#i never post this late but this is more like bonus content than an actual story post

[softpine]

“I’m sorry I never did my own laundry while I lived with you. I’m doing so much laundry these days.”

[READ ON AO3]

[featureenvyproductions]

here’s a bird’s eye view of my comic Eyan Eternal

For people who don't know what it is. Bc I think some of you might find it's right up your alley. Well this is an updated one anyway. I do actually have a volume of this out in print right now, but the low def, basic version is online and complete, and tbh, I just want people to read it. I took almost two years to complete this and quite literally poured every waking moment (after work and when I wasn’t fixing stuff in my house) into this to try and finish it.

Ahem

Here is one of these at a glance things! 

If that’s enough to intrigue you, take a look at my chapter masterpost which has convenient links to every chapter post so you don’t have to go figuring out where they are and what order they go in!: https://www.tumblr.com/featureenvyproductions/717516139934154752/eyan-eternal-tumblr-chapter-masterpost?source=share

If you like it and want to support me you can also buy a copy of the first print volume, which collects chapters 1-5 and has a smidge of bonus content (only available in the US right now, but that’s not going to be forever, and I’m working on an e-book as well): https://www.etsy.com/FeatureEnvy/listing/1447399615/eyan-eternal?utm_source=Copy&utm_medium=ListingManager&utm_campaign=Share&utm_term=so.lmsm&share_time=1683565699335

And now here is a more detailed break down if you need more info than that...

*Jonathan Frakes asks you things meme voice* have you ever wondered what you’d find if you REALLY lived forever?

Well, meet Eyan, an immortal vampire.

He’s slowly finding out the answer to that question...

...And it appears to be unbearable isolation.

Eons into the distant future, when most stars have faded in the night sky and the cosmic event horizon has confined any remaining beings to an isolated pocket of the universe, Eyan roams interstellar space in a repurposed generation ship in search of anything that could be considered alive/sentient in the way he is.

So far, he’s out of luck.

That is until he runs into an unexpected former rival on a remote planet - Zero, a sentient android he never expected to be the only other person left alive.

Well. That is, if either of them can really be considered “alive”. What does that mean anyway, when the humans who defined what it means to be alive are all gone?

This is something they’ll have to explore and define for themselves as they attempt to set aside their myriad of differences and try to work together on one of the few ways left to escape the dark fate of ultimate isolation - The Grand Encoder, a machine that can upload minds to a special medium - if it even works for them anyway. In the process, they slowly come to accept that maybe they’d had each other all wrong and weren’t seeing the bigger picture.

You may not find any action-packed Star Wars like escapades here in this sci fi drama. You also won’t find ponderings about the origins of vampires or what gave rise to robot sentience - It’s integral to the plot that these things just ARE. But you will find a thoughtful exploration of identity and how it can cause us to define ourselves and relate to (or abandon) each other depending on the framework within which we are doing that exploration and within which we are compelled to exist. It asks the question, what if the frameworks within which we defined our existence and purpose no LONGER existed...Where would we go from there?

And as two immortal guys who are the only folks left in the universe (as far as they know), Eyan and Zero are just the right people to mull over that.

There is both textual and allegorical queerness in this story - both main characters should be considered gay men, even if it’s The Future TM and terms/exact scopes of identities may not be EXACTLY 1-1 with today’s...But I want to be perfectly clear that it was my intent to make them gay because I wanted to see more gay guys in sci fi and I don’t want anyone erasing that. As for the allegorical stuff - I myself am a trans gay man in my late 30s, so this act of re-exploring and re-framing myself and evaluating how and why queer folks interact with each other the way we do is something I’m very familiar with, and I feel like other folks might relate. (I also peppered in some neurodivergent-person-in-a-neurotypical-world moods tbh.)

Of course it’s not all serious. I do have a bit of fun with some old school vampire tropes, tossing Eyan around and putting him in Situations.

Anyway if this all sounds interesting to you, take a look at my tag and site (above)! I’d appreciate it! I also like to hear from people and see if there’s anything about it you related to! :)

I also do everything. Every last monotonous step (well, aside from literally loading up a printing press to churn out volumes lol - BUT REST ASSURED IF I HAD $10K TO PISS INTO THE WIND I WOULD DO THAT TOO). So if there’s ANYTHING you want to know about my process, I’m happy to tell you so please ask, especially if you’re like trying to get started on your own comic or trying to go to print :) 

Edit before I go ahead and blaze this: I want to say, to be honest, the creation of comic was initially motivated almost entirely by the isolation/loneliness I’ve felt in my life. It’s not as bad as some folks’ and I know that, but it is a really prevalent thread throughout my life and sometimes is almost unbearable, and my comic began as an exploration of that loneliness, as well as a narrative exercise to try and express the depth of it at its worst point. I’m putting this out here because ultimately I don’t know...maybe someone will catch my drift and understand the feeling I’m trying to illustrate, and maybe they’ll want to see the plot that came of those feelings. I am not above the need to feel seen lol, especially if other people out there feel like they can resonate with this experience as well.

[frumfrumfroo]

I was reading some old Reylo posts and came across a user on here saying that even if Rian Johnson had directed TROS, it still would've been bad, because of interference from higher ups (Rey Skywalker was a consistent theme across the two scripts - but imo, I think that might've just been because they were collectively mad she wasn't a Skywalker lol).

If this isn't an annoying and tiresome question, what do you think? It's hard to speculate but I do find it a bit fun, because there's always been that 'what if' for me that if Rian had done it, maybe it wouldn't have been awful... I guess the implication here is that, was TROS always going to be bad?

I'm ruminating on it a bit because it seems like Disney has kind of segmented the SW fanbases across their shows - Prequel stuff, worldbuilding stuff, OT stuff, and now the romance/Force storyline stuff. All of these combined elements is what made SW so potent, what made something like Reylo so powerful, but it's what makes it a hard brand to sell.

What we heard was that Kennedy asked Rian to do it, but he said he needed more time to write the script and Iger/DLF was unwilling to move the release date. I'm not sure how verified that ever was, but it's the most depressing fucking thing imaginable if true. The same short-term only, immediate profit and your quarterly bonus over the integrity of the company and the franchise which has been destroying Disney as a studio over the last decade or so.

I do think the most blame for tros must ultimately rest with Iger, but it's not like that absolves JJerio from responsibility for how bad it actually is.

I have answered this exact question before, and speculated on related stuff a few times, but unfortunately I haven't been able to find that post for you.

To me, if we learnt anything from DotF being a thing, it's that there was never anyone at the wheel, plotgate was totally true, and the directors were allowed to do whatever they wanted. If Rian had been making the third film from the start, I don't think they would have tried to impose any major story beats on him. The reason it became such a shitshow was The Book of Henry came out and they realised Colin's script was totally unacceptable way too late.

And once the can of meddling was open and you're back to JJ 'no thoughts, head empty' Abrams as a workman director, the suits were basically writing epIX with Terrio's incest fever dreams as connective tissue. They kept elements from Colin's version because they were trying to save time and use as much of the work which had already been done as possible. There was no commitment to any of those ideas, it's just incompetence and with no direction or ideas of their own, they were making a reddit checklist to try to please the whiners rather than writing any actual story.

Like, none of this would have happened if Rian were involved, because Rian would have written an actual story.

SW is mythology and very few people working at DLF seem to have ever understood that or have any idea what it means. Disney has segmented it because that's what they know, they want to have different product to sell to different demographics to maximise saturation and profit. That's their business model. They don't understand the foundation, the Saga itself, and its universal appeal, they seem content to let that stay dead and focus on compartmentalising and pandering to smaller, separate audiences.

[idyllic-affections]

thoughts on baizhu & his childhood friend.

summary. a collection of thoughts about baizhu and his childhood friend.

trigger & content warnings. nightmares.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, comfort. baizhu & childhood friend!reader, qiqi & reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post contains spoilers for baizhu's story quest.

author's thoughts. thoughts on baizhu & childhood friend!reader, anyone? if you haven't already, go ahead and read i know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes, as this post won't make sense without the context provided from that fic.

i think that once [name] agrees to stay in liyue with baizhu, they become very clingy to him. you know how he's rarely seen without changsheng? yeah, now he's also rarely seen without [name]. when he stays up too late at night filling prescriptions and whatnot, they'll be right there with him, gently squeezing their arms around his shoulders and lovingly reminding him, "if you don't go to sleep, i will kill you myself, changsheng's contract be damned."

it's a display of love! they threaten him out of love.

now, it isn't unheard of for people to mistake the two of them for being romantically involved, but it's also not exactly common for people to think that—usually, it's foreign visitors that think they're dating.

why is it those who are unfamiliar with the liyuean doctor and his childhood friend that often have that misconception?

from an outsider's perspective, it would definitely seem like they were. [name] would be very physically affectionate with him, i think. their ability to verbally express affection would have degraded slightly after their time in the abyss, so they've come to favor physical things.

sometimes they're gently clutching the corner of his sleeve. maybe they're adjusting his collar. perhaps they're taming some of his defiant strands of hair, patting them down with tenderness.

away from the public eye, it's even more intense.

they're just... always touching him in some way. constantly. baizhu eventually realizes that it's in some way protective.

really, they're just very clingy and protective. they missed their friend.

he generally lets them do as they please. although the doting behavior definitely made him reel in shock at first (ten years of no contact, and all of a sudden they're in his life again and are more affectionate than ever... yeah. it took some getting used to), he very much appreciates it! he's always reciprocating in some way, too.

baizhu often has a hand on their shoulder or on the dip in their back, so...

it's understandable that a lot of foreigners misinterpret their relationship.

however, it tends to become very clear that they aren't dating after a little bit of observation.

[name] has been known to hit his arm (gently! they're very conscious of his physical condition) or pinch his cheek. they bicker. they fight like siblings. liyue's residents see this kind of interaction between the two very often.

i also think that [name] has nightmares sometimes, largely about their time in the abyss.

just... baizhu cuddles. that's all. just him quietly talking them back to sleep, fingertips massaging their scalp, because they like hearing him talk. him somehow always knowing when they have a bad night, despite them never daring to go bother him about it. he always just seems to know.

i also like to think that [name] can sometimes be seen peering over his shoulder to read things, similarly to the way they once did when they and baizhu were kids.

and as a little bonus treat:

qiqi takes martial arts lessons from [name].

she and [name] are both cryo sword users. i didn't touch on it in the original fic (i actually didn't think about it LMAO i didn't realize the parallel i had created between them), but now, i like to think qiqi learns from them. she tries to model them when they aren't around or when she thinks they aren't watching and it is THE cutest thing to witness.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[mostlydeadallday]

Lost Kin || Chapter XXXIV || A Mixed Blessing

Fandom: Hollow Knight Rating: Mature Characters: Hornet, Pure Vessel | Hollow Knight, Quirrel Category: Gen Content Warnings: referenced abuse, panic attacks AO3: Lost Kin | Chapter XXXIV | A Mixed Blessing First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Chronological Notes: Apologies for the late update! Next one will likely be another month out, due to aforementioned Activities. I nearly finished another chapter—it needs a few final paragraphs, but I went "eh, good enough" and decided to upload anyway. Hollow is actually onto something important here; bonus points if you can tell what it is. It ties into the worldbuilding post I've been meaning to make... maybe someday soon.

○

They talked late into the night.

Or, rather, Quirrel talked. Asking questions, offering suggestions, building plans that Hornet hesitantly approved or dismissed. She felt worn nearly through, coherent thought gradually leaking from her grasp as the hours went on—until Quirrel seemed to notice that she had not replied to any of his questions for at least a quarter hour, sitting with her chin propped in her hand and staring into the lantern until her eyes hurt, attempting to keep herself awake.

He insisted on stopping then, although once she ushered him upstairs to let him take his pick of the abandoned rooms and came back down with another two pillows for her own bed, she was wide awake again. She lay on the hearth, listening to the barely audible sounds Quirrel made while settling in for the night. Once those died away, she stared into the dark, where the pale arc of her sibling’s horns was just visible, timing the space between each inhale, tracing the sprawled lines of them again and again, as if she could imprint them into the world, keep them alive by her determination alone.

Quirrel had been forthright about her chances of restoring Hollow to health. So much was unknown, and what he did know was not promising. He had said, however, that he was operating on his knowledge of infected mortals, that his memory pertaining to vessels was faulty at best. Hollow had already defied the odds, and they had the lineage of three gods on their side.

He had also said a great deal more than that, but Hornet remembered little of it.

Thankfully, she had what he had written down for her: an immediate plan for further communication with Hollow, a set of questions to ask them when they woke, and a few signs to add to their vocabulary. She’d laid the pages in front of her while she slept and woke to them crumpling in her hand as she panted silently, body quivering, mind still in the grip of a nightmare that she could not remember.

She’d never had this many, this often. Night after night, she woke feeling like she couldn’t breathe. Night after night, she had to drag her own name back out of the darkness, out of the clinging, grasping fear that wanted to make an animal of her.

And waking was a mixed blessing, when every nightmare fear that faded was replaced with a real one that she could not ignore.

Hornet loosened her fist, releasing the paper, and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Every nerve sang, her body ringing like a struck gong. Her heartbeat drummed at double speed. She wanted to throw open the door and disappear, fling out skein after skein of soul-silk, fly all the way to Greenpath without her feet ever touching the ground.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

A soft noise slipped out of her mouth—a groan of disappointment. No louder than the papers crinkling, but she still looked over to make sure Hollow hadn’t woken.

They hadn’t. Nothing stirred, not even when she lifted her head to listen for sounds upstairs. The light was yet low, and no one in the house was awake but her.

The thought made her want to groan again. How long would she have to lie here, dreading the coming day, mired in memories of the night before? Recalling every crack in her control, every choked breath and faltering word that had surely told Quirrel more than she ever wanted him to know about her?

He hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to leave. In fact, he seemed more determined to help than ever—and she, more than ever, was regretting it.

Why couldn’t she have turned him away at the door? Reassured him that she did not need what he’d offered? She’d have preferred the empty house, the silence, to this low thrum of anxiety that had crawled inside her shell with her.

When her breathing calmed, her heart slowing, and the restlessness still did not fade, she stood, swallowing another complaint as her aching limbs protested. Still sore from her reckless flight, lack of sleep compounding the pain. She shouldn’t complain, not when Hollow’s battle wounds had yet to heal, but she mouthed an oath as she stretched, two of her backplates giving a muffled crack like splintering ice.

In the kitchen, the lumaflies roused as soon as she opened the lantern’s shutter. Though she was not hungry, she ate the third and last tiktik from the night before, cleaning her fangs and placing the empty shell with the others. She pointedly ignored the pile of supplies on the table and the neat sheaf of notes Quirrel had taken, bringing only the lantern with her—the beam of light narrowed to a slit—as she returned to the main room. The thought of more mending made her neck and fingers ache, but it was productive, time-consuming, and would not wake her sibling.

And, more to the point, it kept her from snatching up her needle and bolting out the door.

It was over an hour before anything interrupted her, and the sound was so soft she nearly missed it: a thump directly overhead, as of something hitting the floor.

Hornet jumped, then scowled, relaxing the muscles at the back of her neck that wanted to raise her spikes into the air. After a moment, she looked down and forced herself to keep working, motivated by a vague sense that it would be strange for Quirrel to come down the stairs and catch her staring.

Head lowered, she tracked his footsteps across the ceiling, past the washroom and onto the landing, ignoring the part of her that wanted to shove the fabric aside and grip her sewing needle like a dagger, to stand and face the threat head-on.

Not a threat. Or at least, not the kind she was used to. She might be more than half feral, but she didn’t have to act like it.

She waited until he’d descended the first flight and was three steps into the second before she lifted her eyes.

He halted, that hand once more creeping back toward his empty belt, before he deliberately relaxed. “Good morning.”

Hornet glanced at her sibling, but they did not stir; Quirrel had only spoken just above a whisper. Rather than replying, she nodded to him, then went back to her work. Polite enough, she thought; no need to waste words.

All of her etiquette classes seemed ridiculously far away.

Quirrel did not seem to mind.

She watched from the corner of her eye as he ducked into the entryway to retrieve his nail. They had agreed last night that he would take the opportunity to hunt in the morning, both for her and himself, as well as scavenge the other houses for more paper—he’d used nearly all of her stash—and some proper pencils. She would have Hollow practice their signs while he was gone and then ask some of the questions he’d suggested the night before. Hopefully, their anxiety would be reduced in his absence, allowing them to answer her more easily.

Quirrel stepped back into the room, nail and satchel at his side, kerchief tied on over his head. Hornet hesitated, then set her work aside and stood to lock the door behind him.

“Thank you.” He shivered as he stepped out into the rain. “I’ll try not to be long.”

She nodded again. He said nothing else, though his mandibles twitched beneath his mask with the beginnings of a smile.

 Annoyance pricked beneath her shell, and she shut the door before he could walk away. Then she pressed her back against it, as if to keep him from coming back in, and exhaled with a groan.

Oh, this was going well.

○

It blinked awake.

The light was bluer.

This was a strange observation to make, perhaps especially so just after waking, but undoubtedly true. There was a slice of brighter light on the wall, a flickering brightness as changeable as water, emanating from a small metal box on the hearth. A lantern.

That had not been here before.

Something had woken it, however, and it was not the light.

The vessel lay still, memories flitting just out of reach. It knew if it waited, they would settle and return, although they seemed to take longer than they should, and it did not know why it knew that.

Its sister was not in the room.

Her hands stroking its back, her voice commanding it to sleep—

—the stranger, watching, watching, watching—

A sound by the door, a flash of color it could not fully see. It shifted, minutely, in the way it had learned to, and the building pressure in its chest loosened. Not the stranger. Only its sister, although to describe her as only its sister was a disservice; she was so much more than that. Warrior, princess, heir of the kingdom that it had destroyed—

And gentle. Compassionate. Merciful, in a way that belied her cool exterior, for how could she be all that she seemed and still be kind to a thing like the vessel?

She noticed it staring. Impolite, but how could it not stare at her? How could it not?

“Oh,” she said. Something in her posture eased, like a fist unclenching. “I’m sorry to wake you.” She gestured behind herself, toward the entry to the house. “Quirrel has gone to hunt. He will return later.”

A knot of emotion pulled tight within it. She could wake it whenever she pleased, and she did not need to tell it that her ally had left, but she persisted in apologizing, in giving it information that it shouldn’t need, that it shouldn’t be grateful for.

It was, nonetheless.

She approached it, knelt beside it, murmured something about it looking cramped. It had, indeed, fallen asleep in a less-than-ideal position, as its hand was currently numb, but that was incidental; its discomfort did not matter. Once again, however, she asked for it to move, to make itself comfortable, and although this was something it was unfamiliar with, it tried to do as she asked.

It settled back. As the pain rose and then ebbed, Hornet half-watched it, the tips of her claws just visible under the drape of her cloak, worrying at a catch in the fabric.

“I—” she began, and then stopped.

Tension wrapped around it once again. It was not like her to be indecisive. Whatever was to come was bound to panic it once more, and had she not just asked for the opposite?

Questioning its wielder. The vessel had grown far too careless, if that seemed reasonable. It must obey. Submit, fully, completely, to any orders she might give it, if it was ever to have another chance at usefulness.

“I know that… yesterday,” Hornet said, slowly enough that its heartbeat had time to lurch and then calm in the pause between her words, “I expected you to ask before I touched you.”

Its breath stopped.

Finally, it was happening. Finally, she would condemn it for what it had done. For the small actions taken, the slender cracks that attested to its deeper flaws—the fear, the need—that were now plain to see beneath the surface.

She had said she needed to speak with Quirrel the night before. After it fell into sleep, she might have told him anything. Everything. Perhaps her ally had made it plain that there was no salvaging the vessel’s ruined shell. That she should rid herself of it, remove the danger to herself and to the world—

“I realize now that that expectation may not be sustainable.” Its sister looked down at her claws and forced them still, though not without a sigh. “I will have to finish cleaning your wounds, and there may be other instances where I must touch without you asking.”

This—

This did not make sense.

It was not built to need context, to infer intent or interpret complex orders. Yet as long as its sister insisted on interacting with it like this, she would force it to use its ill-begotten mind to comprehend her desires.

Did she know? Was this her goal, to determine the extent of its intellect? To understand just how fully it had been corrupted, how deep its failures really went?

It pushed its chest to rise, made its lungs expand, that she might not notice its distress. She had not liked when it stopped breathing before. It should at least attempt to not upset her, if it couldn’t manage not to upset itself.

The effort drew her attention, and its next breath stuttered as her gaze sharpened. Before it could press back the building panic, she raised her hand, and her words were suddenly clearer, precise and clean-edged as calligraphy. “You have done no wrong. I am only informing you of a change in my methods.”

How could it not be in the wrong? How could she pretend to accept the wretched thing it had become?

And it was questioning her. Again.

Where was the vessel that had once waited in perfect stillness for its orders? Where was the numb patience it had once been capable of, those first days and weeks within the temple? How had it broken so thoroughly?

Its sister looked down at it, fangs twisting in distress. Distress that it had brought about, with its failure. Distress that—

Her hand was on its arm, her fingers warm against its shell. “Listen to me. Unless I tell you to lie still, you need not endure any touch you find objectionable, including this one. You may pull away, from myself or anyone else, if you wish.” She squeezed its arm, gently, her claws closing around it, and then lifted her hand away. “There. I am finished; there is nothing else.”

It—

It could—

No.

The thought that it might defy her will, might acknowledge and express a desire contrary to hers, might ever want badly enough that it would dare to pull away from her—

No, this was a thing it would not do.

It simply would not.

A cold dread crept over its shell. The last time it had sworn not to do something, it had broken that oath in mere days. It was faithless; its word meant nothing. It could not know what it might do. It could not know that it would not do this.

What would be the consequences for such a thing? Was this another test? Would its sister abandon it, or finally give it the death it deserved?

It was unimaginable that she might do nothing.

Unimaginable, and yet—

—why would she say this, if—

No. Enough. These were dangerous thoughts, thoughts it was surely not meant to have, for it was never meant to think to begin with. Its sister deserved obedience, though it cost everything the vessel had.

She was watching it, it realized. Gauging the effect of her words. Perhaps waiting for an answer. Should it answer? Should it use one of the signs she had given it to indicate understanding? What did she want of it?

Vaguely, the vessel felt that its current state could very generously be described as a mess.

Its sister—gods below, its sister knew.

She reached for it again, this time for its hand—half-clenched, trembling—and pressed its fingers open. Not to guide it into any sign, but simply to lay her palm into the vessel’s, small fingers and fine claws lacing with its own.

It lay still. Fear was, suddenly, the farthest thing from it; it felt as though it had been given something precious, something unfit for it to take, a delicate bloom trapped between its talons. It could feel her heartbeat, swift and strong, in the vein beneath her palmpads, and the faint hum of soul below her shell.

It would give her everything.

Did she know? How could it tell her?

It would die for her.

○

Well. She had obviously accomplished something.

What, exactly, that something was eluded her.

Hollow had stopped shaking. That counted as progress. The stare they were currently giving her, however, was right on the edge of unnerving. The tension in their hand, as their fingers curled slightly to hold her own between them, just shy of brushing her knuckles with their claws—she did not know what to make of that.

But they had not pulled away from her.

She knew they understood. They would not have reacted so if they didn’t. Or perhaps she was wrong, and this was nothing but utter confusion, and she hadn’t accomplished anything at all.

And since she had so handily trapped them, she could not even ask for confirmation. She had all but clapped a hand over their mouth, rendering them as mute as when they met.

Not that they would likely choose to speak to her, whether she let go, or whether they pulled free—though this had all been in service of giving permission for them to do exactly that, if they wished.

Apparently, they did not. Their grip was tightening on her hand, so slowly that she wasn’t even sure they knew they were doing it, and the pressure was absurdly light, as though they feared her shell would shatter.

Well, she appreciated the sentiment.

It was a fight, every time she had the urge to comfort them, not to ignore it. It took her back to her days in the Palace, watching them spar in practice and in tournaments, watching them take injuries that would cripple a lesser fighter. The way her breath had hissed past her fangs, her hands tightening on the balcony, as the Pure Vessel tore through scores of kingsmoulds like a scythe through dry grass, rank upon rank closing in until her sibling was limping badly, dripping void and leaking soul, and still never faltering, pushing on and on until her father finally—finally—called a halt.

And the next time she saw them, they would be whole, healed, as still and silent as ever, with new scars marking their shell.

Those events had been tests of her mettle, as much as they had been of her sibling’s. She had felt the Pale King’s gaze upon her as the blows rained down, waiting for her to flinch, watching for doubt.

She’d learned to hide those twinges of empathy. To bury them so deep that she could deny she’d ever felt them at all.

It was like opening an old wound, now, to unearth them again. Like cutting into a scar. But she would do it, for them. She would.

She could start small. Both of them were unused to this—giving comfort or receiving it. Much as she wished she could take every burden from their shoulders, this would have to suffice for the moment.

“Good,” she whispered, running her thumb up the side of their hand. “Good, Hollow. Be calm. There’s nothing to fear.”

A twitch ran through their fingers at that, though nothing else changed. She continued stroking their hand, watching for any indication that she should stop—she didn’t trust them to take her at her word, to allow themselves to challenge her, but Quirrel had agreed that it was important that she lay the groundwork and mark out exactly where they stood.

His suggestions had been helpful already, she had to grudgingly admit. And it had been like a long breath of clean air to have someone to listen to her, whether she made good use of that opportunity or not. She felt a little less out of her mind, now, after speaking to someone who could answer. Who could examine all the jumbled pieces she spilled on the table and begin to fit them together, in ways that both confirmed and challenged her own conclusions.

That did not mean she had stopped regretting having asked for it.

Quirrel. Who knew how much time she had left before he returned. She should be putting this time to good use, not idling it away.

Without letting go, she twisted round and retrieved the wrinkled pages with her free hand, then spread them out on her lap, still with Hollow’s hand in hers.

Or rather, her hand in theirs. There was no way to hold their hand that did not result in hers being completely engulfed. Not that she minded, as long as they continued to hold it so carefully. Gingerly, never so much as letting their claws touch her, maintaining the precise amount of pressure necessary to keep her fingers from slipping free.

Unfortunately, her next task would require letting go. Though if it had helped as much as it seemed to, perhaps she could find an excuse to come back to it later.

“I’d like to have you practice the signs I’ve already taught you,” she said. “Just as we did before.”

No reaction from her sibling, at least not one she could see. She lifted their hand, briefly clasping it in both of her own to feel the solidness of it, the cool weight and minute roughness of their grip. Then she placed it on their stomach, withdrawing her touch with a final squeeze of their fingers.

Was she doing this right? She hoped—oh, she hoped what she saw in them was calm, and not apathy, or terror so complete that it held them still in its thrall. They seemed to respond well to being touched and held while she spoke to them; they had not panicked nearly as much as she expected. She could only wish that she had come to this conclusion earlier, rather than holding herself apart out of misplaced concern or awkwardness.

And it was awkward, still. But that was nothing. She could tolerate awkward, if what Quirrel said was true, if they stood to gain so much with so little effort.

She did not want to overwhelm them, which might put their new permission to pull away from her to the test, but if they became stressed during practice—which she did not doubt they would—she would attempt to calm them before continuing, rather than push through until they broke.

Neither one of them, she suspected, wanted a repeat of yesterday.

Oh, what had she been thinking? She could hardly have invented a better way to terrify them. Many of her own lessons had ended with her holding back tears, out of frustration at her own ignorance and the unfairness of what her tutors were asking of her. Not all of them had made her feel that way, but… enough.

And now it seemed she was doomed to mimic her own worst examples.

At least she’d had the solace of wishing all kinds of imaginary carnage on the tutors she liked the least. If she were to venture a guess, Hollow had no such inclinations.

Or, at least, she hoped not.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll start at the beginning. When I say the word, repeat the sign I taught you.”

Their hand still shook as they moved through the signs, but not as much as she’d come to expect. It was easier to praise them, then, easier to sound like she meant it.

Progress. This might be real progress, and it almost felt too good to be true.

She reached forward when they finished reciting what they’d learned, laying a hand on their wrist while the tension slowly drained and they lay limp, staring at her in what seemed like distracted bewilderment.

That bewilderment was likely warranted. She’d never been affectionate, especially not when they came to know her. Before then, she remembered only hazy scenes from her childhood, before she could walk or climb, of being passed from one set of sturdy arms to another, or lifted up to cling to a shoulder or back as the spiders and Weavers took turns working and holding her. She had not sought that out once she outgrew it, and certainly not once she was taken to Hallownest. The Deepnest taint clung to her shell like a stuck molt, awkward and ugly, and she had been angry enough to reject any attempts at companionship, had anyone made any.

She had also been too busy causing havoc, at first. Working herself deeper and deeper into her father’s side like a thorn, half-hoping he would pluck her out and cast her away, give her back to the family she could never have again—not now that her mother was sworn as a Dreamer, not now that the Weavers planned to leave Hallownest. It could never be the same now, but that did not stop her from wanting it.

And then she’d given up, at last, and that had been the end of it. She’d accepted the role he placed on her, set foot on the path that had brought her here, and now she was stroking her sibling’s shell awkwardly, and hoping that the confusion this elicited was somehow a step forward.

In any case, it was likely better than terror.

“I have a few new signs for you,” she said, leaning back. “This is ‘sometimes.’”

Following Quirrel’s suggestions, she taught them former and latter, as well as other, signs that would be necessary to answer the questions he’d hoped to ask them. She added Quirrel, a twist of the fingers at the chin, denoting the beaded tassel on his kerchief. By then, her sibling was wheezing audibly, and their gestures had become more stilted as their hand and arm slowly seized and that strange, strained tension returned, as if they were simultaneously attempting to obey her and trying not to move.

This time, it took longer to fade, and she spent a silent few minutes rubbing her hand up and down their arm, listening to the whistle in their lungs grow fainter and die out as they relaxed.

“Well done,” she murmured when they were quiet again. “Thank you. I know I am asking… much of you.”

The confusion was back—if she was reading them right, and she wasn’t certain of that. But if she had to guess at the look they were giving her, it was somehow conveying complete bafflement without shifting an inch.

Hornet swallowed down something that hurt, something angry and inadvisable, and it burned like a hot coal in her stomach.

I am not our father.

I do not expect perfection.

I want this for you.

I want you to live.

Having said that to Quirrel the night before, she could not now forget it. She hadn’t even thought as much to herself—since learning Hollow was alive, she hadn’t dared to imagine a goal at the end of all this. She owed her life and more to them; after she had wiped out so many of their kind in stupid, blind obedience, the least she could do was offer her time and her hands and her company. She had no right to expect anything, whether protection or gratitude or companionship.

But if it was necessary to establish a purpose to work toward, it would be this, and only this.

They had been born as a sacrifice. They had given everything for their father’s plan. And even now, they were obedient to him, as best they could be—though some unknown, misplaced devotion drove them to heed her. Even when her orders clashed with her father’s, throwing out sparks like crossed blades.

She glanced out the window, past the rain tapping steadily at the glass. It had been over an hour, and Quirrel would likely be back soon. She didn’t wish to stress them much further, given what the rest of the day would hold. But they had responded well to her attempts to calm them, and she was curious; the chance to hold a real conversation with her sibling, fragmented though it would be, was too tempting to ignore.

The questions Quirrel had left her included a few that she could be relatively certain they would answer. She skipped over the questions about their pain—though she would have to ask those again, eventually.

Instead, she paused the motion along their arm, only rubbing one thumb over a seam in their elbow, her claw clicking softly across the gap between the plates. Their attention was on her already—it had never left—but she did not wish to distract them.

“I will not be upset if you cannot answer. For any reason,” she began. “But I would like for you to practice using the new signs. And these questions may help me understand how to move forward.”

Perhaps only because she was paying close attention, she noticed the shift as their arm tightened—and then relaxed—beneath her hand. Something indefinable swelled in her throat, something bitter and bloody. Sympathy. Guilt. She didn’t know.

They were trying. They were trying so hard to give her what she wanted, fighting every moment against their own fear, and as much as she wished she could avoid it, or take it from them altogether, the only way forward she could see was to push through.

She took her hand from their arm, so they would not need to pull away from her to sign, and waited.

“Are you able to read or write?” A simple question first, a question that would hopefully not distress them, but could be used to test their understanding with a specific method of answer. “Answer with ‘former’ or ‘latter’ if only one is true, ‘yes’ for both, or ‘no’ for neither.”

They considered this. Calmly, thank the gods. She gave them a moment; this was the first time she had offered this many possible answers to a question, although she suspected she already knew the answer. Still, they might surprise her.

The answer came hesitantly; if they could speak, the word would have been only a murmur. No.

She tilted her head, acknowledging. “As I thought. It is no matter.” It would have made communication easier, but not significantly so, when she could think of no comfortable way for them to write while confined to their bed. Perhaps that could be remedied once they were stronger, although she thought Quirrel far more suited as a literacy teacher than she was.

The next question was more important, and simpler still. “Are you colder or warmer than you should be? Answer with ‘former,’ ‘latter,’ or ‘no,’ if neither is true.”

As questions went, this one also seemed unthreatening. It was not related to their pain, and she assumed they would have a good sense of their natural body temperature. If Quirrel was right, then it was possible Hollow’s fever had still not completely broken.

And perhaps she could finally find out whether they needed a blanket.

The answer, when it came, was shaky, delayed, and disappointing, and she could not have been happier to see it.

Latter.

Too warm, still. She would have to do something about that—draining the rest of the infection, first and foremost. The thought made her gut turn over, with both nausea and giddy relief that they were listening and answering her.

They were starting to lock up now, shoulder creeping up toward their neck, jaw clenching tight. “Good,” she breathed, realizing too late that she’d gone too long saying nothing. “Good. I am glad to know that. Thank you.”

○

Glad?

She was—

Why was she glad?

That it was still too warm, its body still rebelling against its father’s design, was an unmitigated failure. It was a consequence of the infection in its veins, a consequence of weakness, something that should never have happened. The void within it should have stripped it so empty, hollowed it so completely, that it never knew anything but the numbness and the chill and the dark silence of the sea.

She should be ashamed of it. She should be disappointed. She should not be trying to thank it.

This did not appear to dissuade her in the least.

“I would like to know if you have needs I’ve not been able to meet.” She touched it as she spoke, her hand once more coming to rest on its arm, gliding up to the top of its shoulder and back. It could not help the way its tension bled away under her touch, though it should have felt nothing whatsoever.

She knew this. And yet she persisted.

“Although I know I have asked this before, I need to be sure I know the correct answer.” Hornet paused, chewing over her question, still absently petting its shell. “You’ve said you don’t require food. But I do not know precisely what that means.”

Ah. It had not answered well enough, the first few times she asked it. Given that it had never been intended to speak, perhaps that was allowable—

But no. A flaw was a flaw, and it was meant to be flawless. Since it could speak, it was obliged to do so with the precision and excellence that were required of it elsewhere.

“You do not need food to survive. Is this true? Answer with ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

This answer was an easy one, but it hesitated. Sister’s hand was still on its arm, and it did not mean to defy her, but while she wished to touch it, it should not express otherwise—

And she realized that an instant later, and withdrew.

The rising fear retreated, slowly, but its answer was still shaky.

Yes.

“Although you do not need it to survive, would consuming food aid your body in healing?”

It knew the answer to this as well, but as its hand rose, it hesitated.

During its training, it had been injured severely. Not often, for it was a unique creation, too valuable to risk. But its father walked a delicate line; if it had not been thoroughly tested and hardened for battle, it could not have been judged fit to contain the infection. He had methods of healing beyond the reach of scholars and mages, but on a few occasions, his magic had not been enough to restore it.

He had taken it to his workshop, then, and laid it down on the table where it had been shaped and molded, its present form wrought from the softness of a nymph by the sharp intent of its father’s magic. He had retrieved a container, and given it to the vessel, and instructed it in what to do.

It still recalled the sensation of the void pouring down its throat, the thickness of it, the blank absence of any smell or flavor, the stirring within its guts as the liquid joined with what already existed within, absorbing cleanly until there was nothing left but the vessel itself, whole again, and strong.

Void was not food. Void was poison, an endless dark that consumed what it touched, that winked out mortal lives like candles.

That was likely not what its sister meant. A vessel consuming more of the substance that formed it could not be defined as eating, any more than void could be defined as food.

It had hesitated too long. Its sister was growing impatient, tilting her head in confusion, searching its eyes for any hint of an answer forming, and it froze.

But she said only, “My words were… imprecise, perhaps. Disregard that question,” and then sat thinking, as its breathing grew lighter again and the taut set of its shoulders eased.

With a sharp sigh, she spoke again. “I do not know what vessels are able to eat, or what substances would be beneficial to consume. Do you eat any of the things someone such as Quirrel or myself would?”

Relief rushed through it, though numbing fear followed close on its heels. She understood the true reason for its hesitation. She saw it, its flaws, its limitations and its defects. It must be truly lacking, for such a simple thing to seize hold of it and prevent it from answering. To force its sister to repeat herself, to rephrase her questions in order to accommodate its fractured mind.

No, it should not be relieved to have its flaws made known. It should be ashamed—or it should feel nothing. It should not have flaws, let alone the very ability to feel, and it should be trying to hide these facts from her, to bury them, not put them on display, not reveal them so clearly that she made allowances for it—

Wrong wrong wrong wrong—

If it did not answer now, it would soon be unable to, it realized. The pressure was growing in its chest again, a weight of panic like lack of air underwater.

The sign was rushed this time, and too short, too sharp, in its haste to give its sister what she wanted.

No.

Its vision was hazing white at the edges already, its breaths beginning to become gasps, and it clenched its teeth, forcing its chest to rise, forcing its throat to open, while the sound from its battered lungs rose into a harsh, fluttering keen.

She could certainly see its flaws now.

There was another sound. Another weight against it. Another hand within its own again, warm and steady where it trembled. Its sister was so small, her touch so light, and yet her every whim captured its attention completely.

Its next exhale shook and shuddered, and she reached up with her free hand, laying her palm beneath its eye, and her fangs chattered softly, a gentle, steady sound like breezes through its mother’s leaves, a sound meant to soothe, to calm and comfort hatchlings in the shell.

It blinked, and wheezed, and clenched her hand more tightly.

“Shh, Hollow.” She leaned against it more firmly where she’d settled, climbing onto the bed and pressing herself into its side, and it did not deserve this, had done nothing to earn this, had done everything wrong, and to her, it seemed, that did not matter. “Shh.”

○

Taglist: @botslayer9000 @moss-tombstone @slimeel Send an ask or reply to this post to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

[superthatguy62]

top 5 ffs?

Oh, hello.

Just as a warning, I have yet to go through the post 5 FF games to a significant degree, so I'll be including some spinoffs:

5: Final Fantasy Explorers

I haven't played... well, any Monster Hunter-type games, so FFE was my first taste of it, and you know what? I enjoyed it. I played it on single-player, so it was essentially "Beastmaster: The Game" and the bosses were still fun enough. Also it probably has one of my top 5 favorite Big Bridge remixes and some of the music (particularly the general boss theme and Odin's theme) are highlights for me.

4: Final Fantasy Tactics

It clears the 'higher-than-you'd-expect' hurdle of me being able to actually play a decent amount of a strategy game and is generally fun to boot. I got up to Chapter 3 before the random encounters started kicking my ass enough to discourage me from continuing (though the fights towards the end of chapter 2 really tested my patience), though said encounters didn't help by me playing the PSP version with its magic/animation slowdown. By all accounts, I should probably go for the GBA/DS games since those lack permadeath (albeit with a very different tone plotwise), but I still intend to try out the PS1 version of the first game and hopefully not grind myself into a corner.

3: Final Fantasy 2

Yes, this. FF2's 'quirky' and 'complicated', but I dig the story, the gameplay once your characters actually get built up and just general setting. It's also to read the supplementry material and other notes on what could have been: It really shows that the devs were putting some thought into the story and its a shame how some elements didn't translate properly. It's the type of game where it gets better the more you know of how it works. That said the dungeon design alone holds this back fiercely, especially in the PSP's Arcane Labyrinth (Darkness floor, my beloathed). Speaking of which, the bonus content for this game is probably some of the better such content of these re-releases.

2: Final Fantasy 3

Wow, what a surprise.

FF3 is basically the video game equivalent of "it could be that deep" in my eyes. Because you don't have any of those fancy "Materias", "GFs", Magicites" or even abilities to carry over like in FFV and FFT, you need to team build your way through whatever the game throws at you. Again, FF3 is one of those games that gets better when you have more an idea of what to expect: Getting thrown into a mini-dungeon early on is annoying, but its less so when you have mages prepared ahead of time to either magic their way through or play "pass the Fire Rod that the devs conveniently added". The world isn't fully developed, but the nuggets you can find are interesting, especially the whole duality concept and the existence of the World of Darkness.

But this is also the same guy who has spent however many years obsessing over this game, so you know. Feel free to add some salt to this opinion.

As for why this isn't higher, it's because my image of this game has been ruined by my obsession, and there I feel there is no "definitive" version. All three versions are playable (yes, even the remake) and enjoyable (yes, even the remake), but all have enough pros and cons that I can't fully say one is better than the others. It's the kind of game that feels like it has yet to reach its full potential and I unfortunately don't think there are many people, at least in the west, who would care even if it did. 3's always been the overshadowed game. After all, FF5 is right there. And, oh hey, speaking of...

1: Final Fantasy 5:

Not quite a basic answer, but still a not-uncommon one, I feel. I was very late to the FF5 party, only playing it when the PR came out and not even experiencing it through osmosis like I did with FF6, and while my obsession with 3 means that it will never overcome that bias, I can easily see why people consider it to be the gameplay peak of the Nintendo-era, if not 6. It builds on what 1 and 3 started and the job combos can be fun to play with. That said, I'll admit that part of my ranking it so high is a particularly impressive mod known as "Custom Classes", which allows you to swap out basically all of the commands, meaning that you can carry over more than one skill between jobs. I haven't finished a full playthrough of CC yet, but between that and the reasons I gave for FF3, I'll be willing to give the edge to 5 over it.

Also, 5 gave us Gilgamesh and ExDeath (and indirectly eScape, and therefore The Twinning).

Honorable Mentions:

Dissidia (012): I don't know how to feel about this game. Settingwise: I love the ways it expands the FF1 mythos, but I hate how WoL is a manikin and what that implies for the rest of the FF1 party. It gave me my favorite portrayal of Garland, but it also gave me Onion Knight, whom I resent for sidelining Luneth's party in later crossovers. Even gameplaywise, I like the general gameplay, at least on paper, but I think I get far frustrated with it more than I would with a normal fighting game. Yet, I keep playing or get the urge to keep playing. Maybe it deserves to be on the list? Maybe it doesn't?

Final Fantasy VIII: I haven't gotten far in FFVIII (I finished the Dollet mission) but what I've played so far feels promising as far as my first PS1-era FF goes (some perfectionism on my part aside). Junctioning is an 'interesting' mechanic, but I think I like it. I need to get the hang of Triple Triad, but I can understand how people get hooked on it.

Final Fantasy Dimensions: Albeit with the mother of all asterisks: This is here mostly for the 'idea' than the execution right now. Like the other FFT games, I do have it ready for play, I just haven't gotten around to it, because when I play games on my phone, it's usually the gatchas that I'm stockholm syndrome'd to playing right now and it's rare for me to not be playing at least 2 at a time. At some point I do want to get around to actually playing it, but until it gets like a steam release or something, it'll be one of those "get to it eventually" type games.

Final Fantasy: Admittedly, it has been ages since I played through FF1 (relatively speaking) compared to every other game on this list aside from FFE, so I don't know how much mention it merits. But I'll put it here anyway.

[colorlesschristmastree]

I was wondering who ran the justfeysand acc? it’s no longer active & i loved that account for us feyre girlies 😭 or queerincrisis too who i used to love. i’ll never forget when of the coolest people deactivated from fandom and their name was hotdiscodauce ..wherever you are hotdiscosauce feyre girls miss you. cant even blame people for saying “fuck this” lmao. i love feyre too much to crumble though so i suffer thru the toxicity of this fandom just to ride for my girl !!

the only thing that could make me inactive is if she doesn’t do shit in hofas while nesta’s mid self gets a pov while also being randomly paired with bryce when really that should be feyre. if the pregnancy ends up as a plot device to sideline her or the bargain i know ill be pissed and leave. especially if she has no cute scenes with bryce. just bc they aren’t that similar doesn’t mean i want to see bryce with nesta and bryce of all characters. and it better not just be rhys in the spotlight for hofas with amren sjm since only they know the language

Hiii! So sorry for responding late to this but I actually have the answers to your ails! Justfeysand was ran by my sweet sweet moot who has just become a little busy and less interested in SJM recently. Fear not though my dear anon for she is still here in the form of @moonfyre-s!! Aggressively defending our high lady Feyre and also giving us some darklina and miscellaneous content.

And the lovely aqueerincrisis is still here as well!! You can find them dishing out their hot takes on @acourtofcriticalthinking! Dw nonnie, our love for Feyre will always be there even as our interests and lives change :)

Honestly I'm very aware of the fact that I haven't been as active lately and I feel really bad about it, I still do reblogs and such but I just haven't been making as much original content recently. I've been trying to cut down on the anti content I post here and keep more of my criticisms in the Feyre server, I don't have a lot of energy to actually argue on here like I used to so I just talk my shit over there. Once cc3 comes out and I get Feyre crumbs though I swear I will be back to yapping, I just need more juice for my inspiration to come to me.

Some people in the Feyre server and I might be rereading the series after we've all wrapped up cc3 though so I'll def make some content during that. :) And I completely agree with everything you said, I don't really care that Nesta is going to be talking with Bryce as it is just a bonus chapter and I'm of the belief those genuinely aren't that important and only exist for marketing and to possibly build some excitement about certain things, I just hope that during their brief time in cc3 all of the acotar characters Feyre get treated well and we get some interesting scenes from them.

I'm not really a fan of cc3 theories that put one acotar character as objectively more important than others in the grander scheme of the SJM multiverse. I think they're all just cogs in one large machine and all these theories saying "X character is actually going to be the key player because of Y reasons!" is always silly to me. Tbh I'm not really a huge fan of the acotar characters becoming things outside of the context of their own universe/stories (if that makes sense)? Why can't they just be helping Bryce out? Why must one of them secretly be the key to everything? Or the Mother? Or the CC gods? Or a prince of Hel? BLAH!

anyways I got off track! It's so sweet that you noticed those two blogs were missing and they were both very touched when I told them I had an anon reach out to inquire about their wellbeing. You're a sweetheart!

[dogtoling]

your oc lore heavily revolves around krakening you say 👀?? I really enjoy your splatoon ocs and i remember peppermint has a kraken condition of some sort (btw she’s one of my favourites i love her :3), but I don’t know much about your lore for it besides the contents of the kraken special post. can you share anything further about it, or point me to any posts where you’ve talked about it before?

Thank you! it makes me really happy when people like seeing my OCs. And to be fair Peppermint seems to be the one I draw the most lately... her lore specifically centers around the Kraken a LOT. Honestly, as for stuff about it, I don't really have much more than the Kraken post out in public (everything lives rent free in my brain). This comic i started making the other day taking place in like 2021 is extremely relevant to this topic... it's going to have at least one continuation, and i find it funny that the kraken was revealed to be re-added to the game literally 1 day after i posted this

But the gist of it is that yeah Peppermint does have Kraken syndrome, which triggered in around 2014 - she'd been playing for like four years OBSESSIVELY and she was kind of insane about turf wars. Per my story, her main was the Krak-On Splat Roller (and later the Custom Range Blaster) but uh... canonically, we don't know ANYTHING about the turf war scene prior to 2015 and whether those weapons existed at all yet, so you have to use your imagination on that. (I WISH WE KNEW, BY THE WAY.) She was genuinely going to pursue becoming a professional ink battler, but obviously her body said otherwise because involuntarily Krakening because you got too stoked about the match or got a bit too heated about an enemy player is kind of bad. Like really bad on every possible level.

So needless to say, she had to quit very much to her dismay and it was a primary reason why the blue team (which Engel was also part of!) ended as a whole. Doctors were busting their ass trying to figure out what the hell was triggering the transformations and why it was so easy, given that the drug was probably fairly new at the time and she was likely one of the first people out there to have Kraken Syndrome (Krakening like 6 times a day will do that to you), at least two years before cases of it would start more commonly popping up.

She's had meds for it for years and they seem to work fine, so it's not really a problem for her (except in the mornings sometimes and if she like, forgets to take them.) but she did go like the entire Splatoon 2 era without attending turf wars pretty much at all just because she was really worried things were going to go south, and again, none of her teammates really play anymore. She returned to Turf Wars for the first time in forever last year sort of on impulse as her and Amber happened to land in Splatsville just in time for the Rock-Paper-Scissors Splatfest and decided hey, why not. (then proceeded to be on different teams, so never mind.)

Um, she's been using the Splat Roller lately and enjoying more of a support position instead of Kill Everything Immediately, but now her actual main is coming back, WITH THE KRAKEN... I don't think she's going to be taking up on that offer and I don't think she's super thrilled about it.

however, here's a bonus picture of her from like, 2018-2019? having a kraken moment in her house.

[beauzos]

for the fics writing ask that i forgot abt until just now; 1, 13, 27, 28, 51, 78 :3

Fanfiction Writing Asks

1. Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

I spend a lot of time daydreaming, yes, which is why I feel so insistent upon jotting down all of my ideas so I can refer to them later. Sometimes, the turnaround can be rather quick if I have the motivation AND time, but not always. Most of the time, I've been thinking about the scenes I write for a while before I have the chance to actually write them down.

13. Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

It depends on whether I think I can focus or not. I CAN put on music while writing if my brain is able to just... not even process that I'm listening to something KRKF but if I notice it's there, then I can't think straight. The words get in the way of MY words. I don't think I've been listening to anything while writing recently, though.

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

I can bring it with characterization, if anything. I feel like I am very good at executing different characters and their personalities-- and making them seem distinct from each other. Which doesn't sound all that impressive, but it is kinda hard to do. Otherwise, I don't know. Doesn't everyone say they're good at dialogue? I'm good at dialogue, too, lol.

But I feel very confident about how I characterize, first and foremost.

28. What area of writing do you want to improve in?

My narration / prose could be better at times. I get caught in clunkiness when I don't know how to transition scenes or establish a timeskip and I can feeeeeel how awkward it is. On that note, also awkwardness with mentioning something in narration without it feeling too explanatory. Like that you notice you're having something explained to you, I suppose. Sometimes I get it right, sometimes I don't.

I could also get better at ending chapters or things. I'm not often sure of what to say, which is why I lean heavy on ending chapters or things with a line of dialogue rather than narration.

51. Does what you like to write differ from what you like to read?

Wow, that's a great question. As I've said before, I don't really read fanfiction. It just doesn't really interest me, but when I've been reading fic lately, it's all ship stuff and smut. Like that's usually the only reason I'll go after fic is if I wanna see some characters fuck NJBSDHJ If I find great writing or character studies therein, that's a bonus, though. I like copernicusjones's Black/bright fics because it balances sexual content with legitimately good writing and character studies, for example.

And, as I've said, I don't write romance. And I don't write smut really either. I posted one smut fic publicly one time and then got so embarrassed I orphaned it NJRFD and I had a short period a couple years where I wrote a good handful of fics for myself and then I stopped and never did it again. Not sure why lol. I'm not a romance writer or reader under most circumstances, though.

I haven't really answered the question yet properly, huh. Okay, let's think about the type of stuff I read in terms of actual, published works. I like literary fiction, or more ~highbrow~ type novels, but I don't necessarily need it to be lit fic to be good to me. I just want to have an emotional experience of some kind. I don't necessarily often want light, or fluff, or what we call "commercial" books. I like character studies, that kind of thing. Better yet if it's a character(s) just... fuckin... going THROUGH it.

Not always, but those books stick in my ribs the most. I gravitate often towards classics as well for similar reasons.

I can't be so arrogant as to compare my writing to literary fiction at this junction though JNSD

ANYWAYS, I like my writing and I do think my writing ultimately reflects the kind of things I value in writing overall. I've called my writing style "brutal character study" for a while and I think that's true lol. I want it to be character-driven and I want them to go through HELL before anything gets better!!!! I just find that fun, and it's what I come back to. I like putting a character through hell and seeing how they crumple-- and how they manage to continue, how they could potentially heal, or how this affects them from then on.

Stuff like that clicks with me, and I suppose that carries over to the books I read quite often. Maybe. Probably.

78. What motivates you during the writing process?

The basic desire to simply see this story be written because I want it out of my brain lol-- and my investment in the characters, of course. My writing is very driven by special interests, so I'm writing about characters I'm thinking about all day to begin with, and I need to have SOMETHING to show for it. My sheer love of characters is a better answer, then, I think. I just love the Character!! And I have all these ideas, so I simply must write some of them. Or try, at least.

[eating-plastic]

I'd love to know more about your f/o Ricky!! I love reading your replies to the prompts but I don't know who Ricky is tbh lol this is an invitation to gush about him :3 <3 <3

Ay, I absolutely ain't got no problems talking about Ricky so thank you for the invitation 🥰!

Roller Ricky is a side character from the game Killer Frequency. He's a sweet and fun loving guy who runs a roller rink in the fictional small town of Gallows Creek(hence the nickname). He's very chill, down to Earth, and friendly. He also has an emotional support dog named Max who he absolutely loves (which it's sooo fucking cute how much he loves him oh my God).

Despite being certified sweet boi in my books (calls him "certified sweet boi" even tho he's literally a grown ass man in his late 30s lol), he has no problems with scaring off someone with his rifle if they threaten him or those he loves (this is literally canon, and I love that it's canon).

Annnnnnd what's a certified sweet boi without a traumatic backstory. Without spoiling the game too much, Ricky went through this fucked up prank in high school where he literally thought his friends were fucking murdered and one of them actually fucking dying (I'm not kidding you, shit's fucked up). Turns out it was a stupid hazing ritual that his football team was doing to the new players, and he didn't know that because he can't keep secrets well and would've spoiled it. Yeah that's not a good fucking excuse because he developed really bad survivor's guilt that caused him to become an alcoholic to deal with the trauma (and my poor bby I wanna wrap him up in a blanket now 😭).

Fortunately, he found a support group and got actual therapy for his trauma. Now he encourages others to push through tough times.

Yeah I love this man soooo much it's not even funny lol.

What's sad tho is Killer Frequency is kinda niche(?) I think, so there isn't too much content out there for him, despite being relatively well liked by fans. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who has written any x reader things for him. That's so me tho, I've always fallen in love with characters that are unknown or unpopular, it's my curse. Anyways, my first ever full length fanfic I wrote, Heart Shaped Roller Rink (been thinking about making that our ship name, I think it's cute) was a Roller Ricky x reader fic. I've thought about revamping it too with it being my first fanfic; just kinda clean up the wacky formatting and fix the grammatical errors (I feel like with him being my f/o now, it's what he deserves lol). Then I literally wrote some headcanons for him the day after I posted that fic. Finally, not too long after that, I wrote another fic with him where the reader was pregnant because I feel it in my bones that he'd be such a sweet dad.

Also, like a fool I said that that was going to be the last I would write for him. God, what a funny joke because I have another idea for a fic (now if only I had the time and motivation). I didn't really plan on having him as my f/o, but after realizing I had written three things for him back to back to back, I was like "yeah, this is more than loving a character a normal amount." Soooo yeah, that's how he became my f/o. Don't get me wrong, I've always loved x reader fics and shit(still do btw), but I've never felt this strongly for a character before.

Now, I am happy to be a part of the wonderful world of self shipping with him ❤️

Bonus:

Hehe himb 🥰🥰❤️

[bleachbleachbleach]

Fic writer ask: 18 and 21💜💕

(Also sorry, usually I copy paste the actual questions but I am like 2 hours late for bed and need to do something about that)

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

The line I’ve written that I probably think about most often is: "Let yourself be lied to." 

The context is:

It’s more the sentiment than the prose that makes it a favorite for me—the idea of letting yourself be lied to. Sometimes I think 30% my job is people lying to my face and me just letting that be our reality because some part of them clearly thinks the lie is necessary, even though it never is. And now every time it happens IRL I think about this fanfic!

For some bonus Akon content, I’ve also written a scene where Renji witnesses Akon’s athletic prowess and asks him how he’s managed that while chain-smoking and skipping leg day, etc. And Akon is just like... "My body is a temple and I am its god." XDD 

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?

Two people asked this one—in the other I talked about my most recent major deletion, so here I’ll talk about my all-time biggest deletion, though it’s not from Bleach.

I spent a summer writing 30k of a story I never ended up posting, because that 30k was unreadable. The prose wasn’t unreadable—the POV was. The fic itself was pretty graphic, in the grindhouse sense, but what really sent it over the edge was how relentlessly self-loathing and callously aggressive the narrating POV was. He was just caught in this inescapable cycle of violent thoughts. Were I to have finished the story, I had outlines for intervening chapters from another POV that would have carried more of the plot and perspective. The *story* could not exist without these parts. But I never wrote those parts, because I’d already written everything I really wanted to write. It just happened to be the unreadable parts.

[ronin-deactivated19851026]

often times when i hear about some artist's name that winded up in some controversy, ongoing memes/harassment, or anything of that sorts, i may take a deeper look into it.

and more often than not, the person in question turns out to be:

in their late teens/early 20s; meaning they still didn't stop developing as a person (trust me, it's crucial). coming from an abusive, religious, restrictive, or otherwise traumatizing background. groomed as a minor or were exposed to sexual content in a way that clearly affected them negatively. maladaptive coping mechanisms, such as extreme dependency on the internet clout. have some developmental arrests, especially emotional kinds of. a part of a marginalized group, which adds more to the "insanity" of their traumatic responses and behavior.

... and nobody seems to question that explicitly? like, sure, some people say "get help" here and there, but it never goes beyond that. it's just constant baiting, harassing, twisting further what person said which, as one can expect, of course drives them even more insane. it's a never ending cycle, unless person is bullied off the platform/the internet, or in some cases offs themselves.

what bothers me even more is that people who claim to hate places like kiwifarms do exactly the same thing, fall for exact same trope of thinking, lack of analysis, sympathy, and in general are just prone to brushing off blatant victims of cptsd the moment they realize their trauma is "ugly" (same goes to mistreatment of cluster b btw) this is literally the monkey-brain level of tribalism, and it's not a good thing, just stop.

like. these call out posts and, granted, very shallow, nitpicky and generally low tier attempts at analysis are literally just kiwi/lolcow.farm threads 2.0, but this time this is excused because it's not associated with aforementioned websites.

---

imma be real, i obviously don't really know what to do in these cases. especially when the person's behavior is completely out of hand. such as, pathological lying, sui baiting, self harm, etc. there isn't much you can do if you're miles away probably (though, as a trauma survivor that might have fallen down the insanity road when i turned 18, all it took is supportive friends and communities online that gradually helped me to stay sane and safe, so... who knows) i just sort of ignore people like this and try not to enable/trigger them further.

i'm thinking now that boundaries play a role here. a lot of people end up being abused by trauma survivors because they, themselves, have poor boundaries. that was the case with me too, and now i realize that maybe i could have helped them more if i had better boundaries and didn't let their antics get to me.

but anyway, stuff like this makes me think there's no hope nor place for trauma survivors. people are still largely ignorant on psychology and rely more on their knee-jerk reactions about events/people rather than stopping and thinking what is going on (bonus points if said people are also trauma victims, that's how you get never ending internet dramas lmao). cptsd victims, esp the longer they go untreated, unaccepted, misunderstood and ostracized, are the easiest target despite, for the most part, doing no harm. in retrospect, the harm they actually did was either something stemming clearly from mental issues, or something so... relatively mundane? i had some artists i used to follow and was disillusioned with them for one reason or another, and things they did made me angry at the time. but now i regret jumping on the bandwagon lmfao i kind of realized in retrospect that it was all some petty crap and definitely not something worthy of "cancelling" someone, it was just that typical weaponization of person's issues, thoughts, or even just neutral traits, which then was obviously met with them weaponizing their sui and self harm ideation in return. because that's what trauma survivors do. their emotions and behaviors are developmentally arrested.

---

i'm thinking how the whole chris-chan saga is sort of like icon nowadays, and sometimes it's presented like the biggest, most documented online harassment campaign, along with chris being the most documented person online. it sounds big. epic, even. sometimes it even makes you think it's the worst case of online harassment.

... and yet, how do we define "worst"? what about the rest of people documented on kf/lolcow? what about people who ended their lives from being unable to cope with the harassment AND with themselves? is there a line? where is the line? when bullying, enabling, harassing, abusing is "safe and appropriate enough to do"? am i the only one seeing absurdity of this question?

---

... i also can't stop thinking about how in most cases these people are from marginalized groups. i can't stop thinking how groups of ignorant, often seeking for some outlet, people are also acting like vigilantes when it comes to this enabling and/or harassment. is there a term cyberlynching? because it's literally what is happening. especially in most extreme cases when said "vigilantes" are pushing a clearly maladjusted person to suicide, probably knowing deep down that this person is weak and an easy target.

[otome-mondays]

Sympathy Kiss First Impressions

Welcome to the third first impressions post! I tried to play this game simultaneously with the r/otomegames subreddit’s play along, but work got really busy for me. If you’d like to see my more in depth thoughts on my first impressions, please go check out the subreddit. I’m u/otome-mondays. Also, please look up trigger warnings for any potentially triggering content! As usual, this post is all over the place, contains spoilers, and is not overly formatted/proofread/etc.

I started playing this game on February 26, 2024 when the game’s English localization was released. I stopped this post at the end of the common route. For this post, my most anticipated route will be marked with ✨ and least with 💥.

General Thoughts

I’m not a fan of having an eyeless MC, but that’s never stopped me from playing an otome before. It’s just a little…off…to me. I really like Oe so far, she’s my favorite at the moment. I don’t like how quiet the main character is? Even when she’s supposed to be interacting with the characters, we don’t get much on actual spoken dialogue. Also she doesn’t have a name tag so I’m prone to forgetting her name way more than I should. Me being me, I constantly have to point out any connections I see. In this game they use the messaging app RiNG, which is also used in the Lover Pretend universe…I’m connecting these two as in the same universe thank you very much. Why are the girls in this game so stunning, it’s basically unfair they don’t have routes. That would be an interesting thing for Otomate to do, doubt they would, but I’d be all for it. It’s nice that we have an MC who isn’t a teenager, I feel like most otomes I’ve played lately have 16-18 year old protags.

Mitsuki

Wasn’t expecting his voice to be what it is, but it does fit I think. This tells me I need to actually look at the voice actors more often lol. He’s kinda annoying. He’s definitely a genki archetype, which I usually don’t gravitate towards. He’s at least comedic enough that I can start to enjoy him as a character.

Kohei

Well isn’t he a ball of rainbows and sunshine! I really hope I don’t end up mostly annoyed by most these characters but so far we’re 3/6 on the I’ve decided they’re annoying to some extent. Oh my god he’s so annoying. It’s like he’s a middle schooler who made not liking people their one personality trait. I’m begging this game to have pulled a Zafora-style tsundere with him at least because then I’ll at least enjoy his route.

Yoji

Oh my god he’s annoying. It was nice of him to buy her juice but wow I already hate him lol. Greatttt he’s gonna be her boss. Can’t wait to deal with his crap he’ll inevitably bring. His voice sounds familiar…is he voiced by the same guy who voiced Tsukuyomi from Olympia and Ankou from Virche? …oh my god he is ok maybe I can end up liking him. I’m going to take this time an actually look at the actors for the LIs. I’m really trying but I CANNOT stop hearing Ankou and thinking Ankou is here I’m so sorry Yoji. He’s actually growing on me.

Rokuro ✨

He seems way nicer AND not annoying compared to most the others I’ve seen so far! I also do recognize that his actor voiced Hugo from Virche, so bonus points there. Ok yeah definitely a pretty interesting character. He seems very nice so I’m excited for his route!

Nori

Oh no everybody it’s a pretty boy with piercings…and is that a tattoo? Well I have a good idea of who my fav might potentially be. Oh my god he’s adorable. I am in love with his design. He seems very nice! This is one of the weirdest and most irrelevant things for me to point out, but I think it’s kinda funny he has a beauty mark in the same general area that my own is in lol. He’s got the bare necessities of social interaction and I love him for that. Ngl, I am concerned for this dude. Ok…yeah now I’m getting some slight red flags lol.

Shuya 💥

He’s interesting enough, I currently can’t really see him in a “oh yeah that’s definitely a love interest” so we’ll see if that changes. He feels more like a side character I enjoy type of character. I can already understand the appeal to Shuya as a LI even though I know like 2 things about him, but he’s not typically the type of character I go for as far as I’m aware.

Warning: Theories on secret routes

So I’m trying to go in blind for the most part on who the secret characters are, but it’s obvious one is gonna be that one brunette guy the works in the same company as Rokuro (wow my remembering names is not working tonight) and I’m like 80% sure on the other one being YOFY? I’m not gonna go out of my way and confirm this so for those who have finished the game by the time this post goes up or are aware, be aware of that lol. Also, I’m assuming this post will be up after I discover who the secret routes are, but please refrain from telling me until you see that the game has left my currently playing or if you see me talk about it on reddit :)

[mlsofh]

If I Wrote It - Helluva Boss

Hello Wayward Sinners!

I have a mini series I will be doing called "If I Wrote It" and it will cover how if I wrote Helluva Boss what would I change, and what would I keep. Lets be real: I can never compare to the ground breaking work Viv has done. She is truly a master of the indie animation renaissance we are seeing in motion right now. I love and adore her work! Same goes to Brandon Rogers who is a hilarious creator and equally ahead of his time. He is a fantastic content creator. Now we should start on our first episode of "If I Wrote It." Firstly, as an artist I have to comment on the designs of the characters. I don't mind them, on the contrary, for indie animation they're really great! I have to take into account that this is an animated series, and thus, characters should be generally animation friendly to get it out as fast as IMP does (I refer to the cast of Helluva Boss as IMP. I can't help myself.) So, we can start off simple with coloring and design details. We know details aren't too big of an issue as Viv does load her characters with quite a bit of detail. Characters having a sizeable amount of detail is a great thing, especially in the simplistic art style she does have whenever it comes to the actual body models of characters. Let's look at Blitz first. Blitz's character design is actually one I wouldn't change. For an imp like him, I love his design. It makes sense, and is cohesive with how he is as a character. I personally believe he is one of the best designed characters right next to Loona, and Crimson. Next, we have Loona, the adopted daughter of Blitz. I wouldn't change her design too much either, maybe make her more covered and as the show goes on she gets to the outfit she has now. It could be a thing that Loona opens up slowly and that leads to her wearing the clothes she really likes. Also, I will say I would age down Loona to seventeen, and make her fifteen when Blitz adopted her. This would allow for her to have that puppy crush on Vortex and become closer to Octavia which is a pretty big key point in an episode. Having Loona not be old enough to have that maturity, and grow throughout the series is something I would've rather seen. She acts more like a mid to late teenager in the show. This would also leave room for Blitz to grow as a dad and realize he doesn't need to be over protective of her. Bonus: The hellhound party episode would be so funny with Blitz finding out she snuck away to a party only for him to get shitfaced. M&M need a major tuneup I will say. Knowing that imps are supposed to have biological specifics that make them different from the other sex, this means M&M by all standards could look like siblings. Thankfully their designs differ enough in show to where we know they're not. Their designs still need a tune up, as they almost blend in like background characters when they're part of the primary cast. Lets start with giving imps from other rings skin differentiation, not anything extremely out of the red, but maybe having warm reds vs cold reds. Making Millie lean into a warm orange or vibrant red. Next, Moxxie. Giving him a red that leans into cooler colors like green or maybe a dulled yellow under the red of his skin tone could add to some variety amongst imps. We could also have Millie be built stronger than him, and more athletic, while he is more skinny and uses guns/far away weaponry. Highlighting his intelligence with weapons. This can be further highlighted whenever he meets Striker. We will tune back in for Stolas, Striker, Octavia and more next post, Stay tuned!

[mitskicentral]

all about bury me at makeout creek, mitski's third album

Retired from Sad, New Career in Business was released on 11 November 2014

original tracklist (streaming services except bandcamp): 1. texas reznikoff 2. townie 3. first love / late spring 4. francis forever 5. i don't smoke 6. jobless monday 7. drunk walk home 8. i will 9. carry me out 10. last words of a shooting star

background: - mitski learned to play the guitar to record this album because she graduated university and would not be able to access the school orchestra, which helped her record the instrumentals for her first two albums. - the title of the album is from a quote from the simpsons - mitski released this album under 3 record labels: first, double double whammy, then don giovanni records (the release under which included bonus tracks), and finally with her current label, dead oceans

general score: 78/100 on albumoftheyear 3.80/5 on rate your music 4.5 stars on allmusic 3.5 stars on rolling stone 7.7 on pitchfork B on consequence of sound

keywords: (from rate your music) lonely, anxious, passionate, female vocals, raw, lo-fi, melancholic, longing, bittersweet, love, romantic, introspective, lethargic, depressive, noisy, sentimental, melodic, poetic, existential, nocturnal, alienation —rate your music

genres (from rate your music): indie rock / singer-songwriter / noise pop / slacker rock

(from albumoftheyear): indie rock, singer-songwriter, noise pop, slacker rock, noise rock

what mitski has said about the album:

"I didn’t play guitar before this record. I’d always been playing piano and some drums. I took on a new instrument because I wanted a fresh start … I figured a guitar would be easier to carry around [than a keyboard]. I’d always been fascinated by death, which sounds so morbid … there’s a sense that you’re never young enough, or your career is going to end soon. So there’s that element of “I’m going to die soon.” It’s always on my mind. …these are my songs, I’m putting my heart into them, but people might not listen to it, so whatever, let’s just have fun." —Interview Magazine (2014)

"[I Will] is kind of telling someone you love them and you’re going to be with them no matter what and you support them … unfortunately it’s not something that I’m saying to anyone else. It’s more like I actually wrote this for myself … I really needed that TLC loving care thing. I do think that a lot of the lyrics on the album are funny. …I appreciate that somebody can be sort of feeling down but witty about it at the same time." —The L Magazine (2014)

this is day 4 of the mitski advent calendar 2022, a series where i post mitski-related content every day of december leading up to christmas day.

treat yourself, and listen to the mitski song of the day:

[feyre-starborn]

***HOSAB AND KOA SPOLIERS***

Unpopular opinion: but I’m so glad that Rhys is kinda the centre of the whole SJM multiverse. First, he showed up in Kingdom of Ash and he was highlighted in that cameo more than Feyre was. And in acosf he and Azriel were the only ones that were actively interested in other worlds and in with his appearance in hosab, he was the main highlight of that whole scene.

I see a lot of people hating Rhys for this and wishing he would F off…but I’m so happy that he is the centre of it. He’s my fav bat boy and book boyfriend and I love it. It’s also so funny seeing that haters go feral at it. It makes me so happy to be a Rhys stan because Sarah will never stop making him the centre of attention and she never disappoints!!!!!!

First off, thank you for being one of the few asks that isn’t terrorising me for not liking a certain character lol!!!!….and sorry I answered this late. I had to gather my lacking brain cells to answer this 😭

Anyways…I completely agree!! It’s amazing being a Rhys stan for this.

I feel like Sarah made Rhys kinda the centre of the multiverse because we don’t really know much about him and his past/heritage. It’s hinted in the acosf Feysand bonus scene that Feyre knows…but we don’t. And I think this is because Sarah was holding this off until the crossover. Feyre’s story has already been told. She had 4 books of her story but we don’t have much about Rhys’ story at all. His story was skimmed over. We only know snippets—again, this is because I think she was holding this off until the crossover.

And as I have mentioned in previous posts, even though the spin off is from other povs and about different characters, Feyre and Rhys’ story of still being told throughout (as we saw with Feysand pregnancy in acosf). They are still the centre of the whole series. It still revolves around them. And I think this spin-off/crossover is gonna focus more on Rhys’ history/bloodline/heritage and his family name that could possibly hold enough sway for him to become High King…because we know nothing of that.

(First off I wanna say that I don’t actually think he’ll become a High King. Even though I would love it, I don’t think he would do it. I feel like because of his bloodline, he might have a direct ancestor that was a very powerful person,which could possibly make Rhys the heir to Prythian—remember that Rhys is the most powerful High Lord in history. There’s a reason for this.)

And then we have Ruhn and Rhys’ similarities. We’re gonna get detailed explanations about Rhys’ heritage that links him to Ruhn. So I feel like this is probably the main reason that Sarah is doing this crossover. To reveal Rhys’ heritage and family history but not in a way that makes it all about him if that makes sense? Because CC3 and the acotar spin off will be written from other characters pov. Not Rhys’. But Sarah did say in her recent interview that we might get acotar characters pov in CC3. So if she still goes with that plan, there’s a huge possibility that we’ll get both Rhys and Feyre’s pov still…making it about them too lol.

And again, it’s an amazing day to be a Rhys stan. We are thriving with the never ending content that Sarah gives us. So let’s sit back and enjoy it and let the haters froth all they want!!!