#this is the story I posted an excerpt from a week or two ago ^^

[merlinfromberlin]

Nooks & Crevices - Chapter 1

- 5+1 fic of Autobots playing Hide and Seek with a young Bumblebee - a little bit silly and light-hearted; at least for now :) 

In the first chapter: Optimus teaches Bumblebee how to play Hide and Seek. 

Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Summary:

Hiding was a skill essential to those growing up on Cybertron during the Civil War. However, for a certain vibrantly yellow sparkling raised by the Autobot High Command, and highly sought after by the Decepticons, being able to stay undetected is even more vital than most. It’s a good thing then that Bumblebee is a natural.

Or: 5 times Bumblebee ‘played’ Hide & Seek with his family and 1 time a Decepticon played with him.

Short excerpt: 

When Bumblebee raised his servos towards his caregiver, silently asking to be picked up, the Prime obeyed without hesitation. Carefully he lifted the sparkling up, pulling the tiny minibot close to his chassis and allowing him to rest close to his spark.

For a moment, the yellow sparkling seemed content with the idea of allowing himself to be lulled back into recharge, leaning heavily into Optimus’ chassis as his doorwings drooped sleepily. Then, however, he started to squirm and dug his tiny digits into the crevices’ of his caregiver’s armour in an attempt to scale the Prime’s height. An attempt that ended futilely as Optimus carefully pried Bumblebee off of himself and set him down safely in his lap.

“Op’imus,” complained the sparkling, a pout edged into his faceplates. “Promised play.”

“Bumblebee,” answered the Prime without missing a beat before carefully petting the minibot in between his audial horns. He smiled softly as his charge leaned into the touch. “I promised to teach you a new game after your nap. Remember?”

“Climb?” asked Bumblebee, his whole frame perking up hopefully.

“No, it is not climbing,” replied Optimus with a gentle chuckle. The minibot’s doorwings drooped, his faceplate full of disappointment. One of these cycles, the sparkbyte was going to be the death of him. “Although we might play that later if you still want to.”

At that, Bumblebee brightened visibly, fluttering his doorwings lightly.

“The game I want to play with you first, though, is called Hide and Seek.”

“Hide and See?” The minibot had cocked his helm to the side, studying his caregiver with big curious optics. Optimus’ smile widened slightly.

“Hide and Seek, yes,” nodded the Prime softly. “It is quite simple, really. When I offline my optics, I will count to 30 and while I count, you hide. Once I am done with counting, I am going to look for you. The game ends either when I find you or when I tell you to come out of hiding. Understood?”

“Bee hide,” repeated the sparkling after a moment of silent contemplation, servos resting on his own chassis. Then he pointed up at Optimus’ faceplate. “Oppie seek. And count.”

“Good,” praised Optimus as he scooped the sparkling up in his servos and got to his pedes. His frame creaked slightly, stiff from sitting still for an extended period of time. “Do you want to try playing?”

“Yes!” Bumblebee nodded enthusiastically, his pedes dangling freely as the Prime carried him into the middle of the room. There he gently sat the young minibot down as he lowered himself into a crouch.

“Alright. Then let me count so you can hide.” As soon as Optimus offlined his optics, he could hear tiny pedes shuffling around. “One. Two. Three…”

Even as the lack of visual input unsettled him, the Prime made sure to count steadily, reading the numbers from a countdown he had placed at the corner of his HUD. Once he had reached ten, the sounds of steps seized. There was a quiet shuffling of metal on metal, but at thirteen even that noise subsided and silence settled around sparkling and caregiver.

“… Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.”

When Optimus onlined his optics once again, he could not quite stifle the short burst of surprised laughter escaping his intake. The Matrix of Leadership not only allowed it, but even hummed in approval. Apparently the Spirits of the Primes Past, too, were amused by his sparkling’s antics.

[magic-is-something-we-create]

Writeblr Re(rere)intro that's a year late!

Hi! I'm Pax, and I write Big Books that keep getting darker and darker in subject matter 🎉🎉

Basics about me:

he/him or they/them, Mid 20s

Favorite genres: Fantasy, SciFi, Horror, Mystery

Favorite authors: N. K. Jemisin, Tamsyn Muir, Brandon Sanderson, Pierce Brown, Samantha Shannon

Other things I do: Digital art (including commissions!), Twitch streams (usually art or writing sprints, occasionally video games), digital art assets and fonts (PWYW on Ko-Fi!)

Basics about my WIPs:

THE MILLENNIUM SAGA

High fantasy/Steampunk epic, 8 books planned. Book one: Firebreathers (160k words; ~700 pages) Book two: Echoseers (148k words; ~600 pages) Book three: Goddess-Touched (15k as of posting; 3rd attempt at drafting) First person, Multi POV What starts as a simple rebellion against their local Citylord becomes a flight - and fight - for their lives, as Ember Timber, their family, and their newfound friends are forced to flee overseas from the vengeful general who will stop at nothing to earn her Eternal King's favor, and will in fact relish hunting her own son and grandchildren for sport. But along the way, the crew learns that the Eternal King's immortality was not granted in return for his success as the Chosen One long ago, as they have always been told - and the sacrifice for such a thing is not only paid dearly in blood, but on its way to being repeated.

WHISPERS

Dark fantasy Noir. Currently with beta readers. 172k words; ~750 pages. First person, Dual POV. Set in the same world as Millennium Saga, ~5 years after the series concludes. Marika Swiftfoot owes her life to the Shadow of Fowden, the sorceress leader of a terroristic crime syndicate based in the north pole. When the man she once loved finally comes to collect on that life debt ten years later, she plans to kill him the moment it's safe. Too soon, after all, and everyone else she's ever loved will join him beyond the Veil. But hate isn't the only feeling that lingers between them, and when they're offered another way out of their debts, the lives of a few innocents looks like a bargain compared to the life of cruelty ahead of them. Lorelei has been hunting the Shadow for twenty years, and looking for the sister who disappeared for thirty. And here, names are legacies: she wants to earn Hopebringer before her legs give out for good, to erase the stain her father's name has left with Vowbreaker. And for that, she sees one way forward: she must never break her vows, no matter how small. The Shadow must die, and the Whispers with her. Her sister must be found, even if all that's left to find is a story. She must find answers for every case she takes on, even if she doesn't know so much as the name of the man who's gone missing.

THE LOST

Space opera webcomic. First scene fully illustrated; will release once the first chapter is complete, a week after Patrons receive the final scene. In the far reaches of space, the term "Media Empire" is quite literal; the Watchers have extended their influence throughout their galaxy filament with the help of their beloved Coliseum, and the Champion therein. After all, having a shapeshifter capable of replicating anything leads to some gruesome, spectacular fights, made all the more heartrending when they are the last of their kind, trapped in the ship molded from their kin's corpse. But while the Watchers have total control over what happens in the pit, they cannot predict the audience. And they certainly cannot predict the malfunctioning psychic implant of an assassin in the front row, and the loss of both opponents and a long-time prisoner of war to the escape.

I also post art of all of these semi-regularly, including in-progress stuff, as well as excerpts and rambling braindumps!! I'm also a huge worldbuilding nerd, so if you ever want to learn more about the worlds I'm writing, don't be afraid to ask!! I love talking about them :D

Boosts are appreciated <3 tell me about your own WIPs in the tags/replies/wherever!! I love learning about what people are working on!

[greasegotahold]

This post started out with a point then turned into rambling abt the stage show lol

So like. at least in my irl circle and from what I heard yesterday, a lot of ppl prefer the musical to the movie. Acknowledging the bias of theatre ppl toward theatre, that's not the reason I heard most; what I heard most is that the musical stays closer to the book than the movie. Granted idk how many if any of these ppl have seen the complete novel extended cut of the movie, but even so this argument sits wonky with me

Bc the musical takes quite a few departures from the book, some p dramatic. Darry is not the gang's leader, Dally is. Randy is an ensemble part with one line; Cherry gets his ending "even if you win, nothing will change" moment. Sandy is already gone. Evie and Sylvia are gone. Steve is not a big part of Soda's life. Two Bit isn't acknowledged as an alcoholic. Johnny was only jumped a week ago, and it's not a secret who did it. Bob is the one who jumps Pony at the start and even comes up with an excuse for it. Dally doesn't give Johnny his heater, Dally commits a far more direct suicide, no sickness or court proceedings, so on and so forth.

Now I understand why we made just about all of these changes: the show is just about 2 hours as is, not counting intermission; streamlining needed to happen, for time and for clarity of storyline. I even prefer a lot of the changes (Cherry is just. Such a livelier character lmao. She's given stuff to DO. I love her in the book and movie but the stuff they added in the musical I simply love.) I bring this up just bc it. Is honestly just as different as the movie if not more so in how it departs from the source material.

Which means when ppl are saying it's closer to the book, they mean in feel.

And in many avenues; talking about the the extreme accessibility of the book as an adult with other adults, attempting to articulate my issues with the film adaptation, and then later attempting to defend the movie on those same shortcomings, I think I know why.

It's the ever-present narration. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Ponyboy tells his story, he doesn't show. And that makes the book an extremely straightforward read, and absolutely how he can tell us so much shit that happened in so little time, but it also makes it hard to capture in a standard movie adaptation, especially when the movie also needs to trim down and streamline characters and plot points.

But what does Pony do throughout the musical? He narrates. Yes the story plays out real time, but it's still interspersed with these slowdowns where he talks to the audience, where he's narrating.

And I think that's what's really clicking so well with the musical, despite all the changes to characters and their dynamics and plot beats.

And for certain things, the impact is still there, they just changed it around. Johnny was jumped last week instead of months ago and we don't get the excerpt abt how he wound up buying his first blade, and how he would kill the next soc who tried to jump him, and Dally no longer gives him his gun, but he does give him the 6 inch switchblade when Johnny is genuinely worried his dad will kill his mom, and then shows him how to stab to kill. The circumstances are different, but we still get Dally giving Johnny a lethal weapon. The motivation changes for why Johnny carries his blade, from self defense to an explicit want to protect others, but this makes it a more direct setup for when he kills Bob to save Pony.

And a lot of the straight up original additions to the plot feel seamless. The added backstory for Cherry's parents, her dad's alcoholism and her mom's kind of just. Surrender to hopelessness and despair. Not only explains why she's so touchy about Bob drinking, but it makes the change from going along with him to stop a fight into her refusing to back down after breaking up feel justified. To be clear, I don't fault book and movie cherry for doing what she does in that scene, she's trying to keep everyone else safe, I just think that the change was set up and well executed in the musical.

Also sidenote but in Justice For Tulsa...I have so many feelings after getting to see it. The cop shining his flashlight down on Two Bit as he gets jumped, but then he just keeps on walking bc why would he care abt a greaser...Bev buying right into the boys' escalation against the greasers vs Cherry's outright rebuke and then Marcia is over here looking genuinely Physically nauseous over having to choose a side. And of course the moment where the cop beats Dally after handcuffing him, that speaks for itself.

(Sidenote, unrelated to anything, I just wanna say when I listened to the soundtrack for the first time, years since I had read the book or watched the movie, somehow I just knew when the soc boys started singing their threatening section, that they were jumping two bit. I guess I just had a faint buried memory that Two Bit was the revenge-jumping victim lol)

[triptychgrip]

In Totality: Yuuri’s family secretly learns Russian in order to surprise Viktor at their wedding

Though I teased this story last week, real life sadly got in the way of my being able to post in time for Day 6 of Viktuuri Week (‘Happiness’). But, better late than never!

You can now read In Totality, my one-shot about how Yuuri gets his family/friends to secretly learn Russian in order to surprise Viktor during the Katsuki-Nikiforov wedding reception. In addition to chosen family feels, this story features Yurio stepping up to the plate to ensure that no one butchers his native language, the Nishigori triplets acting with astonishing levels of independence, Viktor doing some scheming of his own, and Yurio/Otabek/Mila tallying an Official Cry Count at the wedding. Below is an excerpt that I hope piques your interest in this story, or my other Yuri!!! on Ice fics!

—

“If anyone saw the most recent videos I have on my phone, they’d be thoroughly creeped out,” Yuuko dead-panned, switching to Japanese temporarily.

Mari smiled, and even Yurio cracked a grin from his side of the laptop screen. 

This was her and Yuuko’s third speaking practice session with him, and just a few days ago, the Ice Tiger had sent the two of them a number of videos in which he’d taken close-up footage of his lips while he’d pronounced different vocab words and sentences. 

So far, one of the hardest parts of learning elementary Russian had been training her brain to give the correct signals to her mouth to form the right shapes. 

They were so different from the ones used in Japanese!

 “I don’t know if you can tell, but I took that last one in the locker room, and Viktor walked in just as I was about to start speaking. I told him I was making a video for my dentist. What kind of creep dentist would ask for hand-made videos, anyway?”

Yuuko laughed so hard that she spewed water over her diligently-recorded notes, and Mari moved out of the line of fire just in time.

Once they’d all settled down, Yurio eyed her, appraisingly.

“Ok, your turn. Ready?”

Mari cringed but nodded, having to remind herself that she’d seen this particular teenager in a number of unflattering situations. Namely, those post-temple onsen soaks, two summers ago. 

So they were on even ground.

…somewhat.

One of the realities of learning a language was resigning yourself to the fact that you were bound to look and sound dumb, especially in the beginning. With her brother’s encouragement, she’d told herself to lean into that as much as she could.

“Hello. My name is Yuri, and I live in St. Petersburg, Russia. How about yourself?”Yurio began.

She took a second to think, trying to recall the content from the last few Meiji Academy lessons that she’d completed. 

Sohma-san, Kitagawa-san, and the other virtual instructors were excellent and always made time to answer questions well after the lesson had ended. But even so, there was something far more freeing in being able to practice this stuff with Yurio. 

[girlygguk]

Did everything sort out for Minji and namjoon 😭😭😭😭

omg a lotttt of ppl were wondering abt minji and namjoon i was not expecting that!!! i did write a drabble for first class a while ago which i didn't end up posting bc i dont loovee it but i'll put a lil excerpt from the drabble under the cut bc it basically explains namji's current status xx

📍delta sigma phi

jungkook sat on the floor with his back pressed against the couch, comfortably nestled between your legs. his left hand cradled a glass of strawberry soju, while the thumb of his right hand lazily stroked the back of your calf.

your head rested against minji’s shoulder, the warmth of the living room and the faint buzz from the alcohol making everything feel cozy and soft. minji’s voice was a quiet murmur as she responded to her boyfriend's question, her shoulder shifting gently under your cheek.

minji and namjoon had been going steady for almost three months now, and it had been four since the party. 124 days since the most overwhelming night of your life, and 118 since the greatest.

minji had ignored namjoon for nearly two weeks after the frat party, determined to keep her distance despite how relentless he was in trying to reach her. at first, you hoped she wouldn’t give in to him. you knew it hurt her more than she let on, even though she tried to act unbothered.

she had told you later how namjoon explained that he’d been confused by what he felt for her. that he was sorry. that he was scared. that when he kissed that random girl, he immediately realized he didn’t want to kiss anyone else but minji ever again.

when you heard that, personally, you couldn’t help but wonder how the smartest guy on campus could be so clueless... then again, you weren’t exactly the best example when it came to healthily dealing with your own feelings, were you?

still, you knew that once minji heard that, your hopelessly romantic roommate didn’t stand a chance.

she made him grovel, though, much to your amusement. watching the 6’1” gentle giant follow her around campus like a lost puppy for weeks was kinda cute. eventually, minji relented, and now she and the computer science major were textbook official.

the soft strands of jungkook’s hair peeked out from under his backwards cap, inviting your fingers to play. your boyfriend tilted his head back slightly, giving you better access, a quiet sigh escaping his lips while you gently played with his hair.

original story

[amenemisa]

Aaah! Mushroomfields and their fictions! Their fictions always make me feel better and worse!

I drew this drawing one or two week ago after reading their fiction about reincarnation again. -and i will read it again... who loves pain? me?? nopeee(!)- Then I couldn't help but paint and here it is. Hmm I have to say that I actually drew this drawing entirely on their fiction, so they were totally my muse. But as a result, i played around with a thing or two myself, so at this point I can say that i went a little bit out of the original text they wrote. There was no such information about the outfit Fukuzawa was wearing but I like to see Fukuzawa like this. And Mori by Mushroomfields didn't get the job done with a single finger grip, hehe. Anyway! Long story short, my muse was definitely Mushroomfields and what I'm drawing here outlines the scene in their fiction, but what I'm drawing is far from the scene in that fiction. Ehm... thank you for listening to the turmoil in my mind, and I strongly suggest you read their fiction. I'll leave a short excerpt here for you~

<Fukuzawa stood in utter boredom amongst the crowd of dressed up guests filling the ballroom, filled with too many enemy organisations that Fukuzawa was throughly sick conversing to as though they wouldn’t all pull a gun on one another the moment this night of a truce was over. It felt fickle, something Fukuzawa didn’t like to indulge in when he was nothing if not a realist. Yet, there was one man amongst them all, one enemy somewhere in the crowd that Fukuzawa would be more than happy to indulge. It showed.

When finally Mori had come to rescue him from his circle of small talk. The younger man passed Fukuzawa’s conversing circle, his body coming close enough for their shoulder’s to brush, and his eyes didn’t dare look to Fukuzawa, the two not even giving away a hint of acknowledgment to the other as Mori ghosted by. But, hidden from view of any possible prying eyes, Fukuzawa felt Mori’s pointer finger touch his palm hanging by his side, the other tracing a slow line from Fukuzawa’s pinkie all the way up to his wrist, teasingly tempting in the way Mori knew Fukuzawa would follow.

Mori continued walking by until Fukuzawa watched from the corner of his eye as the younger left outside the large door’s of the ballroom, before he cleared his throat. The circle stopped idly talking for a moment to direct their attention to Fukuzawa as he nodded once to them all, gracefully placing his half drunken Champaign glass on a waiter’s tray passing by.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Fukuzawa regarded, before turning on his heel and swiftly locating his way through the crowd until he reached the ballroom’s doors. Just like that, in one simple touch he was chasing after Mori like two opposite ends of a magnet compelled towards each other.>

And yes I'll probably be on the exam when this is posted on my tumblr, wish me luck~

[centrally-unplanned]

River's Edge & The Flat Battle? Field: Deep Diving a Single Word

So the 1993 manga River's Edge, by Kyoko Okazaki, was finally officially released in English last week. It's a problematic fave of mine, and (as I discussed in my review of it many moons ago), the peak of its edgy angst is this poem, standing alone on a field of black, near the end of the book:

"The flat battlefield" is a phrase that has really stuck with me since I read it, and anything that has that level of sticking power is a meaningful piece of art. My opinion of the manga has grown over time.

So when I got to this section in the official translation and I saw:

I was a bit bummed, "flat field" really just lacks the impact "battlefield" ha-

-wait what?

Reprinted by Permission of SSL/Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc. Copyright by William Gibson, originally published in "Robert Longo"

Okazaki didn't write this, William Gibson did?? The American cyberpunk fiction author? He...writes poetry? Turns out by the way this attribution is in the original manga, it just didn't survive the scanlation process.

I was curious about both how and when this translation shift occurred (if it ever did), and the origin of this poem - which was really hard to find! "Robert Longo" is not a book, he's a person - an American artist and filmmaker who directed the 1995 movie Johnny Mnemonic, which William Gibson wrote the screenplay for (and wrote the short story it is an adaptation of). When you search books by the two of them nothing really turns up - at least on the western side of things. In America they never really did publish a book. But in Japan they published a few actually - some too late for 1993's River's Edge, but in 1991: 

Publisher Kyoto Shion's Art RANDOM series, vol. 71, featuring the collected art of Robert Longo, edited by Kyoichi Tsuzuki...and featuring inset poetry by William Gibson. Funnily enough one of the listings (Fukkan) actually notes:

現代美術コレクターだけでなく、ウィリアム・ギブスンのファン、岡崎京子のファン共々気になる作品集だと思います。 This is a work that will be of interest not only to contemporary art collectors, but also to fans of William Gibson and Kyoko Okazaki.

The poem from this book - which is called "The Beloved: Voices for Three Heads" - is way more famous as a reference by Okazaki than as a work by Gibson. Which turned out to be a problem when I wanted to dig deeper and find the actual poem and its context; when you google it you get...almost entirely Japanese results discussing River's Edge! Which means I couldn’t actually find the poem, just Japanese translations of it. And I am pretty sure the poem was not originally in Japanese - the bookseller listings note that the book is bilingual in both Japanese & English, the Gibson poems would be the obvious English candidates. 

However, buried beneath piles of mid-2000’s Japanese Okazaki fandom blog posts, I found the work of academic Gary Westfahl. He wrote a deep dive book in 2013 on the works of William Gibson, and in the abstract header for Chapter Five:

It also considers Gibson's poems such as “The Beloved: Voices for Three Heads,” his ventures into writing song lyrics, and the approach he used in some of his later nonfiction works

Ba-bam - and with a quick trip to LibGen pulling up a pdf version of the book, here we go: 

Gibson's first literary publications, in 1963, were poems, and he obviously remained interested in the form, since in the 1980s and 1990s, when artists approached him about collaborative projects, he usually provided poetry. To date, Gibson has published three poems, not counting fanzine efforts, along with two other poems available only as excerpts.  Asked to contribute to Robert Longo's 1989 performance piece Dream Jumbo, Gibson wrote a poem, "The Beloved: Voices for Three Heads," later included in a book, Robert Longo: Art Random, largely devoted to documenting that show

Gary fucking Westfahl, coming through in the clutch!! I was curious why this combination art book/poetry existed, but now it makes sense; the poem and the art were already a packaged deal as part of a performance art exhibit. And this also explains why the poem was so hard to find - as of 2013 Gibson only ever published 3 poems in his career! I am curious how this play got over to Japan - Dream Jumbo premiered in LA in 1989, but additionally in 1989 Longo had a titular "Robert Longo" art exhibit at the Seibu Contemporary Art Gallery in Tokyo, which had its own art book published - its fair to say he was "big in Japan" and so the success of Dream Jumbo made its way over. He would actually run a sort of gallery-version of the performance in Tokyo in 1995, for which he gave an interview that taught me that the name "dream jumbo" is pulled from the name of a popular Japanese lottery; perhaps it was always destined for Japan and also Robert Longo is a bit of a weeb.

ANYWAY the actual text of the poem: 

Our love knew The flat field

Yeah, it was originally ‘field’. Westfahl also confirms that this poem was only ever published in print in Japan, making it virtually unknown outside of it. Which, and this is kind of cool, means that the publishing of the translation of the Japanese manga River's Edge is the first time Gibson's "The Beloved: Voices for Three Heads" has ever been published in the West. 

Knowing that the original is ‘field’, I checked the original Japanese page for River's Edge and:

戦場 - Battlefield

The first kanji is literally 'war', this is not ambiguous, there is no other read here. River's Edge changed the word from "field" to "battlefield" - assuming that the original art book did not have its own Japanese translation of the poem. On reflection, it probably did; it's not like Okazaki herself is a translator, and in the manga the poem’s translation is credited to translator Hisashi Kuromaru, who had previously translated Gibson’s novel Neuromancer. However, it’s not like I have a copy to check, so I can’t say for sure.

…or so I thought! But when looking around for Kuromaru’s translation credits, I stumbled on the most precious resource one can find; a blog post from an Okazaki-otaku a decade+ after the fact who was obsessed with the poem and hunted down a copy of the original Art RANDOM artbook to see it for themselves. In their post they give a line by line comparison of the poem and its translation…credited to Kuromaru, confirming that this book is where the translation comes from. And lo and behold:

Kuromaru is the source of our creative twist. Chad of chads, “Tach” from 2005.

What is funny is that this is not like a tiny little quirk I am interested in - I mean, okay, it's mainly that. But "the battlefield" is actually a small part of Okazaki's brand as an artist. Here is a sketch she sold titled "Girl's Life on the Battlefield" (It uses the same kanji)

Here is a link to an exhibit of her work in Japan that was titled:

(Her art is incredibly on point btw).

Here is an entire book by art critic Noi Sawagari investigating How we survive on a flat battlefield - Kyoko Okazaki's theory! The one Amazon review says its content is "thin” and it was “tiring to read”, 2 stars, ouch.

But you get what I'm saying- Okazaki leaned into this phrase. I'm actually a little let down, when I read River’s Edge and was so taken with this specific moment I thought it was a ‘me’ thing; turns out the entire country of Japan was equally smitten and it became the tagline for the manga. Real loss of hipster points for me on this one! Still, I really think “battlefield” is way more impactful - this elevation of the phrase would not have happened if it was just ‘field’, I feel confident on that. And I am not calling the translation ‘wrong’, or anything. It is just one of those tiny contingencies, this liberal translation and odd series of events, art crossing from LA to Japan, led to a brand for an up-and-coming josei manga author that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. And in fact, I am willing to say that the translation just published by Kodansha of River’s Edge is… not right. It doesn’t matter what Gibson wrote - this is Okazaki’s poem now. She wrote a manga about the battlefield, all of her fans agree, and a truly faithful translation would build on that.

So I’m sticking with “battlefield” and y’all should too.

[bbrooklynbabe]

tag by: @littlemarianah

the rules: if you're tagged, make a new post and share one or two sentences (or lines for artists) from your unposted WIP with zero context.

Katniss and I linger in the classroom, the only ones left as we're finally released for our two weeks of recess. I deliberately gather my belongings at a sluggish pace, hoping she'll catch on to the unspoken message.

(you got me there bc my real wip is being posted, but i'm in my first week of my new job so i haven't written anything new. i wrote this excerpt a few months ago for another story)

tagging: @katnissmellarkkk

[thana-topsy]

Liminal Bridges [Excerpt]

I've made some changes to Liminal Bridges while writing new content/gearing up to start posting again! I've always been the type of fic writer that flat-out refuses to go back and change/edit/re-write things I've already published. HOWEVER. The way the plot is progressing, there were a few things I wanted to tweak in earlier chapters. Namely.... I wanted to add J'zargo into the story. Here's what a couple of scenes from Chapter 7 now look like, featuring my favorite pyromaniac:

--

The classroom was surprisingly full when Neloth pushed through the door and walked to the head of the room. The soft murmur of conversation died immediately as all eyes tracked him with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. 

“Whatever you think you know about the school of Mysticism, I want you to forget it.” He let the book in his arm fall heavily against the desk. “With the blessed collapse of the Mages Guild, the study of Mysticism has become more and more scant, very rarely leaving the halls of the Psijics on the isle of Artaeum. However, the Telvanni have known and utilized the practices of Mysticism for millennia.” 

He opened the book. There was a soft, collective noise of scrolls being unfurled and ink pot lids being flipped open. 

“First, the thing you must understand above all else is that to study Mysticism is to open your mind to the inherent paradox of reality. It is not for the faint of heart, nor for the weak willed. My intent is not to lead any of you into madness, though it is always a possibility. Now…” Neloth heard someone in the front row of the class audibly swallow. “What types of spells and rituals fall under the category of Mysticism?” He looked out at the class expectantly. 

Silence followed. 

“Sometimes, I ask questions that aren’t meant to be answered, but this one is. So speak up and don’t waste my time.”

“Absorption spells.” The answer came from a Khajiit who sat in the center of the room. He was familiar—the one who had gone toe-to-toe with Neloth in his first lecture on Destruction magic over a year ago.

“Correct. What else?” 

“Teleportation,” the Khajiit answered again. 

“Correct, again. Are you the speaker for the class?” He shrugged and leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “J’zargo seems to be the only one to have answers.”

“Very observant. What else?” Neloth asked him directly this time.

“Soul trapping.”

“What else?” 

J’zargo opened his mouth, then paused, faltering. He looked to one of his classmates beside him, then back to Neloth. “Divination?” 

“Correct.” A slow smile spread across Neloth’s face. “But why?”

“Eh…” The Khajiit’s cool demeanor was gone, replaced with nervous doubt. “This one… does not know.” 

“Then this is where we shall start for today. I do hope the rest of you were writing all this down while your classmate carried your dead weight.” There was a flurry of movement as quills frantically scratched across parchment. 

“We’ll begin with the principles of Mysticism.” 

—

“Master Neloth, I had a question regarding the assignment.” 

The first week of classes had come and gone with relative ease. Neloth had only held two lecture-heavy classes and sent all of his students off to do a significant amount of reading before the next session. It was really quite simple. There was nothing to question. 

“What might that be?” he asked, only half paying attention as he copied his most recent research into his journal.

 “Will we need to know all of Sotha Sil’s lessons on Artaeum for the exam, or are there like… certain terms to memorize?”

Neloth paused in his writing, slowly looking up from his journal. The student, a shaggy-looking Breton boy, took a nervous step backwards. 

”I’m sorry. Were you expecting me to compose a vocabulary list?” 

The student shook his head, dark brown hair falling into his eyes. “No, sir, I just meant—” 

“You just meant ‘are there any shortcuts I can take’? Is that right?” 

“No, I—”

“For the exam, you and you alone, will be required to transcribe from memory the entirety of 3rd of Sun's Dawn, 2920. Any future inane questions will result in more assignments.” Neloth pointed at the door with the tip of his quill. “Out.”  

The boy opened his mouth, sucked in a breath, held it, then quickly ducked his head and strode towards the exit. Neloth went back to copying. It took him a long moment to realize there was someone else still standing in the room. He set his quill down with a loud sigh. “Yes? What else?” 

“This one also has a question, but not about the assignment.” It was the know-it-all Khajiit from class. He had a muscular build beneath his mage’s robes, the fur around his muzzle carefully coiffed into a ridiculous little mustache that framed his mouth. “J’zargo can wait until class, if you’d prefer.” 

“You’re already here and you’re already bothering me. So you might as well waste my time now as opposed to later.” 

The Khajiit smirked, shuffling through his scrolls. “J’zargo simply wanted clarification. You said that Mysticism and The Old Way were used interchangeably by the Psijics. But while ‘The Old Way’ can refer to Mysticism, Mysticism does not necessarily refer to The Old Way, yes?”

“Correct. Because one is a religious philosophy, while the other is a theoretical school of magic.” 

“This one is simply confused by what separates the two.” 

“Did you read Tetronius Lor’s treatise on Mysticism?” 

“Yes, which is why J’zargo is confused.” 

Neloth rubbed at his temples with a sigh, but the question was intelligent enough. Worthy of answering, at least. “The Old Way refers specifically to the practices of the Psijics on Artaeum. They use meditation, thought exercises, and riddles to better connect with what they believe to be the purest form of magicka. The study of Mysticism is far less spiritual, at least as far as House Telvanni is concerned. It’s more of a science than a religion— identifying patterns and working with cause and effect, direct action and reaction. It is something that can be mapped and traced. Experiments can be performed and repeated with reliable results.” 

The Khajiit nodded, looking thoughtful. “Forgive, but are these not the same thing?” 

“Hardly,” Neloth scoffed then paused. “But explain your reasoning.”

“Well, meditation and riddles… This is just another way of identifying patterns, yes? Thought exercises are psychological. Scientific, as you said. So it feels, to this one at least, like it is just splitting whiskers based on pomp and circumstance— one group refusing to be associated with the other.” He tilted his head curiously. “J’zargo thinks it counterproductive to say they are two different things instead of considering them as a whole.”  

Neloth pursed his lips. “J’zargo, was it?”     

“That is this one’s name, yes.”

“Well, J’zargo.” Neloth smiled thinly. “In addition to your reading assignment, I’d like you to write a short essay on the similarities and differences concerning the religious and secular practices of Mysticism.”

J’zargo’s eyes glittered mischievously. “Are you punishing this one for asking questions?” 

“Do you feel punished?” Neloth asked as he leaned back in his chair. J’zargo shook his head. Neloth nodded. “Good. The Arcanaeum should have a copy of Concerning the Psijic Order as well as Origin of the Mages Guild. Those are the main resources you need.” 

“Thank you, Master Neloth.” 

Neloth pointed to the door with the feather end of his quill. “Out.” 

[justanotherblonde]

it's sasodei week 2024!

i have precisely one thing to contribute, but ffs it's not done yet grr!! maybe we can blame my dog... she demanded i come play with her no less than nine times (i kept track) as i wrote this post (she does this by shouting at me then humping my leg to show me who's boss, sometimes pulling on my sweater sleeve with her sharp li'l teefs, beagles, man, i tell ya...) 🐶

anyway!! here's a TEASER of my Day 3 Band/Rockstar/Idol AU story ahhhhh!!! it's not even titled yet!!!!! i don't even really know what the tags will be! and i haven't had time to make a header image!! 😫

but this i know, oh this i know:

Sasori is first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic

He has a dirty little secret hobby: listening to metal (among other genres that are definitely not classical)

One of the bands he listens to is called C4

Guess who's the lead singer???

Yes, you guessed it, it's Deidara, singer/song-writer, perhaps much more...

In this AU, everybody lives!! Well... okay fine, Sasori's parents still didn't make it, i'm sorry

But that means two important things: Third Kazekage is alive! And there are a LOT of Uchiha running around.

There's more, a lot more, but you'll have to wait until i steal more minutes and hours from my dog and my work! but i'll give it to ya, come hell or high water! or wildfires, earthquakes, debilitating PM 2.5 ratings, or uh... dare i say... another pandemic??? FEAR NOT!

if you want to wait for the full thing to drop to read, i've left the teaser excerpt below the cut.

a million thanks to @sasodeiweek for hosting this event and encouraging us SasoDei creators to flex our creative muscles! loving all the contributions so far!

and without further ado...

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

Chapter 1

Rehearsal ran circles round Sasori’s ears. The music followed him always, all hours.

The fine, agile fingers of his left hand twitched; his right hand swayed side to side, marking the strokes of his bow. Eyes half-closed, his feet kept time on the pavement as he walked. It was Haydn this week, Cello Concerto No. 1 in C major. A weighty yet familiar responsibility for Sasori, first chair cello of the Sunagakure Philharmonic.

He sighed. Rehearsal had wrapped half an hour ago. He was on his way home, and tomorrow was a rest day. He didn’t need to torture himself like this. 

The headphones around his neck were a comforting weight, as friendly and intimate as the straps of his cello case on his shoulders. He flipped them over his ears and dug in his coat pocket for his phone. Scrolling through the saved playlists on his music app, he skipped all of the classical “homework” and went straight for his guilty pleasures: dance-pop, glam-rock, musicals… and heavy metal. 

No one at work knew about his low, low tastes.

Well, the Third had known. 

Sasori gritted his teeth, biting back unbidden memories. Now he definitely needed to blast his brain clean with some noise. 

Something heavy.

Something loud.

Something to transport him far away from the sand-scraped streets of Sunagakure.

His thumb landed on the album he was looking for.

Art is an EXPLOSION by C4. Track 1: “Light It Up.”

From that first haunting guitar chord, the tension Sasori held in his chest and face dispersed. He rode that twisting whine down, down… someplace dark and cool, far beneath the earth. As the barreling drums built to a crescendo, he held his breath—wait for it!—

A million years, through timeless stone I’m damned to walk this path alone This darkness, all I’ve ever known…

The lead singer had a deep, melodic voice. He molded each word of the verse carefully, tenderly, as if he were embarking on a ballad… then WHAM!

Cymbals crashed; the roaring chorus caught the last two notes of an electrifying riff like a surfer hopping a wave:

Light it up! Hey, light it up! Strike a match and light it up! My fuse is short, ’m ready to blow, Crush the ceiling down to the floor!

Not in a million years would Sasori admit out loud to anyone that he listened to C4, especially not now that the public were actually aware of their existence. The metal band had catapulted to fame last year with their single “Burn Down All the Discos,” but Sasori had been listening to them well before that. Three years ago, his music app had recommended him a track from Art is an EXPLOSION—C4’s debut album—based on his eclectic streaming history. 

If the first song Sasori had heard by C4 had been anything but “Artist,” he’d probably never have given them a chance: their usual sound was, on the surface, sloppy, and most of the lyrics were childish boasts. “Look at me!” their vocalist seemed to say in every song. 

But “Artist” was different. It was, inexplicably, an up-tempo perversion of Vivaldi’s Winter Largo in F Minor, lamenting how hard it was to live for art’s sake when the world ran on money and heroic virtue. Listeners without classical training would be unable to appreciate or likely even identify the subtleties of what had been done with the classical score, but the first time he heard it, Sasori had been riveted. Vivaldi’s rhythmic harpsichord had been replaced with a softly tapped snare drum; a mournful electric guitar carried the melody when it wasn’t sung. 

Curiosity piqued, Sasori had investigated the rest of the album, and found similar nods to classical music throughout the tracks, much harder to notice than the adapted Vivaldi, drowned as they were in a thunderstorm of electric guitar and percussion. C4 were more than just a metal band: they experimented with typical traits of the genre and also drew from pop rock, classical music, even musical theatre to create a sound unlike anything Sasori had ever heard. They broke all the rules and they did it with glee.

One day—a rest day—home alone and bored, Sasori had looked up the band online. It surprised him to learn that the lead singer had been only sixteen when the band was formed. That powerful voice certainly didn’t sound like it belonged to a teenager. But the band’s website was light on biographical information, and Sasori hadn’t felt like digging deeper. An overwhelming amount of fan sites and social media accounts had sprung up since “Burn Down All the Discos” and C4’s world tour. Bored as he was that day, Sasori wasn’t about to use his precious free time to obsess over some flash-in-the-pan rock band, especially one fronted by a kid.

And yet, he still listened to them.

“Artist” often competed for the position of most frequently-played song on his app, but only when he was feeling particularly moody. 

It crossed his mind that he ought to check if C4 had come out with anything new lately—the app usually sent a message when artists he’d followed released new music. Pausing to wait for a traffic light, he dug for his phone again.

Lo and behold, a new album had dropped not three days ago.

Beauty of a Moment, it was called. The cover art featured the Venus de Milo... mid-explosion.

Sasori chuckled under his breath. “He really does fancy himself an artist, doesn’t he…” 

What a fool. Popular music was not art. Rock music was not art. It came and went, but the classics stayed. For centuries. Forever.

It was the one thing Sasori and the Third had always agreed on, despite all of their differences. 

Speaking of which… 

...

[rjzimmerman]

Rising disaster costs leave U.S. confronting fiscal risks of climate change (Washington Post)

Excerpt from this Washington Post story:

A second catastrophic hurricane in as many weeks has forced the U.S. government to grapple with a harsh reality: Climate calamities are becoming more frequent, deadly and costly in a country already facing massive fiscal challenges.

Get a curated selection of 10 of our best stories in your inbox every weekend.

The earliest estimates suggest the latest storm, Hurricane Milton, may have unleashed roughly $50 billion in damage across Florida, destroying countless homes, businesses and critical infrastructure that will need to be repaired or replaced, probably with the help of urgently needed federal aid.

But Milton is only the most recent extreme weather event in a nation that experiences on average a billion-dollar climate disaster roughly every three weeks, according to some federal estimates. As these storms, droughts, wildfires and floods strike with greater frequency and intensity, the work to rebuild after them has grown more expensive, too. That has exacerbated the many financial strains on the federal government at a time when the national debt exceeds $35 trillion.

“I think the cost of climate [change] is increasingly a threat to our already very fragile fiscal outlook,” said Mark Zandi, chief economist of Moody’s Analytics. Factoring in the prospect that the government must spend “tens of billions or hundreds of billions more each year to help mitigate the fallout of climate events,” he added, “the outlook looks even darker.”

“It’s one more reason to be nervous about our fiscal future unless we make some changes,” Zandi said.

The nation’s souring fiscal health is the result of many factors, including increased spending, a rapidly aging population and inadequate tax revenue, especially after the tax cuts adopted under the Trump administration. Generally, budget experts agree that climate change threatens to add to these woes, harming economic output while forcing the government to spend more, and generate less, as it grapples with the consequences of dangerous emissions.

Two years ago, the White House tried to calculate the potential costs: Top budget advisers to President Joe Biden predicted that Washington would face up to $128 billion in new spending every year in the coming decades just in response to certain climate emergencies, including hurricanes, wildfires and floods.

But federal officials acknowledged at the time that their estimates were incomplete: They could not account for all of the ways climate change might deplete federal coffers, depress tax revenue, overwhelm government programs, drain the economy or compromise Americans’ health and well-being, all of which, ultimately, could add to the burden on taxpayers.

[whimsicaldragonette]

Blog Tour and Arc Review: The Lily of Ludgate Hill by Mimi Matthews

Order

Add to Goodreads

Publication Date: January 16, 2024

Welcome to The Lily of Ludgate Hill book tour with Berkley Publishing Group. (This blog tour post is also posted on my Wordpress book blog Whimsical Dragonette.)

Synopsis:

Lady Anne Deveril doesn’t spook easily. A woman of lofty social standing known for her glacial beauty and starchy opinions, she’s the unofficial leader of her small group of equestriennes. Since her mother’s devastating plunge into mourning six years ago, Anne voluntarily renounced any fanciful notions of love and marriage. And yet, when fate puts Anne back into the entirely too enticing path of Mr. Felix Hartford, she’s tempted to run…right into his arms. No one understands why Lady Anne withdrew into the shadows of society, Hart least of all. The youthful torch he once held for her has long since cooled. Or so he keeps telling himself. But now Anne needs a favor to help a friend. Hart will play along with her little ruse—on the condition that Anne attend a holiday house party at his grandfather’s country estate. No more mourning clothes. No more barriers. Only the two of them, unrequited feelings at last laid bare. Finally free to gallop out on her own, Anne makes the tantalizing discovery that beneath the roguish exterior of her not-so-white knight is a man with hidden depths, scorching passions—and a tender heart.

Author Bio:

USA Today bestselling author Mimi Matthews writes both historical nonfiction and award-winning Victorian romances. Her novels have received starred reviews in Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, Booklist, Kirkus, and Shelf Awareness, and her articles have been featured on the Victorian Web, the Journal of Victorian Culture, and in syndication at BUST Magazine. In her other life, Mimi is an attorney. She resides in California with her family, which includes a retired Andalusian dressage horse, a Sheltie, and two Siamese cats. Learn more online at www.mimimatthews.com.

Author Photo Credit: Vicki Hahn

Rating: ★★★★

*My Review, Favorite Quotes, and Non-Exclusive Extract below the cut.

My Review:

I loved this. It was exactly the sort of banter-filled stubborn hero and heroine who are gone for each other but refuse to admit it story that I love. It's easily the best of the Belles of London series. Anne and Hartford are perfect for each other but it takes them a while to admit it. The only problem I had with it was that it was *extremely* predictable. I knew exactly how it was going to go from the beginning and there was no deviating from that. I actually stopped about 75% of the way through and checked goodreads to make sure I hadn't already read it before. I hadn't. And yet I had predicted every. single. thing that happened. It was like deja vu but more so. The last quarter unfolded exactly as I expected it to. I don't know if the foreshadowing was just really intense or what but that did lessen my enjoyment of the story. Aside from that, however, everything else was exactly as I like in a historical romance. I am curious about the next one, as well, after meeting who will obviously be the new wheelchair-bound, artist hero. I have high hopes because neither of those is something we typically get in a romance hero. *Thanks to NetGalley and Berkley for providing an early copy for review.

Favorite Quotes:

"I wish I were more eccentric," Anne declared, rousing her spirits to the cause. "I might have traveled to Yorkshire weeks ago and saved Julia from her fate."

Non-Exclusive Excerpt:

The twin fragrances of pipe smoke and parchment met her nose. Lemon polish, too, though there was no sign that the maids had done any recent tidying up. The library was a place of spectacular clutter. Bookcases lined three of the walls; leather-bound volumes on botany, agriculture, and natural history were pulled out at all angles as if an absent-minded researcher had wandered from shelf to shelf withdrawing tomes at random only to change his mind midway through extracting them. The fourth wall was entirely covered in framed sketches of flowers and greenery. Some images were produced in pencil and others in delicately rendered watercolor. They were-along with the teetering stacks of botanical journals and drooping maps that spilled over the sides of the earl's carved mahogany desk-evidence of his prevailing passion. Lord March's love of exotic plants was legendary. He'd spent much of his life traveling the globe, from the wilds of America to the highest peaks of the Himalayas, bringing back rare seeds to nurture into bloom. A distracted fellow at the best of times, but a kind one, too, as far as Anne recalled. It had been a long time since she'd darkened his doorstep. A lifetime, it felt like. She tugged restlessly at her black kid-leather gloves as she paced the worn carpet in front of the library's cavernous marble fireplace. She'd never excelled at waiting for unpleasantness to arrive. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait long. "Hello, old thing." A familiar deep voice sounded from the library door. Anne spun around, her traitorous heart giving an involuntary leap in her breast. Mr. Felix Hartford stood in the entryway, one shoulder propped against the doorframe. Lord only knew how long he'd been observing her. She stiffened. After all these years, he still had the power to discompose her. Drat him. But she wouldn't permit her emotions to be thrown into chaos by his attractive face and figure. What cared she for his commanding height? His square-chiseled jaw? For the devilish glint in his sky-blue eyes? And devil he was. The very one she'd come here to see. "Hartford," she said. Her chin ticked up a notch in challenge. It was a reflex. There was no occasion on which they'd met during the course of the past several years that they hadn't engaged in verbal battle. This time, however, he made no attempt to engage her. He was dressed in plaid trousers and a loose-fitting black sack coat worn open to reveal the dark waistcoat beneath. A casual ensemble, made more so by the state of him. His clothes were vaguely rumpled, and so was his seal-brown hair. It fell over his brow, desperately in need of an application of pomade. There was an air of arrested preoccupation about him, as if he'd just returned from somewhere or was on his way to somewhere. As if he hadn't realized she was in the library and had come upon her quite by chance. An unnatural silence stretched between them, void of their typical barb-filled banter. Greetings dispensed with, Anne found herself at an unaccountable loss. More surprising still, so did Hartford. He remained frozen on the threshold, his usually humorous expression turned to stone on his handsome face. At length, he managed a smile. "I knew one day you'd walk through my door again. It only took you"-withdrawing his pocket watch from his waistcoat, he cast it a brief glance, brows lifting as if in astonishment at the time-"seven years to do it." She huffed. "It hasn't been seven years." "Six and half, then." Six years and five months, more like. It had been early December of 1855, during the Earl of March's holiday party. She'd been just shy of seventeen; young and naive and not formally out yet. Hartford had kissed her under a sprig of mistletoe in the gaslit servants' hallway outside the kitchens. And he'd proposed to her.

But Anne refused to think of the past. Never mind that, living in London, reminders of it were daily shoved under her nose. "You're not going to be difficult, are you?" she asked. "That depends." He strolled into the room. "To what do I owe your visit?" "Presumptuous, as always," she said. "For all you know, I'm here to see your grandfather." Hartford was the only child of the Earl of March's second son-the late (and much lamented) moralist Everett Hartford. Anne well remembered the man. He'd been as straitlaced and starchy as a vicar. Rather ironic, really, given his son's reputation for recklessness and irreverence. "My grandfather is in his greenhouse," Hartford said, "elbow deep in chicken manure. If it's him you've come to speak with, you're in for a long wait." She suppressed a grimace. There was no need for him to be crass. "Really, Hartford." "Really, my lady." He advanced into the room slowly, his genial expression doing little to mask the fact that he was a great towering male bearing down on her. "Why have you come?" Anne held her ground. She wasn't afraid of him. "I've come to ask a favor of you." His mouth curled up at one corner. "Better and better." He gestured to a stuffed settee upholstered in Gobelins tapestry. "Pray sit down."

Excerpted from The Lily of Ludgate Hill by Mimi Matthews Copyright © 2024 by Mimi Matthews. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

[pixeldistractions]

Getting ready to dive into the next (big) story set.

Boxes and Squares will be completed in about 7 (huge) chapters (estimated around 21k words—another novella, folks!). Because the chapters are big, I feel it would be the least frustrating to post to Tumblr first as I shoot the scenes, then compile the chapters to the blog afterward. The story spans from September 2088 to March 2089, and will have two short intermissions to visit other families.

This story includes Jordan and Maria again, but with shared focus on Ingrid, Colette, and the kids. Supporting roles for Tyler and Maya, Lou (Maria’s sister), Stephanie, Jack Phoenix, and maybe… Charlie? Not sure yet how much trouble Ingrid might cause. You can never really know with that girl, lol!

To start, I kind of feel like taking a little walk down memory lane with Ingrid.

The thing is, writing Ingrid for the upcoming stories, a lot of her mindset and growth keeps reflecting back to the summer of 2085 and the definitive three weeks (it really was only three weeks, lol!) when she was absolutely stupid crazy in love with Charlie Roseland. And I think to understand 25-year-old Ingrid, we need to know 22-year-old Ingrid from that summer.

That story was posted on an obscure little side blog, The Lakeside Files, TS3 era, in 2014! Wow, a whole freaking decade ago! Many of those chapters were never posted or even excerpted here on Tumblr at all. Hope y’all don’t mind a little wander back in time. Ingrid’s story from that time was one of the favorites I’ve ever written, so I promise it won’t disappoint!

These flashback posts will focus on Ingrid’s POV only, because Charlie’s story is already told. You are always welcome to read Charlie & Natty’s story in its entirety on The Lakeside Files.

Here on Tumblr, we’ll begin “a rebel yell, Ingrid’s version”

Next ->

[triptychgrip]

Story Preview: Viktor learning he's not hard to love

To his confusion, Yuuri let out a stilted laugh.

“Agh, well…it’s true that I started reading only last night, but I sort of blazed through a hundred-and-twenty pages somehow?” he admitted, with a touch of sheepishness and an unnecessary adjustment of his glasses. “I was really excited to talk about it with you, and didn’t want to have to wait.”

Viktor felt rooted to the spot, absolutely stunned by this revelation.

Yuuri’s eagerness to discuss Vita Nostra had caused him to read one-hundred-and-twenty pages, already?

In just one night?!

The coach part of Viktor felt like he should chide him for sacrificing sleep, but the idiot-in-love part of him was swiftly winning out, that heady giddiness from when Yuuri had first proposed this idea two weeks ago having returned. He didn’t really know what his face was doing at the moment, but it must have been encouraging, because Yuuri seemed bolstered enough to continue.

“It’s really, really interesting, and I’m not just saying that because it’s one of your favorite books,” he went on, sitting up straighter. “At first, I was so irritated by Sasha, like…why would she just go along with whatever this random stranger was telling her to do?! But then I started to get it, how sinister Farit’s presence is, and then of course when I read about the time loop…”

He listened as Yuuri continued to speak with increasing zeal, his hands beginning to wave about in animation. Though Viktor was processing the words he was hearing (and delighting in his student’s attention to detail), his heart was beating way too rapidly for someone who had been doing nothing but sitting and eating languidly for the last twenty minutes.

He felt like he was falling, falling, falling...

Almost like he truly was tumbling to some bottomless depth, a rushing sound filled his ears, and before long, he was interrupting Yuuri without even meaning to. 

“You really meant it,” Viktor blurted out, exhaling a deep breath when Yuuri stopped short and tilted his head in confusion. “You…when you told me that you wanted to read and discuss a book that I enjoy, you really meant it?”

He felt a bit stupid at the slow, bemused blinks he was met with.

“I…well, of course, Viktor,” Yuuri slowly responded, as if not understanding the question. “Did you think I didn’t mean it?”

But there was nothing accusatory in his tone, only genuine bafflement around whether he had done something for Viktor to doubt his intent.

“I don’t…”

Viktor noisily swallowed and silently shook his head, at a loss for how to explain himself. What could he say that wouldn’t scare Yuuri off, wouldn’t reveal the depth of the fissures in his heart leftover from all the people who had professed an interest in him with pretty words, only to reveal that it was his public luster they were so enamored by, rather than his genuine self?

If given the choice, Viktor would nearly always choose a cozy living room chat about an interesting book over a pulsing, booze-soaked night out, and he had been shown time and time again, how inconvenient this preference was.

---

The above excerpt is from a 'during canon' + 'post-canon' one-shot that I've been working on, which can be summed up by the description: "5 times Viktor learns that he's not so hard to love after all (+1 time he learns that being hard to love might not actually be such a bad thing)". In the scene in question (taking place during Viktor's first summer in Hasetsu), Viktor faces the fact that maybe, unlike his parents or his past boyfriends, Yuuri is being genuine when he seems to take an interest in his hobbies.

Here's hoping that I can actually finish this story -- and the Yuuri counterpart -- before it emotionally wrecks me...

[odaocer]

A Strange Man Again

With a dramatic pose the figure took his hat off, removed the hood and took off the scarf. Now you could see what it was hiding.

While you had thought he was human or anthro, you were wrong. He had no visible neck, it was see-through. Though, upon closer look it was there, faintly seen as one could see someone using invisibility. Where he was should have been was the skull of a goat, two curled horns atop it. In place of eyes were two small yellow flames, staring directly at you. His hat, while it had been hiding his horns was now sitting perfectly in between them, covering the top of his skull-head. While you'd seen re-animated beings before it was clear this man was not one. His jaw moved slightly as he breathed.

But despite all you weren't sure what he meant. After all the things and people you'd seen in Newgrounds City this wasn't that bizarre. Plus, the city had a sizable anthro community. He looked 'normal'.

"T-they did what?"

"They did this to me!" He said a little louder, motioning to his face. He took of his gloves, revealing bony hands. It was as if he had no skin. "See?"

"They made me into a monster."

[sic].

An excerpt from the FNF story I wrote, Turnabout Teardown. You can read the story on AO3 or related sites. This is a do-over of an image I made back in 2023. But now in Blender and Kitxi's Tabi model instead of SFM and Cally3D's model. I actually made this months ago but never got around to posting it.

Expect a third version of this image when I finish my Tabi model lol. The Tabi model is from Kitxi. Everything else is from L4D2 or TF2.

(no report this week)

[kakushigotofanclub]

Can I ask you about your wips? I'm curious

Oh boy you're so going to regret asking me this but THANK YOU SO MUCH I have been DYING to babble about all my wips

Enjoy this weirdly organized and non-exhaustive "list"

-

The big one is Burning Bridges, which I have a whopping 25,000+ words written for already. Here's the summary:

After Muzan is defeated, Inosuke doesn’t know what to do with himself, feeling unable to either adapt to his new life or return to his old one. Restless and frustrated, when he comes across a chance to go back to demon slaying, he can’t refuse. But getting stuck in an alternate timeline in which Tanjiro became the Demon King was not exactly what Inosuke had in mind.

But, uh. I really don't know if I'm ever going to finish and post it, and tbh the main reason is kind of petty lol...like, a couple years ago I used to get tons of comments on ao3 and lately I just barely get any feedback anymore. I kinda don't want to post anything I've worked really hard on to avoid getting my feelings hurt. I'd be happy to talk about it, though, if anyone's interested.

-

Another multi-chapter fic I will never post but would love to ramble about is A Couple of Bad Ideas and a Shot in the Dark, which is a KnY rewrite that takes place in the MHA universe. Although, this one is abandoned because I got too invested in a side-plot and literally forgot what I was actually going to do with the story.

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I've also got one called Smother, which I do fully intend on finishing and posting someday! I don't have an official summary for it but it's about Obanai living with the Rengokus right after he was rescued. Here's a piece from the scene where Kyojuro and Obanai meet for the first time:

“Hi! Why are your eyes two different colors? Where did you get your pet snake? Are snakes your favorite animal? My favorite animal is a cat. Or maybe a dog. Or an owl. I don't know, I can't pick! How old are you? I'm eleven years and five months and two weeks and six days old, which means I’m almost eleven and a half. What's your snake's name? Oh, and what's your name? My name is Rengoku Kyojuro. Do you have any-" "Kyojuro." The man who saved Obanai glared at a person that looked exactly like him except smaller and way more annoying. “Give it a rest. I don’t think he’s in the mood for making friends right now. Just shut up.”

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I have another fic about Obanai and the Rengokus—modern au, no summary but I think the plot can be summed up in this excerpt and the fact that I headcanon Obanai with ARFID:

“No! I said I was going to take her to her favorite restaurant,” Obanai exhaled sharply. “So I’m going to take her to her favorite restaurant.” He hesitated, gaze cast downwards. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted your…help.” “Of course!” Kyojuro exclaimed enthusiastically. “With what, exactly?” Obanai crossed his arms, refusing to meet eyes with Kyojuro. His face was red and he mumbled his next words: “I have to be able to eat food from there without gagging or freaking out by next week.”

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Then my reincarnation AU called Da Capo Al Fine, which I've posted a few excerpts from before—basically, everyone reincarnates a hundred years later and Tanjiro and Giyuu are the only ones who remember their past lives. Honestly this one I feel like would just be a pain to actually write the whole fic the way I have it in my head lol. I might write one-shots for it, though, idk.

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That's. Not everything but I think I've probably talked for long enough now 😅