#ReRe writes

[tonystarktogo]

It only took four years but here, have a sequel to "As Subtle As Cognitive Recalibration":

Follow-Up Questions

(Yes I did throw in some post CW-angst, what else did you expect?)

[petroltogo]

I’ve posted chapter 14 of [this could’ve been] a villain’s grand master plan, so the fifth part of the flip a coin ‘verse is now complete.

Still can’t quite believe it’s over but luckily the plot demands that I write at least one more part that will conclude the story arc that I started with [this could’ve been] a villain’s origin story. For now though I hope you enjoy the current part. And if you have any thoughts, ideas or questions, let me know. I love rambling about this ‘verse :)

[words-and-coffee]

Alice Te Punga Somerville, Always Italicise: How to Write While Colonised - Kupu rere kē

[ID: A poem titled: Kupu rere kē. [in italics] My friend was advised to italicise all the foreign words in her poems. This advice came from a well-meaning woman with NZ poetry on her business card and an English accent in her mouth. I have been thinking about this advice. The convention of italicising words from other languages clarifies that some words are imported: it ensures readers can tell the difference between a foreign language and the language of home. I have been thinking about this advice. Marking the foreign words is also a kindness: every potential reader is reassured that although you're expected to understand the rest of the text, it's fine to consult a dictionary or native speaker for help with the italics. I have been thinking about this advice. Because I am a contrary person, at first I was outraged — but after a while I could see she had a point: when the foreign words are camouflaged in plain type you can forget how they came to be there, out of place, in the first place. I have been thinking about this advice and I have decided to follow it. Now all of my readers will be able to remember which words truly belong in -[end italics]- Aotearoa -[italics]- and which do not.

Next image is the futurama meme: to shreds you say...]

(Image ID by @bisexualshakespeare)

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #18: Bard Off

Prompt: hackneyed || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: "My Lady's Eyes" is originally from the Valdemar series by Mercedes Lackey. "The Queen of Argyll" (original spelling) is by Scottish folk band Silly Wizard; a fast-paced cover by the Crimson Pirates called "The Queen of Argyle" is what I had in mind for Rere here.

---

“Play My Lady’s Eyes next!”

Rereha pointed her fiddle bow out across the crowd of the Seventh Heaven to where Thancred sat, a shite-eating grin firmly on his face, as rage contorted her own expression. “OUT!” she roared.

Raucous laughter filled the bar as Thancred stood up and blew her a mocking kiss. “My lady’s eyes are like the skies, a soft and sunlit blue,” he sang in a strong, clear tenor as he sauntered towards the door of the Rising Stones. The crowd’s laughter increased.

“YOU DARE,” Rereha howled. She swung the bow down like it was a a thaumaturge's wand and a bolt of ice burst from its tip and flew through the air. “YOU DARE SING THAT GODS-AWFUL DRIVEL IN MY PRESENCE.”

Thancred neatly dodged the icebolt so that it smashed harmlessly into the wall behind him, still grinning. “No other fair could half compare in sweet midsummer—GOODS GODS, RERE.” His singing was interrupted by him diving for cover behind the bar from a crack of lightning.

Rere harrumphed and put bow to fiddle, a fast, high-pitched reel rising from the strings that the Seventh Heaven crowd immediately began clapping along to. “If you want sap,” she said to the bar at large, “make it good sap, aye?”

“AYE!”

“Gentlemen, it is me duty,” and her voice was half a bellow, her anger driving what was normally a staider ballad into something furiously passionate, “to inform you of one beauty, though I’d ask of you a favor and not seek her for a while!”

“Though I own she is a creature,” Thancred’s voice joined her and her fiddle as he emerged from back behind the bar, swinging himself up to sit on the wood, “of character and feature—”

“—no words can paint the picture of the Queen of all Argyle!” the bar roared.

“That’s more like it!”

[haveyoureadthispoem-poll]

"My friend was advised to italicise all the foreign words in her poems."

Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!

[morelikesin]

Everytime I think of the Devil's Playhouse I get sick. That shit makes me so emotional but I Try to be silly about it y'know. Gang gang

[wordswithloveee]

[coremoose]

ʕ⁠ ⁠º⁠ ⁠ᴥ⁠ ⁠º⁠ʔ . . . abt us?

this side blog is run by someone that may be a osdd system ;

🫎 Rere , he / him + others (main blog is owned by @rerejunebug)

🌟🎵 Priestly , He / Him / Spike

♥️ Stu , He / They

🥁 Rodrick , He / They

you can refer to us? collectively as Moose! ( it / he pronouns , any/all but she / her ).

Rere is the main poster. dms are open , & asks are open for all ( send asks plsss ).

all hate will be ignored & laughed at. please be warned that we have, social anxiety, & ADD so we appreciate tone tags if necessary. thank you, have a lovely day ♡

tags + userboxes under cut

(@_@;) — tag directory

main tags ;

💚 . . . Moose talks <- all posts by us? . . .

reblogs💚 . . .

replies💚 . . .

asks💚 . . .

💚many faces <- face claims / picrews

💚 . . . f/os

💚 . . . brother love <- cest f/o stuff

💚 . . . is this oversharing? <- vents ( filter if you're sensitive to ( vague ) incest trauma themes )

💚 . . . writing <- fanfic & such we wrote+

more tbaheadmate tags ;

🫎 . . . Rere

🌟🎵 . . . Priestly

💖 . . . Ella

♥️ . . . Stu

👑 . . . Crowley

Last updated ; June 17

[maplegh0st]

Wip tag game!

Tagged by @halogalopaghost

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

I haven't written much in a while, but I'd like to dust these off and stretch my writing muscles again! I am NOT tagging as many people as wips because that's way too many lol

I tag @adenthemage @teenagemutantninjatrauma @frogs-in3-hills @ninjastar-ace if you want to! :D

[riacte]

Unconventional format / mixed media / meta / epistolary fic ideas:

Script format but the characters slowly break fourth wall until they grow self aware and scream to leave but the script confines them.

Mock up notes of an author's fic outline only for a "fan favourite" / "author's darling" character to gain sentience and influence the story. The character changes the outline to suit their own agenda, and their changes are marked with a different colour whereas black text means it's the author's will. Maybe another character using another colour gains sentience. The different colours fight for dominance. Mom says it's my turn with the keyboard hey what the fuck man excuse me I'm literally trying to save my family can you guys let go and let me write your character arcs in peace OH FUCK OFF

Recipe fic. The story is told via those unnecessarily long backstories on a recipe blog in which you learn about someone's grandma or a breakup or literally anything. Bonus points if the actual recipe deals with worldbuilding (what ingredients are available? What utensils are used? How to serve this meal? Woohoo Dungeon Meshi) or in-cheek recipes (eg. "Recipe for making up with your estranged mother - Step 1: Mix patience, nostalgia, and filial piety and let it marinate for ten years. Step 2: Throw that shit into the trash because you're better than that")

Travel fic. A character is lost and trying to find their way somewhere. GPS directions, googling "x place to x place", tickets and dates, train station maps, leaflets. It gets weirder and weirder. You never get closer to your destination. You're walking around in circles. It's always 10 meters away. Where are you going and where have you been?

Receipts. Try to infer what a character is doing judging from the weird things they buy together. Also yipppee inflation tracker. On the other side, maybe it can be about a cashier/ shop owner getting to know their customers and what they order.

Written from the pov of an non-native English speaker, all the English words are italicized whereas their native tongue are the only words not italicized. Inspired by Kupu rere kē by Alice Te Punga Somerville. This is because I got salty about people from Ao3 Reddit saying they won't read a fic in all italics.

Murder mystery / "Among Us" style impersonation fic strictly using the chatfic format. Characters and readers will have to figure out which character has been killed and replaced from the way they text and use emojis. This is also because I got salty about Ao3 Reddit being a wee bit pretentious about emoji usage in fics. Maybe emojis can be important plot devices! Some people prefer to sign off messages with a heart emoji of their signature colour, so won't it be weird if they use another coloured heart? How about someone using lapslock suddenly using proper capitalisation and full stops? Can you tell if someone's phone has been stolen? What if someone's mother is pretending to text like their child? Why is someone suddenly only using UwU speak? Is it a bit, or have they been replaced?

Innocuous second person POV until the last line where it's suddenly revealed to be first person POV all along and the "I" has been stalking and narrating "you".

Other fun bits / Easter eggs / secrets to hide:

Decoding within the text itself. Maybe we get given instructions to find a word in x chapter on page y on the nth line. And when we as readers collect all the words, they form a sentence that spells out an important fact which the characters are oblivious to. Or maybe the in-universe characters find a book with the same title as the irl fic with a bookmark in it, and if you go to where the bookmark is stuck irl, you'll find the murderer plainly stated. The rest of the fic is about the readers having hard confirmation of who the murderer is while characters don't know.

A phrase is subtly repeated throughout the text of the fic and is spelled out with the letter that begins a sentence. It gives off the effect that the narrator is screaming and crying into the void (to the readers in the fourth wall) while trying to avoid detection. Bonus points if the same word is repeated for pages and pages to the point the lack of sentence variation feels weird and clunky.

Morse code!! I love morse code! Using onomatopoeia to convey the dots and dashes! The sound of rain pattering on the tin rooftop— drop, drop, drop. A low whistle of a train rumbling in the distance. He slowly sharpens his knife, creating a shiiing sound. A lengthy, high pitched squeal from his kettle. A dog barks. A sharp knock. His heart thumps. Dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. SOS. Maybe a character's death scene spells out the name of their mysterious murderer. Maybe a character is reminiscing their deceased loved one and the scene spells out what the deceased person would've wanted to tell them— "LIVE ON" or "I LOVE YOU" or something.

[tonystarktogo]

PLEASE continue As Subtle As Cognitive Recalibration. I’m missing 2012 avengers with 2023 shenanigans so bad

Natasha would like to say that she notices something is off immediately—and if anyone asks that is what she will claim and good luck trying to prove otherwise—but the truth is it’s not until a good five minutes after Clint has woken up, heavily concussed and beat up but himself, in the back of their not-quite-stolen getaway car that she realizes it.

Which is a solid two hours after Stark catches on. Stark.

Granted, Natasha has had other things on her mind. Like the alien capable of mind-control getting a hold of the one person she might actually one day admit to count as a real friend without lying, should the stars align and the confession suit her purpose. Or the invading army that followed on said alien’s heels.

But that is no excuse to discard the many, many inconsistencies she’s observed but ignored or brushed off instead of questioned like her instincts have insisted with increasing alarm ever since she has watched Rogers and Banner hover over Stark like he might disappear the second they take their eyes off of him.

There’d been speculation in Rogers file that he might be positively inclined towards Stark on the grounds of his familiarity with Howard Stark but even if SHIELD’s attempt to discourage a connection with such a volatile asset had failed that still wouldn’t explain the depth of Roger’s emotional reaction to Stark.

Don’t even get her started on Banner.

Stark stands for everything Bruce Banner has done his best to avoid since he got his monstrous green personality addition. The way he has actively sought Tony Stark at his most sarcastic out makes no sense whatsoever. Nor does the tension between Banner and Rogers, that screams of frustration born out of long-held disagreements stretched out over years, not a twenty minutes long acquaintance.

And all that doesn’t touch on the fact that the Asgardian crown prince Thor has treated all of them—Stark and Natasha included—like long lost friends.

Not just in the way he’s greeted Stark with an actual hug either. Big, boisterous statements are easier to fake, though what aim such a pretense would serve Natasha doesn’t know, but it’s the little things that made her pause, almost succeeded in distracting her from her primary goal of getting Clint back.

The loaded glances. The unfinished sentences that were understood nonetheless. They way they stepped into formation reflexively the moment the explosion shook the helicarrier, like they knew where everyone else would stand. Like they’d been in that position before.

She set it aside because she needed to focus on Clint. So that is what she did.

Natasha doesn’t regret that because Clint needed her and now he’s alright. Bloodied and fucked-up but himself.

But she does regret letting all those hints go, just a little, because Clint may be himself but it only takes her five minutes in his company to know for sure that he’s not the same.

He tackles her in a hug that almost gets them killed the moment he regains consciousness—which is actually the most in-character thing she has seen him do so far—but he doesn’t tap their agreed upon all-clear signal out against her shoulder. He doesn’t flinch or tense when he catches sight of Loki—and yeah, the guy might be a victim too, but how would Clint know that? And even if he does, that still doesn’t mean no reaction to his presence at all.

Most damning though is that moment in Stark’s elevator, just before the doors open and they step out onto the roof and it’s a lightening quick motion someone else might have missed but Natasha is watching for it and she knows exactly what she’s seeing. Mere seconds before stepping into a potentially life-threatening situation, Clint doesn’t look to her. Instead his gaze flicks to Rogers, to Banner, to Thor, and he takes his cue from them.

He’s subtle about it and he does clock her and Stark too, as is only expected, but that first reflex doesn’t lie.

So while it might have taken Natasha longer to catch on than she’d prefer, she knows. The question now is what she’s going to do with that knowledge.

Natasha leans back in her seat, a position that reinforces the relaxed air she’s been so carefully feigning ever since they’ve stepped into this slightly run-down local restaurant whose staff has been handling their unexpected and strange customers surprisingly well so far, lets her gaze roam over their curious group—takes in the way Thor pushes more food onto Loki’s plate every time their wannabe conqueror finishes, how Clint keeps shooting looks at her, not so much like he’s trying to communicate and more like he’s checking if she’s still there, while Rogers and Banner throw unexpectedly cutting barbs at each other when they aren’t trying to pull Stark into a conversation—and does what she does best: she plots.

Let's be real, nothing good can come from this.

[petroltogo]

Aaand the next chapter is ready:

[words-and-coffee]

Kupu rere kē My friend was advised to italicise all the foreign words in her poems. This advice came from a well-meaning woman with NZ poetry on her business card and an English accent in her mouth. I have been thinking about this advice. The convention of italicising words from other languages clarifies that some words are imported: it ensures readers can tell the difference between a foreign language and the language of home. I have been thinking about this advice. Marking the foreign words is also a kindness: every potential reader is reassured that although you’re expected to understand the rest of the text, it’s fine to consult a dictionary or native speaker for help with the italics. I have been thinking about this advice. Because I am a contrary person, at first I was outraged — but after a while I could see she had a point: when the foreign words are camouflaged in plain type you can forget how they came to be there, out of place, in the first place. I have been thinking about this advice and I have decided to follow it. Now all of my readers will be able to remember which words truly belong in Aotearoa and which do not.

Alice Te Punga Somerville, Always Italicise: How to Write While Colonised - Kupu rere kē

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #20: Reach and Flexibility

Prompt: duel || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: Mild spoilers for Dawntrail.

---

“You know, Wuk Lamat,” Rereha drawled, “your father has incredible stamina.”

Wuk Lamat paused, cheeks bulging as she chewed her taco, her brow furrowed in brief puzzlement. Then her face went slack and her eyes widened in horror.

Heron sighed quietly into her juice. Synnove bit down hard on her lower lip, staring skyward as if not making eye contact with anyone would save her. Alakhai’s expression flashed into evil delight too quick for anyone eyes save that of her sisters to catch.

Rereha’s smile was close-lipped but wide, and her gold eyes glittered beneath the brim of her ever-present hat.

Wuk Lamat very carefully finished chewing, and swallowed. She took a sip of juice, visibly gathering her thoughts. “Papa is a seasoned warrior nearly a hundred years strong,” she said at last, managing her tone into something politely flat.

Rereha hummed in agreement. “Absolutely awe-inspiring how he was able to keep his strength up one at a time,” she said cheerfully.

Wuk Lamat stared at her for a long moment before pointedly turning her gaze on Heron. “Papa fought each of you one on one, not as a group?” she said with genuine curiosity.

Heron slanted a Look towards Rereha, eyebrows flat as she wiggled the pinky of her hand holding her glass of juice. Behave. Out loud, she said, “He did. He also insisted that those who hadn’t yet fought him wait outside so as not to give any of us an advantage from seeing the previous bout.”

“That’s Papa all right,” Wuk Lamat said, relaxing slightly and smiling. “Fairness doesn’t exist on the battlefield, but in the practice ring when first facing an opponent, it’s important to know as little as possible. How else can you learn to adapt to an unknown foe? What order did you—”

Too late she realized her mistake, her shoulders once more going stiff as she slapped her hands over her mouth.

Alakhai said, ever so mild, “Rere went first. Took a while.”

“Your father’s reach is incredible,” Rere said gleefully. “But I’ve got the flexibility!”

Wuk Lamat shrieked and slammed her hands on the table, ignoring the startled looks from other patrons. She leaned in close to Rere’s unrepentantly grinning face and said, “You did not—” she paused, and bit out, “—do that with my father.”

As Synnove slid off the bench, whole body shaking with the force of trying not to laugh like a Thanalani hyena, Heron made a series of rapid hand-signs, expression thunderous. Alakhai ignored her and said only, in the same mild tone as before, “She was in there a while.”

Rereha smiled. The noise that escaped Wuk Lamat was high-pitched and pained, and the Xbr’aal turned to look at Heron desperately.

Heron paused, and grimaced. “Her bout did…take some time.” She turned a vicious glare on Rereha. “Because she’s a ranged combatant with a bow.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Rereha said.

Beneath the table, Synnove lost her fight with her self-control, and her cackles began to fill the air. Heron put her head down on the wood and sighed heavily. Alakhai and Rereha exchanged a fist bump. And Wuk Lamat covered her face with her hands and groaned.

“There is not enough mezcal in the world to destroy these mental images,” she whimpered.

[lirarere]

Hi hi!! I have a request if you’re interested :] (if not, no worries at all!)

I saw that you write for bsd, so maybe how different armed detective agency members would carry their s/o? Like: princess carry, piggy back, potato sack style, etc, etc :3

Tysm if you do this!! Either way you are amazing and take care of yourself dear! <33

carry headcanon with ADA

notes: I didn't write with everyone because I'm not sure, I apologize in advance lol!! but it was fun to think about it

warning: bad english, none!!! it's mostly more platonic

Dazai

★ I think he’ll just throw you over his shoulder

★ I also had the idea that he might just pull him by the leg (at the same time you’ll wash the floor—)

★ on days of playfully romance, he may take you bridal style, but this will not be often

Ranpo

★ he's lazy lol

★ you will carry it in your arms

Atsushi

★ he doesn't seem like a very strong guy to be honest (sorry if this is not canon)

★ will be worn in a wedding style

★ or on the back

Kunikida

★ sorry, but for me this is a person who does not like physical contact at all

★ I think he’ll just take you by the shoulders and carry you like that—

★ possible in wedding style

Yosano

★ strong woman strong woman strong woman—

★ she will carry you in every way you can't convince me otherwise

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was short but I decided not to make it long, I hope you liked it and I didn't disappoint!!

masterlist

♡rere

[alarmalade]

"Kupu rere kē" by Alice Te Punga Somerville

from Always Italicise: How to Write While Colonised