#The Soul Reminiscence COG

[anxietytwist]

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐕𝐚𝐥'𝐡𝐚𝐢

[ 𝟸𝟻 | 𝟼'𝟸" | Agender | Queer | ❤︎𝐌𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 ]

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

⧼Style⧽

𝙃𝙖𝙞𝙧

Chin-length, curly, & brown

𝙁𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙤𝙣

Shirt & trousers

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

⧼Notes⧽

ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ➙ They/Them ʙᴜɪʟᴅ➙ 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ➙ Cuts down their forearms to wrists ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ➙ Psychokinesis & Psychometry ʜᴏʙʙʏ/ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴ➙ Plushies 🧸

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧 wears a binder (which they've been able to replicate, & improve upon, in this new world due to their ability) 🏳️‍⚧️

Their hair started greying after the trauma of finding every member of their family brutality slaughtered

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧 was absolutely livid when they woke up after achieving their goal & finally getting to die (how dare the universe prolong their suffering in a new world where none of their friends know them)

While the scars on their forearms are “work” related, those found closer to their wrists were all self-inflicted 😔

Because of the dystopian world they grew up in, 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧 has always been interested in soft toys (+ they never had any as a child)

...

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧 means “𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑑” (Latin)

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

𝐼𝐹: @lilac-den

•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•●•

Picrew used:

[nagitoro]

｡ₓ ू ₒ DENY, THEN EMBRACE — RIN ITOSHI

he'll deny these feelings, those anonymous gifts, and the need to hug you.

a rin itoshi oneshot! rin itoshi x fem! reader

iya's notes ; my first work on my new blog! i made it extra fluffy for everyone ><

rin itoshi thinks he is a master of it, the art of denial. he denies most things, and in very different aspects too.. like being asked to hang out, his answers would be a stern "no thanks.", he denies the anger he feels whenever isagi yoichi, his rival, steals a soccer goal away from him. but the biggest denial of his life, is in love.

and is in you, the denial of his own feelings. rin itoshi isn't so accustomed to having such musty feelings, as he referred to them as such. but, to be honest, rin doesn't mind feeling it in the comfort of his own mind, where his imagination and love roam free.

he's not allowed to fall in love yet, when he has a huge dream and a path to take in front of him. it's a distraction. from the soccer career he is putting his life on, something that he has excelled in all his life, second only to his brother, sae. maybe one day, those feelings will eventually fade.

rin itoshi is not a believer in romances, after all. he trusts that maybe in a week, such feelings will go away. maybe.. in two weeks? a month? two months? he doesn't know, it's been how long since he wished his longing to be by your side would just go away, to not let it plague his mind. as good as the feelings he gets from it, it makes him weak, he thinks.

vulnerability isn't so much what rin itoshi aspires to be, and yet in the presence of you.. he feels every bit of the word vulnerable. it makes him weak in the knees, making him feel shivers from head to toe. “it's just a crush, this is how it normally feels like.” he reminds himself, he's had a few crushes before, how does this make it any different.

“rin!” your voice calls out, and his soul gets turned into a messy puddle. he tries his best to keep calm, fixing his coat and hair subconsciously before coughing, clearing his throat. why? it's his subconscious speaking, the player thinks. “hello.” and as you walk towards him with a grin, he could only muster a weak (and honestly shy) smile back.

rin itoshi doesn't even smile most of the time. but i think any smile that came from him, an always upset and reclusive man would be a huge advancement towards a more neutral, at least personality.

he held a small conversation with you about nothing in particular, until you mentioned something about wanting to buy plushies and figurines. explaining how cute they are and that you're starting a collection of such items, showing him a picture of a lamb holding what seemed to be a tulip. “is this.. what you want?” he asks, no emotions shown on his face and yet inside the cogs of his head were working.

itoshi rin went home that day, seemingly happy to see you once in a while. sitting on his clean desk, he thinks deeply. reminiscing the quite short conversation you two had earlier that day. a much more visible grin on his face, he was after all in the comfort of his own bedroom so he felt free to express little bits of happiness and what people called butterflies in their stomach.

he grabbed his phone, typing in “lamb with tulip” before stopping, staring at the wall in front of him with a look that could only be embarrassment. what am i thinking.. buying them this can't buy their love. he shakes his head at the thought, being a firm believer that not even money can buy affection and love, especially yours. rin took another look at the plushie, before imagining you holding on to it tightly with a very pleased expression.

he smiled to himself again, like an exercise to his face's muscles that he hadn't quite had in a long while. rin pressed the buy now button, before putting his phone down a few minutes later. they don't have to know that it's from me.. all they need to know that it came from someone who adores them, even if i am not allowed to. he thinks to himself, burying his face into his hands while thinking about his feelings.

i will like them, as long as my heart wants to. rin itoshi nods to himself, maybe.. he has the hold over his feelings for you by now. standing up to go to the mirror, he looks at himself, the faint blush on his face as he sighs out loud. “i don't think my heart will ever stop liking them.”

a few days later, rin sneaks to your apartment, and stuffs something into the mail carefully. his disguise was shades, a baseball cap and a black facemask. making sure to look around before placing it inside, he smiles then walks away. rin waited in anticipation for your reaction, perhaps a message? no, there was no indication that it was from him anyways, no letter, not even a measly sticky note.

opening his instagram, he sees a post. and instinctively, rin grins. you look perfect. he thought, staring at the selfie you took with the plushie, holding it in different poses. the caption of your post read:

@username: whoever gave me this will get a hug and a lot of thanks, tysm anon <3

rin blinks, is that true? he thinks, tapping his finger nervously on his wooden desk. “maybe it's a joke, she wouldn't. and besides, she doesn't know..” he gulps down, sighing. but the thought of other people who may admire you, taking credit for buying you that gift take his chance away from receiving a hug makes him frown, a huge scowl accompanied with thoughts of multiple people taking credit. his brows furrow and he slumps on his bed.

rolling over and over, wondering if he should text you. “but how..” he blinks up at the ceiling, this is stupid he thinks. i look like a middle school student with a stupid crush.. and quite frankly, it's true. rin can't help but feel young and dumb, in the face of what might possibly be his first love. what happened to just denying it all?

he thinks it's too late to deny it, he's enamored.

not my fault.. i can't help but like you, who wouldn't? i'm not going to deny it.. not when i want to give my all for her.. this is the only other thing i want other than soccer, my other wish, is them, and what seems to be an impossible.. romance? with her. i can't believe myself, using terms like that. it's icky.

he shivered, rin seemed like one of those characters of romance movies that he despised. but how long would it take if he still denied the feelings he held for you? how long would his wait of “it'll go away soon, they're just a crush anyways.” go on? rin thinks he's already too deep in, maybe, just maybe this is the type of love that he imagined to be disgusting. if so, why is it making him feel like a new person, a much better, and a less selfish person.

and as he types into his phone, his hands shake with nervousness. this was one of the stepping stones he had to overcome, to get a little closer to you.

@ rinitoshi : when's the meetup? i need to have that hug y/n

[lunar-years]

roy/jamie/keeley are the type of relationship where all sides of the triangle touch… but i’m very amused by the show making jamie the “centre” of the story in season 3. this is basically the sideplot of mom city but throughout the season we rly get a whole scene of keeley reminiscing on her past with jamie while commenting on how much he’s grown… and roy finally shows some glimpse of vulnerability by opening up to jamie in amsterdam, and is clearly impressed at his dedication to training. and the whole treatment room scene with the giggles and fondness and champagne. agh. love story of intertwined souls of all time.

love story of intertwined souls of all time !!! 💖

this is totally a stretch but listen. walk with me here... in season one the central cog between them is Roy, because Keeley and Jamie are preoccupied with both wanting 2 bang him (lmao)...but more seriously, because both of their arcs revolve around Roy--Keeley with leaving Jamie then getting together with Roy, Jamie with his feud with Roy that he uses as a distraction from his real problems. Then in season 2 the central cog is Keeley because she's the one encouraging Jamie to ask for what he wants i.e. return to Richmond, as well as encouraging Roy to take the pundit gig and pull himself out of his slump. She sees the best parts of both of them and facilitates the growth in each of them that eventually culminates in their breakthrough with each other. Then in season 3 the central cog is Jamie, who connects with Roy then reconnects with Keeley then helps them reconnect w each other (never forget jamie walking onto the pitch to play for England for the first time finally being the thing that helps Roy form the right words for his letter to keeley <333 POETIC CINEMA)

[hwaightme]

Love was spring

(masterlist) (join taglist)

💮 pairing: seonghwa x gn!reader 💮 genre: comfort, fluff, tid-bits of angst, strangers to lovers 💮 summary: following a serendipitous meeting with you, seonghwa blooms in love after heartbreak, and learns that "if you intend to love a single flower, you must love its generation and extinction, presence and absence." - Do Jonghwan 💮 wordcount: 2.6k 💮 warnings/tags: allusion to idol!hwa, heartbreak, recovering from heartbreak, flora, cherry blossom season, implied ideation of death, time, healing, overcoming hardships, rainy days, discussion of life and its meaning, reassurance, meaning of forever 💮 a/n: the sentimental mood, bittersweet reminiscence have not left me after listening to Seonghwa's cover of Angel Baby, so I hope you enjoy my expression of this <3 Thank you so much to Sky (@/legohwas) for reading and for helping with the name, forever grateful<33 Much love and any reblogs, comments, thoughts and notes welcome!

💮 perma-taglist (open): @legohwas @acciocriativity @doom-fics @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @hoshischeekss @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @mystar1024 @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey

Love was pernicious when the soul was a snow-covered, sleeping tree - a notion that Seonghwa had been unfortunate enough to explore, and a terror to experience. In the flickering embers of what used to be a blazing passion, Seonghwa had remained intentionally oblivious to himself, and to the troubles that constructed a suffocating enclosure around him until catastrophe was imminent. When he had been at his lowest and needed precious love and unconditional support the most, he had been left to perish in the lonely silence, accompanied solely by the drumming of a biting cold winter rain. That day, his heart had joined the millions of droplets by shattering into a myriad of miniscule white flowers, only for their pure luminescence to be extinguished in the blink of an eye and blend with the wet concrete as sickly grey sludge.

As he watched the sun leave his life, the back of the one who had all his adoration and had promised him a forever turning into that of a total stranger, he ceased to believe in the feeling. If it was something so easily disposed of, equivalent to the passivity one experienced when discarding a plastic wrapper or an old, useless and broken toy, then he did not want any part in this farce. Evidently, he had been mistaken in his romanticisms, in his dreams and in his vision of soulmates, and thus, in his future.

Nights blended into days, remaining colourless as Seonghwa drifted in a melancholic somnolence. A hollow shell of a human being, he did what he had to do to be deemed functional enough, competent enough, acceptable enough for the rotating cogs of the societal machine. Seonghwa smiled, because his muscles were trained to do so. He refined his movements in a complex dance routine, because he could dissociate from his inner turbulence. But, in the darkness of his room where he had long ceased to turn on the light out of fear that he would see the ghosts of his history, he let himself collapse onto his bed and study the vapid monotony of his ceiling, so intently that he saw a reflection of his own heartache and misery in the off-white paint.

Amidst his endless search for some form of relief, the dark-haired man had taken to visiting the same bridge every rainy evening. The very bridge on which he had parted with the one who he had called the love of his life, physically metamorphosing into nothing but a black dot with every confident step away from him, but still having the ability to transform into a festering wound in his cranium. Seonghwa had nothing left to give, and yet he kept on hoping that one day everything could turn around, and the sun would shine once more. Alas, the rain had only gotten stronger, until the unforgiving element was a loyal spirit hovering above his lowered head.

Pulling the heavy weight of fate behind him, Seonghwa trudged to the bridge once more, turning in the direction of the flowing river and regarding the way in which large droplets collided with the surface, disturbing an otherwise innocent, serene mirror of the sky. Collapsing onto the stone guardrail, he peered at the waters below absent-mindedly and toyed with the idea of becoming a leaf, be it an oak or a maple; exist to gather energy, give, give and give some more only to break away from familiar territories and succumb to eternal rest on the current’s bubbling surface. A long, tranquil holiday. Away from all of this. Away from judgement, misinterpretation, anxiety that gnawed at his insides like a voracious dog. If only Seonghwa had known that it would turn out like this; then he would have never given into the silly risk that was now poisoning his thoughts, his feelings, and was rapidly approaching his actions. 

And it was at that moment, in the desperate solitude, amidst a battle with himself that he met you, and the unforgiving downpour cowered in your radiance.

“Hey, you come here often?” The cheesy phrase pulled him out of his ruminations, and he spun his head around to register the source of sound, finally stumbling upon a figure wrapped up in a raincoat, face partially hidden by an umbrella. Out of politeness, he chose to respond to the mysterious passer-by, flabbergasted when the umbrella moved to reveal a megawatt grin and an adorable face. While you looked to be about his age, you possessed a fascinating contrast of wise eyes that gave the impression of having seen many lives, wonders and displeasures of the world, and the refreshed, youthful face with the faintest natural blush coating your cheeks. In his mind, you were the promise of spring after a detestable, incorrigibly brutal winter.

Love was assuaged grief when the soul was the bare branches of a cherry blossom tree, early buds only just beginning to peek out from their bundled cots, and revealing their youthful colours against the warm grey bark that was decorated with memories of past trials and tribulations; an ode to time itself. This was a notion which you had proposed to Seonghwa amidst your improvised performances - an attempt to elicit at least the ghost of a priceless smile. After the initial meeting, you had come to cross paths more and more often, until serendipitous grew into coincidental, grew into intentional. And for the first time, Seonghwa found his footsteps and his heart getting lighter, and the rain no longer provoked despondent rumination, leaving the cyclical, habitual aches that only time could heal.

The routine was simple. Every evening when the sleepless sky caressed the earth with millions of diamonds that connected to form thousands of threads, embellishing the heavens and tying the mortal and the timeless, you would meet. Same bridge. Same time. Same umbrella, decorated with ornate flowers. You had not asked Seonghwa for much, except to show up, and to bring you a story that brought him warmth. Even if the side effect of the otherwise happy and reassuring memory was a stray tear or two. Raindrops, condensation of the soul, you called them. Trickling reminders that he was able to feel and was capable of knowing when he was on cloud nine prior to entering his period of monsoons and thunderstorms.

Each rainy night, of which there were many, come early signs of the spring season, he recounted what love had meant for him before being subdued by a ruthless frost. How he had traversed each city believing that he finally understood the meaning of utopia and paradise, only for the rose glasses that he had unknowingly been given to be shattered, leaving him experientially blind. Suspended in his retrospections, Seonghwa ambled through his mind’s labyrinth as he divulged the stories of the many shops, cafes and quiet cobbled streets he had visited, with the memories now having transformed into bitter anguish.

The more he shared, the more despicable the prior fondness became. How dare this terror haunt him so? How dare the scenes appear before him in a warm sepia tone, when Seonghwa wanted nothing more but to let them go? He wanted to shed the dead leaves. Anything to submit to an unfeeling winter for a while, for the remnants of the prologue to his solitude to be frozen solid.

“You may wish to forget and say it never happened, it is only natural. But sooner or later, the ice and snow will melt and all that you had buried will be streaming down memory lane and back into your heart.”

“I suppose, but either way I will be thinking about it. So what does it matter if I think about it now, or later?”

“Acceptance, Seonghwa. Acceptance. With steady reflection and time dedicated to yourself rather than your demons comes acceptance. As you’re healing, the sun shines brighter, the days get longer, and the world awakens. It would be a shame to miss the spring, don’t you think?”

He lowered his head in silent musing, letting your words echo in his head before turning to survey the landscape. This was his first venture in the park near the bridge, despite him passing by it countless times. It had been a setting, a backdrop for his chilling thoughts, so deeply entrenched in periphery that he had never even considered stopping and admiring it. And now, with you, he felt that it was right that he did - without you walking by his side, finally having let him take a hold of your umbrella and hold it above your heads, he doubted he would find this collection of bare trees, murky ponds and meandering cement paths as miraculous as he did now. You pointed out the buds, so young they were a pale turquoise, and the fresh grass, thin lines of green among the wilted greys and browns. 

Perhaps this was what you envisioned when you talked of love. The nightfall turning into sunset as the clocks chimed the same hour. The same tree, adorned with the promise of a stunning canopy. The same memories, but with each passing day, growing brighter and lighter, until they turned into white clouds floating across the skies of sweet daydreams, serving as nothing more than a signifier of a past that had paved the way towards a marvellous present. If this was what you envisioned, then, certainly, this was what Seonghwa wanted to learn to feel.

Love was harmonious when the soul was the flurry of cherry blossom petals dancing in the wind, enveloping the beholder in the spring embrace and decorating the world in a snowlike carpet and in baby pink. While the tree did not bloom for long, reaching its most beautiful peak and burning out at times in a matter of days, the fleeting, divine glory that it achieved was what you and Seonghwa would consider an eternity. If anything, the growth, the blossoming, the fall were reflections of every living organism in the expanse of space and time; a slow inhale, and a level, measured out exhale all in the hopes of a next cycle. 

“You know, Seonghwa, I think that every single person is like a cherry blossom tree. Grand, ever-expanding, unique… bare. However, our identity, our interests, our friends and family… fans, they are all blossoms, leaves, the curvature in the bark that decorates the magnificent branches.”

Your musings were Seonghwa’s favourite pastime and focus, the words forming philosophical symphonies as he let himself be guided from one piece to the next. He had found comfort in sharing his troubles with you, and as soon as the weather had gotten warm enough for you to be able to do so, sitting side by side under the awakening flora to ponder their meaning into a fuzzy abstraction. The conversation had stemmed from your observation of the falling flowers, appearing to be shed as soon as they blossomed. Taking note of the lack of regal white robes on some of the branches, Seonghwa had pointed out that they might have been stolen away by the heavy rain last night, thus falling into a moment of melancholy as he recollected the circumstances of your first meeting.

Gently, you placed a hand over his in an expression of reassurance and a reminder that you, indeed, were here with him, and were not striving for impermanence. Turning his own hand so the palm was facing upwards, he intertwined your fingers together, comfortable with the sweet affection, since the throngs of observers hungry for photographs of the blossoms at their most splendid had long whittled down to lazy stragglers. They still retained a sliver of a chance to capture the grandeur of the remaining veterans before they too would join the fallen white raindrop, preferred to amble past, enraptured by their own routines, their own growth, their own blossoms.

“Flora has its life cycles. The same goes for everything in life. Some things and people appear and disappear in a single season, with only pictures or a passing thought to retain them in your psyche, whilst others, either on their own accord or by joining forces with like minded souls become a continuous presence. You see, even those who you had to say goodbye to were precious. Because they are irreversibly a part of you. Anything you do, anyone you meet is an addition to that beautiful blossoming tree, just like you are to theirs.”

Seonghwa shifted his gaze towards you, taking in your serenity as you basked in the April sun. Leaving behind the flowery umbrella and with it the rainy days, he was caught in a silent bliss, eagerly waiting for each tomorrow, all while living vicariously through every today. He found himself reconnecting with passion, with art. No longer was he functioning for the sake of appearances, but was well and truly living. After having assumed he had to love only beauty and solely seek perfection - the exact notion which had resulted in his near demise, it was a breath of fresh, resurrecting air to discover that to truly love, meant to love the silence, the obsoletion and the absence. Now, as one season changed into another, and as gorgeous blossoms fell to turn into colourful water streams he was able to sit back and quietly observe the metamorphosis instead of mourning it. Because he knew that this meant there would be a future, with new colours, new leaves, new blossoms.

“Life does not stand still…” he murmured, squeezing your hand ever so slightly, a warmth spreading in his chest as your eyes met his and your lips curled into a soft, adorable gleam. 

“And what do you think about that?” you held your breath, your heart swelling with pride as you urged Seonghwa to go on.

“I find it to be… like love itself. Even in the quietude of the branches left bare, the fondness and awareness of knowing they had once been home to thousands of petals makes it worth it. And, as such, they never leave, turning into a transformative forever.”

The heavens sighed, a strong breeze washing over the park, your two forms settled on the wooden bench, the shedding canopies of white. Blossoms erupted in a visual catharsis, and scattered across the earth as far as the eye could see. The final flickers of this beautiful season’s embers. And yet, it did not feel like a dismal, all-encompassing finale, but rather the end of the beginning. While Seonghwa did not know what this renaissance would bring, and what florescence shall be his future guide, he was confident that in his newfound tranquillity, you were the reason why loving was easy. Why love was like being brought back to life.

“It is easy to believe in ‘the end’. And takes an infinite, intrinsic love, transcending time and seasons to believe in ‘forever’.” you agreed, and gazed at the scene before you. The glimmering waters of a pond - the sky’s mirror, dotted with brilliant ethereal cotton, soothed by the wind’s caresses. You and Seonghwa watched on as the floral dancers cascaded down in their closing act, elegantly waving their farewells before settling on lapping foam. 

Slowly, he was learning the intricacies, the little things that formed a delicate equilibrium that was adoration, devotion, enamourment. Equanimous, Seonghwa wanted nothing more than to live in this ever-changing present, and, with you, love the beauty and the silence after it had fallen.

[atamascolily]

There's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it section of the Rebellion opening where bells flash across the screen and once I paused it, my brain screamed "Utena reference!"

Left: The Rebellion Story (2013). Right: The Adolescence of Utena (1999).

Rebellion is to the original Madoka Magica TV series as Adolescence is to Revolutionary Girl Utena, to the point where I jokingly refer to it as "The Adolescence of Homura". The primary difference is that while Rebellion eventually makes it clear that it is a continuation, not a retelling of the original, the relationship between the Utena movie and its predecessor remains open to interpretation. (To make up for it, Adolescence has a gorgeously animated and romantic dance sequence and ends with the two female leads cuddling naked and kissing, while Rebellion... doesn't.) Most of the parallels are subtextual rather than overt, but every now and then the animators give us a shot that makes it clear that Utena was indeed a direct influence.

This whole section is difficult to see because it flashes by so fast, but it also includes another shot that takes my breath away:

The windows of the castle in the fantasy theme park open up to reveal the clockwork powering it; the cogs and gears float in the celestial void, the "engine" of reality as we know it. The entire theme park is a Potemkin facade meant to disguise and distract us from the truth... essentially giving away one of the movie's main twists before it's even gotten started. This is also hinted at in earlier shots of the desert "blooming" as it is covered by an illusion, which is eventually rescinded in the final moments of the credits, but goes further by indirectly pointing to Homura as its source.

This is also Homura's hand, but it's not as immediately obvious, just like the hands puppeting the Nightmares are also hers, but with a bandage to hide the soul gem mark on her fingernail. I don't know if we ever see that bracelet again, though.

Note that although opening windows are a major recurring visual motif in this movie--the symbol of the Law of Cycles' salvation--this is different, as evidenced by the stained glass design on the panes. Here we are "looking under the hood," so to speak, in a manner evocative of Princess Tutu, one of the other influences on Madoka Magica and Rebellion in particular, in which "reality" is ultimately revealed to be controlled by a narrative represented as mechanical clockwork. I can't help noticing the stained glass in the window is round with a purple cross--reminiscent of Homura's shield and her diamond-shaped soul gem.

We also get a glimpse of the clock face, which is not the weirdest clock in this series by a wide margin, but does combine the shield/gears/time motifs nicely.

In case it's not clear, I love it when opening credits contained major spoilers hidden in plain sight and I cannot wait to see what they do with Walpurgis no Kaiten.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

What are your thoughts on Gunny Bobrov? She showed up as the POV character in the Trial of Reckoning Waypoint story that came out with the Firefight update and is currently presumed dead.

I love her! I'll admit I thought it was hysterical that an even more niche Halo 4 character (who's first appearance is in a PA System hidden feature listing her as the Mammoth driver) showed up before Miller or Roland. Her and fucking Terry Hedge from SpOps (He was in 2 levels!! Is Esposito next?) making an appearance was really funny. I didn't know her beforehand and for a moment I thought she was one of the marines featured in the audiologs.

As for her character, I enjoyed the story and how she was written. No nonsense type who took stock and did what she could. And she misses the Infinity more than I do.

She placed 4th with a friend in the chili cookoff. This is what I want from Halo stories going forward. Characters who have little details and fun links to the wider world we got to know over the games/novels/mobile games/ side stuff.

Her story, if it ends where it does, is good! I would like to see it continue. Rereading it for this ask makes me appreciate the tension and the glimpse into a single soul stuck in Escharum's dumb game. I love outsider POV stories. She reminisces about Lasky and Chief and wonders where they are. She remembers the war as the tension grows. She sets the standard for this new group of her, Hedge, Singh, and Doc. It's satisfying but leaves you wondering.

This acceptance of the their own personal hell, the crucible of war games that we've been told is the Jiralhanae way, this is more interesting than us hearing Escharum tell Chief "Fight Hard, Die Well" over and over again. The human moments make Halo and scared out of your mind but doing it anyway is a fun story!

That and the nice "she had been called upon to serve once more". She retired and then reenlisted? But I do love the Halsey line echo that she said to an auditorium of freshly kidnapped 6 year olds.

Bobrov was called upon to serve, as if she ever had a choice. She's another cog in this war machine but we get to see and feel so much in this one short story that I hope they capture in the others moving forward. I do really enjoy what the writing team is putting out, whatever they're allowed to do.

I hope we see more of Bobrov, Hedge, Singh, and Doc. Maybe Kelly Gay can save some of them too, like she saved Horvath and Kovan.

[two-reflections]

Iron Will, Crimson Whispers

Warsmith Kirakos Neman of the Iron Warriors prepares to meet with Captain Roscius Sedulius of the Red Corsairs to discuss a trade agreement. [Part 1/4.]

This is the start of a oneshot that I'll be posting in parts on Marine Meat Monday for the rest of February. Today and next week should be fairly in line with MMM, but the two weeks after that will focus on the characters' meeting and its aftermath.

Tumblr version below, but please read on Ao3 if you can.

The halls of the Iron Warriors’ fortress echoed with the rhythmic hiss of steam that marked Warsmith Kirakos Neman's ablutions. Steam swirled around his imposing figure, sculpted first by the arts of the Corpse God, followed by years of war and the attention of the Dark Mechanicus. Time was anathema to Neman, yet his pre-meeting ritual was as precise and unwavering as a laser lance. Every facet of his being, from the ceramite plates meticulously polished to the Aquila gleaming on his chest plate, had to be an instrument of perfect order.

The ancient rituals of his Legion, passed down through generations of warriors, flowed through him like scripture. The industrial-grade cleanser was measured to the exact micron for optimal exfoliation and applied with surgical precision. His serfs scrubbed him, dissolving all impurities in the foamy lather. Each stroke was measured, calculated and practised; any deviation would have spelt a promotion for the hapless mortal from bath attendant to the newest member of the Astartes’ growing swarm of servo skulls. Neman’s armour lay disassembled in the next room, being attended to by agents of the Dark Mechanicus. Now, he was naked, the statuesque beauty of his body on display for his own judgment. 

His gaze, sharp as a power sword, scanned his reflection in the mirrored wall. He was seven and a half feet of scarred skin and heavy muscles. Once, that skin had been the rich colour of fertile earth. Now, it had taken on a dull, steely aspect more reminiscent of basalt. This change pleased Neman; his augmetic leg and semi-extruded spine matched his new colour better. His face’s resting expression was imperious, calculating, yet stoic, hinting at a soul with the patience to conquer a thousand worlds. His scars, each a testament to his unwavering loyalty to his Primarch Perturabo, were arranged in a grim symmetry. 

Some of his brothers would have called Kirakos Neman vain, but those who knew him understood: he was a demanding master, expecting nothing short of perfection from all who served him. This demand extended to his own body. His gaze held little self-admiration. It was laser-focused on the task, dissecting minute imperfections with the same intensity he brought to dissecting his foes.

As his cleansing ended, Neman passed on to the next room. He moved with the practised grace of a predator preparing for the hunt. Each layer of armour was donned reverently, the ceramite plates clicking into place like a prayer. The Iron Warriors’ sigil on his shoulder, a testament to his lineage, was buffed to a mirror shine. These efforts were not just about presentation; they were about embodying his legion’s ideals – strength, discipline, and an iron will that could shatter that of lesser beings.

As the final power coupling hummed to life in harmony with the hereteks’ binharic chants, Neman felt the familiar surge of power course through him. In his armour, he was no longer just Kirakos Neman, Iron Warrior; he was an instrument of the Legion's will, a cog in the war machine that would first reshape The Cicatrix Maledictum and later the galaxy.

His gaze settled on a data-slate clutched in his hazard-striped gauntlet. The details of his upcoming meeting with Captain Roscius Sedulius, envoy of the Red Corsairs, were etched in his mind. This meeting was of paramount importance. Perturabo's grand design, whispered only amongst the Iron Warriors' elite, demanded absolute precision in material acquisition and transport. The Red Corsair’s reputation preceded him – concerningly, Sedulius was said to be flamboyant, duplicitous, a viper in the ranks of traitors. Though he possessed a keen sense of beauty, Neman cared little for theatrics. He craved efficiency, precision, and the cold satisfaction of a completed task. The Iron Warrior would tolerate no sloppiness, no hint of weakness. This envoy of Huron Blackheart’s would be managed with the same ruthless precision he brought to his ablutions. He would be his Primarch's hand, the unwavering instrument of the Lord of Iron, and this Sedulius would bend to his will as surely as heated steel yielded to the touch of the hammer.

Nevertheless, one concession could be made. Neman rejected his helmet with a glance and a flick of his fingers. The priests who carried the two halves of it bowed and retreated from the room, singing the end of his armouring. 

Neman strode out of his quarters, the rhythmic clang of his boots on the metal walkway a counterpoint to the whirring machinery that hummed the lifeblood of the Iron Warriors' fortress. The meeting with Roscius Sedulius was not a social call, but a surgical strike, a test of wills veiled in civility. Neman would navigate the treacherous shoals of diplomacy with the same ruthless efficiency he brought to the battlefield, his every word a weapon honed to a razor's edge. For in the grand calculus of the Legion, there was no room for imperfection, no margin for error. There was only duty, and Neman, the ironclad instrument of its execution. 

[terras-diary]

game review - valkyrie elysium

it sucked. okay review over, thanks everybody.

okay so i will say more but just know i could have left it at that and it wouldn't make much of a difference.

context: i started this back in july of 2023 but then i booted up final fantasy xiv and well we know how that went.

story: what story? nothing happened. it's a walmart retelling of the love story of the first one plus the typical odin bad which was VP 1+2 (and maybe the ds game? never played that one) there is nothing original that is simultaneously good. it's the same shit but worse!!

also - in the original valkyrie profile games it's assumed that (at least this is what i got out of them) that there is a single valkyrie soul. it travels space and time to reincarnate into different human girls and takes the form of one of the three valkyrie. hrist in the far past, silmeria in the distant past, and lenneth in the present. they are separate personalities but at the end of the day they cannot exist all together. except that one time in valkyrie profile 2, but that was different.

so who is nora then. she's the valkyrie now. but where does she fall into the line? what about hilde? why did she 'betray' odin'? shouldn't they be the game girl? the game doesn't even answer what little questions it presents.

battling: it's not even in profile! okay, only half kidding (or am i) but none of these damn buttons do what you think they should do.

you can't cancel out of any moves you make. so if you see you are about to get hit, welp! too bad! you just have to sit there and watch nora get her ass beat. and god, when she gets knocked down it takes her twenty years to get back up. this isn't even an action game, it's like if you put my big ass in there and expected me to do this stuff. that's about how this game plays out.

no stores either. i kept all my items because up until the final boss gauntlet i didn't need them. i used all my items in those 3 fights and still, just by the skin of my teeth, did i beat the game. get good or whatever. you have to replay each chapter (to the end) to get and keep your items.

and the enemies. all five of them. plus their four recolors. so awesome.

other odds and ends: the voice acting is not synced to the lip movements at all. what's up with that?

the graphics suck. everything is brown, dreary and dark. there are thick black outlines over most things because it's too difficult to see otherwise.

why the fuck is this game called valkyrie elysium? valkyries = norse mythology and elyisum = greek mythology. it's simple stuff like that that makes you just know that they just didn't care.

and who is they you might ask? well square enix nor tri-ace could be bothered so it was handed off to soleil. you know one of the reasons i gave this game another chance is that i had such a good time with the star ocean 2 remake. that game was handed off to a (seemingly) no name studio only for me to find out it was founded by the same guy who was the battle programmer for valkyrie profile + star ocean. so i was willing to give it another chance, as i had only played for like two hours.

i shouldn't have. soleil makes like shitty anime fighting games. which explains the janky ass battle system.

one good thing i will say - you know i liked nora's design. hilde too. it wasn't too sexualized the way anime girls are now. they both had an oddly square jaw i found charming. i loved hilde's wavy long hair. at least their outfits were reminiscent of valkyrie profile.

conclusion: this is a shut up game. this is something so corporate so churned out of the cogs to feed as slop to valkyrie profile fans. no, i am not known to exaggerate at all. but seriously, don't waste your time. it's obvious no one else bothered so why should you?

[lgcnayoung]

the competition has put zest in her life and soul again, in a way that she knew it would. getting her fired up, in a positive way. but also equal levels of uncertainty because nayoung has no crystal ball: there’s no clue of what is coming up again. whether that’s the results of the competition, or what happens after too, it also happens to be currently in the present for today’s trial and obstacle. an improv scenario. and acting isn’t her strongest suit but she has something to prove. after the explanation, her mind starts moving, the cogs warming up and pestering her to think of something that could possibly showcase her true self, without being too similar. but it was going to be hard. there could be a few of them that overlap, but she won’t pay them any mind. maybe great minds think alike. it’s not as if they were able to talk, considering they’d been brought in here one on one.

maybe it’s a very literal approach, but once she is in the area of set one, nayoung lets her mind take rein and lead her in the right direction. “no matter what circumstances we are in,” nayoung says, as she looks to the sky above, a hand above her brow to shield from the sun’s ‘rays’, and not narrating or speaking to anyone in particular, but playing the main character, “i will do my best to prevail and make it out of every situation.” she takes a few steps around, to enjoy the forest scenery, and basque in the environment, looking down to see if there was any foraging to do in order to sustain herself. “don’t forget, in order to survive, you must take care of yourself. of course, it is important to take care of others, but here, there is only... me.” 

taking the path, nayoung walks into the second set, and finds a living room, cozy as can be, and she idles, not comforted by the gray sky. taking it upon herself to wrap herself in the blanket, and turning an ear with her hand cupped to the window, the girl smiles, but one that doesn’t reach her eyes. “and sometimes, that is all i need. the rain is comforting, like asmr.” taking a seat on the couch, humming a made up song, and flipping an imaginary book, slamming the end of the book cover down as if to say, on to the next story. “the adventure never ends. life is but a series of never ending stories.”

dropping the blanket at the end of set two when she moves into set three like a shedding of the skin, the kitchen is definitely not what she was expecting. don’t let anyone see her thoughts, as nayoung instantaneously moves into rummaging through the garbage, and through anything she could. she pries into the ‘fridge’, and the drawers, eventually coming out with a pair of utensils. “even in the darkest of places, there is something worthy to be found. i don’t know about you, but i can’t live without chopsticks,” stuffing that into her pocket and then there is set four.

a regular high school classroom. reminiscent of her days in university. too close to home, yet far away. “a place where you find out so much about yourself. and though it can be a challenge, keep trying, and your heart will fall into the right place. sometimes we get a bit lost, but that’s okay, we’ll find our way again. oh look, this is my seat right here. since no one else is here yet, let me take a quick rest... after all, we’ve had a busy day.” nayoung takes a seat, and crosses her arms before pressing her cheek down to it, giving a wave at the camera.  

[everlyjanewrites]

Nothing to Fear

Shower thoughts this morning came to me in the most forceful way. I couldn't turn them off as I was trying to wash the last two weeks of depression and anxiety out of my hair, literally. I kept a secret from my niece this summer, and I didn't realize how soon it would be until she realized it. I talk freely and openly about my love for horror. My entire living area is adorned with posters from Friday the 13th, The Exorcist, IT, Blood Diner, you name it, with various homages to the Universal Monsters and there are clown dolls everywhere. It sounds like a nightmare, but horror has always been an escape for me, and what might be a nightmare to some, is a reminder that I'm not alone in this world that feels like it branded "TRAUMATIZED" across my forehead from the age of seven years old. Over the summer, my brother and his family, which include my three beautiful elementary-aged nieces, came to town for their bi-yearly cross country visit. My middlest niece wanted to explore the room I call my "horror cave" and wasn't entirely excited with some of the findings. "Auntie Jane?" she asked; I could see the cogs turning in her mind, behind her eyes, hazel, reminiscent of that first autumn morning when you wake up and see the hint of leaves beginning to change, forests draped in a cloak of gold, green, and orange. "Does ANYTHING scare you?" I stopped in my tracks. I hadn't expected such a question from this 8 year old who, up until this very moment, would take every opportunity she had, to interrupt and talk over everyone because she just saw a bird in the sky, or remembered a dream that she had six months ago. The curious minds of children will never-not fascinate me. Does anything scare me? I pretended to think really hard for a minute or two. She kept nervously glancing over at a Michael Myers Halloween figure. No. I said no because I wanted this precious and innocent little mind to stay as pure as freshly fallen snow. I said no because I wanted to be that invincible, indestructible hero. I said no because I couldn't bring myself to vocalize the thoughts that eat at the pit of my soul, 24/7, save for the blissful few minutes I'm waking up in the morning, and when I'm toeing the line of wake and sleep at night. I didn't tell her that the monsters in movies are real. Only they don't have bolts coming out of their necks, eight feet tall with green skin. They don't arrive in UFOs, beamed down to return us to some unknown planet. Monsters are alive and well on this earth and you can so much as hold their hand without realizing it. You can go to the doctor and find that you have a monster inside of you that will dictate how you live your last years, months, days, of life. One day, your heart can just stop, and it takes a bunch of people you don't know yelling strange numbers at each other, to bring you back to earth again. I didn't tell her that one day, I pray that she isn't, but that she could be in the position that I am, watching someone she loves, approach the finish line of their time on this earth, after a battle with one of those previously mentioned monsters.

Creatures in movies might not scare me, but the monsters that have the potential to live within any of us...at any time... they keep me up at night. But we have to keep moving forward. Living with them, within them, living beyond them.

[seaquestions]

i Need to get better at drawing bgs, cityscapes especially cos i have Many Images in my head that i wanna paint of the cities on cybertron but. ah well.

anyway my tf lore is that kaon is built out of a dead titan. the districts are all named after body parts. the big smelter in the heart of the city is, literally in the heart, it’s the casing that housed the now-extinguished spark. the brain module is still functional even without a soul to think with it, used to store information and compute and analyse, it’s essentially a highly guarded supercomputer, and the district built around it is where the government buildings and stuff like that are. downtown is the fuel tank, with bars and entertainment. around the cog and the engine is the industrial area, with a bunch of factories and energon refineries. the spinal strut is where the mines are, as they drill down from where the titan laid and use its spine as a tramway track to transport minerals. the fuel lines that reach across the whole city are used as the sewer system.

theyve dug through the metal carcass in some parts, to build towers reaching up above the horizon to house all the people living in the city, to let the smoke from the factories escape into the atmosphere. some parts are fully enclosed still. kaon is shaped like a person, with parts overflowing as they expanded out to reach more mineral deposits. the arms are askew, the head is tilted back, there is the remains of massive damage around the vitals. the map of the city is reminiscent of a chalk outline of a dead body in a crime scene. the titan did not die peacefully.

death is a part of the city. you can’t walk around without seeing the ancient scars. some think the energon they harvest to drink is the same that was spilled in combat when their titan fell. but some think that they can hear the rumble of their engine still, feel the ground shake beneath their feet as the titan lives on without them knowing. that the city isn’t dead.

but the city isn’t dead, whether the titan still breathes or not. maybe the rumbling is just the footsteps of the people living in it.

[harbouredsoulss]

LURK

Author's note: You have no idea how happy I am to post again! 💞

I've been working on this for a while and am so excited to finally share this with you all. This is set to be a series, with the current number of parts unknown (though I'm currently working on that).

I also appreciate every single person who helped me when I was trying to work out how long my posts should be! You were all super helpful 🥰

warning(s): violence. mention of stalking. blood. a hint of smut. friends x lovers! panic.

pairing(s): ez reyes x [OC] ivána

word count: 2.3 k

summary: Ivána has a secret. She is in danger, and has kept this from everyone including her best friend Ez. What happens when this danger finally comes for her?

Nights alone were truly unbearable, though Ivána knew she was never truly alone.

There was always that heavy feeling -an inexplicable feeling that haunted her, to the point where she knew that he had to be out there watching her each and every move. The feeling clung to her, never abating.

Her home was locked down with the doors bolted shut, and windows sealed and secured. She had made it into a fortress since the first time he had made his intentions clear. She knew his kind; had seen it before. They liked to toy with their prey, and strike fear into their hearts, not long before they consumed them, body and soul.

Ivána knew she was just biding her time before the games would truly begin. The intimidation thus far had been nothing but mere warning of what was to come.

She lay in bed, tossing and turning, thoughts all consuming. She knew what she could do to make the problem go away. The police would be the best place to start and a smart move at that. Though that wasn’t who she was really considering turning to.

There were people she knew and trusted enough to protect her from harm. She had connections with people from all walks of life, some of which she grew up with, some of them considered family.

Her best friend, the one she had been secretly in love with for the majority of her life, Ezekiel Reyes, would do anything for her and she knew that. But she couldn’t bring herself to drag him into her mess. He had already gone through enough; he doesn’t need her problems added to his list.

At some point in the night, she did fall asleep. She fell to the faint pitter patter of the rain, which was rare for Santo Padre. It soothed her restless thoughts, and nudged her slowly to an unbroken sleep.

For once her dreams were not filled with terror, though there was still a flicker of anxiety as her thoughts shaped and manifested to their final form. In her dreams she spoke to EZ, hands caressing his face softly, lips barely a breath a part, whispering to him, telling him the truth, and allowing all her fears to be released. She allowed him to protect her. He encased her in his arms creating a barrier that separated her physical form from all the uncertainties her life was set to face -that plagued her mind incessantly.

Her mind gave in to her desires, ones she not would let happen in the real world. It allowed her a glimpse at what safety and love would truly feel like.

Unlucky for her, the dreams did not last, it was the arrogant sound of her alarm which happened to choose that precise moment, when her thoughts morphed into something more illicit, to interfere with her reverie. The idea of snoozing the alarm was tempting, as was remaining in bed hidden within the confines of her room. Though she knew she would be missed, and staying here, locking herself inside forever, would arouse suspicion.

The hospital would be nothing more than a brief reprieve from the game she had been made part of.

At least that’s what she told herself.

It wouldn’t stop her from looking over her shoulder as she made rounds, checking each bathroom stall, and cataloguing each individual in a waiting room. She was in a minefield and was sure to explode if she made the wrong move.

He had been doing this for quite some time now, though usually he left her alone at work. He left toying with her for when she was alone with no one to reach out to for help. He knew her hours, when she would begin her shift and when it would end. She figured he had someone hack into the hospital’s servers and access her roster. She also knew that if he was not going to be physically present, there would always be someone else from within his inner circle there to stalk her.

She stood in her bathroom, scrubs gripped tightly in her hands, eyes glaring at the fabric as she debated her choices. Her skin was like ice, with goosebumps coating her flesh as she stood there naked in the room, allowing her mind to tick over like a clock. She didn’t want to leave, and it took every ounce of strength she had to force her body to cooperate.

Her mind was at war with itself. Different parts of it were broken up over what she should do. Parts of her wanted to run and hide, whilst the other parts wanted her to stay, too scared to step a toe out of line and be killed.

Her eyes remained locked on her reflection, fingers tracing the length of her skin, up and down, from the curve of her breasts to soft bump of her waist. Her eyes fluttered closed as the soft movement of her fingers pulled her into trance.

It was kaleidoscope of colour that flickered beneath her eyelids as her body began to relax. Soon the mirage of colour transformed in to one whole image of Ez and herself.

Their limbs were intertwined, sliding against one another intimately. His breathing hot against the crook of her neck, fingers torturing her in the most delicious way possible. Sliding down the slope of her body, caressing her breasts, kneading her tender flesh as they ventured lower. They slipped between her thighs, and began rubbing her gently and softly. Edging her, at a leisurely pace, to her release.

It was a sound reminiscent to that of a gunshot that shook Ivána from her fantasy and filled her to the brim with terror.

She moved as fast her body would allow, though it resulted in her tangling herself in her scrubs, tripping over her own feet as tried to dress herself. She could hear the thrum of her heart pounding in her ears as she made her body move towards the living room, grasping onto the baseball bat she kept hidden behind her couch.

It was at that point she came to the realisation that it was not a gunshot she had heard, only what sounded like one. What she had heard was actually the sound of someone banging themselves against her front door.

She had every intention of calling out and demanding the name of whoever it was that was trying to take down her door, but it was the fear that froze her where she stood. She knew with every fibre of her being that the person on the other side of the door was not a friend.

It was only when she took a few hesitant steps away from the couch towards the entryway that the wood began splintering and a large crack struck through the length of the wooden panelled door.

Particles of dust and wood chips scattered across the floor as the banging continued. Her knuckles turned white; her circulation sure to cut off as she continued to grip the handle of the baseball bat, tighter and tighter.

She could hear whoever it was grunting as they continued to throw their body against the door.

It went on for a limited time, mere minutes, before she saw her front door fly off its hinges, bang against her hallway table, and land right before her feet.

A jolt of surprise and dread iced her veins as she took in the scene before her. It was only one man.

It took only one man to break into my home.

Recognition sparked as the cog wheels in her mind began to turn.

His face was red, with beads of sweat clinging to his flesh, soaking his brown hair, and plastering it against his face.

Ivána had seen this man before.

He smiled at her faintly, chest heaving, struggling to catch his breath. He held up his hand, his index finger pointed upwards.

“One…. Moment…” he rasped out; face still flushed as he struggled to catch his breath.

Her eyes were fixed on him, as he stood there both hands pressed on either side of the door frame, his head hanging low. It was a surprising sight for her. One that took an edge off the fear that was gripping her.

There was no awareness of time as she stood there like a deer caught in headlights. All the awareness was honed in on the man before her and his breathing, and how much easier it was starting to become. She knew she was running out of time, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything.

It didn’t take too long for his demeanour to change. No longer was his mouth agape with salvia bubbling at his lips, slipping down his chin as he tried to capture his breath. He brought his hand to his mouth and begun wiping it slowly, removing any hint of weakness as he did so.

Finally, he took a step towards her, entering her home, stepping on the broken door.

“Let me guess,” she started, taking a step back, “you’re one of David’s men?”

Her fingers curled tightly around the handle of the bat, using all the strength within her, to hold herself up right. The target she’s had on her back, the dread, anticipation, never quite knowing when he would strike. It was always clear that he was waiting for the right moment, which had now come.

The intruder nodded in return, making sure to smile at her wickedly.

“Matteo.” He answered, though she had no care for his name. Being one of David’s lackies was all she needed to know.

Ivána ignored him and instead widened her stance, preparing her body for the inevitable swing that she would take.

Matteo took another step towards her, chest heaving. The knock down of the door had clearly taken a lot out of him, although he tried to show her otherwise.

He didn’t appear to be too old, though she could tell he was not in his prime.

“You know why I’ve come; I assume?”

“To finally take me?” She guessed with a slight shrug to her shoulders, stance still wide, arms ready to swing, “though after that little performance, you shouldn’t feel too confident on your mission being a success.”

He wasn’t fazed by the scorn notable in her voice. He just stood there with his hands on his hips; a smirk plastered on his face, pure excitement gleaming in his eyes.

His gaze remained locked on hers, never wavering, though that was not before he allowed it to lingered down her body slowly, zeroing in on the weapon in her hand. It transformed his smirk into something more wicked; sickening.

“Oh, baby girl,” he said, voice thick and husky, almost as if the mere sight of her holding a weapon turned him on. He licked his lips, clucking his tongue as he did so, with an evil gleam now luminous in his eyes, “surely you must know that it’s a massive turn on when you think you can fight back.”

“You’re disgusting,” she spat; voice laced with venom, “you and your entire crew are nothing but pigs. If your boss wants me, he can come and get me himself.”

He laughed, a hearty kind of laugh. One full of promise.

He began his attack.

_____________________

Blood trickled down the sharp edges of the blade at an unhurried pace. Each drop leaving a faint echo throughout the room one might miss if they weren’t listening out carefully.

Ivána stood there frozen, arms rigid, and glued to her side, clutching the kitchen knife. Her breathing ragged, chest heaving with every painful intake of breath. Her body was battered with cuts, and bruises which, unbeknownst to her, had already begun developing across her flesh. There was no mistaking the red, angry, marks on her skin that were sure to ache, leaving a clear reminder as to what had happened. Perhaps the physical marring of flesh would clear, in time. Though that moment, standing frozen over her assailant’s body, knife caked in blood, would never fade.

Her body convulsed, though she was unaware, as the shock washed over her like a tidal wave. The knife slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor as she fell to her knees. Her body was wracked with loud uncontrollable sobs as the image of the attack flashed through her mind at a hastened pace. Her hands crimson, caked in his blood. Her breathing grew erratic and the panic began to set in, eyesight blurred with tears.

“Yo! Hermana.”

Confusion triggered an innate reaction within her at the sound of Angel’s voice, one that she was not ready for. She jerked forward and frantically began trying to clean the mess around her. Hoping to hide the mess - afraid of anyone else seeing it.

Had she been in a rational state of mind, she would have stopped herself. The attempt she was making was needless given the fact that all she was doing was using her hands to rub the blood around her.

“Ivána…” Voice trailing off, Angel stood within the threshold of the doorway, gaze locked on Ivána as she continued to frantically clean her kitchen floor.

Crouching down he reached out to place his hand on her shoulder, his voice softly urging her to stop. As he touched her, she let out a shrill scream, and lashed out at Angel. Her body and mind were still locked in the fight of her life.

She mistook Angel for another one of David’s men, come to finish what Matteo had started.

“Please,” she begged, voice cracking as her sobs turned heavier, shaking her body further, “Please.”

“I’m here,” Angel murmured softly, attempting to soothe her, “it’s me… Angel.”

“I’ve got you.” He murmured again as he reached towards her, both arms open in attempt to pull her body towards his in an embrace.

She allowed him to take her, his heart shattering when her body went limp in his arms.

If you have stuck through with this part thank you so much! I am really excited to make this a series and worrying about it being a flop! Especially given this part doesn’t really have EZ it, merely mentions of him. I have honestly read and reread over this so many times it’s gotten to the point where I hate it lol. Please leave feedback (if you wish 😂) and pleeeease let me know if you are actually excited to see where this goes. Any guesses? Again, thank you so much if you have actually read all of this and didn’t give up! I appreciate you so much! 💞 I am truly sorry if this was boring!! It’s just the set up so pleeease stick around

TAGLIST (OPEN): @appropriate-writers-name @thesandbeneathmytoes @abby-splace @tartanbumsters @noz4a2 @sesamepancakes @montanaraed

[silverhandy]

I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 2

contains some heavy spoilers for the devil ending

chapter 1 I ao3

If he was expecting a profound sign that V is gone, he found none. Night City was just as Takemura remembered it - crowded, flashy, and devoid of taste, both figuratively and literally. Vendors were outshouting one another, each determined to lure a potential client into an inevitable culinary disappointment. Takemura found himself navigating through the busy market that an unfortunate shortcut led him through. In hindsight, he should have ordered a cab and arrive at the address Viktor provided unscathed and in a much shorter time, but he felt the need to stretch his legs, or at least that’s what he’d been telling himself. He still had plenty of time before the memorial service started and he didn’t want to arrive either too early or too late - the first one would no doubt result in a lot of uncomfortable silence and the latter would make it seem like he didn’t care. Takemura wasn’t too keen on either of these options and that meant a long stroll through the city.

He could never grasp why V seemed to like this place so much. She spoke about it often, cursing corporations, gangs, and ever present exploitation to kingdom come, but she also seemed to fit in like a perfect piece of the puzzle, a small, but necessary cog in a living, breathing machine. She moved through it freely, her loud confidence and necessary caution interchanging in a wild dance that made the entire city spin. Where V shined, Takemura found himself losing rhythm, coming from the strict, organized world of the Arasaka military, and eventually realizing that he’d never learn the dance that made one feel at home in a place like this.

As he approached Vista del Ray, a strong smell of old frying oil and fish gave way to more subtle scents, identical all around the world in places like this, Heywood or Shinjuku, it didn’t matter. Cigarette smoke floating up and chasing the wind, too much cologne on a young, elegantly dressed men that almost bumped into him, too focused on going through his emails to look ahead, a dinner burnt, tenants desperately attempting to air the apartment by opening a window as wide as it would go, which unfortunately for them wasn’t very far. All of that mixing, shifting, evolving into what could only be called a smell of desperation and longing for an opportunity.

Takemura left the main street and turned left into an alley, feeling the intense stares of a group of young men leaning heavily on a graffiti-covered, brick wall. He knew the type, so he just gave them a warning glare, aiding them in measuring the odds. As expected, none of them approached him, having done the math and realizing that they stand no chance. He wasn’t a local, so maybe if they stumbled upon someone else like him they’d go for it, but Takemura had Arasaka written all over his features, suit and tech.

El Coyote Cojo seemed like a bar identical to many others, but the second Takemura walked through the door, he was sure he was in the right place. There was no music playing, the room filled with a murmur of hushed conversations between all the people who came to say their final goodbyes. And there were quite a lot of them. Takemura felt the corners of his lips go up in a sad smile. Of course, V had a lot of people who’d want to be here, the open suite full of them, standing in their small, respective groups, some around the tall tables, others hunched over their drinks at the bar. From where Takemura was standing, he hardly saw any familiar face, but then again, in those short few weeks he got to know V, there wasn’t much opportunity to get to know all the people she was close with. There was no time for that and more importantly, he didn’t feel like it was his place to intrude into her personal life. After all, they were just coworkers, of sorts, helping each other towards a common goal.

That is, until that stakeout on the roof. If Takemura was to pinpoint a moment where he could in full confidence call V a friend, it was those few hours they spent going over the entry points to Arasaka Industrial Park, analyzing the routes of transports going in and out, coming up with yet another idea how to get in without getting shot on the spot.

Then they got pizza and the conversation naturally shifted into something more casual, them reminiscing on their pasts and their futures. How different things were back then. V in what might’ve been her best, determined to get her life back and him doing the same.

It seemed none of them got what they wanted.

Someone passed next to him, whispering something about him getting a move on under their breath, and only then did Takemura realize that he was still standing in the doorway, staring somewhere above the heads of the mourners. Glad that he hadn't caught the attention of everyone in the room, he took a few steps forward and then, finally, he noticed Viktor, waving at him from his seat at the edge of the bar.

When Takemura approached him and took a seat next to the ripperdoc, the first thing he noticed was that Viktor looked noticeably older, dark circles under his eyes only adding to the feeling. Dressed in a classy, black suit that sure has seen better days, Viktor looked out of place, almost like...

"I was already thinkin’ you wouldn't make it." he started, mindlessly rolling the nearly empty glass in his hand. "How was your flight?"

Small talk, then.

"Good enough, thank you." then, after a moment of deliberation, Takemura added. "I usually do not fly commercial."

"Oh? What on earth stopped Arasaka’s golden boy from taking an AV?" Viktor asked, calling a bartender with a wave of his hand.

Takemura hesitated for a moment, but before the looming pressure of every passing second making the situation more awkward had a chance to set in, the bartender, a tall, heavily tattooed Latino man approached them to take his order.

"Just water, please." the bartender’s brow shot up, as if asking Takemura if he was sure, especially considering the occasion, but seeing that his client wouldn’t backtrack, he simply pulled up a glass. When it was full, two cubes of ice clinking inside, Takemura looked back at Viktor, still patiently waiting for his answer.

"My higher ups don’t exactly know that I am here." he finally said, taking a sip from his glass to wash down the ping of anxiety he felt swelling up the moment he mentioned his unauthorized trip across the ocean. Not that it mattered anymore. The sword laid at the bottom of his suitcase, carefully wrapped in silk, just waiting for him to get some closure he apparently longed for so desperately.

This time, Viktor’s brow shot up.

"No leave to mourn a friend?"

"I’m afraid they would not consider it a reason important enough to neglect my duties."

"You clearly did."

"Yes, fully aware of the consequences that await. But I could not miss it, I suppose I needed some…"

"Closure? And they wouldn’t let you have that? No wonder they call it a soul sucking job. Sorry to pry, but why don’t you just quit? Put in a two months notice or somethin'?"

"It does not work like that. Not when you have been there for as long as I have."

Viktor clearly wanted to say something, but just as he opened his mouth, everyone present started walking up to the area on the left from the bar, gathering around a small table covered in freshly lit candles, V’s photo in the middle. She was smiling, little reflections of the candle flames dancing in her eyes. V’s hair was shorter than Takemura remembered, it must’ve been taken well before they met. In a better time.

It was Viktor who stood in front of the crowd to address them. His voice sounded strained at first, unusually high, but he cleared his throat, once, twice and didn’t let his voice break even once. He spoke with confidence, yet calmly, the same reassuring voice Takemura remembered from when he ended up in his clinic alongside V, with multiple gunshot wounds and some more or less minor lacerations.

After Viktor was done, a young woman with colorful hair took his place. Clearly battling with her shaking voice, she told about the time she and V went diving in the ruins of her childhood hometown. How she still had the camera that V fished out for her and how she’s still trying to fix it, but even if she won’t be able to bring such an antique back to life, a braindance they recorded together will keep a piece of V alive forever. After that, people started taking turns, each with their little story of what V meant for them. Takemura couldn’t quite focus, each new face blending with another, a never-ending litany composed of the good deeds of a woman that no longer was among them. When it was his turn to speak, Takemura hesitated.

"I did not know V for as long as most of you, but I am honored to have been able to call her a friend."

And that was it.

                                                              ***

"A lot of people came."

"I’d say a third of them were fixers from every single part of this fuckin’ city. Never took them for a sentimental type."

"Me neither."

"You know...you know what she told me in those last few weeks? “Viktor, if you dare to shed a single tear at my funeral, I swear I’ll rise up from the dead again and kick yer sorry ass”. It was one of the last things she told me, anyway. Couldn't really speak much later on." Viktor took another swing from the bottle, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of an already ruffled suit jacket.

Takemura didn’t ask how V was doing in those last moments. Didn’t need to, when he arrived at the clinic professor Kusama didn’t spare him any of the details. Quite the opposite, she was elaborate, listing all the end-stage symptoms in a cold, clinical tone. Upon hearing them, a thought crossed his mind that if it was about him, he’d beg to be copied and stored into Mikoshi. But not her. V wasn’t a coward like him and faced her death the way he’d never be able to.

"Viktor, I am..so deeply sorry." he just muttered, unable to form anything more concise. What was he supposed to say, anyway? How did his remorse and guilt compare to Viktor’s pain, who got a front row seat seeing all the ways V was withering away, day by day? Who must’ve spent hundreds of hours at her bedside, making sure that she’s comfortable in those last moments while Takemura spent those months bundled away in an office reviewing mountains of meaningless documents, too scared to even call her?

"Nah." Viktor waved his hand, almost knocking over Takemura’s glass. "She wouldn’t want us to mope like this. Imma be okay soon enough. After all, grieving is a process and all that. What about you? Been holdin’ up okay?"

"Yeah." Takemura said, but his voice came out coarse. He cleared his throat. "As much as circumstances allow."

Viktor hummed, clearly not convinced. For a second Takemura was sure the other man would push the matter, but he dropped it. Two shots of tequila seemingly materialized on the counter before them when Takemura wasn’t looking, too focused on Viktor and his own thoughts.

"How ‘bout just this one and we call it a day?" Viktor asked, taking the glass into his hand.

"I suppose it can’t do any harm." Takemura replied, raising his own glass. "To V?"

"To V."

                                                             ***

Paradoxically, only when cigarette smoke filled his lungs he could finally take a deep breath. He excused himself a few minutes after their fourth round of shots. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy Viktor’s company, but the doctor was too perceptive for his own good and with each sip of alcohol chipping away his composure, Takemura felt that steel grip on his throat grow tighter and tighter.

He was alone in an alley right next to the entrance, cold winter air slowly sobering him up. Most guests have already left, only a few hindered behind, talking in the same, lowered voices he heard before. Not like he could hear any of that through the music, an old rock song he couldn't recall. Takemura slowly exhaled, a cloud of smoke dulling the air in front of him. It was time.

"Do you mind?" a woman's voice, right next to him. Takemura cursed under his breath. He was getting careless, much too distracted for his own safety. He turned his head and to his relief, he recognized her. A friend of Viktor’s, this tiny blonde woman, she ran some kind of an esoteric shop in the front. Misty was her name. They chatted a few times during the weeks Takemura would drop by the clinic to check on V.

"Not at all." he replied and moved a little to the side, making room for her to lean on the brightly painted wall. She didn’t take the invitation and remained standing, her big, brown eyes staring at him in a mix of emotions he could only describe as pity. Or maybe it was concern? He couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"You know," Misty started, her voice even softer than Viktor’s during his speech. "your pain is not lesser than his."

Takemura’s hand froze halfway from taking another drag of the cigarette. "Excuse me?"

"I’m just saying you shouldn’t cut yourself off. Viktor does that too, but not like this. The pain will not disappear if you keep running from it. It’ll just chase you up, no matter what you do. It’s better to make peace with it."

He didn’t know what to say. If he was in his right mind, he’d probably make up an excuse and walk away, but her words struck a chord in him that made him freeze, not daring to move even a little.

"I have made peace with it" he finally said, putting out the cigarette on the stone wall. He’ll find a trash can to throw it in later.

"I’m not the one you need to convince, Goro."

"I..I am sorry, but I have to go. My return flight leaves in a few hours."

Misty gave him a sad smile.

"I hope you’ll soon see that you’re exactly in a place you’re supposed to be in."

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

5 for Nuts and Dolts, because the hug in the trailer is still on continuous loop in my head and the only thing better than an angsty hug is an angsty hug AND KISS 8 for Data Farm, because I'm weak for the idea of Oscar being unexpectedly prince-like and making Penny feel like a princess (or the other way around) I can't remember the number, but the interrupted kiss for rosegarden No pressure to do all of these, I just couldn't decide on one ship because I love all of them

(as a brief refresher: Data Farms Fic Link, Rosegarden Fic Link)

...and here’s to finally being able to answer this ask and revealing the ridiculous (sort of) secret plan I’ve carried out over a month (or two maybe idk) and what’s now a six-chapter fic!

(no, I’m not joking, this (Rose Puppetry) was literally A Thing bc I’m Like That)

So, to explain, way back when I was doing requests for this kissing meme, it was around the same time that you introduced me to the Mechanisms music, and then the Magnus Archives after that.

Subsequently, I thought it would be really cool to make one of these three requests Steampunk-themed.  I decided on the Nuts and Dolts one bc, when I first listened to Once Upon A Time (In Space), I associated Ruby and Penny heavily with Rose and Cinders (I think it was bc the album was brought up in reference to Souls or something like that?  Also Rose Puppetry was my alternative solution to just derailing Souls completely into Being A Steampunk Fic).

Anyways, I started out with the intent to do a short oneshot where Penny breaks into a facility to save Ruby, which would be reminiscent of the final attack on Old King Cole that led to Cinders being reunited with Rose.

Except then I got carried away by world-building (bc it was so freaking fun) and Rose Puppetry became an entire multi-chapter fic all of its own.

For the record, I think I originally @ you when I posted the first chapter bc I was going to say that the fic was a response to this prompt and then quite literally forgot to actually say that anywhere.  I then realized that, if I kept quiet about it, I could turn it into a surprise, which seemed like a fun thing to do, so I went for it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of Rose Puppetry!

.

5. Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

...

Rose Puppetry Ch6: The Tale of Little Briar and the Huntress in the Cottage

Summary:

A century ago or so, Atlas set out to conquer the world.  Penny was built to be a spy, an infiltrator meant to find weaknesses in Vale’s defenses before the invasion.

She did.  Then she fell in love.  And rebelled against the kingdom that had created her.

Ch1.  Ch2.  Ch3.  Ch4.  Ch5.

Every child in Patch knows of the Huntress who lives in the cottage on the outskirts of town.  Their great protector, who keeps the dangers of the woods at bay so they can go about their lives safely.  No one knows, not really, where she came from.  The youngest kids among them generally want to ask, but their parents usually shush them before they can try.  It’s considered improper, prying into what should be left well enough alone.

Briar knows more about the Huntress than any of her peers, but you’d never catch her boasting about it in the school yard.  No sir.  She can keep a secret extremely well, she can.  Well that, and she doesn’t want the Huntress to be upset with her and ask her father to not allow her to make the weekly deliveries anymore.  Briar loves visiting the Huntress’s cottage, with its duck pond and its thick bramble of roses.  But, most importantly, she loves being let inside and allowed to watch the Huntress work for just a little while.

For, in addition to being their protector against the scary monsters that lurk in the woods, the Huntress is Patch’s one and only mechanic.  There used to be more, of course, but that was back before Briar was born and they all got called off to fight in the Great War against Atlas.

Briar once asked if the Huntress fought in the Great War, too.  She remembers how the Huntress fell silent, the gloomy expression that had seamlessly eclipsed the Huntress’s entire being, and quietly swore never to ask again.  It’s not important for her to know, Briar decided.  Not like learning how gears, cogs, and screws all fit into machinery and make things like the big clock in the tower in the center of town work.

It’s a sunny day.  A few wisps of clouds linger in the sky, but not many.  Briar skips home from school, humming a happy tune of her own creation as she goes.  She briefly pauses to scratch the noses of the cows who’ve wandered to the fence of their pasture bordering the road.  The cows moo at her and sniff Briar’s fingertips for treats.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything for you today.”  Briar giggles as their chin whiskers tickle her.  “If I have time after I visit Ms. Rose, I’ll try and bring you all back something, but I make no promises.”

She continues on her way, only stopping in the Mech Field to pick a collection of bright, cheerful wildflowers.  Briar pauses to consider the ruins of the old war machines, but Ms. Rose once warned her very sternly not to get too close to the fallen mechs without her supervision, so Briar doesn’t.  Instead, she takes a spare hair ribbon out of her school bag, ties it snugly around the stems of her wildflowers to keep them properly bunched together, and heads home.

Her mother has the weekly grocery basket for Ms. Rose waiting when Briar arrives.  She helps Briar securely fasten it to the deliveries bicycle and situate the flower bouquet on top so the bumpy ride won’t jostle them too much.

“Keep an eye on the time,” Briar’s mother gives her the usual warning.  “And, if it starts growing dark, have Ms. Rose walk you home.”

Briar rolls her eyes.  She’s big enough to come home all on her own, even after sunset, she thinks.  Still, she promises, “I will!” before taking off on the bicycle.

Smoke lazily drifts into the sky from Ms. Rose’s cottage’s chimney as Briar makes her approach.  The huntress’s dog, a great, big creature with a lumbering gait and a lolling tongue, appropriately named ‘Wolf’, runs to greet Briar as she approaches.  She slows her bicycle to a stop and dismounts.

“Hey, Wolfie.”  Briar scratches behind the dog’s ears, and gets licked enthusiastically for it.  She laughs.  Wolf dances excited circles around Briar as she walks over and leans her bicycle against the cottage.  “Stop that!”  Briar commands Wolf, only half serious.  “I have to get the groceries inside!”  She nudges the door open and walks into the cottage.

“Ms. Rose?  Are you here?”  Briar calls out.

“In the workshop, Briar!”  Ms. Rose yells back from somewhere deep inside.  Briar grins.  With some care, she shoves the groceries in the refrigerator.  Ms. Rose will organize them however she pleases later, after a few more hours of work, at least.

Briar goes to hurry through the kitchen, but remembers herself, and pauses at the sink to fill a pitcher with water for her wildflower bouquet.  She carefully lowers the flowers in and unties her hair ribbon from around their stems.  Then, after tidying the bouquet a little, Briar walks further into the cottage.  She doesn’t go immediately to the workshop, but to a room Ms. Rose only recently granted her permission to enter.

Briar pauses and takes a breath in the doorway of the bedroom.  It’s always a bit weird to do this.  She’s never actually met Ms. Penny.  Not back before, when she was awake.  Ms. Penny doesn’t know who she is.  Never had the chance to, really.

Regardless, flowers always make Briar feel better when she isn’t feeling well.  With Wolf padding loyally at her side, Briar approaches the bed where Ms. Penny serenely sleeps and situates the bouquet on the table beside it.

“Good day, Ms. Penny,” Briar speaks politely, for she’s never spoken to a mechanical person, or one who’s never woken up, before Penny.  Briar still feels kind of odd about that, but, since she first stumbled across Penny’s room, she’s been determined to try and make her feel better (if that’s at all possible).

“Spring’s here.  The first of Mr. Oobleck’s lambs were born the other day.”  Briar starts her usual, short, babbling update about life in Patch.  “They’re extremely cute.  I’ll draw you a picture, so, when you wake up, you won’t have missed seeing them.”

“She’d like that, I think.”

Briar jumps, and spins around.  Ms. Rose stands in the doorway, leaning against its frame.  She smiles softly at Briar, and joins her by Penny’s bedside.  “Penny never…I think she always lived in cities before we met.”  Ms. Rose takes a deep breath.  “I’m not sure she’s ever gotten the chance to see a newborn lamb.”

“Then this will be her first time,” Briar says confidently.

“Yes.”  Ms. Rose smiles sadly down at Briar.  “Run along to the workshop now.  I left today’s assignment out on the table for you.  Try to see if you can get started on your own.  I’ll be along in a moment.”

Briar does as she’s told, but not before stopping just outside the bedroom and sneakily poking her head back in to watch Ms. Rose gently smooth Penny’s long, soft copper curls and place a kiss on her forehead.

“Don’t wait too much longer to wake up, my love, alright?”  Ms. Rose whispers.

Briar slips away, feeling a little guilty about spying on such a private moment.  She doesn’t know why Ms. Penny sleeps, what caused her to fall into her lasting slumber in the first place, but Briar does know that Ms. Rose came to Patch to have a quiet, safe place to repair her.

The assignment Ms. Rose set out for Briar that day is a small music box.  One that had, in all likeliness, played a lovely melody at some point, but has long since worn out.  Repairing it shouldn’t be the hardest of tasks.  Not now that Briar is a handful of months out of transitioning from ‘kid who gets to watch the Huntress work’ to ‘unofficial mechanic’s apprentice’.

Ever so carefully, Briar removes a tiny, rusty gear from the music box with her tweezers and sets it aside.  She looks to Ms. Rose, who smiles reassuringly back at her.  Briar finds the replacement gear, plucks it up with the tweezers, and goes to insert it right where it needs to—

“Hello?!  Huntress are you here?”  A voice shouts into the cottage.  Wolf scrambles up from lying under where Briar’s feet dangle off her stool and barks loudly.  Briar jumps.  Her tweezers fall out of her hand.  The replacement gear goes flying.

“Just a moment!”  Ms. Rose calls back.  She helps Briar retrieve the gear from where it’s fallen to the floor.  “Think you can work on your own for a bit?”  Ms. Rose asks.  When Briar nods, the huntress wipes grease and oil smudges off her fingertips onto her leather apron and goes to see who has come asking after her aid.

Briar half listens to the ensuing conversation about a broken down car on the road as it drifts through the cottage to her.  Ms. Rose briefly returns to the workshop for her portable tool kit, and then leaves to go repair the automobile in question.  She promises she’ll check Briar’s handiwork upon her return.  Wolf ambles back over to Briar.  The dog circles a couple times to settle, and then returns to napping.

For the next couple of hours while Briar works, things are quiet and peaceful.  She finishes repairing the music box.  With bated breath, Briar winds it up and sets it down on the worktable.  A soft tune fills the air.  Briar can’t help but smile.

Too excited to wait until Ms. Rose gets back to show off her success, Briar carefully scoops the music box up in her hands and carries it to Penny’s room.  She puts it down by the wildflowers she brought earlier, and lets it play its song a second time.

So caught up on listening to the music box’s melody is Briar, she doesn’t catch when it’s joined by the sounds of other mechanisms whirling and clicking.  Ones that have long remained at rest, but, at the sound of a comforting song, rouse again.

Movement catches Briar’s attention.  Before she realizes what’s happened, a pair of bright, dazzling green eyes meet her own.  They almost seem to glow, as if they’re lightbulbs that have spent a long, long time charging up and want to celebrate the chance to finally illuminate.

“H-hello?”  The voice is hoarse, creaky with disuse.  It’s nothing like Briar imagined it would be.  “Briar?”

Briar blinks rapidly.  “You know me?” slips from her lips before she can stop the question.

“Of course.”  Tentatively, Penny moves to push herself up in a sitting position.  One of her hands slips before she can put weight down on it.  Briar rushes forward to help support her.  “Thank you.”  Penny smiles gratefully at Briar.  “To answer your question, I heard you.  The days you came and talked to me and brought me flowers.”  She pauses.  “I’d very much like to see Mr. Oobleck’s lambs.”

“Oh.”  Briar takes a minute to process this.  “I didn’t think…” she’s not sure what to say.  She’s imagined this moment hundreds of times, but, now that it’s happening, Briar’s mind is frustratingly blank.

“It’s alright.”  Penny gives her a small, soft smile.  “It’s not everyday someone you’ve only known as a ‘sleeping lady’ wakes up.”

“I-err-yeah…” Briar pauses.  “If you don’t mind me asking, how could you hear me all those times?  Since you were asleep?”

Penny inhales deeply and exhales, the clockwork of her body moving with the motion.  “It’s a bit complicated.  A short explanation would be that, even without enough power to function normally, I could still record audio.” Penny shoots a knowing smirk in Briar’s direction.  “I would love to give you the fully detailed explanation.  Later.  If you don’t mind, there’s someone who’s long overdue for a hug, I think.”

Briar’s eyes widen.  “Oh!  Ms. Rose!  Of course!”  She scrambles up to fetch Penny a walking stick to lean upon as she gets up.  “She went out to repair someone’s car.  I think it’s just down the road!”  Briar hovers, ready to support Penny if she needs help with walking.  When Penny makes it to the doorway on her own, Briar relaxes a little.

Together, with Wolf keeping pace with them (and Briar would swear the dog is keeping as much a careful eye on Penny as she herself is), they make their way outside.

Penny pauses, and looks up at the blue, blue sky.  She blinks.  If she were capable of crying, she probably would have.  “I never dreamed I’d see it again.”  Penny whispers.  She turns to look ahead, down the road she and Briar intend to walk, and sees someone coming toward them on it.  Penny gasps.

There is one sight that Penny dreamed of, longed for, during her oh so very long slumber.  One sight, her vague, ethereal thoughts could never quite capture, but tried to constantly.  The person she sees on the road doesn’t quite fit the picture Penny remembers.  The person is no longer a youthful maiden, but a full grown woman.  Her black-red hair is longer, kept in an untidy braid over one shoulder.  She’s wearing the garb of a mechanic, and not combat dress.  Branching scars, leftover from a (Grimm) time Penny would very much like to leave in the past, dance across her skin.

“Ruby.”

Penny breathes the name out at the same time Ruby sees her, stops, and stares.

A moment passes where no one moves, where the world is held frozen in shock.  Anxiety ripples over Ruby’s face.  Worry that needs no verbal words to describe it.  That Penny won’t love this older version of her.  That this person she had to grow into while she patiently waited for Penny to wake up isn’t someone Penny will be able to bring herself to love.

Penny takes a step forward, and then another.  Her walking stick is cast aside as she recalls how to push her legs into motion as fast as she can.  She runs, reaching Ruby in the blink of an eye.  Eager to vanquish all the anxieties she sees in her beloved, Penny takes Ruby up in her arms and spins her around and around.  She laughs, causing Ruby to laugh with relief too.

They’re together.  Nothing, no war or conflict or spiders who want to control them, can get in the way of that any longer.  They may have once been puppets in a grand scheme, but they’re free now.  Free to do whatever they wish, as long as they wish.

Penny stops spinning Ruby around.  She holds her close, drinking in the sight of Ruby’s sparkling, silver eyes.  Without thinking about it, they press their foreheads together and simply gaze at each other.

Later, they’ll let Briar commit a condensed version of their story down on paper.  A fairytale, it will be.  One only a handful will actually believe there’s truth to, but that’s just as well to them.  Right now, this moment?  This moment is just for them.

Ruby wraps her arms around Penny.  Penny leans in.  Their lips find each other.  Tentative, unsure, aware they have a lot to adjust to again with each other (but eager to get started).  The kiss is soft and sweet.  A promise of many, many more to come.

They don’t live happily ever after.  For Penny and Ruby’s story doesn’t end here.  It goes on, with many days full of love, and equally as many filled with struggle as they learn each other’s embrace again.  There are moments when the scars of the past threaten to consume them, and moments filled with nothing but laughter and joy.

Overall, though?

Penny and Ruby live together for a very, very long time, and that time together is largely marked by their shared happiness.

[chuchuroon]

IKEMEN SENGOKU:  FEAST THINE EYES ON STEAMPUNK WARLORDSSSS

Soooo after MM I have finally found my next Otome obsession Currently, the Taiwan server of Ikemen Sengoku is running a region-exclusive event that puts all the Warlords in a Steampunk AU. The outfits are too good, so I wanted to share this with the Western/JP server players! (Currently, I play on all 3 servers like the dumbass obsessive idiot I am)

More photos and information on the event story under the cut! (SPOILERS for the Taiwan Ikesen Steampunk Event). If you’d like to play on the Taiwan server, the app is named 美男戰國 (copy paste into your app store and search) and it doesn’t appear to be region-locked. Ikesen is licensed to/published by a different company (iSweety) in Taiwan, so they sometimes have artwork and events /merch that are exclusive to that region, as well as unique promo videos.

There wasn’t a promo page where I could grab the event artworks, so pardon my phone screenshots of dubious quality. I tried my best to take screencaps where the dialogue was minimal so you can get a better idea of their outfits. They’re all so good!

A 3/4 view of Mitsuhide’s Steampunk outfit. In this event, only stories for Nobunaga, Masamune, and Kenshin are available, and a minor collectible story for Ieyasu.  In Masamune’s afterstory, he mentions that Mitsuhide has the special ability to read people’s thoughts.

*holds back nosebleed* I’m weak to men with slender waists ahhhhhghhgh. Masa’s Steampunk outfit fits him so well (Is that a man-corset? Can we make all men wear corsets?) and of course his collar is unfastened. I love the cogwheel design on his eyepatch too.

Even Kennyo looks rather dashing, that rascal, although he’s human in this story and hates the androids (and especially Nobunaga, of course) for having killed his fellow brethren. 

IKESEN STEAMPUNK EVENT: STORY BACKGROUND / INTRO 

You, the (human) main character, are the granddaughter of an eccentric Duke that created sentient machine life-forms called 械偶, which I will call androids for now (The name literally translates as “mechanical puppets”). Kennyo and others sometimes refers to them as merely “puppets” (人偶), likely in a derogatory manner.

The androids are sentient and are made of cogs and wheels and circuitry, and powered by a main heart-like “core” which contains a rune. The rune contained within the core is referenced as the “soul” of the androids. Runes have different names, meanings, and uses. If an android’s core is too badly damaged, they cease to function, or die in the robot sense of the word. Even if the core is repaired, if the “rune soul” is damaged, the android wouldn’t be considered living/sentient even if the rest of its mechanisms are functioning. Runes can exist in other forms, such as carved on things like doorways and rocks and hold power. There are teleportation runes which is how androids manage to quickly travel to and from the human community when necessary. Different circuits within an android serve different functions (movement, senses, etc), much like how different lobes or parts of the brain control specific bodily functions in a human. There are different types of androids, such as battle-types and healer-types, and they can have specific protocols and purposes. The story alludes to additional types, but they are not specifically named. Androids have masters, who are typically the one who created them, although this can differ. If a master dies, an android can live without a master or choose to follow another one. Androids can have multiple masters in their life, but in the story the majority of the androids live in their own community and no longer have a master. 

Androids can obtain energy through consuming human food/drink, although it’s not described as their ideal or main method of obtaining energy (the main method was not specified). It’s possible for traces of human food and drink to remain in their system, which can eventually build up over time and cause them to break down. Androids have their own emotions/opinions and thoughts, and can touch and feel just like humans. However, there is tension between humans and androids, who fear that androids, being physically superior, may one day wipe out the humans, and fights often break out. 

After your grandfather’s death, you go to “Elfland”, a hidden, floating island-slash-sky vessel created by your grandfather that is the last standing community of the sentient androids. Within this community, there are peaceful androids, who do not want to harm humans, and anti-human androids, who will attack humans on sight, as well as a third, neutral faction. You are here to search for your grandfather’s hidden treasure, which he left you clues to before he passed away, and you’re assisted by the androids during your search. Nobunaga, Masamune, Mitsuhide, Mitsunari, Hideyoshi, are part of the peaceful faction, while Kenshin is part of the anti-human faction. Yukimura and Ieyasu are part of the neutral faction. In Kenshin’s route, Sasuke and Shingen are also mentioned briefly, but their faction is unknown. There was no mention of Yoshimoto or Ranmaru. 

CHARACTER STORY - MINOR TO MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW    

Masamune:

Your grandfather the Duke had a friend and fellow android researcher whose eldest son passed away. In light of this, the Duke created Masamune in the image of that eldest son, to keep his friend company. Instead of “Master”, Masamune referred to the Duke’s friend as “Father”, and they had a close relationship.

The Duke and his friend eventually had a bad falling out that escalated to violence, and Masamune got between them to stop them from fighting each other. His “father” tried to shoot the Duke, and Masamune chose to protect the Duke. As a result of this incident, Masamune lost his right eye, and also became estranged from his father, who was upset that Masamune chose the Duke over him.  Although Yasu-bot offered to fix it, Masamune declined, saying that he wanted to keep the broken eye as a reminder to himself that “all choices have consequences” (and because eyepatches are cool). When you arrive on Elfland, he has you skydiving into your target exploration area rather than take a long time to walk there, and generally shows you around and adventures alongside you, while simultaneously protecting you from skirmishes against the anti-human androids. Ieyasu mentions that while Masamune “isn’t a battle-type android, he’s pretty capable”, but doesn’t really explain just what kind of android he is. When Masamune’s father got grievously injured, he was kept alive but was on a deathbed, suffering from tremendous pain every day. When Masamune came to visit him, he begged for Masamune to put him out of his misery. Masamune decided to do so, knowing that it would result in his father’s wife and younger son resenting him and people saying horrible things about how he’s an android that killed his own master who treated him like a son. You, of course, help resolve this misunderstanding and also see past the terrible reputation this gave Masamune, and you accept him fully, ya’ll bond over war and fighting dealing with your ex-fiance (who happens to be the biological younger son of Masamune’s father, and colluded with Kennyo to try to wreck Elfland) and discovering your granpapaw’s treasure, and become lovers. In the afterstory, Masamune recalls that his father once told him to live life to the fullest. “If you’re not doing what you love and enjoying all that life has to offer, then you’re not truly living, whether you’re made of flesh or steel doesn’t matter. Otherwise, even if you have a heartbeat and you’re breathing, you’re no different than a walking corpse. If one day, I can no longer feel like I’m alive, then I’m already dead, even if my body is still functioning.” Reminiscing on this, Masamune wonders if meeting you was all fated since then. “I’ve fallen in love with an incredible woman”, he realizes, and listens to your heartbeat and makes you listen to his - “Every movement of every cog in my body is saying how much I love you, to the point of breaking. Can you hear it?” He asks. “Let me listen awhile longer, and I’ll answer,” you reply. In true Masamune fashion, he declares he can't wait any longer and decides to get his answer directly from your body. Yee haw.

Nobunaga:

He has a special ability which can disable the functions of other androids temporarily. During your research you discover that he was made in the image of the famous historical warlord Nobunaga Oda, who once united Japan. You guys are already lovers when the story begins. Human-Android tensions are high, and what’s worse is that Mitsuhide has been sneaking around meeting humans (including Kennyo) and making shady ass deals. You discover your grandfather’s treasure hidden behind a door with a riddle written in ancient Japanese, a dead language that only you know because your grandfather taught you. The riddle reads: “What can save both the humans and androids and allow them to live in peace?” and the answer is “love”, and the door opens when you write out the character for love in Japanese on the entrance. Inside the treasure box you find in the room, you learn secrets that could be used for both great and terrible deeds, including the knowledge of how to create sentient androids and how to destroy them, how Elfland was created, and various other secrets about androids. You decide to hide them again to prevent this knowledge from getting into the wrong hands.

Human-Android tensions escalate into full out war as Mitsuhide informs the humans how to gain access to Elfland and where to attack. Kennyo and Nobunaga cross swords and Nobunaga is nearly outmatched when Mitsuhide appears, revealing that he led the humans here intentionally because he wanted to herd the bulk of the anti-Android fanatics together in one location and collectively wipe them out in order to effectively stamp out future threats of war. He apologizes for being late as he was delayed by Hideyoshi-bot almost killing him. Nobunaga just laughs and tells Mitsuhide he deserves it for worrying Hideyoshi, and a spiteful Kennyo reveals that he has been modified with Android parts to become stronger, and activates this power to try to land a killing blow on Nobunaga - only to discover that Mitsuhide has even plotted everything this far back in advance, and way back when Kennyo was being modified, Mitsuhide ensured that he had faulty parts installed. Heheh. Mitsuhide:2, Kennyo: 0 In the afterstory, it’s revealed that one of the secrets you learned was the process of turning an android into a human. Androids can perform what’s called a “soul contract” with each other; when two androids perform this, they become linked and know each other’s thoughts and feelings, and if one Android dies, the other also loses power to their rune core and dies as well. However, if an Android performs a soul contract with a human, they can become a human (but there are unspecified risks involved, and success is more or less regarded as miraculous), and share a life. Since Nobunaga’s primary protocol was to protect Elfland and the vault that guarded your grandfather’s treasure, and that duty has been completed, he wishes to become a human so that he can grow old with you and share the same lifespan. You establish the contract and miraculously he’s turned into a human and ya’ll enjoy fun kinky times where you both know what the other is thinking and feel what the other is feeling (oh boy).

Ieyasu:

Healer-type android and constantly frets about the fact that he’s not a battle-type and therefore weak, and wonders why your grandfather created him this way. He claims to not like humans, and he blames himself for not being able to save the Duke, but you help him understand that it wasn’t his fault and that you are thankful he was able to stay by the Duke’s side and keep him company when he passed. He complains about having to repair Mitsunari-bot (who we never see). He is reluctant to get involved with humans, though this is revealed that it’s because he believes humans are too frail and die easily, and he didn’t want to experience heartbreak again. One of the lines he mutters to himself (well out of your earshot of course) is how the existence of people like you and your grandfather is the reason he could never bring himself to fully hate or reject the humans. He has a workshop and appears to not differentiate between factions when it comes to treating those who need it, as he mentions having repaired Ken-bot before as well, who is on the anti-human faction.

Kenshin:

The text translates to “My emotional circuits have been broken since a long time ago”. I chortled to myself for a good, long minute at that one. 

Anyway, Ken-bot is a battle-type android who also happens to have “protecting you” written as his top/primary protocol by your grandfather, which is why he goes along with all your endeavors despite belonging to the anti-human faction of the androids. He constantly emphasizes the fact that, as a battle-type droid, he is only capable of fighting and causing destruction. His emotional circuits aren’t completely broken, and he still has an obsession with sake and dried plums, which, according to Sasuke-bot, Ken-bot partakes to a degree that leads Sasuke-bot to believe Ken-bot is trying to drink/eat himself into an early grave. 

You learn from your grandfather’s journal that he originally created Kenshin as a battle-type android, but that he desired to have Kenshin protect his legacy (the androids on elfland, and his granddaughter) rather than simply for fighting and destruction. He saw Kenshin as a protector, not a destroyer. You try to tell his to Ken-bot and also confess your feelings, which seem to cause Ken-bot’s emotional circuits to malfunction even more. “I don’t understand what you mean when you say you like me,” he says brokenly, and during the height of the human-android battle decides to stick you in the safest place possible, which is in a... dun dun dun-geon. He then throws himself into such a battle frenzy against the humans that invaded Elfland that Yuki-bot (instructed by Sasuke-bot, who we never actually see) comes to release you from the dungeon and take you to Ken-bot in order to save him from himself. Ken-bot believes the only way to achieve lasting peace is to wipe out all the humans. You challenge him by saying he should then kill you, since you are a human. Just as you seem to be about to convince him, a shot rings out, and Kenshin shoves you out of the way, his core taking a hit from protecting you. Shingen-bot and Sasuke-bot also having taken serious injuries, the anti-human faction have no leaders, and retreat. 

You take an unconscious Ken-bot to the Oda forces to seek Ieyasu’s help. He says that the rune powering Ken-bot’s core is damaged too badly, so you find the hidden treasure of the Duke, hoping to learn a way to restore Ken-bot. Ieyasu suggests attempting the soul-contract to try to convert Ken-bot into a human as a last ditch effort to save him, as it allows the bonded pair to share their lifeforce, but he stresses that there’s no known record of it succeeding, and you may shorten your lifespan as a result. Your grandfather’s records also mentions that would only work with high-level androids. Yasu-bot also adds this flavor text that by attempting the soul contract, “You will share and endure all of the hardships, feelings and memories from the past of the other person”. You, of course, plow forward without hesitation, to which Yasu-bot gives his typical sigh of annoyance. “As expected of you”, he comments simply, and adds “I can see why this emotionally-broken idiot would be changed by you.”

After what feels like a long and painful dream, you wake up to find Pinocchio - I mean Ken-bot - has become a real boy! He confesses his feelings to you, Yasu-bot fills you both in what happened with current events while you two were unconscious, and slaps on an added warning to Kenshin of “Don’t ever make her cry again. There’s more people than you can imagine who hold her in high esteem, and they’re all incredibly annoying people...and will be much more difficult for you to handle now, as a human” - to which Kenshin answers with a typical bloodthirsty threat and by grabbing and hugging you possessively. Yasu-bot shrugs and says he doesn’t want to meddle in between “an annoying couple” anyway, and makes an offhand snide remark about how neither one of you make him worry any less than Mitsunari-bot does, checks up on you two one last time, and hurries out the room like he can’t stand to be there for another moment longer. Which is smart of him, since in the Afterstory ya’ll basically exchange mushy ass words with each other and do the nasty.

annnnd there’s the Steampunk event as I experienced it. Hope to see some Steampunk AU fan creations of our favorite warlords in the future!

[shikai-the-storyteller]

WFC: Siege watch!

Part 1: Episodes 1, 2, and 3

[Part 2] (Linking because Tumblr isn’t even showing the post on my blog or on my dash 🙄)

As a side note: every single person in this fandom is horrible at tagging their spoilers, you guys really need to do a better job at that because I’ve got a bunch of blockers on and I was STILL almost spoiled multiple times. Come on you guys...it literally came out today, be better about this.

Alright going to try and keep expectations low because I feel like the target audience for this is G1 dudebros who take a series about transforming cars way too seriously, but I’m still cautiously optimistic because a friend vetted for the dudes working on this show so WE”LL SEE

Episode 1

Aw man there’s only 6 episodes??? Bummer, I wonder if they’re already working on Season 2 or if they’re going to see how this does and let it die in the water if it’s not popular enough.

Things I know going in: Skyfire / Jetfire is in this, Megatron has big lips, and Elita is in it. That’s literally it, I’ve managed to avoid spoilers thusfar (though a few of the promo images implied Skyfire’s a Decepticon, so you KNOW that’s gonna break bad eventually)

WHEELJACK Wednesday THURSDAY

OH MYG OSH IS THAT SKYWARP??? EXPECTATIONS ARE NOW SKY-HIGH

The transformation sequences look so reminiscent of those stop-motion videos people do of their Transformer toys transforming. This isn’t a dig at the animation style, I think that’s rather charming and I wonder if it’s intentional.

Wow Bumblebee sounds like a jerk. I’m instantly on-edge, please don’t make all the characters ~hyper-masculine mean guys who don’t know how to have fun or talk about their emotions~

“The Autobots aint paying you for attitude” YOU TELL HIM WHEELJACK

Yooo Velocitron exists!

Ahh so Bumblebee IS just a mercenary, not an Autobot

OHOHO HERE”S JETFIRE

Wow Jetfire you’re really going the bad dude route huh

Ayyyyyy there’s Starscream

YOOO THERE”S THUNDERCRACKER

Thundercracker I appreciate that you’re using fancy tech to identify wheeljack but his Autobot badge is literally Right There

WTF

WELL THAT DIDN”T LAST LONG HUH...that’s a bit disappointing

OH NVM THAT WASN”T A HEEL-TURN THAT WAS JUST A STRAIGHT UP “I”M THE BOSS” MOVE

huh so they’re making Skyfire the target of Starscream’s desire for power. hmm

WHY ARE YOU GUYS RUNNING JUST TRANSFORM INTO CARS unless they’re too low on energon to do it??

There he is...Mr. Big Lips

Well that’s a surprising take Megatron

Isn’t that Cybertron and Luna 1 in the sky though?? Are they on Cybertron rn or not??

Megatron’s voice is really throwing me off, if it weren’t for his helmet and color I’d really think that was Overlord

ITS TRUCK DAD

OHOHO HE SAID THE THING!!!!

Why does bumblebee have lips too

“What do you know of slavery?” Alright that line did make me go “OHHHH”

“Alpha Trion would be ashamed!” “Of us both, I think” ouch, but nice to see Alpha “Grandpa” Trion back in a series

Megatron PLEASE don’t say “I’m enjoying this, Prime” in that voice while I can hear Optimus groaning in the background

AYYY ELITAAAAAA

Why are the Seekers chasing these guys, who are running on foot, ON FOOT??? CHANGE INTO YOUR DANG ALT MODE

WHEELJACK SWORE

man I’m only like a few minutes in and I’m already bored. I’m going to watch the whole thing, but I feel like this is really lacking soul or personality so far. It very much feels like the script was written by people who aren’t familiar with these characters, so they’re writing them how they EXPECT them to sound, not writing them as they actually are. It’s more than a little disappointing, but this is only the first episode, so I’ll keep going and see if this is consistent throughout the series.

Oh man, just listening to Elita you can tell she was written by a dude. Oof.

There’s the Ark!

Dang everyone’s running low

Jeez Optimus and Elita wouldn’t just walk by all these injured Autobots!

And Optimus wouldn’t brush off his officers!! Agh!!!

YO Ultra Magnus!

Chromia!!!!!

oh my gosh is THAT Red Alert??

Hey where’s Ratchet though

Gosh the writing is so STIFF!!!! I can’t stand this, if I wasn’t a die-hard Transformers fan I would’ve bounced a few minutes ago

 It might also be the way the VAs pause between words, please speak normally, these constant pauses between words are frustrating

Ok but where the frick is Soundwave

“His arrogance I actually like” pfft

Annnnd here comes Ultra Magnus to accept the treaty on Prime’s behalf, where he’ll get held hostage and probably wind up beefing it.

Episode 2

SOUNDWAVE!!!! BABY

And Shockwave!!! 

YO SKYWARP ACTUALLY GOT A SPEAKING LINE

I want to know where Megatron got all this fabric for those stupid flags and where Ultra magnus got that cloak

Is. Is that Prowl with a weird paint job

Wow bad aim dude

Ultra Magnus you dummy....

Ok but if it was a battle then who were they fighting against???

Wow you’re really just gonna stand there and take that Magnus?

I know they’re on a time-crunch because they only have 6 episodes, but they have to do more to make me care about the characters. I’m inclined to care about them already because I’m familiar with the series and because as a stand-alone, even I’m like “Ok. So?” whenever new problems come up for them. I’m not invested!

Not to compare the two, because I feel like this entire liveblog will turn into a comparative essay, but Cyberverse got me invested in characters within the first episode! They were on an even TIGHTER time-crunch because their episodes were only 10 minutes, and yet they did a great job weaving a tight narrative and making good use of their time to tell a story and have characters charm the audience.

Optimus: Til All Are One Rodimus, coming out of nowhere: TIL ALL ARE ONE

WELL THAT”S NOT THE VOICE I WAS EXPECTING FOR SHOCKWAVE he sounds a bit reminiscent of his TFA version

What does de-rez mean

Ok but that’s assuming that this thing will automatically reprogram them?? Reformatting doesn’t automatically mean someone will turn into a Decepticon!

You know, there’s a lot of talking in the show but the dialogue doesn’t actually say a lot. It doesn’t reveal much about the characters or tell me who they are.

YOOO THERE”S SOUNDWAVE

AUDIO BOOB

It really annoys me that characters always pause after saying “I”. It’s always “I.........[long pause] rest of their sentence.”

what do you mean “Teams” Optimus there’s like 5 of you guys

I love you Soundwave!!!

Whoa wait was that Impactor in the background?

ughHHHHHH I HATE THAT MY BIGGEST PET PEEVE IS “what have you done?” SAID UTTERLY MONOTONE WHEN IT’S NOT EVEN A BIG DEAL!!! YOU CAN”T FLIP THAT LINE OUT WITHOUT ACTUALLY PUTTING IN THE FOOTWORK TO EARN IT!!! AGH!!!

Again, it feels very much like the writers read the wikipedia page for Transformers and maybe the first sentence of each character’s bio page and then wrote the entire script from there. It’s frustrating. I hate being so severe in my reviews because I hate dunking on my fellow writers because they don’t always have final say in what happens, but this is astonishingly poor writing.

Like, I can see what they’re TRYING to accomplish, but it feels like they whiff so badly.

YO IT IS IMPACTOR

oh thats Barricade that’s why I thought that was Prowl

Chromia!!!! My darling!!!! I can’t believe there’s only two girls in this show so far

Oh that’s Cog, I wasn’t sure if that was Beachcomber or what

Nice one Chromia

Oh is that Mirage?

Ugh ANOTHER WRITING PET PEEVE: Constantly having characters start to say something but then then their dialogue gets cut off. It’s fine if it’s once in a while but over and over it’s annoying

I also feel like a lot of the VAs lack...emotion. They don’t emphasize the lines. Like, “Get him into the repair bay” is one example. Depending on how you emphasize certain words in that sentence, you can infer a lot! Emotion, the state of mind of the character, etc. But when it’s delivered in such a bland way, it’s a bit like “ok whatever”, which is how I’m starting to feel about this whole show. This doesn’t go for all the VAs or all lines, but it’s consistent enough that my mind’s wandering.

RAVAGE??? RAVAGE???? RAVAGE?!?!?!??!?!

It was probably Bumblebee.

Not to be nitpicky but it should be “Neither we nor the Autobots”

The idea of reformatting is so stupid!!! It implies that Autobots and Decepticons are inherently different, which is stupid!! It’s so dumb WHY DO YOU GOTTA GO THAT ROUTE IT”S SO STUPID (ESPECIALLY SINCE THEY”RE TACKLING THE TOPIC OF OPPRESSION??? THEY”RE SAYING THEY”RE LITERALLY DIFFERENT SPECIES AND USING IT AS A PLATFORM TO SAY ONE GROUP IS INHERENTLY BETTER THAN THE OTHER. THAT SUCKS)

Episode 3

RATCHET!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lmao love your lipgloss Megatron

Ohh is Ratchet going to fix Impactor??

PROWL??? HE”S SO SHORT

Gosh please, please don’t have humans in this show

lmao Skyfire called Starscream a tool

RATCHET!!! :D

I’d like to see who was on the writing team of this show

Isn’t that Mirage?

YEAH THAT IS MIRAGE

Again with the sentences consistently being cut off....

Is that Sunstorm?

Points to Chromia and Mirage for showing the first bitof personality in this show.

Yooo Ratchet! Oof he’s not chummy with Prime huh

YOO CAMINUS EXISTS TOO

LMAO FEISTY GRANDPA

Oh Mirage come on

Actually no, don’t shut Impactor up he’s right

“I didn’t patch you up just so you could blow a valve here” *snorts*

Wouldn’t it be frickin hilarious if Magnus just popped open a panel and Minimus came out and just dipped outta there

lmao nice lightsaber Jetfire

LMAO “PULL THE TRIGGER MAGNUS”

JEEZ JUST PUNCH HIM RIGHT IN THE FACE WHY DON”T YOU 

Ratchet is the ONLY character they’ve given personality in this show so far.

Jeez Mirage cool your jets

Oh for frick’s sake Optimus be cool

Megatron please stop torturing your ex boyfriend

Ok but who did they rise against??? Were there Quintessons in this universe too?

oh come on you guys

Oh boy something tells me Skywarp isn’t going to survive the rest of this episode

Oh jk, Skyfire just let him go. Well alrighty then

I’m not sure how they found the Autobot base, they implied that it was because of Impactor but that doesn’t make sense

This post is getting long so I’m going to spit it between two posts