#this hellsite will understand my sorrow

[thenamelessbaroness]

I would like to register my disappointment that turning on caps lock AND holding down the shift key does not make things more capital. It undoes capitalization. I am betrayed.

[roguepen]

I was asked to compile some fanfic recs and I've decided to put some out for you all to read at your leisure. It's mainly Harry Potter - because the fandom took full control there - and I'm recommending other fics from mostly smaller fandoms as well. I don't think you need to read the source material to enjoy most of these.

Under the cut!

Harry Potter

The Secret Diary of Hugo Granger-Weasley, Aged Thirteen and a Half - by FloreatCastellum

The Quest to Find 12 Ways to Charm Witches - by FloreatCastellum

A Brief History of Red Telephone Boxes - by FloreatCastellum

She has written my one true headcannon for Hugo Weasley in three fics - he's a menace, he's unintentionally hilarious and just the perfect combination of Ron and Hermione and the take on the Adrien Mole novels is sheer perfection. All of her work is great and stand out on their own merits - but I come back to these when I need a really good laugh because she really understands those awkward early teen years so well.

FloreatCastellum has retired from fanfiction to pursue original works, but her backlog is extensive, interesting and engaging. Her tumblr is still active and going through her asks is a treat into examining her though processes and clarifying some details. You can find the tumblr here @floreatcastellumposts

Order of Mercy - by MandyinKC

I'm very past due to reread this - she started posting this on FFN when I was teaching in South Korea and I remember reading the updates in the evening before bed. It's a fantastic take on another prospective on the last book and probably did play a part in my own writing. This is one of the best takes on an alternate prospective of Deathly Hallows from the shared prospectives of Bill, Fleur, Percy and Audrey as they form their own small resistance group.

Irrational - by RonsGirlFriday (aka @constitutionalweasleymonarchy on this hellsite)

This is the fic that made me appreciate the first person prospective and showed me what kind of strong character voice that can offer. The way Audrey is written here is fantastic, she's quiet, observant and is going through her very quiet life as it begins to shift through meeting new people. The story is not overwhelmed by an intense narrative, it's a quiet day to day sort of story. This is one of the primary inspirations for the POV for One for Sorrow and its early tone before the madness set in. I will drop everything I'm doing if I get word of an update or new publication.

Oo0Oo0

Bridgerton

a most assured bliss - by starkswinterfelling

I know this fandom has taken off in recent years and has a lot of good fics, I don't have time to go through them all these days but I can recommend this one with confidence as a long, extended epilogue to book 3 of the series from the prospective of the elderly housekeeper as she ends up in a web of well-meaning secrets between her employers. It's very well written, very funny and a reminder that all secrets come out eventually.

Oo0Oo0

Daddy Long Legs - Jean Webster

Dear Mr. Ben E. Factor - by orphan_account

This is one of the finest epistolary novels. It's short and covers about four years of Judy Abbott's life as a college student paid for by an unknown benefactor. This book is a product of its times in regards to race and class politics of the era. If that's not something you want to go through, that's fine, some kind soul has rewritten the novel for modern sensibilities and has lost none of what made the original novel so endearing.

Oo0Oo0

Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien

The Abduction of Éomer, King of Rohan - by Lialathuveril

The author is now self publishing and I recommend all the work on her page. This is one of the stories I made sure to save in case FFN ever truly dies - it's funny, well written and a slightly insane concept that just works.

Oo0Oo0

Beauty and the Beast

Honey, You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago) - by hester_latterly

No words for this modern Beauty and the Beast AU. It's well written, engaging and a character study in the guise of... I just don't want to say modern fairy tale, because it's a good definition, but it's ultimately a story about two lonely people coming together. Unfinished, but great!

[eonsadrft]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

Let’s goooooo ~~

NAME: N or Noir

PRONOUNS: he / him

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: tumblr ims aaaaaand discord, if we interacted you can ask for my discord

NAME OF MUSE(S): hahaha... Let’s start:

FFXIV: fandaniel, my OC WoL, and other OCs in general

Yu-gi-oh: Pharaoh Atem, Yuugi, Seto Kaiba, Slifer, even the damn Kuriboh

BSD: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Edogawa Ranpo and an OC

DRRR!!: Izaya Orihara

Pokemon: (N)atural Gropius Harmonia

Undertale: Sans, G!Sans (AU)

D. Gray Man: Allen Walker

Kingdom Hearts: Roxas, Sora, Vanitas

MysMe: 707

OFF (Game): The Batter

GenPact: Diluc (discord only), this man, the WANDERER

And probably many more but I didn’t write them on tumblr, yup.

EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?):   Holy fuck if I start I don’t shut up. I started RPing with my close friends when I was... 10? 12? When I finally can use a PC? When I started to use Tumblr I was like... 16?? And from that I’ve been going and leaving time to time, trying characters, memeing around, knowing people... I think I improved my writing a lot thanks to this hellsite.

PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: discord, tumblr, skype (once), msn (god ol’ times), twitter (I don’t like it).

BEST EXPERIENCE: The people I met. I know I lost contact with some, or I’d never talk with them anymore, but the RPs I have done with them have been the best. I loved all my RP partners and I’ll always miss them.

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: people who doesnt trim posts or reblogging a lot of ooc stuff? I guess I like to have my blog clean just as my dashboard. When I come here is to read or write cool shit or watching some fanart but nothing more.

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: COMEDY. I’m a total meme okay sorry. But if I have to choose, I’m between angst and fluff. Angst is the best to make the character improve (or not) and fluff...... sheesh, I just love writing stupid romantic stuff for my baby muses. For me they all are like a babies to me. Smut I write it rarely, and if I do I prefer in private. 

PLOTS OR MEMES: MEMES- Okay but plotting when there’s an idea goes perfect, so both, yes both.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: depends on the mood of the day, I like to write more or less the same length as my rp partner? I like to share what my muses think most of the time.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: I dunno, I remember long ago it was in my nights, lately it has been in my mornings, but my mood swings a lot lately so I can’t choose.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): mostly no... but at the same time yes. They are more exaggerated than me. They did things I would never do. I think my empathy helped me to understand these characters and write my own interpretation. I like masterminds but I’m not that smart... but one thing I would love and you will always see in my muses are the chaotic vibes they give from afar. Always. That’s a part of me I give to them.

tagged by: @erabundus ( thank youuuuuuu ♥ ) tagging: dunno imma just tag ppl I have in my drafts (I don’t forget about our threads I swear and if you did this oh well just ignore the tag sdjkfhsdk) @al-hazen , @praeteritus-memories​ , @abyssmalice​ , @mcwscollective​ , @scarletooyoroi​ , @vixlenxe​ , @dcndrohina​ , @mrcyclopsfan​ , @visionkept​ , @saints-sorrow​ ....... and you if you’re reading this, oh my I have a lot of followers please tag me if you’re doing it and wanna show ♥

[bomberqueen17]

listen this fanfic I just read

So uhhhhhhhhhhhh ok backstory: In high school, we had to do independent research projects on an author, and my favorite English teacher assigned me Lady Gregory, who you probably haven’t heard of but she was a patroness of WB Yeats so just sort of, waft your mind around that sort of era and you’ll get the idea. Anyway one of the things she did was to translate some of Ireland’s old myth-cycles into English, very poetically and Victorian-ly. 

So i read them, and this was 1996 and I was very impressionable, and anyway within short order I was utterly obsessed with the Tain, and read a bunch of other translations of it, and took a few classes on that and the Mabinogion and such in college-- even took a semester of Medieval Welsh which was largely useful in that it taught me I was not cut out to be a scholar and stopped me from applying to grad school, so, thanks for that. 

Anyway. The point this really boils down to is that there was not yet really an Internet, and there was nowhere outside of classes for me to talk to anyone about these stories I was so obsessed with, and so for years I’ve had the books and occasionally go back and suck myself into them again and get obsessive again (I can see Gods And Fighting Men from where I am sitting right this moment, it’s face-out on a bookshelf next to the couch), and it wasn’t until a reblog of something unrelated crossed my dash here on this Tungle hellsite that I saw the person’s URL and it was something about Cúchulainn and I was like... wait... there is... an online fandom... now... about the Táin... of fucking course there is.

so anyway I just very happily spent several hours reading a self-described “ridiculous college AU of the Tain” in which Láeg is a depressed grad student and Cú Chulainn is his precocious freshman flatmate. It’s part of a series called Group Chats Of The Ulster Cycle. It is unreasonably good, for such an unprepossessing description. There’s half-revealed backstory drama with a university official’s sexual harassment scandal that’s actually the tale of Dierdre of the Sorrows, and as part of it, there’s a side story where Dierdre, in exile, is trying to get Naoise’s cousin to bring her a strap-on because she can’t shop online from her exile in Skye and Naoise! needs! to! get! pegged! (oh my god he does, in every translation available, this is canon and i just didn’t have the knowledge to make that analysis before)

Also Cú Chulainn is trans, which-- yes, obviously that makes a shitload of sense if you consider the original source material, in which his origin story is a garbled mess of confusion and throughout the entire saga his opponents consistently refuse to fight him because he is small and has no beard and they refuse to believe he’s a grown man. Oh my god. In 1996 I did not even know people could be trans but now I can see that it’s like, the best fucking interpretation of the text. (Láeg drives him around sometimes in his shitty car. Oh my god. [in canon Láeg is his charioteer, that’s it, that’s the joke, it’s fantastic. Of course the precocious Cú doesn’t have a driver’s license in this story, he’s barely old enough.])

Anyway tl;dr sometimes you learn something so early in your life there’s no context and your life grows up around it and you need to re-experience it later to develop a new understanding of it and so like thanks for that, @trans-cuchulainn, you don’t know me but I love you.

My only concern: the current plot is developing around Cúchulainn’s burgeoning relationship with his new ballet dance partner Ferdía and uh well we know how that ended in canon so I am really really really nervous of where this dance competition storyline is possibly going, there. 

All play, all sport until Ferdia came to the ford. I thought beloved Ferdia would live forever after me --yesterday, a mountain slope today, only a shade.

(why yes, that is Thomas Kinsella’s translation, which took me twenty-five seconds to find because it was on a shelf in the other room, not shelved next to the Gregory translation. The page was marked with a piece of paper on which I’d scribbled down the courses required for an English lit minor.)

[misscrawfords]

The Rise of Skywalker: Part One

I have lots of thoughts and feelings about TROS. Most of them negative. For three days I’ve been alternating between raging and crying. Finally, I’ve felt able to start writing.

This is a negative review. If you loved the film then this might not be the post for you. I am very sensitive to what happened after TLJ. And I want to reassure anyone reading that I would never turn criticism for a film (which is absolutely a valid response to seeing something that you disliked and are trying to understand) into personal attacks against the actors or creators involved or, worse still, fans who liked it. If you liked TROS, can’t bear to hear any criticism of it, and still choose to read my posts about it, then that is on you. (I really shouldn’t have to say this but this is a hellsite.)

This post contains spoilers for TROS... and Jumanji 2. Go figure.

Things I liked:

·       C-3PO and everything he did. This droid is the character I identify with most in the entire SW series (which probably says some uncomfortable things about me but this is not the time!) and he had such a big and important role and his quips were genuinely great and funny and I loved everything he did. Apart from – but more on that later.

·       Ben Solo. Uh, other people have talked about his little shrug and his “ow” and his smile – oh god, his smile. Ben Solo is amazing. It’s a shame that – but more on that later.

·       I didn’t hate Rey Palpatine. I mean, I literally wrote this story when I was 13 when I made Hermione Voldemort’s daughter as a way of explaining her inner darkness and had her team up with Harry (with whom she had a telepathic bond) to destroy him. (You can read the story here if you really want to.) So it would be pretty hypocritical of me to hate this plotline. I enjoyed seeing angry, feral Rey on screen, I enjoyed seeing a female hero confronting her capacity for destruction and darkness. I was okay with the idea of a final face-off between a Palpatine and a Skywalker and how this is a way of bringing final balance to the Force. This was pretty interesting and I’d be up for this. I much prefer Rey Nobody but as a concept I’m not actually against it. Unfortunately the execution – but more on that later.

·       I really enjoyed more of Finn and Poe. I love both of them as characters. I mean I can’t think of a single bit of dialogue that was meaningful between them or what they accomplished in particular for they had some fun moments.

·       Finn and Jannah’s conversation about being ex-stormtroopers was a lovely scene, a moment of much-needed quiet and reflection and bonding in a film that was far too hectic and crowded. Shame it went nowhere.

·       Reylo kiss? I mean, that was cool.

·       Unironically, I loved Hux. He was snarky and his revelation of being the spy because he just hated Kylo that much got the biggest reaction in the cinema of the entire showing. Admittedly it was derisive laughter as we all realised what a clusterfuck of bad writing this film was, but still. It crossed over into so-bad-it’s-good territory. Hux gave me considerable pleasure in a film that otherwise made me very angry.

·       My favourite scene in the film was when Rey and Kylo fought on Pasaana over the transport ship with Chewie (apparently) on and Rey blows it up. The cinematography was amazing, it was a visual representation of both balance and building on the lightsaber breaking scene in TLJ while upping the stakes considerably and Rey’s reaction of visceral horror when she realised what she had done was truly shocking and unexpected. To have Chewie killed off so suddenly like this for no reason except that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the stakes are high and this is a desperate war with casualties – genius. A perfect way to make Rey and Ben even more similar – both having killed father figures – and have Rey confront her dark side as she wrestles with what she has done and the consequences of having a non-unified relationship with Ben while also being in a position to truly empathise with him – this was exactly the content I had signed up for. But it was the moment that it was revealed that Chewie was still alive that I realised what I’d only suspected before then: that this film was terrible and I would not be able to trust any emotion it was inviting me to feel.

Fundamentally, I think that this film is incredibly poorly written and emotionally dishonest. It is telling that I saw Jumanji 2 earlier in the day and out of the two films, the only point at which I cried was when Milo decided to stay in Jumanji as a horse. Why did I cry? Because Milo and Grandpa’s relationship had been gradually built up over the course of a film that was not afraid of quiet moments and building a narrative of a relationship that revealed what it needed over the course of several meaningful scenes. It allowed Milo’s decision to stay to be both a tragic loss but also a happy ending for him. Truly bittersweet and in a way that everyone can relate to. The loss of a dear friend to illness is a horrible but human thing to contemplate. To be able to set this friend free through a metaphor of a beautiful death and afterlife is genuinely moving and hopeful. Unfortunately TROS did not manage to give me any such emotions or elicit a single tear.

At least not till afterwards. I’ve subsequently cried a lot, some of it over the tragedy of Ben and Rey in a film that promised hope, but mainly for myself and the other (mainly) young female fans who have poured all their knowledge and intelligence into analysis of TFA and TLJ and who seemed to understand the story that was being told and who had been promised more of this story in the interviews and trailers released prior to this film – and who are now feeling like absolute garbage as this film throws out its own mythology for an incoherent, self-serving mess that in many ways defies analysis. The only thing I feel really capable of analysing is how much it doesn’t work, as opposed to what the film is trying to do. Where is the symbolism? Where is the metaphor? Where is the hero’s journey? Where is the heroine’s journey? Where is nuance? Where is everything that was set up in both TFA and TLJ? IDK, I can’t see it. It’s a kick in the teeth.

So, no matter how many individual things I was able to enjoy at the time when watching TROS, they end up being meaningless because the entire film was so bad. I can’t feel pleasure thinking about the good bits because they were mired in context (or lack of it). I can’t feel genuine sorrow about the fate of Rey and Ben because the execution of that fate was so poorly done. I don’t even mind that Ben died. It was always an option and the story of redemption followed by death is a very common story, a very Christian story. Though the death of Christ to save us from our sins, is crucially followed by resurrection. I mean, literally everyone can and does die. That doesn’t make you special. If you’re going for a Christ metaphor, you kind of need resurrection too. But I’m not sure that was exactly what they were going for with it; it was a mess and the execution made little internal consistency.

It may be that if I watched the film again, my problems would be lessened and I would see new things in them and they would make sense. I’ve read some twitter threads of people who are making connections and finding explanations on a second or third viewing. But the problem is that I shouldn’t need to see a film more than once to fundamentally understand it. I don’t mean picking up on new and interesting features and subtext which a good film, like a good book, rewards you with on multiple viewings. TLJ does that. But you should be able to follow what the ultimate meaning of a film is when you see it first.

If that is the case, then the ultimate meaning of TROS is that the good are good, the bad are bad, change is rewarded with death, a character who was once alone ends up alone again, plot coherency is sacrificed for whatever explosion or cool backwards-reference is needed at the time, death is not the end except when it is, there is no cosistency and consequently no emotional impact. And apparently it is a happy and hopeful ending? The tonal disconnect with the story being told and the way it was shot and the music being played and the clear intention of the people making the film is utterly jarring.

To famously quote Macbeth:

It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.

This post is already too long so I will go into my criticisms in more detail in a further post. Stay tuned!

Read Part Two here.

[threadsketchier]

storytime: I almost quit my job to write fic

haha u see what i did there it’s kind of a pun get it

Not exactly clickbait-y, it’s literally what it says on the tin.  This past Wednesday I was a gross, undignified sobbing mess in my bi-weekly meeting with my boss and I flat out said I’d turn in my last month’s notice on Friday.  I didn’t have another job lined up, I just wanted to run away and have about a month of freedom to actually write.  My two week vacation wasn’t enough time to get around to that because it was taken up by IRL stuff that my job makes difficult to do either because of lack of time or lack of spoons to do it.  (Frankly I wanted to vegetate a lot from being drained by the sheer insanity of work as of late, plus my monthly frenemy showed up and made me feel borderline flu-like the second week.)

But it hit me that night that this was just another flare-up in a long string of events all the way back to childhood from my notoriously poor decision-making capabilities.  I’m impulsive and nearly every choice I’ve made in life is The Worst™ with no good or helpful outcome.  However horrid it is, I was going to throw away a viable job - the only job in this shitty wage-starved area that will pay me this much without a college degree - and put not only myself but my mother in financial jeopardy for the sake of being able to write fic...for a limited time anyway.  Then I’d be all stressed out again once I’d have to get up off my ass and find another job, and then worry about how the hell to pay all the bills at a steep pay cut.

(TBH, it’s like 50/50 about the free time issue but also just the toxicity of the job itself, the crushing sense of futility that things will never improve because of others’ incompetence and laziness and the company’s relentless drive to keep expanding and becoming more and more of a Corporation™ that will soon own my ass around the clock but I digress)

I’m almost 34 years old, and I barely opened a savings account for the first time in my life.  Pathetically tiny, but I have one now.  And I was stupidly going to give up on that immediately just to be a faaaaaaanguuuuuuuurl.  And, and, selfishly, it also feels really nice to be able to buy more fun shit now and not be broke constantly?

So I chickened out and despite knowing how idiotic it made me look, I typed up a brief note to my boss and took back what I’d told her and said, “ok, this officially means I can’t bitch about this anymore because you’re my boss, not my therapist, and it’s unprofessional” and asked her to pretend nothing happened, and that was that.  (Bless my boss, at least I’m lucky to have this understanding bish; I’m sure she thinks I’m nuts now but she’s cool enough to not say anything about it)

Once again I’ve haven’t been on this hellsite all last week because once I miss one day, I know I won’t be able to catch up in a couple of hours on a weeknight evening.  And I’m at the same crossroads again of do I want to just keep being a passive lump of fandom consumption and drowning my sorrows as I scroll forever or give up on this place entirely so that I have a sliver of a hope of getting back to writing.  Not being on here for another week makes it really easy/tempting to make a clean break.

I don’t mean delete or completely disappear - because the point would be to eventually and occasionally produce SOME content - but to pull a fialleril and vanish for long periods of time and only briefly emerge from the depths to post something.  It’ll feel hollow because I have no idea what’s going on, I’ll have missed who knows how much quality meta or beautiful artwork or awesome comic scans or hilarious shitposts - aka, I WILL MISS ALL YOU DORKS OUT THERE.  THAT WAS THE WHOLE POINT OF BEING HERE.  I’ll feel like I’m just shouting into the void.  But it’s the only way I’d maybe get anything done.  (Still a big Maybe™.)

I’ve seen countless posts about “writers are never obligated to finish stuff” and that’s fine, yes, I agree - but for me personally, I DO feel obligated because I made the choice to start posting.  I got people invested in that shit.  I feel that I do owe it to them to at least try to finish what they started reading.  (This is why I rage-quit a few years back and deleted all my fics off AO3 and the JCF boards, because I have this all-or-nothing attitude about it.)  It’s not just fic content either, I’d love to make other stuff.

I’m just.  Tired™.  Of having my leisure time on such a tight schedule, that Adulting™ is squeezing the life out of my creativity and making existence feel so pointless and futile.  So I guess this is goodbye, of a sorts?  For anyone here who gives a flip?  I’ll say it again - if you peeps of mine see some bomb-ass posts you know I’d love, please feel free to tag me in them so at least I can glance at them in my email or go skim them on AO3.  You have no idea how much the FOMO crushes my soul.  It’ll take a long time for me to feel numb about that.

[geekydane]

More than a machine - Connor x reader - part 12

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 •  Part 4 •  Part 5 •  Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10   • Part 11 

Smoke. Fire.

You woke up in a panic. In your half-awake half unconscious state you could distinguish the smell of fire around you. You could feel something heavy on your head and the pain in your injured shoulder. Then came the rest of your senses and you gasped when the first big breath was filled with smoky air.

“Calm down. It’s alright.” Connor said very close to you as you scanned the ceiling you were facing. No fire. You turned your head to look straight up at Connors face. It was a mix of many emotions, which you thought might be hard on him. It was all new to him. But in between all those emotions were the calm and relieve when your eyes met. First then you registered that the heaviness on your head, was Connors hand, his thumb slowly caressing your hairline. Your head was placed in his lap that felt nothing less than human. You didn’t want to look away from Connor but you released your gaze to look around at your dimly lit surroundings.

“Where are we?” You asked drily. You were thirsty and tried to sit up, but Connor pressed a hand against your stomach to make you stay down.

“Please be still. You are hurt and people are out looking for supplies. We found an abandoned building, so we are safe for now. I do believe it was once a church.” Connor looked around and you did too. The little you could see showed that he was right. The old mosaic windows were shattered but the pieces left in the frames were shimmering in a multi-coloured light. The main light source was a few barrels with fires crackling inside them. That might be why it all smelled wet and burned.

“Is someone getting supplies for me? Why?” You asked and coughed lightly.

“You have helped a lot of people here. It’s not something they forget easily. They will be back soon.” Connor explained and a hint of a smile played on his lips before thought took over him.

“Look. She’s awake now.” A small voice said and you looked passed the barrel a few meters away from you. A woman with short black hair with a little girl in her arms were looking and smiling your way. You tried your best to smile back.

“Alice was worried when they carried you in here. She was about to give you her jacket, but I told her it was too small.” The woman said and squeezed the girl, Alice, into her side.

“That’s very thoughtful of you. But you need it yourself.” Alice looked shyly away. The conversation let to so many new questions. How long were you out? You looked down at yourself and realized that you weren’t wearing the same clothes that you did when you went to Jericho. And Connors sweatshirt was laid over you as a blanket.  You studies Connor face as he was looking you over with a wondering look. You took in his whole appears without the sweatshirt and realized that the T-shirt he was wearing was very discoloured around his shoulder. It took you a moment to piece out that it was blue blood in the dark.

“Connor, are you hurt?” You asked him worried. You lifted your hand to reach for his face but he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m alright. A former nurse android took care of it with what we got. It’s not perfect but it stopped the bleeding.” Connor took your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.

“Was it Lucy?” You asked hopefully.

“Sadly, she didn’t make it.” A voice came from beside you and you turned your head to see Markus standing there. His clothes were ripped and bloody, but he was very much alive.

“Markus.” You didn’t know what to say. He had suffered such a great lose as the leader of Jericho. You couldn’t imagine what he would do next.

“I’m glad to see you are awake.” He said to you and then looked at Connor. Connor looked horrible. As if the sight of Markus reminded of all the death you all had seen in your escape.

“It was my fault. The humans managed to locate Jericho. I was so stupid. I should have known they were using me.” He said and he almost sounded like he was about to cry. His voice was all mushy.

“Connor you weren’t fully deviant. Don’t’ do this to yourself.” You pleaded.

“No, Stop!” Connor said and shook his head. He let go of your hand and carefully lifted your head off his lap to get up. You felt cold when your head rested against the hard surface of the church bench. You kept quiet as you Connor approached Markus with his head hanging low.

“I can understand if you decide not to trust me…” Connor began and it made you sit up straight even though you felt a throbbing pain in your injured shoulder.

“You are one of us. Your place is with your people.” Markus reassured him before Connor could doubt himself even more. It made Connor relax and he reached out for you again as if he was again allowed to me near you. You took his hand in a heartbeat.

“There are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power.” Connor said with more confidence in his voice.

“You want to infiltrate the Cyberlife tower?” Markus asked with a serious expression. You then realized what Connor was about to offer. You tugged a little in his arm.

“No Connor, that’s suicide!” You protested.

“They still trust me. They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me.”

“If you go there… They’ll kill you.” Markus warned him but Connor didn’t even flinch.

“There is a high probability… But statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.” You closed your eyes at Connors word. Your whole body slumbered and drained from the little energy you had left. You let go of his hand, because he was about to leave again. Markus didn’t say anything, but stepped forward and patted Connor on the shoulder and left.

Connor sad down next to you, but you closed yourself off by pulling your legs up on the bench and rested your head on your knees.

“Y/n.” Connor tried but you shook your head. You were already crying and you didn’t want to show him. It was not the time to show weakness but you couldn’t help it. The thought of him losing his life when he just realized he was alive? No, you didn’t want to think about it.

“Y/n look at me.” He tried again. You felt his hand on your cheek as he tried to turned your face towards him. You let him and you saw the hurt in his eyes, when he realized you were crying.

“Connor… I just got you. You know I would do anything for the androids to be free… But I just got you.” You said and an uncontrollable sob escaped your lips. He reached around your shoulders, careful not to tug at your injury. He pulled you into him and you let your guards down so you could rest your head against his chest.

“Y/n, you will always have me. There is nothing more I want than to be around you all the time, to be a part of your life. But it is impossible until we are free. I need to do this. It’s the only way.” It was not much louder than a whisper in your ear, but this was a private moment. You didn’t need anyone else around the fire to hear your sorrows.

“I love you Connor. You should know that. I knew from the moment I saw you, that you were special. You might not know entirely what love is yet. But I’m determined to show it to you. So please come back to us as fast as possible.” You looked up at him and were surprised by the huge grin on Connors face. You had never seen him with such a sincere smile before. You let your hand wander over the perfect features of his face. The jaw, the chin, the dimples, the cheekbones.

“I will look forward to experience these… feelings, even though I think I have a good idea about what you are talking about. I’ll be back as quickly as possible. Wait for me and get well.” You nodded and in the next moment he crashed him lips against yours. It was a eager kiss, like he had been holding back for a long time. He tangled his fingers in your hair as you returned the passion you were met with. You tasted salt and realized that you were crying again.  You didn’t want the moment to end but it did. Right when the thought strike you, Connor had gotten up and was on his way toward the exit of the church. He stopped when Josh rushed the other way. He said something to the android and Josh nodded, looking in your direction. And then Connor was gone.

“I got you some food and water. Oh, and I found bandage to replace the cloth around your wound.” Josh said and placed a plastic bag in front of you. You had forgotten about your wound for a moment. The hurt had been pushed to something that wasn’t physical.

“Connor said I should take care of you. You should drink something. I’m afraid you are close to dehydration.” He said a little worried. You tried away your tears and took the water bottle that Josh pulled out of the bag.

“Thanks Josh.”

__________________________________

tags: @vda-writes @mundane-cup-noodles @superanonymousreader @aya-fay @dragonempress123 @talle-2002 @jamiethenerdymonster @i-resent-this-hellsite @i-do-wat-i-want @syrinxgm@queerfandomtrash @missjayi @belleknows @veerniks @dylan-o-yumm @wonderlustedchild@cliche-female-protagonist @omegachizu @black-and-white-eyes

[lillotte17]

So...I’ve been dabbling in some sort-of-not-quite-there-yet ‘Solavellan’ stuff featuring @feynites  Pride in her version of Elvhenan. And I...don't really know what all I’m doing with it yet, but I’ve got like 6 pages and it’s cute, so I’m just going to fling it on the Hellsite and call it a day.

Tenacity is a very small spirit. 

It came into being deep in the wilds during a particularly hard winter. Animals scraping bark from trees and digging up roots ad other less than appetizing things in an effort to survive. Plants pushing up through the snow, fighting for a glimpse of sunlight. A rushing stream steadily beating against rocks and ice until it could wind its way to the sea.

It had been a little confused about what it was meant to be at first. Perseverance or Stubbornness, or perhaps even Hope. Because, despite its size, Tenacity had felt that it embodied a very big feeling. Something solid and bright humming through its entire being. A candle burning in a dark room struggling to push back shadows as best it can. 

Curiosity had helped it see the truth of its nature, though, and it had led a good life out among the trees and lakes and mountains. Encouraging new life and helping plants and animals find their way around various hardships. 

But in the end, it was its own curiosity that led it near to where the elves lived. It wondered if perhaps some impression of the other spirit who had helped it form lingered in them still, for it felt a deep yearning to reach beyond itself and all it knew. There must be other creatures with other struggles that needed help and reassurance. The forest was good and safe and quiet, but the nature of Tenacity is to press forward, and after several millennia, if found that it did not have anywhere left to go within the safety of its home.

 And so it decided to leave.

It knew the risks, of course. Little spirits do not generally fare well under the Evanuris, and with so many people struggling to climb ever higher in rank and regard, it would be all too easy for it to be twisted into Obsession or possibly even Greed.

It chooses Mythal's holdings because she has a reputation for being kinder towards spirits than most. Or at least slightly less prone to sacrificing them on a whim.

Caution and shyness are not part of Tenacity's nature, but they do not wish to die. To be used in some ritual or other to fuel the fires of Elvhenan's glory. So, it contents itself with watching, for a time. It seeks companionship with others of its kind. Honor and Compassion and Duty. Sorrow and Desire and Rage. It is very different from the time they spent in the forest, but it is not certain that one place is preferable to the other.

Then it discovers the library.

And oh, it can feel the clear purpose of its being echo in that place. So many people, spirits and elves alike, all struggling to better themselves in some way. The ardor of the authors battling with words and images to portray the story they mean to tell. The readers parsing out meanings. The researchers seeking new truths in old knowledge.

It nearly shatters itself with vibrations of pure delight.  

Every day there is a new challenge, a new hurdle to overcome. A book that needs finding. Old spells that need to be reworked to suit new purposes. A poem that needs just the right words to entice a lover.

Tenacity flits every which way, helping those who will accept its assistance. Shining with intent like a fist full of flames. Joyous and giddy with the realness of all that it embodies.

He is sitting by himself the first time it sees him, surrounded by piles of books.

It is hardly a strange sight in this place, and yet there is something about him that gives it pause. Sparking that tiny imprint of curiosity within its being. It hesitates for a moment, uncertain about approaching when it does not have something helpful to say.

"You are looking for something," it says, buzzing slightly with a hint of something that might be nervousness, "But the thing you are trying to find is not in any of those books. It's not in any book. Not really. But you know that, and you read them anyway, not only because you enjoy it, but because you hope that they will eventually piece themselves into what you want. How strange."

He glances up from his book.

"You are very small for a spirit of Purpose," he notes casually.

"I am Tenacity!" it declares, zipping around him once and flaring brightly for a moment, "I want to help those who struggle towards a worthy goal. I can see it in you, the long nights of study, the blistered hands, and careful words. You are working very hard to become something you are not born to by nature. Will you tell me what it is?"

"You cannot see it for yourself?" he wonders, setting his book aside to give it his full attention.

"I am not Desire," it replies, "I can only see the toil, the wish for something more, and what might be needed to achieve the next step along the path to what you are striving for. Sometimes the want is clear, but others… Things get muddled. People think they are reaching for one thing, but it is not what they truly want, or even what would be good for them. Perhaps a more powerful spirit could see more than I can, but it would be easier if you tell me."

"You do realize that what you are asking is a fairly personal question?" he wonders.

"Does it matter?" it blinks at him in turn, "I want to know, and I'll only keep asking. Tenacious, you know."

It giggles at its own joke, to which the man sighs in apparent exasperation.

"I…was a spirit once, like you," he confesses, "But I was dissatisfied with my own nature. I hoped that with enough time and searching, I might become Wisdom. But I failed. The Lady Mythal asked me to take a body and serve her in another way, but…I would still like to pursue wisdom and knowledge. A spirit may change the nature of its being, or be changed by its environment. I would like to think that I could still alter my spirit, even though I have a physical form now."

"Oh!" Tenacity exclaims, "But that is a marvelous goal! Possibly the most admirable one I have encountered yet. Wisdom is so elusive and changing. The path you must take to reach it is long and arduous, and it will cost you much, but you can still achieve it as you are."

"Really?" he asks, sounding genuinely surprised, "How?"

"It's…too big for me," Tenacity admits, "The pieces are all there, but they're spaced out. Distant and blurry. But I can still help! Please let me! I want to see you reach your aspirations."

"If you like," he replies, smiling the smile of a person who is humoring someone out of good nature.

Tenacity whirls away, off to find books written by the greatest minds of the empire, and perhaps see if there are any spirits nearby who could point her in the right direction for helping her new friend. He has likely tried these avenues himself already, but it can see clearer paths of what information and connections will be helpful than he could. There is so much to do! So much to explore! Wisdom does not come so easily to some as it does to others. Her new friend seems very smart, but it still thinks that this will be hard for him.

It circles back to his books-strewn table a few moments later though, having suddenly realized something.

"Oh, I meant to ask," it says, trembling with excitement at the prospect of such a long difficult quest, "What sort of spirit were you before you became an elf? It might make a difference, you know!"

 He smiles at it again, with something that seems like the beginnings of genuine fondness.

"Pride."

~

The years roll by, and Tenacity finds that it enjoys Pride’s company very much. Perhaps more than any other being it has met before, although Curiosity is a close contender. He works on tasks assigned to him from the Lady Mythal, as well as researching the answers to questions of his own, all while searching for the key to wisdom, and Tenacity offers help and encouragement wherever it can. Pride is patient with its musings and inquiries, there are many things it does not understand about Elvhenan after living most of its life out in the forest, and he does not seem to mind when it bobs along after him, even when he ventures outside of the library.

He will not let it accompany him when he must attend his lady in Arlathan, however. And battlefields are completely out of the question.

It had argued the point, naturally.

Tenacity would be very good for things like bringing important messages and helping ensure that it is adrenaline and not fear that sinks into their soldiers' hearts. And Arlathan has some of the biggest libraries in the empire. And there is an entire merchant's district for it to explore, filled with people toiling each day to craft and build for their patrons. So many wonders to discover. So many achievements it could help reach!

But Pride will not be persuaded. Tenacity is too small. Its light is not strong enough. It would be all too easy for someone to ensnare it and use it to fuel the magics for whatever project they happened to be working on. Some might try to shatter it simply because they could.

Tenacity does not think it is so easy to destroy as its friend makes it sound, but it is true enough that Pride knows more about these sorts of things than it does. It nearly follows after him to the city once or twice, regardless of warnings. It thinks better of it at the last moment though. It does not think that its form is fragile, bit it is very small. It is good for going unnoticed sometimes, but it would not be good for defending itself.

Which is why it begins to ponder the notion of acquiring a physical form of its own.

The first time it voices the thought aloud is when it had come looking for Pride by following traces of him through the Dreaming, and found him practicing his sword work out in Mythal's training grounds. His tunic is light and sleeveless, and it can see the muscles in his arms stretch and flex. His brow is furrowed in apparent concentration. His skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Tenacity heaves a sigh of admiration.

"I wish I could do that," it notes wistfully, floating a bit closer when Pride stops for a brief respite.

"You wish to know how to fight with a blade?" Pride wonders, pulling his hair up off his neck and wiping away perspiration with a damp towel.

"Well, not specifically," the spirit replies, "Although I wouldn't mind learning how to use physical weapons. They take a lot of time and patience and effort to master with any competence. I doubt I would make a very good general, though. Not like you."

"I would not say that," Pride grins at it, "A good general should be tenacious. You should inspire your people to fight until the bitter end."

"But the best generals know when to fall back, too," Tenacity blinks at him, "I don't know how. It is one thing to risk your own life to pursue your goals, and it is something else to expect other people to risk theirs. I…do not know if I want to be that."

"You are kind," Pride tells it, his expression turning soft, "Perhaps weapons would not suit you at all. Besides, even though there are some spirits who can form weapons for themselves, I suspect you would have some trouble with it. Any weapon small enough for you to wield would likely only be useful against the birds loitering about the palace. And we both know what sort of ruckus Thenvunin would likely stir up if you made attempts to brandish anything at them."

"I might have to if that big angry one from his garden keeps breaking out and trying to eat me," it says with a hint of annoyance, its forms shivering slightly at the memory. "But…I could learn to fight with a weapon if I took a body like yours? I probably would not have to worry about Thenvunin's vicious pets, either."

Pride frowns.

"It is true enough that a body is useful for some things," he allows, "But it is also an inescapable shackle. It changes you in more ways than you can prepare yourself for. I would not… I would advise against it, my friend."

"But you took a body," Tenacity insists, "And if I was an elf, I could go with you to Arlathan. Maybe even to camps and battlefields once I learn how to fight or heal or something useful. I could help you more! I would not be nearly so little, and I could carry much larger books and all sorts of things! I have always wanted to know what if felt like to have sore muscles and lungs burning with exertion. And sweating! I have always wondered what it was like to work hard enough to sweat. To have a shape that showed real signs of all the effort put into achieving something. It must be marvelous!"

"Sweating is highly overrated," Pride assures it, wrinkling his nose at the grimy sensation still lingering on his face and neck. "And Arlathan would hardly be safer for you as an elf, to say nothing of camps and battlefields. Not to mention the fact that becoming a follower of Mythal, or any Evanuris for that matter, would mean that you would be assigned duties. You would not be free to follow me about all day, or help people as you wished."  

"But…maybe I could help other people in new ways?" it suggests, "And if Arlathan would not be safe for me, how is it any safer for you?"

"Because I have a high rank as well as the Lady Mythal's favor," Pride sighs, "I took a body at her behest, and…I am not sure it was the right choice. Even now. I do not wish such regret upon you. As a spirit, there are only so many cruelties that others might visit upon you, and for now at least, association with me is enough to shield you from them. As an elf, there are far more ways to torment and confine and injure, and I…might not be able to protect you from all of it. I have my lady's ear, and she is kind and merciful, but even that would not stop some people. You would likely be midranking, at best, and other followers with more prestige and connections could find perfectly legal ways of abusing you."

Tenacity pauses for a moment, thoughtful and flickering. Its light glows softly, with gentleness or sorrow, it is difficult to say.

"I can't stay in a safe little box until the end of time," it tells him quietly, "Even one built by a friend. It goes against what I am. Survival is tenacious, but never taking a chance on something new is not. It is complacency. It is…stagnation. I can learn. I can adapt and grow. I can become more than I am, just like you want to be. I…do not think it would be so terrible, to be as you are."

"I will not stop you, if that is truly your desire," Pride says, his expression neutral, but his tone unhappy.

"But you won't help me, either?" Tenacity guesses, its light growing dim with unexpected hurt.

"Not in this," Pride replies, pointedly avoiding meeting its gaze, "You are my friend, and I do not wish to take part in anything that might harm you. Even if it is something you are choosing to do to yourself. Please, do not ask me again."

"Pride…" Tenacity starts, but he waves it off, picking up his sword and the rest of his gear and walking away without another word.

Tenacity sighs to itself, turning to glide back in the direction of the library. Still wanting a body of its own, but feeling a little deflated at the rejection of its friend. It will…bide its time. Learn and study until it is certain without a shred of doubt that this is the choice it wants to make. Pride will see when it is done, it thinks. He will realize that it was the right decision. Tenacity will be helpful and strong with a solid form, and then… Then Pride cannot be upset with it for taking one.  

~

Several weeks go by before Tenacity speaks with Pride again. This time he is the one seeking through the Dreaming, finding his friend in a little grove of flowering trees. Its favorite place in its old home out in the woods.

Tenacity looks a bit different than normal. Bigger and shaped more solidly, like an elf.  It has some vague suggestions of limbs and a fiery wreath of pale hair. It gleams with unexpected pleasure as it greets him, and he heaves a sigh of relief.

“I thought you might be upset with me after our last discussion,” he admits, “I did not want you to presume… Well. I still do not think that taking a body would be wise. But you are my friend, and I will not shun you if you choose this path. You have helped me several times over the years, and should you require help adjusting to things afterwards, I would be happy to assist.”

“Thank you, Pride,” Tenacity buzzes happily, its form flickering back to its usual shape for a few moments before stretching back into the one it had been holding before. “I am practicing having arms and legs to see how I like them. I couldn’t hold it very well in the Waking, so I had to come here. I am not sure I made this shape heavy enough, though. Everyone I have talked to says that most bodies are very heavy.”

“They are heavy,” Pride agrees, “Burdensome, even. And lumbering, more often than not.”

“You seem to handle yours well enough,” Tenacity returns brightly, undaunted by his warnings, “And I have seen many elves move gracefully, especially when Lady Mythal holds one of her festivals. The dancing is always fascinating to observe. I suppose it is possible that I might not be capable of steering my new body with much elegance, but with time and effort, I am certain I could achieve it.”

It twirls around him once, as though performing a waltz of its own, arms swaying like branches in the wind.

“If I take a body, would you dance with me, Pride?” it wonders.

“I would dance with you as you are now,” he counters with an arched brow, “Bodies are hardly a prerequisite for such things.”

“You wouldn’t dance with me at a festival, though,” Tencaity blinks at him with eyes like coals, “I am not the right shape for it in the Waking. I could barely hold your hand. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

“You would not embarrass me,” Pride attempts to reassure it, but his expression slides into a doubtful frown.

“It’s alright, Pride,” Tenacity says gently, “I do not suppose I would be very good at dancing, even without a 'lumbering' body. I have never tried to hold someone’s hand. Or waist. Or anything. Is it difficult? The lovers that come to the library for their poems all fret about it very passionately. Almost as much as kissing. And sex. I do not have much of a head for any of it. Does it really feel like shooting stars and storms of fire and the lightest brush of flower petals all at once?”

"I…uh. I confess, I do not have much experience with such matters myself," Pride coughs.

"Why not?" Tenacity wonders.

"I suppose I have not found anyone I wished to try it with," he sighs.

"But I have seen you dance with people," it replies, slightly confused, "Did that not feel like poetry?"

"Physical touch is a curious thing," he attempts to explain, "It can feel very different depending on who is doing it and how you feel about them. One who is skilled at lovemaking may bring pleasure with their touch, but it generally lacks the…fervor one would presumably experience when sharing such activities with someone you care for."  

"So…you have not cared for your dance partners?" it asks.

"Not in a romantic sense," Pride confirms, "Some of them were pleasant enough people, I suppose."

"Then…if romance does not need to be a factor," it begins, floating a little closer, "May I attempt to hold your hand? I might be able to help the tenacious would-be lovers I meet more effectively if I had a better idea of what they wanted."

"Certainly, though I suspect it will not feel the same as if two people with bodies were touching," Pride replies, extending his hand none the less.

"I can be more solid here," Tenacity says confidently, "If I my will is strong enough, I can feel your skin against me as much as your magic."

So saying, it reaches out and places the end of one tendril-like arm in the palm of his hand. It does its best to form fingers, thin squiggling little things that curl about his own. The touch is very gentle, almost hesitant.

"I can feel your intensity and your purpose," Pride tells it, "But it still does not quite feel like skin. It is more reminiscent of…a warm breeze. Or perhaps a smooth stone that has been sitting out in the sunlight."

"Is it unpleasant?" Tenacity wonders, pulling its arm away slowly.

"Not at all," Pride reassures it.

"I believe I felt more of your spirit than your body," Tenacity admits, sounding a bit disappointed, "Spirits of Desire and Lust can take shapes that mimic bodies in the Dreaming so easily. And even in the Waking, at times. Perhaps I should seek guidance from one of them."

"It is the wishes and feelings of others that grant those spirits the ability to touch," Pride tells it, "Your will is formidable, my friend, but you are Tenacity, not Purpose or Determination. You are more adaptable, and therefore more nebulous in your shape. And attempting to touch me specifically likely ended with poor results due to the fact that I have no wish for you to be other than you are."

"I will still be myself, Pride," Tenacity promises, "I will just be…more, too."

"How can you know for certain?" Pride presses, "What if the shackles of a physical form rob you of everything you feel makes you what you are?"

"I suppose I can't know that," Tenacity shrugs, "But I would hope that however I ended up changing, it would be for the better. And if it is not, then I will have to rely on my friends, like you and Curiosity and Compassion, to tell me I have gone astray. There is not always a clear path that leads to the destination we might wish for. I will keep searching for what I seek. I will do my best to keep the parts of me that are true and bright and admirable. I will keep trying to do better. Failure does not have to be permanent or absolute."

"I suppose that is all that can be done," he sighs. "I pray that your effort and determination bears the fruit of your desires, my friend. It would grieve me to lose you."

"And I you," it replies easily, "But there is no need to be so morose, Pride. Spirits take bodies all the time, it is not as if the process would shatter me."

Pride smiles at it sadly.  

"I hope you are right."   

[archmageofrageandlove]

Boy howdy, what a fucking mess

"so what's your mental state like right now" oh boy fucking howdy, my mental state is absolute shit yeefuckinghaw pardner 🤠🤠🤠 it's missing your ex szn with an added malignant tumour known as fully believing you were the primary one who destroyed what y'all had with your hypocrisy, so i've turned to drinking more again just to simply feel something other than numbness and rage and self-hatred and sorrow and confusion and crippling sadness, and I dunno what i'm gonna do when the alcohol runs out. will i start chainsmoking to cope? will i finally find a goddamned therapist or a good psychiatrist so i can get a thorough mile-long diagnosis of my mental and emotional problems? who fucking knows buddy, the sky's the limit. I'm 99% sure I have DID now, and I suspect there's more than just that. i've become extremely irritable, even towards good friends. more reckless, less focused on the future, drinking several cups of coffee and tea alongside Monster every single day. i'm.

i'm so horribly damaged. irreparable. my mother suggests i should go to a psych ward. she's very concerned. i'd rather die, honestly, because i value my freedom over my health. can't jack off and play smite and get drunk on my own late at night? no fucking way. i dunno if i'm a guy or a girl or if i even exist anymore. am i real? my memory blacks out constantly, i appear in rooms without remembering, everything is in a fog, i sometimes see myself or alternate versions of myself from beside me. my mood is so fucking volatile that just hearing someone speak can send me into a rage. you've gotta understand that i'm about as low as i've ever been, but i know this isn't the worst. it's never the worst.

just writing this i've felt several switches in thought processes. almost like several alters have taken over for short periods. i'm sorry, i dunno how long i can carry on. maybe i'm just gonna become a wanderer. lost soul with no desire to call a place home. i do not feel at home in my body, or on this plane of existence.

🤠

oh, also, even tho almost nobody is gonna be seeing this anyways don't interact, i just needed to spill a fraction of my problems onto this hellsite. please.