#Folks if you like the story I'd love to hear from you either here on AO3 don't be shy!

[mikhailwrites]

Waiting for Connection 11 / Ghost x Soap NerdAU

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

I've ran out of pre-written stuff and need to write some more to connect things I already have, also it's Serpent's Coil's turn to occupy my time so I'll be taking a brief break from Waiting for Connection.

Previous chapter | AO3

Soap leaves the window open, the gushes of fresh air soothe him. But it’s November and this is Manchester. It’s cold as hell that freezed over. Soap takes a lungful while enjoying the warmth of the blanket. The smell of rain and cold mixes with something else. Earthy musk that makes him think of home. Not Glasgow; his childhood home. John buries his head in the blanket. The smell gets stronger.

Soap’s eyes close and he falls asleep soon after.

Simon stays awake till the early hours of the morning. The quilt is not very warm, luckily, Ghost had always run hot. And there’s also Stripey, curled up on Simon’s chest and providing extra warmth. The reason Simon is awake and staring at the ceiling is the man in his living room. Shortly after Simon’s discharge, he found living with such a degree of privacy hard. Sleep was difficult for a few months before his brain switched. It’s the exact opposite now. Falling asleep while someone else is in the flat makes him a little antsy.

Simon tries to calm down. Soap has been invited, and he is welcome to stay. Ghost is safe. He turns on his side, facing the half-open window. The cool breeze plays with the curtains. He watches the fabric dance long enough to feel his eyelids grow heavy and slowly close.

The morning comes with its blue-grey bleakness. Ghost slept only a few hours, and since the state of perpetual sleep deprivation, too, is long behind him, he feels like shit.

“Christ it’s freezing in here,” Simon exclaims the moment he sets foot outside the bedroom. Soap is still tucked in, the man pretty much created a den out of Ghost’s blanket. Simon can’t honestly tell head or tail.

He crosses the room, closing the window and turning back to Soap. “Rise and shine, soldier!” Ghost raises his voice to its old commanding tone and level.

The reaction is instant, just as he expected. Soap’s head emerges from the warm cocoon he’s made for himself. He’s all sleepy, mohawk sticking in all directions. He looks like a damn puppy. “Ah... guid mornin'... or... jist mornin', really. Whit's the time?”

Simon frowns as he tries to decipher John’s accent. “It’s oh-six-fifteen,” Ghost says as he goes to the kitchenette, putting the kettle on.

“Too early,” Soap moans, but he does get up. John yelps as his feet touch the freezing-cold floor.

“Should’ve closed the window,” Simon notes, not even concealing his amusement.

John’s gaze lingers on Simon’s face for a second too long, yet he doesn’t ask why the other man looks so haggard. Simon appreciates the sentiment. He takes out a box of cereals, two bowls, milk and spoons and places everything on the table.

“Thank you,” John smiles, still half asleep.

“Not a morning person, John?” he asks casually as he brews the tea and brings both cups to the table.

Soap sighs, running a hand through his messy mohawk. Styled, it looks good, but Ghost quickly decides he likes it more all dishevelled. “Not exactly.”

“You sure the military was the right choice for you?” Ghost smirks.

“I have my doubts,” Soap nods, digging into his cereals. “They keep telling me I’ll get used to it, but at this point, I don’t think it’s happening.”

“Some get used to it, some don’t, not that anyone really cares either way,” Simon shrugs.

“Aye,” John agrees, sipping on his tea and grimacing as he shakes his head. “Tea? Never could understand the British obsession with tea.”

“A good cuppa makes everything better,” Simon says like a memorised mantra.

“Now that is a load of crap,” John snorts, “don’t tell me ye actually believe it.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Either way, you don’t have much of a choice, unless you’d like to criticise my hospitality, that is.”

“British bastard,” Soap mutters quietly.

Simon raises an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“I said I’m very grateful,” John smiles in an exceptionally sweet manner.

“Of course you are,” Simon regards him with a knowing smile before checking the time. “We should get going.”

As soon as he says it, John’s smile falters. Simon’s itching to ask, but reins it in. If Soap wanted to tell him, he would.

They get to the station in time, of course, Ghost wouldn’t let John miss his train, even if man himself doesn’t seem to care much about it.

“It was real nice seeing you in person, Simon; maybe we could do this again sometime?” John says, looking up hopefully.

“I’d like that,” Ghost nods. It was nice. Real nice. Talking to someone like that, and in person. He feels slightly sorry that John has to go so soon.

John turns around to check the departures as something in the broadcast catches his attention. “Well, that’s my ride.”

“Safe travels, Johnny,” Ghost says and freezes. Soap pauses as well, looking at Ghost with a mixture of surprise and confusion. Ghost has no idea where the nickname came from. “Sorry.”

“No… no, it’s fine,” John smiles, even though he has no idea why it’s fine. He never liked that nickname; it always felt a tad too childish. Well, it doesn’t from Simon. “See you around, Si,” Soap smiles, waves and trots to his train before Simon even realises he’s just been given a nickname of his own. It’s only fair he supposes as he turns around and leaves the train station.

[skinandscales-if]

S&S Anniversary

Today officially marks the 1 year anniversary of the demo release Skin & Scales! The first of many, I hope! I’m so very lucky and fortunate to have such cool people interested in my work, and I’m so delighted to see where the future takes us.

The story is still a baby, with much more to go, but I feel so honored to have built up exactly what the story sets out to create: community. You all have been an incredible part of this journey, and I could not be more grateful, especially to those who send me messages and take the time to interact, big or small. I want to do you justice, and I want to create the best product from everyone’s patience and love over this past year and onwards. This world and the characters have always been a welcome place to return to, and that’s thanks to you all. Thank you so much and here’s to more years to come. ❤️

To celebrate, here’s a little lore tease :)

BELOW IS THE WRITTEN TRANSCRIPT OF PRIVATE POLICE QUESTIONING. DO NOT REPLICATE.

REPORT BY OFFICER LEWIS BRANDY

SEND TO INSTITUTE IMMEDIATELY

DATE: 02/29/1990

QUESTIONS START 09:32

OFFICER BRANDY: Can you state your name for the record?

DARLING: Yes, of course. My name is Samantha Darling.

B: Great. Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Darling. I'd like to start by asking you a few questions regarding last night, the twenty-eighth of February.

DARLING: Ash Wednesday, yes.

B: That's actually what I'd like to start with. You’re a member of St. Cadoc’s Church in the western district, correct?

DARLING laughs.

DARLING: Yes, though I suppose that doesn’t matter too much anymore. I hadn’t visited in a while after the… new management.

B: Right. You were present at the incident, correct?

DARLING: That is correct.

B: Mind stating where you were in relation to the incident?

DARLING: I was checking in on a neighbor of mine down the street across from the church. I live in a small apartment a few blocks down, meaning I crossed by right as things got intense.

B: You saw the smoke?

DARLING: Easily. It hadn’t reached my house yet, but the smoke was already taller than all of the nearby buildings. It was… it was pretty horrible.

B: Understandable. I’d like for you to detail all that you saw when you arrived on the scene, Mrs. Darling. If you’re able.

DARLING: Of course. When I could see the ashes I pivoted from my street to get a better look, and by the time I could see other people, it was clear that the church was burning into nothing. It was… really hot, and pretty suffocating up close like that. But the fire didn’t look normal it was…

DARLING stops talking and folds her hands into her lap.

B: Blue.

DARLING: Blue. And hot white, but it wasn’t as significant to me at the time. It wasn’t like any other fires I had witnessed.

B: And what did you see around you?

DARLING: Around me? A handful of other folks, mostly shifters, all really scared and confused. I thought maybe one of them would know, but they were all either speechless or just as perplexed as me. It… it was pretty horrific to see, even if we didn’t hear screaming or anything.

B: Was anyone fleeing from the scene? Or anyone around looking suspicious?

DARLING: I… um… no? Not really? I wasn’t paying that much attention, but I saw shadows flickering in the fire, along with some noises from within. Not anyone who sounded hurt though.

B: Yes. And no one around you who saw anything either?

DARLING pauses.

DARLING: I didn’t ask…? It didn’t seem like it. We were all a bit preoccupied. I think someone ran to get a firefighter.

B pauses and shuffles his papers.

B: Right. You mentioned hearing noises inside the church, correct? Could you make any of it out?

DARLING: No. I thought it was just the fire at first, but then it sounded like… well it might sound odd, but it sounded like a conversation. Probably something closer to an argument. I might have heard a roar.

B doesn’t say anything right away. DARLING frowns then leans in a bit.

DARLING: I know Firespitters can withstand extreme heat longer than most but do you think there really could have been someone in *that*? I heard the priest perished in the fire, he may have been one of the voices inside, but I’d never been to a sermon of his. He was one of those, though.

B: Mrs. Darling, please remember I’m asking the questions here. This is a very intense case, and we are taking all possible precautions to make sure this can’t happen again. You understand that, right?

DARLING is quiet for a moment.

DARLING: Right. Yes. Sorry.

B: It’s alright. You’ve given us a lot of important information today, ma’am. Before we wrap up though, are you sure nothing else caught your eye?

DARLING goes quiet again.

DARLING: Well… I did see a larger man leaving right as I arrived. He didn’t look suspicious, he was helping a woman around his size leave the scene, but they traveled down a back alley before I could get a good look. I don’t think they were responsible though, I was worried they were hurt it looked like the woman-

B: Thank you for your time, Mrs. Darling.

DARLING straightens up.

DARLING: Ah- sorry?

B: You’ve given us a lot of valuable information today, ma’am, and the city thanks you for your service. It cannot be understated. Outside, we’ll just gather a quick survey of information in case we need to contact you again, but you are otherwise free to go.

DARLING: Oh- okay… alright, thank you for your time, Officer.

DARLING stands.

B: Be careful out there Mrs. Darling. Plenty of people who’d love to take advantage of the good folks in this city. Give us a call if you need it.

DARLING leaves.

QUESTIONS END 09:40

OFFICER NOTES: Follow up with Director about sent special forces. Include report on spotted witnesses. Question at further radius. Don’t press peculiarities.

[tragedycoded]

the loop may be ended...

... but there was demand for a playlist, and the old one sucked.

While the 1872-73 timeline is mostly marked by power ballads (it's a love story) the rest of the songs are either straight-up d̷͍̼̒̍o̸̮͝ơ̵̻m̷͎̂ ̷̨̑̎m̵̦̮͝e̶̺͕̍̓ṱ̴̈̽a̸͖̎̍l̶̩̈́̂ or they're some flavor of experimental/noise/atmospheric black metal. Or they're strategically placed video game soundtracks that make me burst into tears bc I'm ridiculous, but prob sound out of place to an emotionally stable individual.

Anyway they match up with the chapter order until you get to "Litany of Desire," which covers chapters 10 + 11. After that it's [chapter number] -1.

Body Void and Xiu Xiu were thrown in for the somatic sound effect. I had to be careful which "meant to make you feel weird" songs I included; I may think it's funny to listen to ultra-low frequency tones high off my ass until I trigger my occipital neuralgia and puke, but that's a personal choice.

Rambling about the individual songs in Act 1 under the cut. Anyway. Tagging the DMLS folks, plus @astramachina and @sableglass and @words-after-midnight bc MUSIC.

@leahnardo-da-veggie @the-golden-comet @cowboybrunch @finickyfelix

@lychhiker-writes @wyked-ao3 @saturnine-saturneight

@gioiaalbanoart @davycoquette @zackprincebooks @jev-urisk

1) "The Bad Luck That Saved You From Something Worse": You hear that noise at the beginning? I hate it. It feels like feelers inside my skull. That's the feeling of restarting at the beginning of a time loop--something shitty happened and I have no clue what I was doing or what I'm supposed to do next. #hofercore

2) "The Parasite" - the first time I heard this song, Sullivan and Royston popped into my head.

Then Royston started bitching me out because it wasn't his fault they were here and Sullivan wasn't dead and they weren't supposed to be here and behbehbehbehbeh.

3) "No One Like You": Not just a '80s song because Jamie is a millennial. No no. There's a reason I put this as The Song for the beginning of the bar fight loop (there are loops within loops bc I love myself. Twine loves this too.)

Each time they go it gets harder bc Sullivan keeps forgetting everything lol.

4) "High Plains Eulogy": This is the first Royston POV chapter and he has eyeballs. He realizes he's fucked up. IDK if he realizes there was literally nothing he could do to get here any sooner. (I'm willing to give him this much: Sullivan being pissed off and avoiding returning his letters fucks the run every single time it happens.) This is the first of many "Royston is a visual learner" chapters.

5) "Psalm III - Olam Teshuvah": You hear the dripping and screaming in the beginning? I think I'm being clever and warning you what's going to happen with Martin, who is just standing there in a catatonic stupor.

6) "Ace of Spades": This was, at the time, the most ridiculous thing I'd ever written. It is 100% Royston's fault the shootout happened in the first place, let alone escalated to the degree that Sullivan couldn't reel it in. Sullivan would have compared it to bullriding, if he'd "ever partaken in such a foolish activity."

7) "Ashen Era": Johnson and White are explaining the tree to Sullivan. I'm warning you about the tree with this song.

8) "This One Has No Heart": I mean… [gestures at Martin; gestures at Royston] … they're both fucked.

9) "Hysteria":

Director's Commentary moment, are you ready?

In the prologue, Hofer's ears start ringing. This is because there was a previous run where he caught a bullet in the neck and fucking died. (Tinnitus is a warning you're about to do the same stupid shit that got you killed previously. Sullivan doesn't really get that bc he keeps finding new exciting ways to die.)

When Hofer got shot in the neck, that restarted the loop--Sullivan dies in that cabin if Hofer doesn't treat his leg. So as far as Royston was concerned, he was just in the train, shot full of the Delilah Special, and now he's opening his eyes and Sullivan is fine and he doesn't know if Sullivan remembers/hates him/etc. and he can't fly out of bed all dramatic like he wants to bc he literally has no control over his skeletal muscles (thanks, hemlock and whatever else Delilah hit him with.)

If anyone has any interest in seeing an entire post like this a) you're crazy and b) I would be more than happy to do one with more effort/spoilers.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Don't You Forget About Me

Part One

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Description: Sometimes the most unlikely encounters with people have an immeasurable effect on your life. For Bradley Bradshaw, life at 22 right after graduating from college is far different than he ever thought it would be. It kind of seems like his whole life hasn't gone according to plan. No parents, no support system, just one man and his dad's old Bronco against the world. A chance meeting with a blond-haired teenage menace in Texas may just change everything, shaping his future in a way he never would have expected. Disclaimer: This is a Hangster story -> What you see is what you get, folks. Slight mention of homophobic/ lgbtq+ phobic family members. Word Count: 3624 Author's Note: Hiya! I wrote this fic for @roosterforme's Top Gun Rocktober Event based on the song Don't You Forget About Me by the Simple Minds. Everything about it just screamed Hangster when I listened to it again. As anybody who knows me or has read my works can surmise... I can be quite long-winded so what was supposed to be a quick blurb turned into a short two-part series. I hope you all love this fic! (Also I'm self conscious about this one because I do not write in first person. It's surprisingly hard so I'd love any feedback if you've got it!)

It's dark and smoky and loud in here and I can't believe that I let Jessica and David drag me to this party. They've long since disappeared into the crush and left me on the under-stuffed chintz armchair in some frat house’s living room. It doesn't help that I haven't been to Texas in years and I feel even more like I’m out of my depths because of it. My mom grew up here, and most of her family is still here. But she's not. In the years since I graduated from high school, I've turned hundreds of times, looking for her sweet smile, searching for her to take solace in. But she's not exactly on this mortal plane anymore. Neither of my parents are. And the closest thing I've ever had to a dad fucked off after destroying my dreams.

It fills me with an unreasonable rage every time I think about it. I know Virginia, I've lived in Virginia for years, putting myself through school in Charlottesville while working single-mindedly to get into the US Navy. I’m so close to flight school that I can taste it. I just need to get through Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island now that I’ve graduated. One final summer of building my savings by working odd jobs and I’d be free. Or so I thought.

Then, I received a notice telling me my apartment building needed to be tented for termites. My lease was only valid until I left for OCS, anyway. I debated living out of my dad's car, now mine, until I had to be in Rhode Island. That’s when I received a letter from Stephanie Williams, my mom’s cousin, inviting me to spend the summer in Texas. Driving to Texas is far from convenient, but I haven't spent any time around my family, no matter how distant they may be, in so long. And, I’m kind of homesick - homesick for the sense of camaraderie, of walking into the house after baseball practice or school and hearing anyone in the house besides myself.

Jessica and David, Stephanie’s kids, are as nice as their mom. They both attend the University of Texas, but it still feels like there is a distance between us. They can't understand the drive burning in me about the Navy, how I need to do well at OCS, how I need to become an aviator, how I need to be better than anyone else. Aunt Steph doesn't really get it either if the way she practically pushed me out the door when Jess and David mentioned the party is any indication.

It doesn't help that I'm only a week from reporting to OCS, either. I know it’s not flight school, not yet, but I know I need to study more than I need to be in this stupid little ramshackle frat house on Greek Row. The beer’s watered down and warm, tasting like piss in my mouth. Normally, I’d be right in the center of the makeshift dance floor grinding up against the scantily clad girls in sight, most of them wearing bikinis, but not tonight. 

I just want to go home again, but that’s not possible. It hasn't been for years. I leave the mostly full beer behind and search for Jess and David. There are hundreds of drunk kids in the house, and it doesn’t matter at all that I’m taller than most of them, not when people are dancing on the tables and licking alcohol off of each other. I feel like I’m suffocating. The entire house stinks of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and sweat. It takes fifteen minutes to look for either of them in the basement. When I’m halfway up the stairs, I’m tempted to leave them here and drive by in the morning to get them. But Aunt Steph would hate that.

The first floor is even worse than the basement. There may not be anybody dancing on the tables, but there is far more clothing being thrown about. It looks like there’s a drunken orgy happening in the living room on the floor. The carpet isn’t all that clean, to begin with, and add bodily fluids to it, and I nearly hurl on the spot. 

If this is what I’ve missed out on in the traditional college experience, well, I don’t want it, not at all. Thankfully, I don’t have to see either of my cousins naked and that eliminates the kitchen and living area entirely. All I have left are the bedrooms above. Just walking up the stairs, I can hear the creaking of bedsprings and lusty moans. It sounds like a contagious disease waiting to happen, and I don’t make it past the top step.

That’s it. I can’t search for Jess or David anymore and I fight my way to the front door while trying to ignore the tits that seem to get shoved into my face every few steps. As I open the door, a body slams right into me. It’s a kid, gangly and blond, knobby shoulders protruding sharply through the fabric of the worn t-shirt he’s wearing.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” I can’t help the chuckle pouring out of my mouth. I’ve got at least 8 inches in height on him and I could easily break him into two if I wanted to. He must be ninety pounds soaking wet and his indignation is about as intimidating as an angry chihuahua. But I’m not looking for a fight, so I just move out of the way. Something about his angry green eyes and how they glow in the fresh night air is oddly captivating. I’m honestly not expecting to see him again, but just as I reach the Bronco and open the door, I see the same person get bodily chucked out of the house.

He’s shouting expletives into the night air, and when his anger runs out, he hunches his shoulders and stomps in my direction. Of course, a snarl rips out of his mouth the moment he sees me.

“What, asshole? Haven’t you seen someone get kicked out of a party by a bunch of dicks before?” 

“I have, kid. But I wanted to know if you were okay. Your knuckles look rough.” It’s true. His knuckles are bloody and bruised like he’s been punching something hard with no control. Those are going to sting like a bitch in the morning.

He snorts and must see something unassuming in my face because he uncrosses his arms and says, “I’m not a kid, I'm seventeen.” He’s a little young to be running around the UT campus and getting thrown out of parties, but I have the feeling if I say anything, he’ll probably just jump down my throat again. “I’m Jake.”

“Bradley.” I grin back. “Get in.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I don’t get into cars with strangers.” He’s quick-witted, that’s for sure.

“No.” If my eyes roll as I look at Jake, that’s just between him and me. He must feel like shit if he hasn’t called me out for it yet. “I have a first aid kit in the glove box. I wanted to look at your knuckles before they scab over.” Jake looks shocked. I can almost see the gears grinding in his head as he thinks my words over.

“Move over.” I have to hide my grin until he’s safely in the passenger seat. I don’t know why it feels like such a victory, having this stranger accept my help. I leave the door open and lean in. He smells coffee and spice with an undertone of musk, sitting in my passenger seat with his eyes looking far too green in the low light.

“You don’t go to UT, do you?” Instead of responding, I just pop open the glove compartment and tug out the med kit.

“So what is this, Bradley?” He sounds disgruntled. “No answers without you taking care of my hands?”

I just hold my hand out until he puts his into mine. It’s a long-fingered hand, thin and bony. No well-fed eighteen-year-old boy has hands that look like this. Hands that look like they’ve been working every day of their life. I want to know why Jake’s got such a big chip on his shoulder and why someone so young has hands that look so worn.

“I’m really alright, you know?” I’m as gentle as I can be, patting at scraped knuckles with an isopropyl alcohol soaked cotton ball. Jake may talk a big game, but he’s wincing with each word. 

“Who’d you punch to fuck up your knuckles so badly?” 

“My asshole ex-boyfriend. He was cheating on me with one of his teammates. And I just found out today.” Jake’s voice chokes on a sob, and I can’t help the twinge of sympathy that goes through me at his words. Maybe I’m too quiet, because there’s a sharp tug on my sleeve.

“D’you have a problem with that?” Jake’s glaring at me, and it takes me longer than it usually would for me to figure out why.

“About the fact that you had a boyfriend?” He nods, the movement jerky and sharp. “Why would I care about that? You love who you love, that’s it.”

He looks blown away by my immediate acceptance of who he is. But Jake seems uncomfortable at the same time, uncomfortable enough that he changes the subject. “You never answered me earlier. You don’t go to school at UT.”

“No, I don’t.” I collect the trash into a small ball and put the kit away again. It feels weird to stand out in the night and talk when I have a perfectly good driver’s seat right on the other side of the car. I can already see a hundred questions on the tip of Jake’s tongue, so I hold one hand up and point to the trash bin nearby. I can feel every bit of his gaze on my back as I lope to the can and back, opting this time to get into the driver’s seat. Of course, no sooner am I buckled in, Jake’s looking right at me.

“Why are you here, then? Why were you at that party tonight?” I can hear the naked curiosity in his tone.

“I’m staying with some of my mom’s family over the summer. A couple of my relatives go to UT for school and invited me to the party. I just graduated from college and I’m joining the Navy in a week.” It sounds so real as I say the words. They sound equally real, it looks like, to Jake.

“Why the Navy?" I haven't felt like I'm the focus of another person in a long time. I feel flayed open, horribly, uncomfortably, seen.

My voice is quiet, a little rough, a little raw as I say, "My dad was in the Navy."

"What did he do?" I blink a little, not expecting this question so soon. Normally people want to know why my dad was in the Navy, in the past tense. They want to know what happened to him. They never want to know what he did or anything else about him.

"He was a Naval Aviator, a Radar Intercept Officer, to be specific." It makes me smile, like always, remembering my dad.

"What does a Radar Intercept Whatsit do?" Jake's nearly open-mouthed in the passenger seat, body turned my way in a jumble of limbs that looks nearly too cramped to be comfortable, beat up sneakers on the floor and wholly fascinated by every word pouring out of my mouth. That's unique too. I've never felt this rush, this instant connection before with anybody. 

"A Radar Intercept Officer," I repeat, earning myself an eye roll, "is the person sitting behind the pilot. They're responsible for enabling communications with ships and other jets, navigating and monitoring the radar. Pilots fly the plane, but RIOs do everything else." 

"Sounds boring." I have to chuckle at that, because when he's not angrily grumbling, Jake's actually handsome. And that's not a realization I ever wanted to have about a seventeen-year-old I just met. Forget the place, there's the matter of how this is all the wrong time, too. I can't afford any distractions, not even cute little twinks with more attitude than sense. I'm joining the military for fuck's sake. Don't Ask, Don't Tell is still very strongly enforced and Jake seems like the type to bulldoze his way on base one day just for the hell of it. Better stick to talking about flying, that's all. And that’s if we manage to stay in touch until he’s actually legal, too.

"Do you want to become a RIO too?" His voice is hesitant as he sounds out the acronym.

"Nah, I've always wanted to become a pilot. Actually fly the planes, y'know?" I swear I can see literal fighter jets flying around Jake's head, he's so enraptured by the idea.

"Is it hard?" 

I have to shrug at that, because maybe I just have flying in my blood. "Not any harder than learning how to drive or ride a bike - at least that's what it was like for me."

I can see Jake think of a few hundred more questions, but stop him with one of my own. "What’s a seventeen year old doing at a UT frat party?" 

 His nose crinkles, "Who said I’m not a student at UT?"

"Nobody. But something about you tells me that you aren’t a UT Student, even though seventeen-year-olds join universities as freshmen all the time." I’m almost afraid to see that look on his face. But instead, Jake seems to be feeling the same awe that I was earlier - horribly, uncomfortably, seen.

“Nah. I work at one of the coffee shops on campus.” No wonder he smells like cinnamon and coffee.

"But you don't want to, do you?"

His nod is sheepishly affirmative. "My uncle says I should get out of the house and do something with myself over the summer. If he had his way, when I graduate in a year I’ll be doing the same thing. But I want to do something exciting, not farm work or work in a factory or hell, even be a barista anymore. I think the Navy might be just the thing."

I have to grin at his enthusiasm. But a part of me can’t help wondering if the reason why Jake is so interested in escaping Austin is because of something else. But I’m not quite sure how to broach the topic. It’s silent and still in the car for a little bit. Jake looks like he’s thinking of what to say, and I’m struck by the halo the streetlight we’re under makes around his hair. He’s pretty, indescribably so, even with a purplish bruise rising on his cheekbone. His long lashes shine golden against the freckles dotting his cheekbones. I reach for the polaroid I always keep in the car and snap a couple of quick pictures. I hand one to Jake, but just as he’s about to ask me why I did that, I see red and blue lights in the rear view mirror and hear sirens blaring our way.

“Shit! C’mon, Bradley! Drive the car!” It takes me a few seconds to process what he’s saying but when I do, I put the car in drive and drive sedately down the street. 

“What the fuck, Brad!” I haven’t heard anyone call me Brad in years. That’s what my mom called me, what Mav did too. “Drive a little bit faster, why don’t you?! You keep driving like a fucking turtle and the cops will catch us in no time flat!”

“I’m driving at the speed limit.” I chuckle at the way Jake grumbles under his breath. “The police won’t pull us over if we’re doing everything right. You probably don’t want them calling your folks to tell them you were at a party, underage where alcohol was being served and an orgy was happening on the living room floor, now do you?”

We’re thankfully able to leave the scene without any trouble, and I let Jake direct me through the late night Austin streets. It’s quiet, and in the half-light I can’t help noticing how incredibly small and delicate Jake is at this moment. He has me pull over a few blocks away.

“Do you make a habit of running from the cops?” He laughs at that, a genuine belly aching infectious cackle bursting out of his mouth.

“No, I don’t.” Something dark glows over his eyes just as easily as the laugh. “My uncle wouldn’t have been happy at all if he had gotten that call.”

I really don’t know what to say to that, so I just wait.

“My mom always says that she doesn’t know who my dad was, and well, I don’t know if you know much about conservative Texans, but that was a no-go for most of my family. She’s out of state, working in a library in North Carolina, I think? And I’m with my aunt and uncle until I turn 18.”   

“I’m sure the minute that happens, I’m going to get kicked out. They didn’t approve of me just because I was born out of wedlock. They hated me even more when they found out I wasn’t exactly only into girls. My mom doesn’t know how bad it is for me here. And I’m not going to tell her either. I just don't know what to do.” He sniffles, sitting in the passenger seat, cheeks pinking in the glow of the streetlights. “I don’t really know why I’m telling you this either. But it feels like the universe wanted us to meet tonight. It feels like I can trust you.”

I’m struck dumb by those words and the butterflies swarming in my stomach. I’m flattered by his trust. It has me spilling all of my biggest secrets. I tell him more about my dad, about mom, about Mav. I tell him about my biggest victories and darkest regrets. We talk for hours, taking turns baring our souls until the sky turns gray at the edges. It's the small hours of the morning, that small section of the twilight zone where everything feels extra still. My throat is scratchy and my eyes are dry. Jake’s not much better.

The sleepy drawl in his voice makes shivers trail up and down my spine and it’s still so foreign feeling like this for someone I’ve just met. It’s a little terrifying, too. Far too soon, we’re pulling up in front of the party house. 

"I should get going." A part of me wants to stop him, offer to give him a ride, anything to stay in his presence just a bit longer. But the more rational part, the one chanting US Navy and Top Gun is screaming just as vehemently no.

"Do you need a ride?" My voice is nearly too loud for this time of night.

"Nah, Bradley. I live right around the corner." Jake gives me a two-fingered salute and begins to walk away, his shoulders bowed and looking incredibly small. It's a surprise when he stops, turns back around and jogs back to the car. He flings the door open, and I'm surprised to see the two spots of pink high up on his cheeks.

"Can we stay in touch? I'd love to pick your brain about the Navy, sometime?"

I'm nodding before my common sense can speak, ignoring the insidious little voice that says, "No you won't ever see him again. You're joining the Navy."

I hand Jake a pen and a scrap of paper I found in my pockets. What I get back is his first name and a phone number. "This is my landline. See you around, Bradley?"

My reply is too quiet as I roll the syllables of his name over my tongue. By the time Jessica and David have staggered their way out to the car, I'm sure Jake was just a figment of my imagination. Two weeks later, when it's my first turn with the phones on base, I call that number. I get a message telling me that the phone number I'm calling has been disconnected. I never get rid of that note though. It's almost like something's screaming at me to remember Jake. Maybe one day I'll find him again. And who knows? Maybe he's a lot closer than I think he is.

Nine Years Later

It’s been a long road getting to Top Gun. Walking through the halls it feels like everything I’ve worked and struggled for has finally paid off. I’m a pilot, I’m talented, if I do say so myself, and there is nothing I want to do more than finally put the Bradshaw name on that trophy. Walking into the classroom that first morning, I feel like this is the start of something great. Until the first hop later that week. There’s a blond in class with an ego that cashes checks for money he doesn’t have. But he has the skill to back up his words.

“Rooster, Rooster, Rooster. Are you ever going to get off your perch?” Hangman. Even his callsign fills me with rage. I’ve never met a more annoying person in my life. But there is something about him which seems familiar. Why does Hangman of all people seem so familiar? It’s a puzzle I can’t devote any time to solving. Not when I have to knock a blond idiot down a few pegs. I wonder what the Jake I met all those years ago would think about Hangman. I hope he’s doing well, wherever he is.

Taglist:

@chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @cassiemitchell @dakotakazansky @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @sarahsmi13s @horseshoegirl

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[wiltking]

Hello, this is probably a silly question but how did you get so good at writing? I've read you fics and they're amazing, even just a simple sentence you say sounds great. (I mean it sincerely) I want to improve my writing and my english along the line, what did you do? Or do you have any recommendations?

oh gosh i still feel like a baby writer with so much to learn. but i think the thing that helped me the most is learning how to read books from a writer's perspective. especially my favorite books. i mean really taking them apart piece by piece and figuring out why they come off as such good books to me. story structure, word choice, yes even something as simple as sentence. why do i think this book is so good? why is this character so memorable to me? in what way was this incredible line set up to have such a great impact? why do i continue to think about these books even years later?

these are the things I think about while I read. and its especially helpful during a reread when you already know the whole story of a book and can pay closer attention to things like setup and delivery.

this isn't reserved for 'objectively' well written or technically complex books, either. i've said many times that nora sakavic's all for the game series was the most formative to me when i was trying to seriously get into writing. and i always hear people expressing that the writing in those books isn't the greatest. respectfully i disagree, but even if people don't think they're well written there's a reason why those books are so beloved. the intense passion that radiates off the page even during some of the most insane ideas is just one of those things.

more recently i've been doing some research while i work on my horror writing by turning to some of my favorite fantasy / dark fiction writers. resuming my reread of the hexslinger series by gemma files is part of that, because those books were also extremely formative, and reading kissing carrion by the same author last year really made me think for the first time ok, maybe i can write flowery queer horror too. because those stories really resonated with me, and i think about the ending of the hexslinger series constantly. for years. it literally haunts me. but the reason why the ending is so impactful is all the build up that leads up to it. and the way the relationships are written. and the balance of love and horror and genuine connections and the deepest betrayals and... anyway i've kind of been going through her writing with a fine tooth comb to try and understand why she's inspired me for sooo many years.

elizabeth bear's edda of burdens; another formative piece of writing for me, despite me also having some issues with it. i'd love to reread it soon too but don't exactly have the time when i'm in full writing mode, so the other day i just took apart the intro to by the mountain bound in my reading journal. by copying down the first three paragraphs, underlining my favorite lines, and writing some notes about them. my notes aren't anything profound, i was just appreciating the wolfish way mingan is described in the littlest ways that are also so integral to him, and the pretty words chosen to describe the season. the way he's set up as different and 'other' from the very first page even with something as innocent as choosing to daydream. it's all stuff i try to appreciate and learn from.

i don't use my writing journal often (because its easier to type my thoughts here, tbh) but i generally use it to collect quotes i like (and always try to leave some notes about why i like each quote). the other day i also jotted down the opening sentences to some folk tales because its relevant to what i'm working on, and i wanted to study what important information they chose to lead with to set the tone of a story.

tldr; examine your favorite books from a writing perspective. try to understand the choices that were made on both a grand scale (story structure) and little details (word choice, descriptions, paragraph flow). and always try to write your passions even if its weird!! especially if it's weird. you've got this <3

[middlingmay]

⭐😊

Ohoh, free reign @onyxsboxes. Why thank you.

Taking a break from That Ol' Devil Called Love, I'd like to talk about my one shot where the Buckies rescue some children by the river.

And tbh any other story I've done that involves the Buckies and kids.

I discussed Gale's relationship with his parents in here, and tbh I don't see either of them as parents, in a canon-ish situation. This is not to say I don't like fics that include this, I certainly do, but I just don't write it myself.

But I HC that Buck never wants to be a father because of his own. He's never been able to overcome the paralysing fear that he would do anything close to a child that his father did to him.

Bucky too, doesn't want kids. He struggles after the war. He drinks, he doesn't sleep well, he's prone to burts of irritability and unpredictability. He knows it, he's aware of it, he hates himself for it more than a little bit.

Because God, they both actually do want kids. Bucky loves playing with the neighbour kids. He's the kind of guy who'll hear a kid crying and their parent's a little stressed out and he'll make faces at the kid or do something silly to distract them and cheer them up. And he's a great uncle to his nieces and nephews, and everytime they leave after a visit, he feels it like a loss for a day or two.

And Buck has just as much love in him.

He may not be as effusive as John, but he always throws stupid money at school fundraisers, and volunteers his time to teach kids about the stars, and when he's in the library and sees a kid struggling, he stops what he's doing and helps them.

But they're too frightened to have kids of their own.

So, in that one shot where they rescue the kids by the river, they go to the dinner the parents invited them to, and they see Connor and Christie run up wearing Buck and Buckies jackets they'd left behind, and both of them feel it like a kick to the chest. But they have a good time and I'd like to think become pseudo-uncles to the kids as they grow up.

I know folks will have wildly different opinions on thr Buckies as parents. And that's great! I think if they did it, they'd do a great job, but would find it incredibly difficult to look after themselves, each other, and a kid.

[egelskop]

Ik it's from like two years ago so you by no means have to answer this but I just discovered your tma campanella au and I was wondering if there's like- a specific story to it? I just watched Night on the Galactic Railroad, so is it basically just another version of that story, or? I'd love to hear more about it!!!

most of the early drawings i made for campanella were made without a story in mind, and even the later drawings were made with only a vague narrative in mind. i wouldn't call what i have specific, but i do have some (somewhat disjointed) thoughts on the world of campanella. i never really managed to really pin it down or write it out in full, but here are a few musings and sketches:

the story starts with canon tma ending and jon and martin blasting off into space and time to emerge somewhere else. in this process, martin 'reincarnates' as a star and jon becomes a regular shmegular human baby.

martin, in his nature of being a sentient star, is a very lonely phenomenon. he carries with him a little red radio that never seems to pick up a signal. he is often overcome with heavy feelings of loss, loneliness and longing, but he doesn't know why or how; he has no literal memories of his past life. sometimes he cries starry tears. the red wisps are a semi-sentient extension of himself, and when he's feeling bad he'll cocoon himself for comfort.

jon grows up with certain oddities in his life. his dreams are extremely vivid and contain worlds that are manifestations of fear entities, some more antagonistic than others. as a youth, jon experiences frequent nightmares and has sleep issues, compounded by him feeling a certain 'presence' in real life that manifests as a shadow following him in his dreams. towards his adulthood the dreams become less threatening, and eventually they vanish completely.

(this part is very speculative, because i never managed to research astronomy enough to make this make sense... 🥲)

jon gets a job as a data analyst at an observatory, and in this way he eventually discovers martin, though he only recognises it as a somewhat abnormal star. after the discovery, the team he's part of shifts its focus towards investigating the abnormalities of the star.

one morning he wakes up and finds a star in his hair. unsure of what to do with it, he leaves it on his nightstand. the next morning, he wakes up with more stars in his hair. from there, jon starts getting vivid dreams again, and in his dreams he's his kid self being guided by the shadow through different worlds that he saw in his youth. in these dreams he now finds objects that act like pieces of a puzzle leading him to his own past life and martin. through the stars that stuck to jon in the waking world, martin can feel the other trying to 'find' him, reaching out to 'find' him in turn, and in the end, they do.

addendum: the thing about drawing without a fixed plot in mind is that some aspects are either changed or forgotten. in this way i completely forgot about a paper plane once having a role in the story despite it having appearances in both art and my animation for the au/// 🥲 having stated that, i feel like, because of the 'not-set-in-stone' nature of campanella (where even i, the creator, ended up forgetting about a major visual element), i'd love for folks to ascribe their own meaning to it as they see fit!

thank you a lot of much for your attention and your interest in my little passion project <3

[acourtofladydeath]

And for the other ask gameeee. Not sure if you already answered either of these two.

28. If someone were to draw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

32. Do you listen to music when you write or does music inspire you? If so, which band or genre of music does it for you?

Eee! These are so fun.

28. If someone were to draw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

So I have answered this once before, there's a very specific part of "All Things End" at the end of chapter three/beginning of chapter four that I'd love to see painted in watercolor. BUT I WANNA ADD ANOTHER ANSWER. Eris and Beron have all sorts of looks in the "To Become A Vanserra Series". I wanna see what y'all think those robes look like. 👀

32. Do you listen to music when you write or does music inspire you? If so, which band or genre of music does it for you?

Most of my playlists are vibes, but I tend to listen to a lot of folk pop or folk rock. When I write, I find that I prefer instrumental music or only ambience sounds because otherwise I'll just start singing or get lost in the lyrics. I have and do sometimes still listen to music though, lots of the playlists have Hozier and Noah Kahan influences.

Thank you asking more questions, I love to hear from you!! If you want to ask more, the list of questions can be found here.

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC Interview Tag!

Thanks for the tag, @agirlandherquill (here)!!!

I'll go with Sam Delaways from Enchanted Illusions for this one, because I want to talk more about him and because I think you guys will really like this character! (:

Are you named after anyone?

"Nah. At least not that I know of, that is. I like my name just fine either way, though I don't think my parents put that much thought into it."

When was the last time you cried?

"Pretty recently, but why do you wanna know? (chuckles mischievously) You little rascal. I'm not telling ya that."

Do you have kids?

"No, but I take care of my little brothers - I'm all they've got since neither of our parents are around anymore. They're little kids, so one could say I'm raising 'em. Or at least that I'm trying my best to."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"Only when I'm trying to be funny - or when I really wanna annoy Augustus (laughs). That uptight necromancer needs to get a sense of humor and quick, haha. I never use sarcasm to be rude, though, there ain't no need for that - unless someone really deserves it. In that case, I can make an exception."

What is the first thing you notice about people?

"If they're dangerous in some way or another - and if they are, I try to find out ways to avoid gettin' in their way. I also try to notice if they're confident or shy, if they're arrogant or humble if they're temperamental or calm - these things can tell me a lot about whom I'm interacting with."

What's your eye color?

"Dark grey, I think."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"I tend to prefer stories with happy endings, though I like my fair share of scary stories, on occasion. Depends on my mood, mostly. I don't have much time to spend reading anymore, though I like to, and I ain't ever gone to the local theaters to see any of the plays and operas, but I hear they're awesome."

Any special talents?

"I'm not sure, haha. I think I'm quite good at climbing things, and I can hold my own in a fistfight if I need to - but I hate having to. I'm good at navigating the city and using my surroundings to get around faster, and I can build things pretty quickly. Otherwise, I know how to do a lot of stuff, but I dunno if they'd be considered 'special talents' - shoe-shining, fixin' boats, selling newspapers and matchsticks, that sort of stuff. It's what has kept us alive so far - cause the factory sure ain't paying me enough for that."

Where were you born?

"I was born in the outskirts of Ansburke. Y'know, the capital city of our land, and all that. But we moved to Strystead after our parents died - more factories willing to hire a nonmagical teenage street rat, you see. I dunno if it was a good plan in the long run, but it's too late to be thinking about that though."

Do you have any pets?

"Nah, can't really afford to right now. But if I could I would love to have lots of dogs, because they're adorable! Maybe one day I will."

What sports do you play?

"I'm not really the sporty kind. Seems like a waste of perfectly good time and energy for me. I've seen some rich folks playing a game called cricket, I think - and it looks very fun, I'd like to try it one day! I also know how to ride a horse, and I know people consider horseback riding as a sport, but it isn't something I do that regularly so I don't think it counts."

How tall are you?

"I think I'm average height, compared to my friends."

What was your favourite subject in school?

"Never went to school, but I think I would have liked history or magic classes, those seemed fun!"

What is your dream job?

"Ain't got time for dreams in Strystead - dreams don't pay your debts, neither can dreams put food on your plate at the end of the day. Learned that the hard way a long time ago. Currently my 'dream' - if you could call it that - is to pay my debts and get the heck back to Ansburke before these factories finish breaking my spirit too, but unfortunately, I don't think I'm gonna be able to do that any time soon. Eh, that's life though."

Tagging (gently, no pressure):@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @late-to-the-fandom, @eccaiia @willtheweaver @littleladymab @cabbojage @lassiesandiego @little-peril-stories @oh-no-another-idea @thepeculiarbird @rickie-the-storyteller @crowandmoonwriting @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gummybugg @forthesanityofstorytellers @doublegoblin @aalinaaaaaa @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @elshells @clairelsonao3 @anyablackwood @tabswrites @illarian-rambling @kaylinalexanderbooks and OPEN TAG

[ask-that-weird-dog]

THE ARCHIVE:

??? // INTRO // 1 // TO BE CONTINUED...

THE (DOG) HOUSE RULES!

Read the following before you ask...

and don't make me tap the sign!

* no NSFW! this blog is intended to be 13+ so please don't send anything sexually explicit or excessively gory, thank you!

* please be patient! I draw all the responses, and that can take some time. I also may hold onto some asks for future pieces, too.

* the Kris of this blog goes by they/them only! please do not misgender them in asks or they will be eaten... I mean deleted.

* interactions with other ask blogs are perfectly welcome and encouraged! I'm always happy to meet another kindred spirit.

* this isn't a roleplay blog! I won't be doing threads here, just silly one-off doodles. I will, however, be making an ask-driven comic!

* treat the mod with respect! please don't come here stirring up drama or sending hate/harassment etc. you get the idea.

* the mod is an adult! please remember this when interacting.

EXTRA ASK INFO AND FAQ BELOW:

Please do:

* send asks directed to Kris! they can hear your text as a disembodied voice and will respond to you accordingly.

* offer Kris objects, either by text or as a submitted picture! accepted items will be added to their inventory.

* use asks to suggest ideas to Kris! if you want them to actually do it though, you'll have to be convincing!

* interact with Kris directly, to a degree! any physical contact will be experienced as a 'hand' that only they can see.

* send IC asks from other character blogs! they're just for fun and games though, and may not be considered canon.

* send asks to the mod if you have questions or concerns! I'll happily tag triggers, explain bits of the AU, or clarify rules as needed.

* send joke m!as for special events! I may be selective on them though, and they likely won't be canon to the main story here.

* tag this blog in any posts you'd like me to see! I'll happily check out anything you'd like to send my way, within reason.

Please do not:

* send asks to characters other than Kris! they can't hear you; if you want to send a message, you'll need to convince Kris to do it for you.

* send asks that alter their world, or force Kris or other characters to do something! you just don't have that much power in this world.

* send asks containing explicit 18+ language, slurs, gore, or sexual content. anything like that is getting deleted on sight, sorry folks.

* misgender Kris in asks; those are getting deleted too. also please don't interact IC if you're an RP/ask blog that genders the kids.

* try to rush the mod on replies. drawing takes time, and I might not get to every reply. you can ask off anon if it was deleted, though!

* send stuff unrelated to the AU to this blog. if you'd like to chatter about other stuff, I've got a main blog and I'd love to see you there!

* repost any of my art without permission! please ask before using my work elsewhere. reblogs, however, are always encouraged!

THE FAQ I'D HAVE IF THIS BLOG WASN'T LITERALLY BRAND NEW

Q: So, what AU is this for anyway? A: I've been calling it 'Deltarune Monsterswap,' mainly since there isn't already an AU named that as far as I can find, and it describes the concept fairly well! Basically; everyone who's a human is now a monster, and everyone who's a monster is now human. Think Overtale but for Deltarune, basically! There are some definite personality differences as a result, though Kris will be the most obvious upfront.

Q: What sort of monster is Kris? A: Kris is a monster based on el cadejo, a mythical dog spirit from Central America! Their dual nature of devil dog vs angel dog seemed like an interesting concept to work with, especially since I personally headcanon Kris to have some Central American ancestry and wanted to pick something local to the region. Plus, I dunno, they've always given me scruffy stray dog vibes. This kid absolutely eats food off the floor when nobody's looking and you can't tell me otherwise.

Q: My ask wasn't answered! What happened to it? A: If it didn't break any of the rules I've listed off and hasn't been answered yet, it's probably still in my inbox! I'm liable to hold onto asks that I find fun but haven't found a place for so that I can use them in the future, so don't give up hope. They still might appear in the future! I promise I appreciate every one, even if it can take me a bit to get some of them done.

Q: Can I ask about future events or for hints? A: You can try! If something is TOO spoilery I might keep my lips sealed, but I'm willing to give hints and ideas on occasion. If push comes to shove, the worst case scenario is me posting it with a little :)c to mildly menace you a bit. I mean hey, lots of 'Players' look up guides to find secrets, too. It's on theme.

Q: Will there be any ships involved? What ones? A: I'll be sticking to canon for the most part on these; characters that have crushes will still have them, but we're generally sticking to canon-compliant territory here and they won't be a major focus. The farthest I get out of the box is that the Kris of this blog BRIEFLY had a crush on Noelle when they were younger, but it went unnoticed and has long since faded. The most you'll really see of that is a bit of awkwardness on Kris's part. Noelle will still have a crush on Susie, but at least for now it's unrequited.

Q: So, who's the mod behind this thing anyway? A: I don't really talk about myself; I grew up in the era of 'don't share personal info online' and still kinda live by that in public! The most you'll get is: I go by Timey, use she/her pronouns, I'm 28, and my left thumb is hypermobile. That's about as personal as I get, sorry!

AND THAT'S IT! Thanks for reading, and here's hoping you'll enjoy bothering this ridiculous critter as much as I do.

[fawningoveradream]

Tagged by: @nebulariclover

I decided to backtrack some past posts and rbs and tags associated with my tumblr url. Idk how I missed this! Sorry for the VERY late response.

Rules: 1.) Post the rules. 2.) Answer the questions given to you by your tagger 3.) Write 11 questions of your own, and 4.) Tag 11 people!

1.) What bands/musicians would you like to see in concert?

Idk? I've never really been to a formal concert other than me participating in my middle school's orchestra--aaaaaaand perhaps the occasional local country band at a bar or art fest in my city's downtown district.

I'd say I would like to one day hear The Orion Experience, The Hu a popular Mongolian folk-band, or Kendrick Lamar.

2.) What is your idea of a perfect day?

Just going out to places with my partner! I'd love to just explore either a local nature spot with em or check out some roadside attractions. I'd even settle for some group artistic project day!

I also sometimes dream of one day having a nice picnic date with em or invite some friends and have a large picnic group date out in nature or a lovely park. Getting a lil drunk or just drinking, swapping stories, sharing foods we baked or made.

3.) Would you rather never be able to listen to music or never be able to watch cable?

Never be able to watch cable. I spent my whole life for a long time not having access to cable tv and only had the standard tv channels. I'll live!! PBS THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE TO MY CHILDHOOD!!!

I can't live every day life without listening to my favorite songs. I'd go crazy. What you mean I can't listen to The Mamas and The Papas??? What you mean I can't listen to the soundtrack of the Muppet's Movie (1979)?! What you mean no more Lil Nas X??! NO BILL WITHERS!? NO GLORIA GAYNOR--NO EARTHA KITT?!!!

4.) What talents do you have that you're especially proud of?

I know how to sew patches onto jackets really well! I can come up with real interesting creatures with a full background and appearance. I go full-in when it comes to abstract and often mismatched acrylic paints with scenery.

I've been told that I'm a very good baker! And dogs love me!

5.) Who are your favorite characters? **I did this list in no listed order; just from top of my head

Courage the Cowardly Dog

My many fursonas

Kermit the Frog

Lupin the 3rd and Inspector Zenigata!

The Combaticons (transformers g1)

Bulkhead & Prowl from TFA (Transformers Animated)

Kaon from the DJD

Scooby-Doo

Captain Sisko, Jadzia Dax, Odo, Julian Bashir, Jake Sisko, Quark, Miles O'Brien, Worf, Garak (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine)

6.) Do you like to sing?

I don't sing in public. I'm kinda self-conscious about the sound of my voice. And I'm aware that I tend to have breaks/sqweaks in my voice when I try to sing. I do sing when its just myself (majority of time), with my partner in their car, or when out drinking with friends at bars.

7.) What helps you sleep?

Ceiling fan ON (medium speed majority of time *depends on the sound the fan makes; if majority is silent then high speed). Temperature must be around 73*F with AC on cool setting - auto

Sleep only in my boxers

Covers consist of my bed's main semi-thick quilt cover and a cotton bed sheet.

Pillows fluffy but maintain shape and don't cover my face/nose area. My pillow sheets are also cooling sensitive as well if I need to flip it onto its otherside if I wake up warm.

I am a stomach sleeper who also likes to be semi-covered under into my bedsheets.

8.) If you could have 4 superpowers to have, what would they be?

Animal shapeshifting

Regeneration/Health restoration power

Water Breathing/Seeing *Aquatic superpower??

Lightening power

9.) Do you prefer dark chocolate, milk chocolate, or white chocolate?

I've been slowly turned into a lover of dark chocolate. HOWEVER I am, still, and always will be weak for the sweet stuff that is milk chocolate!

10.) What are your hobbies?

I like to draw or doodle my fursonas, I like to also paint scenery on canvases, I also like to sew. Baking is also a small hobby of mine. I also like to catch up on some reading as well. Poetry and writing stories use to be an old passion of mine, but I've kind of abandoned it. Or just really struggle to get back into completing it once I've started.

I also like taking care of my ginseng bonsai tree Gordon! And taking walks outside with my dog ranger is also pretty fun too!

11.) Where would you love to live?

In my biggest dreams? In the Philippines near Olongapo or Manila city where a big part of my fam live curretly in.

A list of other places I'd love to live in:

Austrian or Swiss Alps. I like cold weather, and I don't mind being surrounded by deep woods.

Portugal

Spain

If realistically and here in the USA. I'd love to stay here in the south-east coastal region. Cause its where I've grown up in. But with the current culture and anti-lgbt/trans laws and stripping of human rights. I might have to consider moving up north or some state out west thats a safe haven or tolerable. But also has job opportunities related to my own and/or my partners interests/career choice.

11 questions for who I'm tagging:

1.) What's a plant, flower, veggie, fungi, or fruit you've always wanted to grow on your own. But can't due to circumstances or just not having a green thumb?

2.) Do you have a fursona what is their name and species? If you have multiple fursonas which one is your most favorite? Why?

3.) Do you have a favorite song?

4.) Are you currently happy with the job you have right now?

5.) If you were given the chance to live your eternal life as an immortal (in this case never growing old but still being "just some dude" w/ a meatbag body) would you take it? What would you be doing with all that time?

6.) What's your favorite penguin? Why?

7.) Do you have a signature dish (food)? Either that you can make or food that you associate yourself with? Bonus points if you do both!

8.) Whats a specific scene in a movie, show, book, or game that brought you to emotional tears growing up?

9.) Do you think werewolves need to take heartworm and flea & tick medication every month? Do you think in werewolf worlds they got themselves a werewolf positive vet who gives em this medication? Or is there like some elaborate illegal selling of heartworm + flea and tick medication scheme? Do you think in a werewolf world do humans (or humans who are werewolves themselves) privatize medicare for werewolves?

10.) Do you have a fave color you wish you could add to your wardrobe of clothing you have?

11.) How do you manage your emotions when your angry or sad?

Tagging: @jacobtheloofah , @lohboh , @dolphin-damsel , @twinktodapast , @silly-bean , @fiddledy-dee , @vulturereyy , @caydebug , @cantabilechaos , @dkpsyhog , and @jammings

Feel free to ignore my tag if you don't wanna participate!! I just thought it would be fun to take a try on this. It really got me thinking about my early days here on tumblr.

[problematicfactive]

hey, thank you for being an accepting and educational blog! it's nice to see no judgment here. also, i've seen some stories - a lot even, from many systems not just anons in this blog - about systemmates being repressive or even abusive towards their problematic factives, or even to factives in general. Mods Silhouette and December wrote that essay about in-system abuse that are targeted towards fact-folks - i want to add to that essay as well, so, do you (or any followers) want to contribute something to it? I'd love to hear your thoughts. thank you, and absolutely no pressure! ^_^

-mod espresso

Hi! First of all, thank you! I'm glad that hosting the blog I do can help people in any way.

I'll start by saying this: If any of my followers see this and are wanting to input their two cents, you're welcome anon ask me. If you ping fact-anonymous in your ask, they will get the notification when I have posted it! We all know this is a judgement free zone and you're more than welcome to give your input if you'd like. You are in no means forced to. As for my own story, it is something that I've spoken on here and there

I believe that the mods with you all are aware of who I am. You're welcome to use my name if you need to, but if you do, I ask that you don't tag me directly. You can also not use my name, tag me, use "Anxiety" in place of a name and allude to who I am if that's what you feel is needed. Either way, here's my story. I formed right before my boyfriend's source came out. It was causing a lot of hype around the person I'm based on and as part of the hype, people were watching other versions of the story. Mine included. Part of the reason I formed so quick is because of my actor. He was the first- and maybe only- celebrity crush of the core. He's the reason the core wanted to be an actor, the reason why a lot of the system strives even to this day to be the best actor we could be. My actor is a huge part of the reason we are who we are. In a way, I was kind of already seeded in the system from the beginning. In my source I'm not a rampant murderer. I'm no psycho killer, I don't cause harm. I dissolve roadkill... it was already dead.. In my source, I'm an awkward teenager. Some kid with bad posture who puts himself in bad situations just to get a laugh from his peers. When the core had a crush on m actor, he was this,, amazing musician, this-- almost godlike creature. Now, that very same man was just some awkward teen. Some quiet guy who somehow, was still able to represent everything the system (everything the core originally) hated about ourself

I was already seeded in our mind, ever since the beginning. I didn't chose to be someone that makes people upset at the thought of my name. For some reason or another, our mind decided the right form for me to take to do my job was this one. And it fucking sucked. Like I said, when I formed, people were already obsessing over the guy I was sourced from. It was disturbing and gross, and having an introject of this guy was the prime way to get you fakeclaimed. The host couldn't handle what he knew was going to come with having me, so it took that out on me.

I wasn't allowed to be myself, for a period of time, that honestly blanks in my mind, but I know was at least 6 months, I was degraded. I was less than human to the others in the system. I wasn't allowed my name. I wasn't allowed to talk to anyone or to front. These things the system did to try to force me to separate from my source only made me into something that needs his source even more. I will always pride now in my name because it really is something I've had to fight for. It took ages for me to even be allowed to front while being monitored. I couldn't do anything.

I've said before that I'm 17. Before that 6 month period, I described my age as "Mentally 19, trapped in a 17 year old state of being." The shit I endured made me regress. I'm stuck at 17 now. Small things like that where I'll never be the same as I was before that.

Its hard for me to say I was abused. I couple of my followers have talked to Toby and depth's a great guy. He's one of my best friends. But he abused me. I'll never be the same thanks to it. I know that wasnt the most detailed or the best. It really is hard for me to remember all that went down. All of the things that changed within me. What I know for sure is that my identity. My name and my face became two of the most important things to me. things that, due to the attempt to force me to separate, I'll never be able to let go of.

[smokedoutcoldstar]

i would love to hear a rant from you about maximum ride's ending. i always saw it around and never picked it up, but from the little i saw of it, it kinda seemed to be all over the place. i'd love the inside scoop from an old fan

Under the cut because I went off. Fair warning, it's a little scattered. But the thoughts are there ✌️

This is a rant I have held within me since I was in elementary school. This is a rant that is over a decade old, eternally-contained, only given in small pieces to a couple folks over the course of my life. Because i've never known someone else to be aware of Maximum Ride, let alone want a single-digits child's take on the series end. I have not reread any of the Maximum Ride books, but I did read them all. The Angel Experiment all the way to Nevermore. If for some reason there were MORE after Nevermore,,,,,,,,,,, really, really clearly a beat the dead horse until there's no horse left situation. Sometimes, ending a series before you have too many books to carry is the smart and credible choice. I'm absolutely being petty rn. This is a disdain i've held for a long time.

In my opinion, the story lost the plot / got too big for its breeches right around either Angel or Fang (I forget which book comes first. Whichever one has Angel going lowkey godmode crazy). The ending of Nevermore, however, was the WORST way to end the series.

Why?

Everyone dies.

No seriously. The entire end plot is everyone except 1% of the population dies to a genetic virus designed to kill everyone except the chosen genetically superior 1% (most of whom are experiments like Max, or people who bought their way into the saved 1%. Yeah no really. Really actually.). Max is trying to stop that from happening the entire book. She fails. And she fails because the adults in her life (iirc she was like 16 or 17 at that point?? I forget. Remember these are over a decade old thoughts) (JEB. FUCKING. J E B. HISSSSSSS) actively sabotage her and her ragtag gang. And because James Patterson decided to write Max failing to stop a Secret Conspiracy Eugenics World Takeover Plot.

Oh yeah, and she's kept alive so she can repopulate the new earth with her genetically-engineered to be her perfect mate Dylan - WHO SHE DOESN'T WANT TO HOOK UP WITH. She 'surrenders to her fate' at the end, after almost two books' worth of the adults in her life pressuring her and telling her she cannot change her destiny to have a bunch of babies with the guy she doesn't want babies with, when everyone else on earth fucking DIES.

Not to mention, making Angel into this weird I Am The New God type character SO LATE INTO THE SERIES seemed like such a Ah Fuck I'm Out Of Ideas And My Manuscript Is Due thing. At first i was cautiously interested, and then ANGEL. The ACTUAL CHILD. Starts telling Max the voices in her head are saying 'Max you will have a mate perfect in every way and you have to bone him, there's no other future for you except your fate to bone your newcoming perfect match!!' and then I decided I HATED what Angel was now written as.

And here's the thing. I don't hate Dylan! I don't really feel anything towards Dylan one way or another, except that he seemed really immature (probably because, as it says in the book, he's only three years old, just with a teen's body. Like, when Dylan is first introduced, the book makes a REALLY big deal about that. Brings up REPEATEDLY that Dylan is 3 years old in a teenage body). And I don't hate Max's clone Maya either!! She has an interesting side thing going where she's trying to be her own person instead of Max's clone, after being sicced on Max to kill and replace Max in the gang and then failing to do that. And good for her!! A little weird that Fang left Max for her, but Fang's choices aren't a reflection of her!! Fang was super wishy-washy on which girl he was going to be loyal to that entire time. Which wasn't cool of him!! Max was his ride or die!! Ride or die my ass by the end of the series, apparently!!

But like, the early books were so good! (To elementary school age me. I cannot speak to how they hold up now, because I have not and will not reread them) Max was such a badass and she had the support of her found family! And her struggles and her flock's struggles were real! They were a group of outcasts who just wanted to live normal lives in everyday human society. And there was so much joy from them doing everyday people things, like going to school and trying makeup and making friends. And the longer the series went on, the more and more it seemed like it curved waaaaay off-field and out into the parking lot. Down the road and then off a fucking cliff.

Like, i'm sure there's stuff wrong with the book politically. Remembering how Iggy's blindness suddenly Disappeared Under Certain Conditions felt really, really questionable even at childhood age. And I never liked the makeover scene with Nudge, where she gets her hair straightened and her makeup done, but I will be honest. It was because I didn't like tomboy makeover scene type stuff. I wasn't yet aware of how icky it is to write a black character hiding their natural curls and calling them more beautiful for straightening their hair. I know now!! Yet another reason I really don't like Nudge's whole makeover scene. I forget what book that happens in. Pretty sure it's either The Angel Experiment or School's Out Forever. (This dislike of Nudge's makeover scene is also influenced by the manga, which I read volumes 1-3 of)

The long and short of it is, the ending of Nevermore felt really cheap. 'Oh everyone dies and that's a good thing because now the earth will be repopulated by Max's coercion-born animal-human hybrid babies and none of those genetically defective regular humans'. >:( I was so mad and felt so cheated by the ending that I stopped reading James Patterson's works entirely (which honestly wasn't that hard. I had been reading Witch & Wizard at the time too, and stopped halfway through The Fire. Which was not hard to do. The characters who were once interesting became utterly insufferable)

Okay while looking up how to spell character names, I found out two things. One, Nevermore had a sequel and the Wikipedia plot summary is just as nonsensical as I expected. No interest in reading it, as far as I am concerned literally nothing can come back from And Everyone Died The End ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ there's no saving it at that point. Write a new series. You've shot the old series between the eyes with an ending like that.

And two, apparently Nevermore was astronomically received NEGATIVELY by literary reviews / critics. Which. VINDICATIONNNNN. Baby me knew what was up!! Baby me knew a shit ending when they saw one!!!

Anyway. Immediately after reading Nevermore, I walked away from Patterson books, was convinced that I in my wee ripe age could write better stories than him, and proceeded to First Draft an actual novel and a half of Human Experiment Teens Save The World. It's been a side project of mine to revamp it every time I notice a sharp increase in my writing skills (it's actually due for a revamp again, but I haven't finished the rewrite of the Second Draft, so really want I want to do is reevaluate the plot using the knowledge I know now. Gotta dust away all the unknowing child ignorances and biases and really make it a story worth telling.) And for the record, it will NOT be ending with goddamn Everyone Died The End.

But anyway. That's my rant against the ending of the Maximum Ride series. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk ravings on this corner of the bar counter.

[pentition]

(knives out spoilers Again)

same anon who sent the ask about the ring -- your answer was incredibly thoughtful and i'm always blown away by the level of detail you go into! i just wanted to add that, apparently, the only other means of obtaining the diamond ring are via gifts from other bachelors after marrying them (namely ernest, owen, and unsuur). with this in mind, it's so hard to believe the ring isn't intended for something explicitly romantic. i just Have to know what they were cooking here

Hello again! Welcome back, welcome always to come back! And thank you!! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ I know Pathea's games have cool lore and characters with their own level of details, but I'm an absolute sucker for delving more. It makes my DM/GM and editorial brain go ZOOOM when I'm given questions on story/character designs and developmental potential because that's... my life. Lmfao So really, thank you. My brain is made happy with these things.

That's so interesting!! I didn't know that, I was actually mulling over the diamond ring vs engagement ring and realized I didn't know where the prior came into the picture. That's delicious information, thank you!

It felt like some means of a romantic gesture initially. I forgot to add that they could have been separate gifts for his 12 SEPARATE lovers (I'll never get over his wording). Like he was collecting them all gifts when this happened - provided he was being honest about it. Which I'll be bitter about if that's canon and not just Pen being Pen - because if it's canon and folks that romanced him didn't get to react... It's bad either way but that has an extra oof.

But idk, I still feel like it was Pathea's coding/programming to not have an alt drop available. Which if that is the case it still makes me go ??? at the implication it was intended for builders that romanced Pen. Because where is that narrative going??? What is being cooked... what are they building in there?

I am starving for more context and content. I really and truly hope everything with Pen isn't just over. The potential with his character... I crave. :')

Also I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions!!

[lenorethequietbookkeeper]

I'd love to hear what you have planned for Aldin's parents like you mentioned in the server! (which anyone seeing this ask should totally join hehe)

Hehe you un-koi son of a bitch /pos (Though tbf that's not a bad suggestion I'm way more active there than here oof)

For y'all who don't know, I explained that curse undead are the only kind of undead that can have biological children here. Well I decided that I would retcon Aldin's backstory so that's his origin! (I didn't really mention it here since none of the cast's back stories are very well established yet.

Anywho!! I don't have a lotta info on em yet. What I can say for sure is that his mom wasn't in the picture for much of his life (you'll know why in the main story later), and his dad was one of the few curse undead in Australia who actually kept his head after turning. Unfortunately he wasn't the sentimental type like, at all, and only really focused on teaching his batch of rugrats how to survive. Oh, his dad was also extremely emotionally detached from Aldin and his siblings to the point that he didn't really care if one of em didn't listen and got eaten. Sounds harsh but you also have to consider the fact that Australia in ZoP is like, a million times deadlier than usual lmao.

So yeah, Aldin isn't on great terms with either of his folks. I think one of these days I'll make a full post about the main cast's families if that interests y'all.

[tenantof221c]

Regarding that Jim guy

Ah well. Last time I spoke about him was several weeks ago and I'd said I'd give an update on whether or not he would show up again the following Saturday I'd posted and well----

Long story short: He did.

I haven't spoken about it because I've been busy with work and well, plum forgot (love having ADHD/s) but today he sent me a text and that reminded me that I never did update my blog about it so here I am, typing away. Really hoping he doesn't see this but also A) oh well. He's always asking what I'm thinking anyway and B) if you do read this Jimberly, you owe me a song on your piano if I ever come over to yours. You did promise me you'd play me something someday but since I know better, ha! Look! It's in writing now, so you can't weasel yourself out of it, you little fae folk pfft~

It had been a cloudy day, little sunshine, and I found myself at the same bench he had waltzed up to the first time. In all honesty, I didn't expect him to show up. The first time had felt odd and surreal enough, so when he did walk up it took me by surprise. Unlike the first time, he didn't wear a suit, but instead slacks and a sweater--I can hear Sherlock's voice now. 'Home rules Texie, jumper'-- jumper with a collared shirt underneath. Very smart, if not more approachable than the £1,000 get up he had worn the first time although he still wore those shades from before.

I'm glad he did, all things considered. The shades, I mean. I struggle with eye contact, which is why I wear shades myself. Either I can't stand being under someone else's attention because the thought alone makes me want to run and hide, or I'm gripped with unbearable need to stare into someone's eyes to catalogue the hue of their irises--- there is no real in-between.

That's a funny thing about Jim (and stars, as a side note, this man is f u n n y)- he also stares. I don't call him out on it because frankly, it's comforting to know someone else like me although admittedly, I often find it exceptionally difficult to look him in the eyes- they're very nice eyes! Very dark like mine. But he's like Sherlock and Mycroft (oh boy, I need to write about that guy at some point phew), where if he's looking at you, he's also looking through you and more scarily, into you. I don't know. I think I'm just not used to it. I don't think I ever will be, or want to be for that matter. I think I like my shadows.

Anywho, where was I? Ah- so, we met. We got hot chocolate, walked around a bit, just chatted and navigated the city a little. It was pleasant and obviously, we exchanged phone numbers. Next weekend I'm going to teach Jim the basics on how to paint with acrylics. He's hinted he's going to make a mess about it and honestly and truly, I'm hoping he does. Life is all about the unexpected messes and what we do with them after all. Happy accidents, as Bob Ross would call them.

I suppose I'm trying to say thanks. Thanks for being a happy accident, Jim. Looking forward to helping you make your own. Until then, don't forget that piano piece you owe me. I won't.

Feels odd just posting this without an image since I've been doing that so here's a picture of a marigold, one of my favourite flowers! Decided I'd add a pot of them to my ever growing plant collection (I may or may not have a problem.)

X

S.S.