opinion on this matter. Would help MC out if they asked. Kids have sparkly souls! 

Solomon

Solomon did not plan for things to go this way. No one really knows his opinion on this, but he is silently seething with rage. 

Other Notes

One of the kids might be named Lilan or Lilith after Lilith. 

Picrew by anjubatus: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1918788

[atherix]

What is the current year the fic is set in? I know it’s been 10,000 years since the last Warden appearance, but I’m assuming it’s some time after that for society to pick itself up enough to start counting years ago, and I’m curious how long that was. Is the year like 8217, or like 5742, or even as recent as 3108??

Also what’s the calendar like? Is it basically similar to Earth with 12 months of about 30 days each or like. Is it different??

And back to the years thing again - do we get to know how long ago/how long after the Warden was it when Grian and Jimmy (and Gem 👀👀) parted for the last time? I’m assuming it’s somewhere between 3000-7000 years ago/years after the Warden but I’m curious to hear if we get a more specific time frame.

Thanks so much!!

I need you to know I have a whole ramble on this in my drafts where I'm trying to figure everything out. I shot myself in the foot by making everything super vague hgfhjjk SO BEAR WITH ME AS I RAMBLE ABOUT THIS

So Mumbo was born in 3998 and it's been ALMOST five hundred years since he was born, but not quite. I did a lot of math that is incomprehensible now and both Belle and I landed at the current year being roughly 4487 at the start of Midnight in which Tubbo is still 17; he turns 18 during Midnight Lies, still in 4487 a few months after Grian meets Mumbo, and 20 during Midnight Alley, which means a little more than 2 years has passed, so the current year is placed in ~4489. (this also means at least one year has passed between Midnight Lies and Midnight Visit, since Tubbo was 19 in Visit lol). This means they started counting years again nearly 5,000 years after the Warden happened.

So, remember; Boatem was founded 2,000 years ago (roughly 2400's), and the Hermetian kingdom was founded four hundred years later, around the 2800's. Yet Scar describes Boatem as being one of the oldest settlements on the continent, with the people from Boatem having come from across the sea. Yet they've been counting years for nearly 5,000 years, and we know the Ancients were settled on this continent 10,000+ years ago, and there were people who survived the Wardens...

So what happened to the survivors' settlements? Why is it that in 10,000 years, one of the oldest settlements on the entire continent is only two thousand years old? Well...

Strongholds are above Ancient Cities. Desert temples, jungle temples, ocean monuments, the ruins Drowned are often found around... well, where did they come from? They're all younger than the Ancient Cities, yet older than current society. These were all once marks of civilizations that no longer exist

Something happened in those ten thousand years that reset society again :) And whatever that was is what people are counting from. It wasn't as big as the Warden, ofc, but it was bad enough that few cities or villages or settlements from before it survived, and those that did were often abandoned for the even older, bigger, stronger cities that would prove to withstand time.

ANYWAY I GOT SIDETRACKED BY SOMETHING THAT ISN'T EVEN IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT um-

So I know while they age the same way we do in line with their years (for example an 80 year old Hermetian looks like an 80 year old person from Earth) their years are longer than ours, and their seasons are fucked because their world doesn't work like ours (for example, their moon moves just like the sun, always opposite of it. Makes you wonder where the moonlight comes from *coughGodsarerealcough*) so they can't even judge the years by the seasons. The only thing that changes, besides the phases of the moon, are the stars, so they have to judge their years on the stars (is Midnight heavy in star imagery? Yes, yes it is). Where is this constellation now? and that sort of thing.

NOW HERE'S THE REAL PROBLEM. I basically already established that their days run on a 24 hour clock. So there's 24 hours in a day. How many days are in a week? How many weeks in a month? How many months in a year?

... These are things that I never established, even to myself. I know I want their years to be longer than ours, but not significantly. I just need to figure out where the extra time comes from, and how it's broken down into smaller units. Like we know Scar's rounds took him 2 weeks when he was still delivering blood, and he would deliver to Mumbo once every three months. I already established once every three months is roughly 4 times a year, so the extra time can't have more than ~14 months in it or much less than 12, but we don't know how months are broken into days and weeks and stuff so. I need to. Figure that out. I'm leaning towards a 13 month system just because I think it's funny to use 13 but I could just stick with twelve with each month being longer, base ten is a very common... well, base, so maybe a system of 10 days per week, which if we kept at 4 weeks in a month would be ~40 days and if we add a week ~50 which at 12 months a year would be 480-600 days in a year bUT-

As for how long after the Warden it was when Jimmy and Grian and Gem left the Alley, well 👀 That will actually be revealed in the next chapter.

[mabsolgirl]

Headphone warning

Transcript below! :3

I made this a while ago, around when I first started making art of the Supernova AU AU. There have been some slight changes since then but I wanted to post this anyway since its been just sitting in my drafts and starting to get dusty. The changes aren't enough to alter anything in the audio in a major way anyway so neeeeh.

It's been a while since I did voice stuff so hopefully I don't sound terrible lol

Obligatory @linxprime ping cause au of their au

Watch me pull world lore outta my ass cause I still don't know what im doing

-------------------------------------------------------

In the ruins of a crashed and destroyed ship, you find a strange audio file labeled "Project Supernova". You made a copy of it and now you have the time to give it a listen...

--------------------

Transcript

Warning. The following video is the private property of [REDACTED]. Any outside or uncertified personnel caught viewing this video will be terminated by any means necessary. Viewer discretion is advised.

Log 1.

I am Dr. Jane Doe and I’ve recently been put in charge of “Project Supernova” after the old one quit. I decided to keep audio documentations of my findings and observations. I find it easier for me to document things by recording them by audio then writing it all out later.

Project Supernova is a study on the abilities of intelligent lifeforms, how they manifest, if different abilities can be manifested in specific situations, and researching the phenomena of Berserkers. Before I came in, an embryo was successfully fertilized and grown into a stable state. There were many failed attempts with this being the only one that has made it this far, living for roughly 12 years as of this recording. To be honest I question the decision to make a lifeform rather than study the cases of people who already have abilities, but the higher-ups wanted to do this rather than the simpler way.

Regardless it is planned to come out of the tube once it reaches 13 years, which is a couple months away. It should be stable enough by then. Until then we monitor it for any changes.

End log.

Log 2.

Right, so I forgot to mention info about the lifeform last log. My bad, heheh.

So, the lifeform is female and it was made with the DNA of multiple organisms with the two primary ones being Human Earthling and Cuixcus. I think I pronounced that right. Cuixcus was used for their adaptability and Human Earthlings to counteract the weaknesses of the former. It has bones, can withstand hotter temperatures, and while it doesn’t need to, it does breathe oxygen. The DNA from other organisms were used to help stabilize it so it doesn’t just die spontaneously. The genetics chosen specifically to see if heritage has an influence on what abilities would appear.

Now the real reason I am logging this. Earlier today it was monitored that specs of light were floating around the lifeform’s tube. They looked so… ethereal. It was like looking at a cluster of tiny stars. I should probably mention that the lifeform is in an unconscious state. It has been like this since its creation and this was the first time these lights were documented. They disappeared before we could study them. Maybe it dreamt them up? We’ll have to keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 5.

Today it came out of the tube, emphasis on “it”. We weren't supposed to take it out for another week but I guess it had other plans. One second it was in the tube, the next the lights appeared again and it was out and fell face-first into the equipment. It teleported itself out.

Since it wasn’t connected to the machines anymore it woke up quickly after that. Of course we were all freaking out but it didn’t seem too bothered by us. We ran some tests and it was stable. It bruised its head but other than that it wasn’t significantly injured.

It’s a very curious one. It would grab and inspect what we had. We let it for the most part and it would hand us back what it had when it was done. Right now it’s in its own room that we had to quickly scramble to finish putting together. It’s a quiet little one. The team and I decided on the name “Nova” after the project. As per usual we’ll keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 27.

A lot happened today. Today is the first day Nova went into her Berserker state. The first thing I noticed was that she was much calmer than I expected. I expected a rampaging beast like the other cases of Berzerkers but Nova would just… stare at us. We kept an eye on our monitors to watch to see what she does and then we watched her create light orbs; like the ones from one of my first logs but much bigger. This time we were able to scan them to see what exactly they were…

They’re stars. I am not joking, she was making literal stars, balls of collapsed burning gas, in her hands! From our observations they disappear when she loses focus but still incredible nonetheless! We later figured out the key piece to what her abilities are: a limited form of matter manipulation. She can teleport herself, and those she touches, by willing her own matter into another space and the stars are made by manipulating the matter of gas and dust to collapse in her hands. It is theorized she can manipulate any form of matter so long as physical contact is made.

After a while she went out of Berserker state and fell unconscious. We hooked her up to make sure she’s alright. Right now she’s comatose; we’re hoping she comes back alright.

End log.

Log 39.

Earlier today one of the higher-ups came in and told us that we were not needed on Project Supernova anymore and that in the coming days a new team would be coming in to take over the project. Of course we were outraged. We were consistently giving them good results! We did what we were told! We did nothing wrong, didn’t question a thing. Nothing we said could convince him otherwise. None of us wanted to leave the project. I’ll admit, Nova has grown on us. She’s like family and now for some reason she’s being taken from us. When he left we all decided to look into it ourselves.

The more we dug, the more things began to not add up. Then… we found something. We’re not here to do what we think we’re doing. We’re gonna get Nova out of here. This place is no longer safe. We’ll get her out and we’ll be the whistleblowers to this place.

End log.

Log 40

…I’m… I’m sorry…

Dr. Jane Doe, Dr. Bailey Shindo, Dr. Margoba Entano, Dr. Manbagea Nals, and Dr. Ripley Hedon have been terminated. Project Supernova assets will be transported to [REDACTED] for further completion by a new team effective immediately. End communication.