#views us as some sort of aliens. every so often i read something where the person very clearly never anticipated that

[feluka]

that comment is really making me lose my mind imagine writing so much with full confidence about something you know absolutely nothing about. average terf intelligence level i guess.

[gophergal]

Author Commentary - I Know Where to Look (Chapter 1)

Howdy y'all! I just posted the first chapter of my first tf2 fic, and figured that rambling about my thought processes from writing it would be fun. So, enjoy?

Welcome to my first Author Commentary post!

Regardless of if anyone other than my best bud (and partner in word crimes) @cursed—alien read these going forward, I thought it would be fun to explain references and thoughts from the process of fic writing. These are the sort of thing I love to know about my favorite art. I’m a great lover of artist interviews (specifically the ones where the artist in question explains the development of the concept and reasoning for the techniques they use) and an avid reader of author’s notes, so I hope that if anyone reading my fic is like me that they will enjoy this addition to the story.

Formatting

I feel that the most notable thing about this fic is that, despite being rated as explicit, every explicitly sexual scene is under a cut. Why do this instead of just making the scenes fade to black or formatting it in a standard manner? Because, dear reader, I have had the experience of reading explicitly rated fic solely for the buildup to the smut scenes. I experience fluctuations between sex favorability to neutrality, all the way to aversion. When I’m feeling uncomfortable with explicit sexual content, I often wish there was a way to just skip those scenes entirely. But on the other hand, I also acknowledge that sex scenes CAN have narrative and character importance. For the specific dynamic that Corey and I envisioned for Red Oktoberfest- that being a relationship that starts as professional and sexual before becoming emotionally involved, those scenes would be a shame to ignore entirely on my part.

Behaviors and thoughts during sexual intimacy are rich with characterization, and I wanted to be able to express that. So, the best of both worlds, to me, was to have a second layer of opting in to reading those scenes. I may have to redo them later, however, because the way I had to go about it doesn’t work with pdf downloads and likely isn’t screen reader accessible. My current thoughts in regards to those problems is to encourage folks to download as some other format, and eventually create a podfic of this story.

Headcanons Involved

Something you may notice about this is the amount of headcanon I’m trying to cram into it. To be frank, I use most fic writing as a vehicle with which to go “look at my headcanons, boy”, so this isn’t surprising.

The first of which I would like to note is Heavy’s love of pulp romance. I couldn’t tell you why I first thought of it, but it’s grown on me like moss. Mikhail is a lover and a fighter. To me. In my heart. He views all art for what it is, and values the stories themselves pretty equally. The only important difference between the two books he’s carried with him from Russia and the pulp he’s collected in the US is sentimentality.

Speaking of those books, why the two I picked? Brothers Karamazov is a pretty obvious choice. It’s a classic and widely studied. Tsar Hunger by Leonid Andreyev, however was actually mentioned by name in Poker Night At The Inventory. In one conversation, Tycho asks Heavy what his favorite book is, to which he replies that he “prefers war.” Eventually, though, he does end up saying that he likes Tsar Hunger. I wanted to know if this was just a book picked at random, or if it actually meant something about Telltale’s interpretation of Heavy’s character. After all, the tumblr side of the fandom LOVES Heavy’s PhD in Russian Literature. It was. A BITCH. To find any information about that book. There isn’t a goodreads page for it. Or a wikipedia. Or even an amazon page selling copies. Like, what the fuck? Eventually, I found that the Internet Archive has it available to borrow by the hour. The particular copy that was archived was originally from the University of Texas and has a fabric cover. So no synopsis.

At this point I was thinking “oh my fucking god I’m two hours into this research process,” and decided I wouldn’t be reading King Hunger. I’ve skimmed it a bit and, filling in the blanks with some guesses based on the information Wikipedia provided about the author, it’s a symbolic/expressionist criticism of the monarchy, but one which also criticizes bloody revolution. Please take that with a pound of salt though. Once again, I spent a solid three hours getting to that amount of understanding.

This actually leads me to discussing another element that’s important to my interpretation of Heavy. Namely, who is father was. On r/TF2, I constantly see people arguing back and forth whether its fine to joke about Mikhail being “Heavy Communism Guy” or if that’s a gross misunderstanding since his father was declared a counterrevolutionary. (Meanwhile these same dimwits are happily joking about Medic being a member of a certain fascist regime, but I digress)

Personally, I think Mikhail’s father (who I will be calling Ivan Melnyk going forward, as I headcanon Heavy’s full name to be Mikhail Ivanovich Melnyk) was counterrevolutionary, but not anti-communist. That venn diagram isn’t just a circle my friends. In political matters, it’s very easy to get stuck in black and white thinking- and that’s fair for large matters- but, when it comes down to how people believe they should go about making changes, that’s where you get in-fighting between allied groups.

More clearly, I believe that Ivan was a man who believed in progress and common good, but found disproportionate violence distasteful. And he would have tried to impart those values on his son. However, Ivan’s death and his family’s imprisonment would really sour that for Mikhail. It adds a level of complexity where he is both someone who hates senseless violence (see: the sparrow story in Poker Night), but is extremely wrathful (see: the engineer story in Poker Night).

Switching gears, let’s talk respawn. Personally, I like the idea of it as something that exists in universe, rather than just being a game mechanic in the Documentary Video Game About the Gravel Wars. It adds some more leeway for goofy shit the mercs can get up to while also opening up more avenues for mentally trauma. Angst my beloved.

Respawn

Respawn, in my mind, works by teleporting the remains to a mechanism that then recycles the matter into a pre-programmed form. I imagine that this is updated every day for the TF2 mercs, but only by the week or month for the Classic era systems. Upon exiting respawn, subjects may experience “respawn sickness,” which includes symptoms of nausea, diziness, anxiety, sensitivity to light and sound, disorientation, soreness, ect. One can become accustomed to respawn over time, and this is expedited by the modern systems, but some might remain sensitive to respawn even after years of use.

TFI standard protocol is to switch respawn systems over to the older system in order save money and perform diagnostics/maintenance without risking the permanent death of one of their “specialists.”

Another book note

The passage Heavy reads at the end is from a novella called Special Nurse by Lucy Agnes Hancock. It is Yet Another book I haven’t read, but decided to reference. Originally, I had wanted to reference a Harlequin Romance published in 1960-63, as I really didn’t want to include that flavor of anachronism. Dont fucking ask me why, but it mattered to me. However, the vast majority of what I could find online to read was published between 1975 and 1998. There were three books that technically fit my requirements, but the two from 1961 were either vacation romance or noble romance. Which just didn’t fit the vibe I was looking for. And the one from 1963 was published in November of that year. Which would have been fine, but I envisioned this chapter taking place in late May or early June.

In the late 40’s to mid 60’s Harlequin published SOOOOO many hospital romances. And this amused me, so I desperately wanted Heavy to be reading one. But I searched multiple times and just. Couldn’t find any that I could skim through. Fuck, dude, I couldn’t even find samples or excerpts. I COULD BARELY FIND SYNOPSES. I got desperate and dug through my mom’s old romance novel collection and lo and behold, there it was. Special Nurse. It’s not Harlequin (published by Pocket Books) and it wasn’t technically from 60-63 (originally published in 1948, but received 5 print runs from 1950-19060. Mine is from August 1960), but it WAS A DOCTOR ROMANCE. HUZZAH.

Dear fucking lord why do I do this shit to myself ahhhhhhhh

[gotjacobian]

Travel journal-type posting, just describing some of the stuff I've gotten to do in Japan.

Day 1: Got off the plane, got through passport control and customs with minimum issues (I fucked up my entry date bc time zones and had to hold up the line while I fixed it whoops). Took the subway to Yokohama, also screwed that up because I was hopped up on benadryl and still only managed to sleep for 2 hours at a time max on the plane. Unscrewed it up with the help of a very patient attendant, made it to the hotel. I bought takoyaki and a highball from a place across the street from the hotel, which reminded me that I don’t actually like takoyaki. It’s too mushy. Then passed out.

Day 2: This was my full day in Yokohama before the conference. I beelined for a 7-11 to get the canned coffee I like and can only get here (and some pastries), then went to a park by the baseball stadium to eat it. Then I took off to try and at least see the (closed :( ) gundam factory exhibit. There was a triathalon in the way, so I spent awhile wandering through parks to get around it and get close enough for a picture. There were tons of beautiful gardens, and lots of people taking photos of their costumed dogs there? Like, 3 dog photoshoots for every presumed child/romantic partner photoshoot. They all seemed very happy to chill in the flowers and get fussed over.

In general Yokohama is really well suited to my kind of travel wandering - going along the harbor coast takes you through a couple different gorgeous parks and past a few museums, and also gives you a great view of the water. I ended up going into the doll museum, and immediately learned I had vastly overestimated the amount of english they’d have on the exhibits based on their website. I speak basically no Japanese, so used an image translate app a lot. That’s wasn’t an option the last time I was in Japan in 2019 - it was really useful! I drained my battery using it on basically every single plaque in the museum. The style of the exhibit captions felt different than I’d expect from a US museum. They were often more anecdotes from an artist or curator than they were descriptions. I’m curious to what extent that was cultural or was something lost in translation? The translations I got definitely weren’t perfect, and seemed to get worse the more anecdotal or conversational the material was.

The exhibit that attracted me to the doll museum was called “Why do we create objects that look like humans?”. It had exhibits of historical dolls and sculptures, as well as installations from modern artist and dollmakers. A lot of it touched on an inherent alienation in recreating the human in the nonhuman, and the ways all depictions of the human form are exaggerated in ways we sort after the fact into “beautiful” or “grotesque.” I liked it, but honestly wanted it to be more like, embodiment philosophy-y. Very much a me problem.

On the way back, I stopped by Yokohama’s Chinatown. I feel like it was much more of a tourist attraction than the equivalent in Boston or SF - lots of street food stands and people hawking specific restaurants or palm-reading services. Lots of panda-themed merch. It was VERY crowded. I bought a single pork bun for lunch, wandered through a few stores, and then ditched to try and find somewhere calmer.

A friend recommended that I check out Kaganecho, the arts district about a half an hour walk along the canal from where I was staying, so I went that way. I immediately saw a lot of signs advertising an “Art Bazaar” that was supposed to be happening in the area. There were people wandering around with tickets and brochures. It took me an hour to figure out how to get one - I was saved by stumbling on a performance piece that was part of the exhibit, a woman playing a song by hitting a series of bowls with wooden mallets, that just happened to be scheduled right then. It was right under the train line, so you got the loud rumbling drowning her out every few minutes, and also the ambient city sounds of bikes and children and wind under her playing. When she finished, I stalked some people who were watching with me and finally found the office that could sell me a ticket.

The “art bazaar” is a yearly exhibition in a series of apartments converted into studios in the few blocks around a particular train station. You’re given a ticket and a map where some of the buildings were marked. You wander around to find them, go in, and there’s Art there. I’ll probably post separately about this, honestly. It was one of the coolest gallery experiences I’ve ever had. The theme of the exhibits was “The world through no art”, and a lot of the material directly engaged with the history of the area - a neighborhood that housed a lot of bars, brothels, etc starting from the US occupation in the city post WWII, which were forcibly evicted in the 2000s, then later replaced with the studios as part of a city initiative to ‘rejuvenate’ the area. I went to every single exhibit that was open and stayed until I was about to pass out from the combination of walking and art feelings. I chickened out of going to a restaurant alone when I was already exhausted, and instead grabbed a katsu sandwich from 7-11 to eat in my hotel room.

Day 3: Start of the conference. It was raining horribly, and I have big fears about walking in the rain with my laptop, so I skipped the first couple hours until it calmed enough that I felt okay buying and using an umbrella. The conference was in this giant exhibition hall on a peninsula in the city that was all fancy hotels, shopping centers, and an amusement park. My maps app kept trying to get me to walk THROUGH the amusement park to get there, which was a kind of ominous experience when it was empty and raining. I met with some friends and labmates, we got Singaporean food for lunch (chicken and rice), and went to some of the afternoon talks. There was a welcome banquet where a guy performed with Kendamas (japanese toy/prop with a wooden ball attached to a wooden thing with cups and a spike). He did a bunch of poi tricks with them, and seemed to be having the time of his life. They also opened the expo, where I discovered they did at least have the gundam head from the gundam factory exhibit left over (still cannot believe they would close it a month before the robotics conference). Me and one of my former labmates got dinner at a katsu place that claimed to be the oldest in the city. We had to split from the group to get it, since there weren’t any vegetarian options there, but it was really good. I discovered that my hotel is like 1/10th as fancy as any of the other conference hotels, idk what happened. Very jealous of the main venue hotel people who had a room overlooking the harbor.

Day 4: Got there in the morning, did some conference stuff. We got sushi for lunch in this giant mall right next to the venue. I ditched for half an hour in the afternoon to wander through a different park by the harbor, which was also very pretty. All the greenery is very green and the water is very blue. I took another break to try and work some on my paper, since I feel bad for not doing more of that, but finding a place with decent wifi is hard. I meet back up with my labmates to get dinner, at a nearby ramen place with vegan options. I got their signature yuzu shio ramen, which was good, but I still prefer the pork-based styles.

Day 5: Is the day I’m helping present. I go to my coauthor’s presentation and then stand with him at the poster session, and get to talk to a few people. I’m surprised how fast the paper comes back to me, even though I haven’t really thought about it for at least a year at this point. I get lunch with another labmate at a milk-themed restaurant in the mall. I’m weirdly charmed that in Japan, “milk” is a flavor? And that there are prefectures proud of their local milk? The restaurant has both western-style food with cheese or cream as ingredients, and a milk and cheese bar where you can get bread, spreadable cheese, and toppings. I run back to the hotel before the conference banquet, get lost in the other hotel the banquet is in, finally arrive and realize all my labmates are either ditching or got a different banquet venue, so I sit with a very nice person from the university of edinburgh I met at the poster earlier that day. I talk about firespinning and mugs because I’m incapable of not doing so. Every one of the venues has a different style of food and performance - ours performance is actually a lion dance, which is notably… not japanese, put on by students from a school in the local chinatown. It’s still really impressive, especially given that they did it between the tables people were eating at. Like, I’ve attempted to be a base for a cheerleading toss once, and it was hard for 3 people to hold one up - these performers were jumping on each other’s shoulders the whole time, while puppeting the giant lion. They kept having it pretend to eat the heads of the people it walked past, it was a good time.

I spend an hour or two that night on my Quest, which is that I saw some kind of peach jelly drink in exactly one vending machine early in the trip and didn’t buy it. Now I want it, so I’ve been wandering through the city inspecting vending machines to try and find it again. Tonight I wander up and down this shopping center street that has a lot of them, in the rain, but no dice. I buy peach flavored ice cream at the 7-11 instead and reaffirm my mission.

Day 6: I wake up feeling bad, in both a stress and a physical way. I stay at the hotel and work on my paper, then go to a nearby cafe and try to work on my paper, but they don’t have wifi. I go back and end up sleeping, which I feel bad about, but probably needed - I can get disconnected from my own tiredness levels when I’m doing extended crunch time for a project, and I’m trying to be more aware of that. I don’t go to any of the conference stuff, but do leave at one point to get the local kind of ramen from a place I saw recommended online. The style is called ie-kei, and is an emulsified mix of pork broth and shoyu with chicken oil, served with pork, seaweed, short noodles, and spinach on top. I redeem myself by ordering and eating in the restaurant alone. It’s good in a comfort food way. I go back to the hotel and alternate working and sleeping, and end up skipping dinner with my labmates because I still feel gross.

Day 7: I feel better when I wake up, but have already committed to skipping this day of the conference because I’m going to Osaka. I find another cafe that actually has wifi, and eat there to do some work in the morning. Tangent - people really go nuts for the egg salad sandwiches here, and I don’t get it. I tried one and thought it was tasteless and had that bad cooked egg yolk texture. Super not for me.

I check out of the hotel and take the subway to Tokyo station. I get there an hour early because I forgot when my train was, so wander around the station for a while. It is SO crowded and there are SO MANY stores selling train bento, souvenirs, boxes of desserts to give as gifts, etc, and every single one has a designated salesperson shouting into the void. It is the most sensory-overloading, maze-like place I have been in my entire life. I take great pride in managing to eventually actually find the internet-recommended places to get ekibento for the train. I buy one with more traditional food, and one kids one that comes in a fake JR train freight container, because I really want the fake freight container. I also get an apple-custard pastry and a crepe with cream and melon ball topping. And then I am exhausted, and still too early for my train, so I stand by the platform and am extremely confused when someone asks me for directions (correctly assigned english-speaking person who knows where the ekibento are at the tokyo shinkansen station, I guess).

I do get on the train eventually, and eat one of the bento (I save the second because I am worried the person sitting next to me is gonna judge me for eating 2 bento, one of which is definitely meant for children, but I will eat it eventually). I said I was gonna do work but instead I’m writing this and watching out the window of the train. I feel like everyone has their travel fixation - my grandparents laugh about how when my mom and brother would go on trips as kids, they’d get disposable cameras. And when they developed the photos, all of them were of ponds, lakes, coastlines, because they grew up in the west texas desert. I grew up in the flat, flat Texas plains, and now I’m like that about mountains. This train goes straight through them, and right past Mt Fuji. It gets to me how distinctive the landscape in japan is - I’ve looked at a lot of traditional japanese art as like, a precursor to modern styles in comics, because I find it interesting. And I feel like I looked at some elements of that style - atmospheric perspective, depth through stacking flat layers of scenery, the specific abstract-seeming way Mt Fuji gets drawn - and assumed it was entirely an artistic choice. But like… Mt Fuji just looks like that. The landscape just looks like that, with the fog and the layered mountains. The green is such a specific shade of green, and the blue is a specific shade of blue, and the buildings are all such a particular faded palette in a way I feel like must make Japan instantly recognizable on geoguessr, a game I am very bad at. I love looking at the cities and buildings, too - I wish I knew the words to describe the specifics of the style and design. I feel like I'm getting increasing city architecture obsessed these days, despite not having that language. Getting to see it is the bit of travel that really makes me feel like I'm experiencing something I couldn't anywhere else. I'm gonna find my hotel in Osaka once I get there, hunt down some food, then will probably try and do some more work before bed. Then tomorrow, in theory, Osaka castle and whatever else seems compelling.

[nightmare-catguy]

Johnny’s sexual escapade chapters (1) are a bit grating, however, Johnny isn’t really a super reliable narrator here. There’s some stuff he says I believe, and other things I don’t. He fucks every girl he comes into contact with, to the point where a woman entering the story, it’s pretty predictable what happens next. But then again, I don’t know. If he lies about sex, wouldn’t he lie about Thumper? Is she so Godly to him, he can’t even imagine being on her level? But thats not true really, he’s had dreams about her that are the usual flair of Johnny Horny. I guess what I find is that, there is no sanctuary for Truant.

Johnny Truant openly tells us a few times he’s a liar though, he does so very casually, opening up about his fantastical stories. At the same time he can be very honest, but only to an extent. I think to protect himself. The story of his chipped tooth is dark, and yes in some ways detailed, but not as detailed as Johnny can get. (2)

Sex is something that can take your mind off of things, especially if your stress response is “I need to get laid.” Sex is a comfort (3), even if its momentary. Pleasure, women, drugs— He burried himself in this shit. To the point of access. To the point where I question his point of view.

________________________________________

1. I don’t think they’re chapters, but I don’t know what else to call them.

2. Garry Callough, “The Truth of Truant,” The New York Times, August 13th, 2003, section 23.

3. Personally I try to use sex as a way to evade my fears as well. But funnily enough I find myself often in Johnny’s shoes. I don’t think I’m as bad as he is though. I’m reading through House of Leaves at a stupid speed (i’m around 400 pages in) It’s been around 3 days since I started, I didn’t expect it to hook me so well. So needless to say I’ve kinda been lost on the sauce. A quiet treck down the stairs at night has my hair standing on end. The Navidson Record is a super cool story, but it sure does sneak up on you. It’s creepiness. Kind of like how I felt about Skinamarink, which is why I wanted to read this book. But despite trying to slip into the comfort of my boyfriend’s face. His body, especially the fantasy of it. Loose myself in a bit, so I could take comfort in the idea of his presence. I glanced over my shoulder to the black closet that stood behind me. I had a dim lamp on, I guess its light only punctured the closet’s entrance but the rest of it. Just pitch black, no wonder people think monsters live in places like that.

It had such a presence to me.

I looked away, I’m not really scared of the dark. I often feel through it in the night for a glass of water, my house is familiar to me y’know? But what if it suddenly wasn’t? I mean in some ways its changed quite a bit since I came back from college. My closet especially, mom renovated it. It looks nice but it smelled foreign for awhile. It had a unpleasant sort of sour scent. The wood was stained and hadn’t really properly dried yet, so the smell just stuck to everything including my clothes. I think my mom found the scent pleasant but it made my closet supremely more alien. So now there it is, my sour smelling closet giving me the stink eye.

No not really, it’s more akin to a hollowed out eye socket when it gets that dark.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I’ve just finished Josie Long’s recently released short story collection, Because I Don’t Know What You Mean and What You Don’t, and holy hell, was it ever good. I mean, I expected it to be good, because it’s Josie Long. But I don’t really know exactly what I expected it to be, as I have not read a lot of short story collections in my life. I just knew she was going to deliver something that would be worth the time, and she really, really did.

Short stories aren’t a big draw for me mainly because I tend to like longer things; you can get across a short plot and a basic iteration of a theme and/or message in a short story, but it’s not generally enough to really get to know a character. And if I’m going to get into a bit of fiction, I like to do that. The big thing Josie Long managed to do with these stories was make the writing so immediate that it felt like we did know all the characters, even in the limited time and space.

Every story was written in incredibly close first-person – aside from one, I guess, which was sort of second-person, in that it used this dialogue-only trick that I thought was amazingly effective. They all read like a stream of consciousness. Like they weren’t just a description of something that happened – they were a transcription of the inner monologue that someone had while they experienced something, and we can work out what they experienced based on that monologue. This meant that sometimes I had to scramble a bit to keep up and work out the narrative, but I think that was the point. Doing that kept me even more engaged in the stories. The settings and circumstances and even the identify of the viewpoint character unfold a little at a time.

It’s fairly wide-ranging in topics, but keeps coming back to the same themes, which is what I’d expect from Josie Long, and I loved all of it. Hope and anxiety and uncertainty and longing, and I realize those words are broad enough so they could describe the themes of just about all fiction, but she really gets into them, from so many different angles. And then more specific things, like the way causes and ideals get transformed across years and generations, the way individual feelings and relationships still matter in existential struggles, justice versus compassion, people trying to understand each other across experience gaps. And capitalist alienation and class analysis, obviously. Obviously Josie Long brings it all back to class-based struggles.

Here's one really specific thing: she has a couple of stories – one in particular, but also a few more – that touch on unrequited love in a really intense and detailed way, and I realized I haven’t heard that all that often from a female perspective. Which says more about me than about the world, I think, as there definitely are lots of stories out there about unrequited love from a female perspective. But it does happen that probably too high a proportion of my music and stand-up comedy collections are by men, and that’s where I get most of my stories, and most of the time the gender of the artist doesn’t make much of a difference anyway, but romantic love does tend to be a gender-subject. And sometimes I find myself relating more to stories like that from straight men than from straight women, as my stories were more about being into girls who didn’t like me than boys, but still, I didn’t realize until I heard this tell it from the female perspective, how much I appreciated getting that side.

I thought the title drop was brilliant. Really hard-hitting moment, and the right call to name the whole book after that.

Having said that, I did read a few things other people said about the book, and saw several comments on it being a female-driven book overall, and I have what I think is an irrational level of annoyance toward that view. I mean, the fact that it’s written by a woman obviously affects the perspective. And a lot of the stories are told by female protagonists. But some of the stories have male protagonists, and almost all of them are universal.

I don’t think it’s always bad to characterize a book as being “female-driven”. The last book I heard before this one was Fern Brady’s Strong Female Character, and I’d understand saying it about that one. That one talked a lot about how Fern Brady’s life has been affected by misogyny, and other female-specific experiences (hence the title). And that’s not a bad thing at all, it’s good to have books about that! I just don’t think Josie Long’s book really is one of those things, and that is also fine. This book does touch on sexism and gendered oppression, and you don’t come out of it doubting whether the author’s a feminist, and it covers some stuff that does feel female-specific. But it takes so many different perspectives on so many different issues, it covers such a broad range of ways to look at things. It’s nitpicky to complain about this, as I see why people would call it a book about female issues and that’s not completely wrong, but also, Daniel Kitson can write one poignant play about a woman who’s pining for her ex-boyfriend and a man who plays guitar on the street and a man who calls a TV station when he’s lonely and a couple who go to clubs, and no one says he writes about men’s loneliness, you know? It’s recognized as universal. Josie Long's book has some stuff that I think happens to women in a way it doesn’t happen to men, and from my own female perspective I like reading that stuff, but also, so much of the book feels universal. There’s just so much going on, so many different things in each story, it’s so much bigger than any one thing.

Even with all the range, you can feel how much of herself Josie Long put into the book. I recognize a few little parts of a few of the stories from her autobiographical stand-up, though I believe the vast majority of the actual characters and events in the book are entirely fictional. But more than that, her perspective is in there. The simultaneous pessimism and hope. The way she can be dark but not bleak, find something that matters in the worst situations. The way she finds the stories worth telling in the apocalypse. There is an apocalypse, by the way. I got fairly near the end and was surprised that none of the stories had featured a dystopian, post-climate/fascist apocalypse society, but it’s okay, she did get to that in the last couple of stories. But even in the stories that don’t involve an all-out apocalypse, all the stories are applying some kind of socialist lens to everyone’s problems.

A few of the stories remind me a bit of The Perimeter, the one-off thing she did with Liam Williams a few years ago. In fact, that one almost could have been one of the stories in this book. Some also had shades of Super November. I’d say I think she drew from those previous things she’d done while writing in a few of these stories, except that I’m pretty sure those themes just make it into everything she does.

A few of the stories are based around some really creative, original ideas. And lots of them are based around common, well-trodden ground, but her perspective is so individual that it feels fresh no matter what she talks about. It’s engrossing and thought provoking and emotionally effective and complicated.

Also, I’m pretty sure she can write. I’m not exactly an expert on this, but I do know a few little things about the “artform” of properly good writing, given that I work as an editor (which I realize you would not know from my Tumblr posts, I realize that more every time I reread one and catch all kinds of typos, but I am actually all right it when someone’s paying me to edit stuff), and I’m pretty sure this is good. I’ve read a bunch of books written by comedians, and for many of them, I can tell the technical writing level isn’t quite what you’d expect from someone who’s an author first and foremost, but I don’t mind that, since I want to hear what the comedian has to say whether they’re a technically proficient writer or not. There have been a few exceptions to that, comedians who wrote books that feels really technically well written. The main ones I can think of right now being Alan Davies, Sandi Toksvig, and now Josie Long.

It's just really good. I listened to the audiobook, and in my experience with comedians’ books, I have found that what they (well, some of them, not all) lack in technical writing proficiency, they often make up for in being really good at reading their own writing for the audiobook. Which makes sense, as they have lots of practice with that skill from stand-up. Hearing the inflection in Josie Long’s voice on the audiobook adds a lot to the stories, I think. But I’m still planning to at some point get the physical book, too, and I’m looking forward to that.

[the-corvid-king]

zionists fuck off

find more of my original content here

and commission me here

some tags i use on this blog :

- #i reblog every bear i see - bears here

- #long reads - this tag is for posts that are long and may take more mental energy to read

- #long reads ( no paragraph breaks ) - not necessarily a long post , but due to formatting , one that may take some time to get through

- #q - queue

- #saving this for later - for saving posts to look back in later when it’s pertinent

- #self-reblog tag - sometimes i reblog from my other blogs . mostly my art blog . reblog my art, cowards

- #i don’t go here - for when i reblog shit from fandoms i’m not a part of . the individual post is funny but don’t expect more content from that fandom

- #fagdyke hours - anything gender fucky , but mostly those posts talking about “i’m a boy who is a girl” and shit like that . also p much anything that uses the word fag

- #gender envy or something - posts that talk about being a cringe failson pathetic meow meow boy or whatever . posts that talk about being a guy but in the most pathetic way possible . i really wonder what sort of image this paints about me . i hope it makes you want to study me for science

- #this bird speaks - my original text posts go here . i dont do those often tho lol

- #disabledposting - me talking about being physically disabled . i don’t currently have a tag for mental disability

- #hope for the future posts - this tag is for posts that make me feel ok about humanity and the state of things . browse through here if you need some hope

- #important - any information that i believe is important to share / for people to know . this tag overlaps with long reads a lot

- #little magics - posts that make me feel good about the world ! shit doesn’t always suck . i suspect this tag will be a lot of nature and animal posts . look through here if you want for your heart to feel full !

- #corvidsstuff - stuff about corvids . funky little men

- #the human condition ( positive ) - stuff that to me seems fundamentally human . stuff that aliens would view as a hallmark of the species . only the positive stuff tho bc sometimes i like being happy

- #the human condition - same as above but not necessarily positive . not necessarily negative either tho !

- #kill maim bite - grrrrrrr baf baf * bitse you * ( fleshcore / meatcore )

- #blasphemous jokes - jokes about christianity / christian views that defy god

- #serotonin video - good vibes only . will probably mostly be cats tbh

- #My Mechanical Girlfriend - computer4computer . computer sex

- #BEASTLY - sometimes being trans is about killing yourself to the eyes of god and the people who said they loved you and being a monster and being a fallen angel and being evil and being so so so so holy

- i do my best to tag potential triggers but i forget sometimes / don’t realize someone would b triggered by it, so please lmk if i missed something !

this is an ongoing list which will be updated in future , and most of these tags are relatively new , so many of my older posts will not be tagged according to this list . also i forget to tag things sometimes , so not everything i post will be tagged appropriately

also if anyone knows how to do the thing people do where they underline text n it links to the tag or whatever pls lmk i’m confuse

[saurexhas]

Love is Blind - Part 4

Time for couple drama! Nightmare doesn’t want anything to hurt his precious little moon, but how does said moon feel about the special treatment?

PS: Make sure you go to the end to find a special surprise that I’ll be doing for this series!

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Adjusting to blindness is never something you thought that you’d have to do, but it was the unfortunate reality you found yourself in. There certainly wasn’t a manual to it either, but you were managing thanks to everyone’s help. There were several days first spent on bedrest while you recovered from the initial incident, and it gave you a chance to come to terms with your fate and what your actions had brought. You still didn’t regret them though, because your sight was truly a small price to pay for Nightmare’s life.

That didn’t mean that the adjustment period was easy, and you probably would’ve succumbed to despair more than once if Nightmare hadn’t been by your bedside almost the entire time. Your bedroom was quickly turned into his temporary office, allowing him to continue his work and further his plans while offering you the reassuring touch of a tentacle that always lingered on your arm as proof of his presence.

When your partner was finally comfortable with the idea of you leaving your bed, it was… well, difficult would be putting it mildly. You never once realized just how much you relied on sight for almost everything. It took a day and a bit of you simply wandering around your room to not bump into everything, and even longer to actually be able to navigate by touch. Thankfully, nobody in the castle really cared about your appearance, so you weren’t judged by what clothes you were able to find and put on by yourself.

Your room was about the only place where you could safely be allowed to wander on your own at first. The castle was a confusing labyrinth of pathways and corridors that were already difficult to navigate. Attempts to explore the castle in the past had led to you almost getting lost in some abandoned part of the castle, so there was no way you were even going to try such now. But even the areas that were once familiar to you were now alien as you relied on sound and touch to guide you instead of the sense you so heavily relied on.

For the first while, Nightmare personally escorted you on any walks outside of your room. This was mostly to and from meals, a time where you could practically feel everyone’s eyes on the two of you. Your seat had also been moved towards the head of the table, just to the right of Nightmare. The dark god claimed that it was so that he could assist you should you need help with your meals. Killer was quick to point out how any of them could help you though, teasing that the real reason was simply to stick next to you like “an overprotective boyfriend”. According to Cross, the look on Nightmare’s face had been one of pure murder… even if everyone at the table knew that the idiot was right.

One thing that Killer also nailed was how protective your boyfriend suddenly was. Gone were the days of you having free reign over the castle. Instead, in the instances where he couldn’t personally escort you, one of the others was chosen to be your guide instead. Even as you grew more comfortable heading to the areas you often frequented, the rule didn’t let up. He’d also put a stop to any training or sparring plans you might’ve had, insisting that it was too dangerous to continue when you couldn’t see an attack coming.

While you understood that he did it out of love, that didn’t change how frustrating it was. You already couldn’t read, play cards, or even really cook, the last of the three likely being on the dark god’s ban list had there not been enough obvious difficulty to deter you. Sparring with the guys, while rough, was one of the only hobbies you had left, and you trusted that none of them would seriously hurt you. But Nightmare refused to listen to any arguments you put forward, and none of the others would entertain the idea for fear of their lord’s wrath.

So on top of learning to navigate a world of utter darkness, adapting daily chores to your new limitations, and being treated like you were fragile, you were utterly bored. And as days turned to weeks, your frustrations grew. You were used to everyone simply treating you as one of the crew, albeit one that Nightmare favoured. When you first arrived here, you had to fight for your right to remain and not be turned into dinner. The others had respected you for the most part, and if you wanted to engage in any of their usual antics, they didn’t hesitate to include you. Now though, everyone seemed intent on treating you as if you were some doll, one to be sat on a shelf and never touched. Everyone was suddenly afraid of hurting you, and you were no longer one of the crew. You were something else, above the others now that your relationship with the god of negativity had gotten out. Pyre had even stated that if Nightmare was their king, then that made you their ‘queen’ in a sense. Suddenly, you were set to be a ruler over the dark god’s future empire, and everyone’s views of you shifted because of it.

One choice, one that seemed so infallible before, had turned your whole life upside down. You expected to be injured in place of Nightmare, but not blinded. And while trying to deal with such a severe change of lifestyle, you were now being placed on a pedestal and nobody would treat you the same. Part of you wanted to take your frustrations out on the nearby wall, but that would likely only bring someone running to tend to your hand as if it were broken. No, you needed to go to the source of the problem.

While navigating the halls by yourself was more difficult than you could’ve ever guessed, it was made easier by your forethought to create a mental map through touch whenever you were being escorted about. The subtle change in the sound of your footfall let you know when you’d left the solid foundation of the hall your bedroom was on in favour of the landing for the grand staircase. Following the railing with your hand, you found where the hallway changed directions. To go downstairs would take you to the common room and the kitchens, while upstairs led to the library and Nightmare’s office. With your goal upstairs, you carefully shuffled along the steps, shoving your foot forward until it came in contact with the next. When your feet slid freely along the floor and the railing straightened out, you knew that you’d made it to the third floor where you’d find your partner.

After a bit of difficulty gathering your bearings and navigating the third floor of the castle, you came to Nightmare’s office. The door was open only a crack, enough to give others the hint to leave him be while allowing him to hear if any chaos should erupt from the lower levels. Ever so slowly, you pushed the door open, only to cringe as a painfully loud squeak of the hinges alerted your boyfriend to your presence. “MC? What are you doing up here? Whoever brought you here should know that I didn’t wish to be disturbed.”

“Oh, nobody brought me here, I came up here myself. Wasn’t that hard,” you shrugged, lying a bit at the ease of which you got here but determined to make the dark god see that you weren’t helpless. “We need to talk.”

A sigh emanated from Nightmare’s direction, and you could imagine how he was pinching the bridge of his nose as he often did when annoyed or frustrated with something. “First off, I thought I made it clear that you are to have someone escort you around the castle to minimize accidents. And secondly, can whatever conversation you want wait? I have plenty of-”

“No actually, it can’t,” you cut him off, mustering your confidence as you stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind you. “I need to talk to you now, not later.”

Being unable to read his body language was frustrating, leaving everything to your imagination with no way to know if you were interpreting things correctly. You knew that he didn’t like taking orders from anyone, not even you, leaving you to wonder if the silence was due to your demanding tone. Perhaps you should’ve worded things better, but before you could worry too much, Nightmare responded to your demanding request. “Very well, for you little moon, I will make time. Please, take a seat and share what’s on your mind.”

It took every ounce of focus you had to find one of the plush chairs on the other side of his desk, sinking down into it once you found it and being thankful that you didn’t have to fumble around too much. It wouldn’t do your argument for more independence any good if your actions showed a need for more support. “Alright…” You’d thought long and hard about how to get your point across to someone as stubborn as your partner, but now that you were here, it was almost a struggle to get your thoughts out cohesively. “I… I’m tired of everyone treating me differently ever since the incident, including you.”

“My dear, I’ve done nothing of the sort.”

“Yes you have!” Forcing a breath through your nose, your efforts to calm your temper are marginally successful as your unintentional fists relax and grip the arms of the chair. “Everyone is treating me like I’m suddenly delicate, like I’m unable to take a punch or take care of myself. True, it’s been hard to adjust to being blind, but I’ll never get better at accepting things if you all keep coddling me!”

“No one is coddling you!” Nightmare growled in return, his voice growing more agitated as he tried to argue against you. “The others are simply doing their part to ensure that you can rest and heal in comfort!”

A growl built up in your throat as well as your partner continued to deny your claims, your fingers digging into the chair to keep them in place. “That comment brings up another thing. Ever since our relationship got out, everyone’s been treating me as if they’re serving me, like I’m something special that needs to be protected.”

“That’s because you are, little moon. You are my chosen partner, and you knew from the beginning that the title would carry some weight. I am a god my dear, and the ruler of any mortal within this castle. But you’re no longer some random mortal. Now you stand beside me, equal to me in power and authority. They have merely been instructed to show you the same respect and care that they show me.”

To hear it spelled out like that, like it should’ve been obvious to you from the beginning, left a lump in your throat. Was this always what would happen to you? Were you doomed to be lonely up at the top with nobody but the god of negativity himself to be your supposed equal? “I… I-I don’t want that…” Your words came out mumbled, eyes burning as your damaged tear ducts tried and failed to produce any tears. When prompted to speak up, you were practically screaming. “I don’t want that! I don’t want to be so… so alone! You might be fine with being above them, but for the longest time, they treated me as a friend! Now, it’s as if our friendships meant nothing, whenever I reach out all I get is coldness. I want to be able to joke and play around with Killer, I want Butcher to call me names and tease me! I want Pyre to rattle on about how great he is, or to spend time reading with Dust! I want to be able to go up to Cross, hug the stupid fluffy marshmallow, and not have him feel like a freaking statue!”

Your yelling left you short of breath, your chest heaving as you calmed down from your emotional tirade. For a while, your heavy breathing was the only sound echoing in the room, shoulders eventually shuddering as tearless sobs broke from your throat. Your own arms wrapped around yourself, as if trying to keep yourself from truly falling apart. What you weren’t quite expecting though was for a pair of cool, slimy arms to join them as Nightmare hugged you as well, the god having moved around the desk while you were distracted with your own emotional turmoil.

“I’m sorry little moon,” he started, one hand gently petting your hair while a tentacle took to stroking up and down your back in a soothing manner. “I grew so used to my underlings being just that, and I never considered what your views on the matter would be. Let me make this clear though, they treat you special because you are special. No other entity in the entirety of the multiverse has made me feel an emotion as positive as love since my childhood five hundred years ago. While many of the worlds out there fear me, and even those that serve me do well to avoid angering me, you had no such hesitation my dear. As we grew closer, you grew bolder. You would speak your mind freely, even if to criticize my actions or leadership. While it was downright infuriating at first, I grew to respect your courage and tenacity, but also the fact that you accepted me for who I am and not what I once was several lifetimes ago.”

As he spoke in such a calm and soothing voice, you felt your breathing settle as you snuggled into his chest. After he paused for a bit, Nightmare’s tentacles quickly scooped you up into the air, allowing him to settle in your chair and place you on his lap. The comforting gestures continued, serving to keep you calm without the use of his abilities. “You are special MC, never forget that. But also remember that you are my partner, and I will see you treated with the same respect as I receive, nothing less.”

You couldn’t help but tense at his words, about to go off again about how that flew in the face of your wishes. But before you could reiterate the entirety of your emotional rant from before, he shushed you with a gentle finger against your lips, and you could practically hear him smiling through his voice. “Your voice is as powerful in this castle as my own, and if things are not to your liking, then let your voice be heard. They are so used to hearing my voice that those idiots assume your voice will speak the same requests… even I made that poor assumption, and for that I am sorry. If you wish for them to treat you as they always have, then you need only tell them and I can promise you that you will receive what you ask for.”

“You… you mean it?” It seemed too good to be true, but Nightmare was often true to his word with you and the other residents of the castle. Still, it felt like it was too easy to simply ask for them to treat you as if you weren’t any different.

“Little moon, I swear it upon my name that you will be treated as you wish to be in this castle.” The dark god nuzzled you a bit as he made his promise, pulling a soft giggle from you despite the dry feeling in the back of your throat. It wasn’t often that you shouted so much, and you were definitely glad that you closed the door on your way in.

Deciding to push your luck a bit, another request found its way onto your tongue. “Then… if I asked you to stop forcing me to have an escort everywhere, would you respect my wishes?”

“MC, you know that I am just doing that to protect you-”

“Night, we’re in your domain, aren’t we? You know everyone who enters and leaves, making this castle literally the safest place for me. I’m getting better at navigating without my eyes, and I really think that I’d be fine!” When he still didn’t sound convinced, muttering about potential accidents that could happen, you merely threw more options at him. “Look, I’m far from the first blind human. If you’re that worried about me bumping into something or falling down the stairs, then get me a… blind person stick? Cane? Or a seeing-eye dog! One that Butcher would definitely not eat!”

“Is… this your way of asking for a dog?”

“Not my intention, but I certainly wouldn’t complain if you did actually get me one that can help me.” Reaching up, you cupped his cheek with your hand, thumb rubbing just under his good eye. “I’ll never have the same freedom as I did Night, but I know that I can learn to live with the consequences of my actions. And don’t you dare blame yourself for what I decided was a good idea in the spur of the moment.” Even now knowing the consequences of your choice, you’d still make the same call a hundred times over again, enduring the pain each time, if it meant that you didn’t have to see the one you loved suffer.

The god of negativity must have felt your conviction, because he didn’t try to talk you out of it or turn the blame around to be on himself. Instead, he merely sighed as one hand came to hold the one on his face, pulling it away to place a skeletal ‘kiss’ against your palm. “Very well, it seems that you’ve convinced me. I seem to have chosen quite the precocious human as my mate, you seem to be naturally born for commanding and convincing others. From now on, you are free to roam the castle by yourself, on two conditions. The first is that we give you a means of contacting me directly, should you find yourself lost or injured alone. The second is that you will still accept an escort for any trips outside of the castle, no matter your past familiarity with whatever world. Do we have a deal?”

Honestly, Nightmare’s requests were completely fair and reasonable. While you did have your phone, it was still extremely difficult to navigate it, and you likely wouldn’t be able to use it reliably in an emergency. If your boyfriend had an alternative method, then it would be good to have the freedom to go wherever, but with the safety net of knowing that someone will come if you need them to. And as embarrassing as an escort might be outside of the castle, it was still smart. It took you quite a bit of time and practice to navigate the castle on your own, despite your past familiarity with it, and a new space would require such with the aid of someone who could see. There was also the fact that, now that your relationship was public, it was only a matter of time before one of the idiots that you called your friends would let word get out. Then, you’d have a target on your back, a weak spot to be used against Nightmare. It was honestly for the best if you didn’t leave the castle alone anymore, not with several capable fighters that could protect you. “Those requests both seem quite reasonable to me, so I accept.”

“Good, I am glad that you can see I only want what is best for you, my dear. Keeping you safe is just as important to me as my goals.” After a moment more of cuddles, he eventually set you back into your chair alone, his footfalls indicating that he was going back to his own behind his desk. “I’ll see to the creation of a totem of sorts, one made of my own magic. It will allow you to contact me and call me to your side, no matter where you are. Between this, and my assurance that you will be treated as you wish to be, have I dealt with the issue you came to speak to me about?”

“Mhm, I honestly feel a lot better too, so thanks. I can’t see it, but I’m sure you’ve got plenty of work to get done. I’ll leave you be so that you can get it finished.” When he didn’t try to stop you, you got up from your seat and wandered back towards the door. Just as you opened it though to step back outside, you turned back and sent him a wide smile. “Thank you for being so understanding and accepting Night, I really appreciate it.”

“I can tell,” he chuckled as the sound of pen scribbling on paper echoed through the otherwise quiet room. “You go enjoy yourself my dear, I shall speak with you again at dinner.” With his dismissal, you left the door in the same barely open position that you originally found it in before heading back to the stairs. It was about time for you to do what Nightmare told you to do and make your voice be heard. Then maybe your friends would go back to how they used to be and stop treating you differently.

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Alright, so if you didn’t read my post earlier this week about getting you readers involved, you can read it here because I’m not repeating myself. (aka I’m lazy XD)

And since nobody commented on that post, it made it pretty clear to me that relying on Tumblr comments isn’t a good idea and that I should go with a poll website. So... here ya go!

https://strawpoll.com/634w9bq42

In the next part, Nightmare will be away running important errands, so MC will have to find some way to entertain themselves! Where they go is up to you, as are the result benefits from your choices. I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you all choose!

First | < Prev | Part 4 (Here) | Next >

[fwkei]

How can you be so warm in a place so cold?

Izana x reader (fluff-angst) 

WC: 3.3k

CW/TW: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of abuse, mentions of drugs, mentions of blood. 

AN: made this take place right before the battle between Toman and Tenjiku, No spoilers. Explanation at the end of the story just incase you dont understand 

hey guys, thanks so much on the support/feedback on my last work. I appreciate it sm, and thank you for 5 followers 🥳 love yall fr. ANYWAYS, heres something i just made I hope you enjoy, and again i did not proof read this so I apologize for any mistakes, enjoy!

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“....Do you remember it?”

He felt his body go cold….cold like that one night..That one night when he met you. 

The air felt sharp against the skin on your face. But this feeling comforted you in a way. Although it wasn't much, you looked forward to this part of your day, where you could just think and not worry for a couple of hours. 

You fisted your hands inside your pockets to create some sort of friction and warmth. You nuzzled your chin and mouth under your thick zipped up jacket that was a little too big on you when the park you always come to came into view. 

You looked down at your feet when suddenly you heard the squeak of a moving chain, you looked up. To see a boy sitting on one of the swings, slightly swaying back and forth. 

Your eyes softened at the sadden look on his face, and so you sat on the swing right next to him, taking your hands out of your pocket to hold onto the cold chains. He looked down at his dangled feet, and you only looked out into the scenery, debating on what you should say to the young boy.

He was small but still a little bigger than you. His skin was tan and had light pale hair. He seemed upset, maybe even angry. You hadn't even noticed that your gaze completely turned to him. You saw his hands that were resting on his thighs, moving up to grip the chains of the swing as he looked over at you with his cat-like irises. His eyes, they captivated you. They were a color you had never seen before. A lavender. A really soft and beautiful lavender. 

You two held eye contact for a good two minutes. When one of you suddenly decided to speak. 

“What are you doing out here this late?” he asked in a slightly irritated tone still keeping eye contact with you 

“I’m waiting for my mom to finish with work..” you said looking back out 

“Then why don’t you just go home. You shouldn't be out here.” he said swaying a bit

“But..I’m always out here, and I don't consider that place a home.” you said swaying with him on your swing 

You saw anger and frustration fill the boy's eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, and grip tightened on the chains as he looked at you with hate.

“Do you realize how spoiled you sound? You have a mom and a house. That you can go home to whenever you want. And you’re wanted! There's no reason for you to be out here and act like you’re miserable! Just go away!” he yelled at you 

He expected you to cry, frown, get angry, give at least some sort of reaction, and it angered him that his words didn't bother you. Your eyes still softly looked into his. Eyes with a hint of pity. It angered him even more. Just as he was about to speak and yell again. He gritted his teeth and stopped himself when he saw you look down. 

“That's not it..at all.” you said watching your feet dangle over the thin layer of snow 

“Then what is it?” he asked jumping out of his swing and standing in front of yours 

“Why do you want to know?” you asked looking up slightly at him making his breath hitch in confusion 

“Because..” he said getting quiet and realizing his outburst was rude

“What is your name?” you asked, stepping out of your seat to stand in front of him face to face, him only a few centimeters taller than you. 

“I..Izana..” he said finally getting a good and close look into your eyes 

He felt his eyes soften. He felt pity. He felt bad. He now knew he was wrong about you, everything he assumed was completely wrong. Izana could see the hurt in your eyes, he could tell you were going through a lot, and you could tell the same with him. He backed away slightly once he saw you smile.

He felt his heartbeat stop for a moment seeing it. How could you smile right now? Why would you smile right now? After his hurtful words...After what you were going through at home..why?

“My name is Y/n. I’m 10.” you said holding out your hand to the boy with a shocked face 

“10 too..” he said slowly, bringing his hand to grasp yours..

He felt his body warm up and mouth part. Your hand was warm, so warm and soft despite the cold air and chains that touched you. It confused him.

 How can you be so warm in a place so cold, Y/n? 

Izana thought to himself.

“Your hands are cold...here take my gloves...I don’t use them anyway. Do you come to this park a lot? I’ve never seen you here before..” you asked, reaching further into your pockets and taking out a pair of dark red knitted gloves and handing it to the boy in front of you. Looking into his eyes, waiting for a response.

“Thank..you...and you consider this a park? It’s just 2 swings under a streetlight..” he said softly taking the gloves from your hands gently

“Do you not? I thought it was..nice even though it’s not much, I come here every night.” you said

“You don’t get bored of it?” he asked 

“It’s the best it’s ever gonna get for me.” you said tucking your hands into your sleeves 

Izana’s mouth parted at your words. He knows you were going through something but what? Why was someone like you settling for something so...bad? Izana knew nothing about you except for the fact that you were overly nice. Overly nice to the point where it made him calm down.

“I can uh.. I can..take you to a better park! I know a place! Do you wanna come with me?” he asked bringing his arms to grasp you wrists tight making you surprised

Your eyes traced his face as a small smile grew on your face. Izana felt his face warm up at seeing you smile. It made him feel...good. Really good. It made him feel wanted. And he wanted to see you do it more often. He didn't even realize that because of your smile, a smile grew on his face as well. After a couple of seconds of looking into each others eyes, again...your eyes closed giving him a closed eyed smile as you said with a soft laugh-

“I do.” 

Izana let out a scoff of excitement as his eyes traveled down to your hands. Letting go of your wrists and lowering one of his hands to hold your hand tight. He looked back into your eyes with a different look. A look where you finally saw light in his eyes, and it made them that much more beautiful. 

“Okay. Don’t let go, just run with me.” he said as he started to walk and look back at you waiting for your reassurance 

“Okay.” you smiled bringing your other hand to hold your hat as you two started to run against the cold wind

The cold wind hit your eyes, making you squint. Occasionally Izana would look back at you while running to make sure you were okay, and it really was one of the best sights of your life. Seeing his slightly flushed face from the cold wind looking back at you with a soft and small grin and messy bangs spread across his face. It made your eyes widen and your face relax. He is so pretty when he smiles. You wanted to see him smile more often, it made you feel loved.

The running turned to jogging, the jogging turned to fast walking, and that turned to slow steps. You two stood in front of the park, with your hands still intertwined. You pushed up your hat that was blocking your view slightly and looked up to a park. A park with 2 slides, 4 swings, monkey bars, rods, and all sorts of things. With bright and warm lights shining over it… There was grass instead of cement, colorful benches instead of dirt covered stools, and  families with children instead of people with drugs. You felt the excitement grow all across your body. Your mouth opened as you let out a gasp of happiness. Your face flushed because of the overwhelming feeling. And Izana watched all of it. Didn’t blink once when looking at your happy face. 

“Cmon! Let’s go and play!” you said gripping his hand tighter before letting go and running to the park

“Yeah!’ he said running after you with a big smile plastered across his face 

Hour’s went by, but it only felt like a couple of minutes. You two let your minds run wild, pretending you lead a crew of pirates who had to fight against fish people, to running a spaceship that was battling against aliens, to pretending that the floor was some type of acid that could kill you making you two crawl around the apparatus like spiders till both of your minds and bodies grew tired. 

You two had played so much to the point where the cold snowy air didn't even feel cold, but like an AC on a hot summer day. You sat on your legs under the apparatus, while Izana sat the same way, but was playing with the grass on the ground. You watched his fingers fiddle with the green strings. You wanted to ask something, but couldn't seem to put your thoughts into words. 

“Izana-” you said looking at him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours 

“Yes?” he said looking at you 

“....Can we be friends?” you asked rubbing your hands waiting for his answer 

His eyes widened..you wanted him. Not only did you want him, but you wanted to be friends with him, be beside him, be with him. It made his heart feel weird, almost fuzzy. 

“Yeah! Let’s be friends.” he said smiling making you smile too

“What about you? Do you have a home?” you asked 

“No..I uh..I don’t. I don't have a family.” he signed deciding to keep back his sob story 

“Don’t worry, I get it. You can talk to me about it whenever we’re together again.” you said 

“When will we be together again?” he asked tilting his head 

“I don't know..but...I’ll always be at those swings, everyday. And when we get older..we can do other stuff in other places..like go to the beach..and bowling..you know?” you said smiling while counting things on your fingers 

“Yeah okay..sounds fun..Y/n..I can’t wait till we get older!” he said smiling making you laugh a little bit  

“Same!” you said 

Both of your heads quickly turned when hearing an angry man scream, a scream you knew far too well. 

“Damn it! You stupid little girl! Is this where you’ve been?! Huh?!” you both heard the male scream 

“Who is that? Who is he talking to?” asked Izana keeping his eyes on the man as he walked closer and closer 

“No..oh no..I’m late..” you said in a shaky voice 

“What?” asked Izana 

“Duck and hide. Izana please..” you whispered quickly gathering all of you stuff and crawling out from under the apparatus 

Izana had never in his life seen such a terrified face. Your eyes were wide, and your hands were shaking...but not from the cold, but from pure fear. Usually Izana would protest at orders thrown so suddenly at him by people...but the way your voice and whole energy changed within a split second made Izana shut up and listen to you. He ducked under the piece of plastic, Hiding himself while still letting his eye poke out to see you. 

“I’m sorry…” you said walking over to the man quickly looking down 

“Look at me when you speak to me.” he said when suddenly you felt a harsh and sharp slap against your cheek causing your head to turn to the side. You brought your hand to your cheek, while turning back to look at the man. Izana’s mouth parted in shock and disgust. Just as he was about to run out, you spoke again. 

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” you said 

“Damn right it won’t happen again! You think I like it when your whore mother calls me late at night telling me how ‘our’ kid isn’t home yet?! A kid I never wanted but I have to worry about?! Jesus fucking Christ. Bad shit always has to happen to good guys huh? I just wanted a fuck but this is what I get. he said as you grind your teeth in anger 

“I’m sorry.” you said again bowing 

Izana’s heart was beating so hard..he could feel it right against his ear. The amount of guilt and pity he was feeling was unbearable, he wanted so desperately to just get up and just defend you, in any way he could, and so he tried to change his position to get ready to run out and help you. But as he did so, his foot hit the halo metal causing a quiet bang, but since the street was quiet it could be heard. Loud enough for the angry drunk man with a bottle of alcohol in his hand to hear. Izana stopped dead in his tracks, and your eyes widened in fear.  

“Are you..Are you with someone?” he asked in an angry and deep voice as he started to walk towards the sound

“No! It’s just the rabbit I found! I was feeding it under the slide because that’s where the most full grass is! It probably just ran away.” you said spilling out lies on the spot with scared eyes desperately hoping he would believe you.

“Yeah yeah, I don't care about your little rabbit. Now c'mon start walking, I wanna buy a beer before taking you back.” he said, slightly pushing you, making you lose your balance slightly as your father walked in front of you. 

You took a deep breath of relief, as you started to walk you looked back seeing Izana had crawled out slightly, just enough for you to see him, and for him to see you. You saw he had eyes filled with worry and fear, you didn't want him to worry, truly. Because the night you had just spent with him...made your day...actually the rest of your life. And so you gave a soft smile and waved before placing your hands back into your pockets and turning your head forward. 

Izana could only watch you walk away in confusion, in anger, in sadness, in every emotion there was. He could understand that you two were different sides of the same coin. And it honestly hurt him. Hurt him so greatly to the point where he swore to himself that he would do anything he can to not just see you smile, but to keep you safe. 

And there was no way on earth he could fail at that, no way he would let you sacrifice your body for his well being like you had just done, no way he would let himself...right?

“When we first met...Do you remember it?” you asked looking into his eyes that were now filled with tears 

He felt his body go cold….cold like that one night..That one night when he met you. 

He couldn't respond, and only nodded his head, as his thumb wiped the blood that spilled from the side of your lips 

“Wasn’t it fun?” you asked smiling 

“It was.” he responded feeling his heart ache at your smile 

“It was the best day of my life.” you said feeling a lump in your throat 

“We can talk about that day later, let’s go to the hospital right now, okay?” he said holding his hand over your bloody wounds 

“I think this is it, Izana.” you said laughing a bit as he shook his head ‘no’ at your words 

“Don’t talk like that, please don’t talk like that.” he said, holding back his sobs, making his words come out shaky. 

“Do you remember what I asked you? About wanting to be friends?” you asked bringing your hand up to lift his chin 

He didn’t respond with words, but the frown on his face, grew, letting you know he did. Of course he did. Izana would never forget a moment between you two. 

“What I really wanted to...say back then was...that I liked you, but we were only so small, and as...I grew up with you, I realized it was more. Sound’s kinda cliche right? Was it the same with you?” you said in between pauses of pain.

“Y/n stop making this sound like a goodbye, I won’t let it be a goodbye, okay?!” he yelled out of frustration, but again, you showed no reaction, like before when he first lashed out on you. It made his eyes soften when realizing the poison you two were in, was just like years before. Just like when you first met. 

At the park, with 2 swings, and 1 street light shining over it. 

Suddenly, all the thoughts in his head were stopped when he felt your embrace. Your arms wrapped under his arms and around his upper stomach, and you cheek against his collarbone and neck. He was hesitant, his arms still hovering over yours, not hugging you back yet. But you didn't mind.  

“Don’t worry, I get it.” said slightly nuzzling yourself into him, breathing in his scent which you loved so much.

“I-”

Izana felt his heart beat so slowly.. at the familiar words you were speaking. But they were different from before, this time, you didn’t talk about being in his future...like you did before. His arms were still refusing to hug you back. His mouth still refusing to accept and return your love. 

“How do you think things would’ve been?

“Y/n..”

“Do you think we would've ended up together, and had a family? Like a type of family we never had?”  

“Y/n please..”

The feeling in your throat became stronger. You frowned and bit your inner cheek to keep in your sobs 

“How can you be so warm in a place so cold, Izana?” 

You heard Izana’s breath hitch at your words. His head slowly and hesitantly rested on yours, as you felt hot tears coat your scalp. And his arm’s fell to his sides, still refusing the fact that this is a goodbye.

But why was he refusing? He could’ve easily grabbed you and ran to the hospital. But instead he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because he knew deep down that it was already too late. Your body was cold. So cold, it was unsettling. Because your body was never cold. You were always warm, you were home for Izana. Izana knew if he tried to make it to the hospital, it would make his final moments with you a waste. 

So what was he doing? He doesn’t know himself...All he knew was that he wanted to be with you till the end, but a part of him couldn't accept that this was in fact...the end for you two. 

“Please don’t leave.” he said in a shaky tone against your head

“I’m sorry.” you said feeling the hot tears that were congested in your eyes, finally fall out

“Don’t say that…” he said 

“Izana?” you said fighting against your sobs 

“Yes?” he said 

“I love you. And I always have.” you said smiling as you felt your final breaths.

Izana felt your grip on him loosen, and just as it did, he brought his arms and wrapped them over your cold body. 

You felt it, you felt his embrace, and you heard him scream that he loves you back, You heard and felt it all. But you couldn't let him know that you did. You couldn't even keep your smile as you took your final breaths. But you did feel the hot tears run across your cheek. And down to your neck, as he cried and screamed in regret. 

HIs body, still so warm..so warm against something so cold.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Explanation SPOILER HERE FOR TENJIKU ARC: BASICALLY, Y/n died before the battle against Toman, it’s not in the ff(as to who killed y/n) because i wanted the reader to have some control, but in this ff I made it so that Y/ns death was another reason for Izana to wanna take down Toman and Mikey, so as i was making this i had the imagine that Kisaki would be to kill or have someone else kill Y/n to make Izana even more unstable and easier to manipulate, hence the whole fight thing so yeah lmao. Izana and Y/n thought of each other as home, and fell in love with the feeling of being with each other i guess? BUT in the end, Izana thinks he’s too late, and thinks that Y/n didnt hear/feel him, which just makes him even more frustrated and angry, so he feels guilty and ends up taking that out on others and taking loved ones from others too (hence being a motive for ordering for emma ot be killed) sorry if this is confusing 

[kiki-shortsnout]

If you're still taking prompts from the intimacy prompts list. 43 with IronStrange or Frostiron please! Love your writing! 💙💙💙

Hey! I've finally finished my IronStrange Bigbang!! So I can come back to my prompts! Thank you for waiting!

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Slight torture, Blood (nothing Graphic)

FrostIron: Head in lap.

***

Tony had been in this position before, more times than he was willing to admit. Hands bound behind his back, his wrists bleeding from where he’d been tugging at his restraints, his palms sealed together from the stickiness of his blood. The strain on his thighs and knees was a dull burn, a constant ache that never wavered, the grip in his hair ensuring he never sat back on his legs in a desperate reprieve.

If he could survive the torture of the Ten Rings, he could survive this. The arc reactor was already lodged in his chest, the frigid metal caressing the bone of his sternum. There wasn’t much more anyone could do to him, he was already in constant pain from the thing keeping him alive, could feel the shrapnel in his chest rattling with every gasp. Apart from taking his life, which he wasn’t sure he was fond of anyway, there wasn’t anything these kidnappers could take from him.

At least, that’s what Tony thought until they brought in Loki.

Bruises were littered over his high cheekbones, his split lip catching Tony’s attention and making him wriggle against the hand in his hair. He grit his teeth at the kick in the back of his thigh for his effort, not showing any outward pain.

Tony had seen lots of different sides to Loki over the last few months. The would be conqueror ensnared in a mind-controlling spell, a contrite younger brother, wanting to make amends with Thor but not knowing how to. There was the Loki who enjoyed pranking the Avengers, mischief, and humor dancing in his eyes, a Loki who read quietly in Tony’s workshop, finding a quiet freedom in being outside of Odin’s influence.

Recently, there had been the Loki who watched Tony when he thought no one was looking, a flirtatious lilt to his words when they talked, completely at odds with the shy Alpha who brought Tony gifts from other realms.

But, Tony had never seen this.

He could feel the livid rage in those green eyes, like fire on his skin, an intense fury that would make lesser men cower. Even Tony, who trusted Loki, tried to shuffle away from the gaze, scared he could see his weakness, his patheticness at being apprehended like this. His eyes shone bright like the magic he wielded, sweeping over Tony’s body, seeking out any injury, his teeth baring in a furious snarl.

Despite the situation, the tongue lashing he was no doubt going to receive if they managed to get out of here alive, shivers still teased over Tony’s body at the sound. He’d always fought against the idea of having a dominant Alpha, despised the thought that he needed taking care of, that he was inferior in any way, but Loki’s overprotective snarl and the dangerous look in his eyes was making Tony’s inner Omega purr and preen at the attention.

Now is not the time.

‘How the mighty have fallen,’ a silky, sensual voice wrapped around them, shaking Tony out of his fantasies about sexy, deadly alien Alphas. Breaking away from Loki’s stare, the ominous promise in it, Tony turned his head, trying to find the source of the voice. He wasn’t sure where they were, he’d already done recon as soon as he’d woken up in here, and the only information he had was that they were in some sort of castle, stone floors, stone walls, candlesticks on the walls.

Alright, not candlesticks, some sort of magical floating orb that was casting light around them, but he still doesn’t believe Thor, or Loki when they’ve tried to explain magic, so he refused to see them floating around like ghostly fireflies.

Loki didn’t answer, but Tony could tell from his expression that he recognized her, a growl thundering in his chest as he looked between whoever was behind him and Tony’s battered body.

‘My, my, what a beautiful Omega.’

Tony tried to look up, but the hand in his hair gripped hard enough to rip strands from his skull, and he understood that no eye contact was allowed. Green knee high boots entered the line of his vision, and a cool hand grasped his chin, yanking his face up. She was beautiful, all long legs and gorgeous blonde hair, looking like a medieval warrior princess or something. Tony knew that beautiful creatures were often the most dangerous ones.

He’d fallen for one after all.

‘Spirited too, I can see what he sees in you,’ she cooed down to him, nails digging into his cheeks, his blood oozing over her fingers. Tony heard Loki’s frantic struggle against his captors, the shift of leather dragging across stone.

‘No matter your beauty, you are still a pathetic, disgusting creature.’

It’s cute she thought her words will hurt him. He’d been called far worse, tortured to his breaking point before. This was nothing, his body being bruised? That was what happened when he got called to assemble. He grinned up at her, feeling a twist of delight low in his gut as the skin above her nose wrinkled at his blatant disrespect.

‘You do not understand mortals, you never have, never looked past your disdain of them,’ Loki finally said. ‘Leave him. He is worthless to you. It is me you want, Amora.’

Pretty name, Tony thought to himself, inhaling deeply as he tried to work out her secondary gender. Omega, interesting.

‘And what has changed that your view of them is now positive? I remember a time when you sought to enslave these pitiful creatures, and now you live among them, spurning my calls for help, the glory of seeing our enemies at our feet…’

Hell hath no fury like an Omega spurned, Tony chuckled, suppressing his cry as her foot connected with his ribs, sending him sprawling.

Alright, that one hurt.

‘I’ve been watching you Loki, and I do not believe your view has changed. You still see Midgardians as pitiful. It is a single mortal who has changed your outlook,’ Amora whispered, her heels clicking across the stone as she picked up Tony by the back of the neck, yanking him back to his knees.

‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, sister. Loki doesn’t think of me like that, trust me, I’ve tried to flirt with him, and he’s not interested,’ Tony laughed, running his tongue over the blood that coated his teeth.

He wasn’t lying. Tony had tried for weeks to show Loki he was interested in changing their friendship to something more. Short of pinning him down and scenting him like a crazed animal, there was nothing Tony hadn’t done to try and coax Loki into a courtship of some sort.

Loki hadn’t responded to any of it.

‘How little you understand. Loki has always had everything he’s coveted taken from him. He hides what he treasures most, even to the one he cares for. Don’t you remember, Loki? How we used to wreak havoc across the nine realms to cause your father pain due to his special treatment of Thor, his golden child,’ Amora hissed, tightening her hold on his throat.

Tony refused to react, ignoring the panic building in him as his body struggled to draw in a lungful of air, blotchy spots distorting his vision.

‘Leave him, Amora.’

There was no panic, no Alpha command in his voice. His words were concise, coated with a brittle frost. His gaze slid over to where Loki was kneeling, red bleeding into his eyes, his muscles bunched and tense, losing his grip on his magic, his Jotunn heritage blurring the edges of the Alpha he knew.

‘Careful, you’ll send him skittering away with that monster lurking beneath your skin,’ Amora taunted, moving to the side so they could look at each other, her hold on his throat never wavering. ‘This one is strong, isn’t he? I can see he’s in pain, you can smell it in his scent can’t you, the way he’s begging you to save him, the big, strong Alpha,’ she sneered.

Tugging him higher and off his knees, Tony struggled to get a foot onto the stone floor to support his weight, knowing his neck was going to snap if he didn’t.

‘What will it take to break you, hmm?’ she whispered, leaning towards him. Her sunshine blonde hair slipped over his shoulder, tickling his skin as she brought her nose to his unmarked bonding gland, scenting it. ‘What if I gave you to one of the Alphas who stole you, ruined you for him?’

He’d been threatened that in Afghanistan, one of many taunts to make him give up the Jericho missile.

‘Make sure they’re attractive, my public image will suffer if my bond mate is butt ugly,’ Tony answered, his tone considering even as he fought his restraints, the scalding agony of his lungs becoming impossible for him to ignore.

‘I will tear apart any Alpha that dares touch him,’ Loki spat from the other side of the room, his voice thick as if something was obstructing his throat.

Amora froze even as her lips brushed against Tony’s neck, her gaze flicking up to peer through long eyelashes at him, searching for something.

‘Do your worst, sweetheart,’ Tony challenged.

Pretty pink lips curved in an erotic smile. A hand splayed over his stomach, fingers walking up towards his chest. He could feel the tips of her sharp nails through his tattered shirt, and then she was tearing it aside, the azure light of the arc reactor lighting up the gloom of the room.

‘Found you,’ she taunted, finger tapping across the glass.

No matter how much he tried to keep his poker face, the sheer terror he felt when her nails plunged into his skin surrounding the arc reactor was exposed to them all through his scent, the sour scent of it pungent in the room, trapped by the stone walls and turning thicker by the second. Hating himself, Tony let out a high pitched whine, a frantic call for help.

Not there!

His body crumpled to the floor as the pressure on his neck vanished, shuddering pain coursing through his shins as he fell forward, his face taking the brunt of the fall. The memories of terror and agony he felt at Afghanistan left him deaf to the fight around him, the blurring figure of Loki ferociously attacking their captors nothing more than an afterthought as he curled in a ball to protect himself.

‘Stark.’

Tell us how to build a Jericho missile!

‘Stark!’

The hell did you do to me?

‘Anthony!’

That is an electromagnet hooked up to a car battery, and it's keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart.

Hands fell on his back, and he yelled, rolling on his back to fight, succumbing to his basic instincts in his fear. His lips drew back in a snarl, ready to bite whoever touched him.

‘You are unharmed, Tony, beloved, trust me.’ A wrist was thrust in front of his nose, ignoring the way Tony latched onto it, attempting to bite chunks from his skin. ‘Breathe in, scent me, know who I am,’ the voice instructed, and he could smell crisp snow, permeating the fear gripping his brain.

I know this scent.

‘That’s it, beloved, breathe, regain control of your mind. You are safe, Amora has fled, and I will never let any harm you.’

Tony could feel a hand covering the arc reactor and instead of recoiling from it, his instincts made him lean up into it, knowing this person would protect him. He breathed the scent in deep, the primal part of him knowing he was safe. When the panic had subsided, he looked up into unfamiliar red eyes.

‘Loki?’ he rasped, his words aggravating his abused throat.

‘Do not let my appearance scare you, it is still me. I will regain control of my magic…in a moment,’ Loki conceded, dropping his gaze to look at Tony’s throat.

‘I’m not scared, not of you,’ Tony blurted.

‘Kind words. I know how I appear,’ Loki said in a clipped tone, reaching around Tony’s back and ripping apart the restraints. Tony whimpered in relief, his back sagging to the floor as he brought his hands up. Loki’s eyes blazed ruby as he gently grasped them, bringing them to his face so he could examine the damage.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ Tony argued, delirious from both the pain and the scent Loki was emitting. He wanted to drown in it, wrap it around himself like a blanket and never surface. Even with his body protesting, the tenuous link he had on his consciousness, darkness lapping at the edges of his mind, he managed to put his head in Loki’s lap, breathing a sigh of relief.

‘You, Anthony Stark are a foolish, remarkable creature. Stubborn, brave thing,’ Loki muttered, pulling off his cape to drape on Tony, his thumb smearing across the blood on Tony’s wrist.

‘I’ll take you away from this wretched place once I’ve got better control of my inst…magic,’ Loki amended. Tony liked that Loki’s instincts were going haywire around him, that this gorgeous Alpha was keeping hold of him in case any dared to attack.

‘I’m sorry, that this happened to you,’ Loki whispered at him, stroking a blue hand through his hair.

‘Don’t be, it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to-’

Loki’s growl ripped through the air, making Tony flinch at the force of it, feeling like he could be torn asunder by the noise alone.

‘Sorry, my behavior is inexcusable. My instincts are hard to control when I’m around you, they always have been,’ Loki snapped, forcing his gaze away, the hand in Tony’s hair stopping.

‘I don’t want my Alpha to control himself when he’s with me. I know this is the wrong time to be asking…but was what any of she said true?’

‘What did you call me?’

‘My Alpha,’ Tony said easily, feeling his head droop as his body began to succumb to the pain.

‘Anthony,’ Loki growled, bending over to hold him close. ‘We will speak of this once we return.’

Tony nodded, going limp in Loki’s hold, his last thoughts about how he would tell Rhodey he was going to mate an alien Alpha.

***

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[tyrantisterror]

THE A.T.O.M. CREATE A KAIJU CONTEST 3-D!!!

YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE SAFE!  YOU THOUGHT THAT THE TIME OF MONSTERS WAS AT AN END!  BUT YOU WERE WRONG, FOR NOW YOU MUST WITNESS…

THE A.T.O.M. CREATE A KAIJU CONTEST 3-D!!!

That’s right, it’s back!  Celebrating the publication of The Atomic Time of Monsters Volume 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth! (which in turn completes The Ballad of Tyrantis arc for this series), I’m holding another monster design jam.  The third of such jams, in fact!

Like the first A.T.O.M. Create a Kaiju Contest, the aim of this contest is to create kaiju that would fit within the setting of my big kaiju story series, The Atomic Time of Monsters.  Think of it as me letting you into my sandbox to play with my toys for a bit, or like you’re being put in the director’s chair of a new ATOM-verse kaiju movie.  That means your entry does have to fit into ATOM’s world, which in turn means that yes, there are limitations to your creativity here.  But limitations can be good sometimes - they can make us explore options we wouldn’t consider when given completely free rein to do what we want!

(also you don’t have to make a three dimensional image or anything, the title’s just a pun on how the third movie in a monster movie franchise will often be a 3-D film)

Read below the cut to learn the rules and whatnot:

THE RULES:

1.  You are limited to one entry per person.  Work hard and make your entry count!

2.  Your kaiju must have some sort of description of its physical appearance and its personality - you can submit a drawing or a written description (or both!) for the physical appearance depending on what you’re most comfortable with.  Using the same template/format as my official ATOM Kaiju Files (https://horrorflora.com/monster-menageries/atom-kaiju-files/) isn’t required, but it was cool when people did it in the last contest, so feel free to do so this time too!

3. The kaiju you create must specifically be created for this contest  - no repurposing characters you made for other, wildly different stories.  This is not ���trick TT into drawing/canonizing my main OC” time.

4. The kaiju must fit the setting and aesthetics of ATOM.  I’ll explain this in more detail down below.

5. The kaiju should add something meaningful to the world of ATOM. The more unique and interesting your kaiju is, the more likely you will win the contest.

6. Don’t make your kaiju too dependent on pre-existing ATOM characters - no “Tyrantis’s long lost evil brother who’s the strongest kaiju in the world.” These should be to Tyrantis’s story what War of the Gargantuas is to Godzilla’s movies – heroes (well, monsters) of another story in the same world.

THE REWARDS:

I will make pencil sketches of the top 5 entries in the contest.

I will then make fully rendered illustrations (lineart, colors, & shading) of the top three entries.

The winning entry will be made into a model ala the ones I’ve been making for ATOM’s core 50 monsters, which can then be shipped to the person who created it (should they be able to cover the shipping costs).  That’s right, your kaiju could be brought to life in THREE GLORIOUS TECHNICOLOR DIMENSIONS!  (Hey, we worked the gag title in to the prizes!)

THE DEADLINE: All entries must be submitted by July 3rd, 2021.  You can submit it here on tumblr, via the horror flora e-mail, or any other channel you know how to reach me through.  I’m in a lot of places.

THE GUIDELINES (TO HELP YOUR ENTRY FIT THE RULES AND WIN):

The smartest thing you could do if you want to win this contest is familiarize yourself with the world of ATOM by, y’know, reading all the material I’ve published on the subject.  In addition to the many kaiju files that are free to read on horrorflora.com, there are now TWO, count ‘em, TWO novels in this series for you to peruse, both of which establish many of the rules of the setting as well as its general themes and tone!  You can get them in either paperback or e-book formatting (I’d recommend the former over the latter since I lack the technology to make a really nice ebook, but if money is an object, the kindle version is only $1).  Here’s the links again if you missed them:

Vol. 1: Tyrantis Walks Among Us!

Vol. 2: Tyrantis Roams the Earth!

However, since I know reading a bunch of stuff is, y’know, not something everyone is inclined to do, I’ll jot some good bullet points for you in an attempt to outline how ATOM works in a brief, easily digested way:

ATOM is an homage to the monster fiction of the 1950’s and 60’s (i.e. the Atomic Age), and is set in those two decades, albeit an alternate universe version of them where, y’know, monsters and space aliens exist.  If you aren’t familiar with the monster fiction I’m referring to, there will be some reference material provided at the end of this post along with some recommendations for further research.

Kaiju/giant monsters in ATOM work under very specific rules.  There’s a full description of those rules at this link, but here’s the jist:

ATOM Kaiju are created created by the radiation of a mineral called Yamaneon, which naturally converts harmful radiation into its own unique energy.  In natural circumstances, it takes hundreds of years of exposure to Yamaneon radiation for a creature to become fully transform into a kaiju (luckily, Yamaneon radiation slows the aging process while speeding up the healing process).  However, an explosive burst of energy - such as the geothermal and kinetic energy released by an earthquake, or the blast of a nuclear weapon - can speed up the process, turning a normal animal into a kaiju within a matter of seconds.  

All ATOM kaiju can heal grievous wounds within minutes or even seconds, are supernaturally strong and durable, and can convert harmful radiation to harmless energy that they then feed off of.  Kaiju do not have an equivalent of old age, and can theoretically live forever (though their violent lifestyle means that few do).

ATOM Kaiju generally don’t need to eat unless they are severely injured, getting most of the energy they need from solar or geothermal radiation - but many still have instincts that drive them to seek out food from time to time.

Most ATOM kaiju stand roughly 100 feet tall (depending on their body shape), i.e. smaller than the original 1954 Godzilla.  There are exceptions to this rule - younger kaiju can be smaller, while exceedingly old kaiju can be significantly larger, but these are rare.

In general, ATOM kaiju are significantly more intelligent and emotionally complex than people expect animals to be, though most are incapable of speech or complex tool use.  There’s a reason ATOM Kaiju Files have a “personality” section.

Most ATOM Kaiju are tooth and claw fighters - ranged weapons are a rarity in this setting.

While the terrestrial monsters in ATOM look strange, they are intended to fit within the taxonomy of animals in reality - reptiles, mammals, fish, arthropods, molluscs, etc.

ATOM’s mesozoic era was dominated by a fictional clade of crocodile-relatives called retrosaurs, which are based on the outdated paleoart that one would find in the 1950’s/60’s fiction - i.e. when dinosaurs were viewed as trail dragging lizards instead of strange birds.  You can learn more about retrosaurs here (https://horrorflora.com/2016/11/15/atom-kaiju-file-bonus-a-guide-to-retrosaurs/).

Kaiju appear on every continent in ATOM, but certain areas tend to be dominated by different types.

North America is mainly besieged by retrosaur kaiju and giant arthropods.

East Asia is technically also mainly plagued by retrosaurs and big arthropods, though they tend to look more fantastical and mythic - and, often, oddly well suited to being portrayed by a person wearing a monster suit.

Russia is beset by prehistoric monsters that seem to come from the Cenozoic, particularly the Ice Age.

Western Europe is plagued by creatures that vaguely resemble creatures from myth, if they were also prehistoric.  Dragon-y lizards, fiery birds, etc.

Towards the mid-way point of ATOM’s timeline, earth is invaded by a coalition of aliens from different solar systems called the Beyonder Alliance, and as a result a bunch of alien monsters can be found on earth.

Mars and Venus both host (or hosted in Mars’s case) animal life.  The surviving Martians colonized Venus, and sent some of their kaiju guardians to earth to help us fend off the Beyonders (who are responsible for the destruction of Mars’s ecosystem).  Martian and Venusian kaiju have specific anatomical quirks, which you can see by looking at these kaiju files:

Venusians:

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/03/atom-kaiju-file-29-karamtor/

Martians:

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-39-kemlasulla/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-40-podritak/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-41-sombarvot/

https://horrorflora.com/2017/01/17/atom-kaiju-file-38-ullawdra/

Giant robots exist in ATOM, but are big, bulky, and incredibly expensive.  Fancy beam weapons also exist, but are similarly clunky - there are no sleek, elegant machines in ATOM.

Since the fiction ATOM takes inspiration from was made at a time when interplanetary travel was only just beginning to be possible, its scope is significantly smaller than modern sci-fi.  Alternate universes/dimensions were pretty uncommon because the idea of alien planets still held a lot of wonder to it.  So, as a general rule, don’t try to go farther than the one galaxy.

ATOM is a setting for stories that are focused on humanity learning to coexist with monsters, rather than humanity destroying them.  A certain level of sympathy is put into almost every creature of its canon, even the ones that are meant to be villains.

REFERENCE MATERIAL

Here is a playlist of 1950′s monster movie trailers.  

Here is some reference material from various monster comics of the 50′s and 60′s. 

Good movies to track down to understand ATOM’s inspiration and tone include Ghidorah the 3 Headed Monster, Son of Godzilla, Destroy All Monsters, Them!, The Black Scorpion, 20 Million Miles to Earth, Gamera, The Giant Claw, and The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra.

And here’s the intro cutscenes for all the different giant monsters in the PS2 videogame War of the Monsters.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 49

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You begin your new normal, and come up with a new plan. Bucky likes it decidedly less than the last one.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Mild explicit content, sexual tension, angst, Bucky being Bucky

AO3

Knowing that Bucky was fine with your extreme changes was comforting, but you weren’t willing to live with it. Not until you tried everything you could. After all, there was your mother to think about, and you weren’t sure she could survive the shock of finding out her daughter was a wizard/pseudo-demon.

After you asked Bucky to contact Strange, you both arrived via portal and went into his office. Before Bucky could get a word in edgewise, you shoved your notepad against Strange’s chest, glaring at him until he read everything you’d written down.

Strange pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“First off,” he muttered, “there’s no need to threaten to tear me limb from limb if I put Sergeant Barnes back into the cryo-chamber. The chamber is beyond repair, and there is no more use for it, anyway. And while I appreciate your honesty in regards to… this latest feeding… as long as you’re not in an enslaved bond, I’m willing to change the terms of the Ancient One’s agreement. So, moving forward, please do not inform me of what the two of you do in privacy.”

Bucky choked from somewhere behind you; in hindsight, you probably should have warned him what you were going to tell Strange.

“And secondly, I will continue your education myself. If,” Strange added with a raised finger, “you agree to remain in the Sanctum for the time being. You are going to be exposing yourself to magical energies, and I want to view the effects they have on your current state firsthand. I will not bend on this point.”

Your tail lashed like a whip, and you were very tempted to reach back and grab it. Now you understood how Bucky must feel when his tail misbehaved.

You also resisted the urge to look back at Bucky with big puppy-eyes in hopes he would convince Strange to let him stay as well. But you didn’t. You needed to prove that you could do this without having your hand held. What happened to you in the demon realm was traumatic, you wouldn’t deny that, but you couldn’t let Bucky coddle you forever, either.

You gave a firm nod while looking Strange in the eye. There was another reason you wanted to be taught to harness whatever was inside you. A reason Strange didn’t need to know. A reason that had everything to do with Helmut Zemo.

The next month you spent in near isolation, only seeing Strange for lessons and glimpsing other sorcerers when you went to the library. When you weren’t in your lessons, that’s where you spent most of your time. Suffice it to say, you’d been fired after not calling in for a full week (you couldn’t really explain that you’d been kidnapped to Siberia), but that worked fine for you. The Sanctum and lessons were quickly becoming your life, and even Bucky didn’t see you as often as he probably liked.

You certainly missed him. Missed his scent and his touch and even just his comforting presence. But you couldn’t let yourself be distracted, not for a single night and not even for Bucky. You were doing this for him and for you.

Unlike before, when you couldn’t even create a spark, under Strange’s guidance you could now create ropes of fire and bursts of light from your hands. You couldn’t create a portal, not since the disastrous moment you accidentally sliced a demon in half, but Strange only patted you on the shoulder and said, “Perhaps it best we leave portals for the more advanced lessons.”

But one area you were excelling at was sensing and harnessing energies. Every night before bed, you turned that focus inward, imagining the demonic energy inside you being expelled back to the realm it came from. According to the laws of magical equilibrium, the alien energy would want to return to its natural state, which apparently was a sort of UV ray that came from the sun of that realm.

You didn’t really understand it when Strange explained it to you—hell, you didn’t have a grasp of most things he said—but you could get the gist of it. And lucky for you, you seemed to have a natural talent for magic now that you were “unblocked,” as he called it.

So when you woke up one morning and most of your demonic features had vanished, you were pleased but not too surprised. You’d thrown yourself into magical studies more than you’d done even in college, and it was showing. If only your mom could see you now.

Or… perhaps not. There were some parts of you that hadn’t changed, and you glared at your horns and tail with a frown. You’d have to start cutting holes in your pants from now on, not to mention learn how to guise yourself in public. A small price to pay for being able to speak again. Demonic Cats: The Musical had taken a curtain call.

Still, you didn’t complain, but nor did you lighten up on your studies. You were searching for something very, very specific in those dusty shelves of the archives, and when you couldn’t find it, you knew only one place to seek your answers.

When it was mid-March and the show outside had melted, most of the sorcerers were either on the rooftop or away from the Sanctum. It was the only chance you’d get, and now that you had a feel for sensing magic, you were confident you could find the vault a second time.

Without a hobgoblin to guide your way, it took you much longer to find the familiar stone staircase spiraling into the depths of the earth. You followed it with more confidence and less fear than the first time even as your heart thudded in your chest. Strange hadn’t told you not to come down here, and technically you were part of the Mystic Arts, so you had every right to explore your new home.

At least, that’s what you told yourself, standing in front of the massive door that guarded the vault. And to your eternal surprise, when you wrapped your hands around the handle and pulled, it opened with a loud groan.

Exhaling, you squeezed through the opening and came to an abrupt stop on the other side, forgetting to take a breath as you stared with wide eyes.

The room was empty.

All of it, gone. The creepy statues and mounted heads. The cabinets full of demonic body parts. You stepped into the middle of the room to confirm what your eyes were telling you. Only the lectern remained, empty and dusty as if the book that used your blood for ink had never been there.

Bracing your hands on your hips, you swore under your breath. Now how the hell were you supposed to—

“I told Strange what you found the last time you were down here.”

You whirled around, your tail sticking straight out and fluffing up to twice its normal thickness.

Bucky stared at you, his tone just as devoid of humor as his sharp eyes.

“So, he had everything moved just in case you went looking for it again.” He strode forward, his boots tapping softly on the stone floor, his guise retained as it usually was when he visited the Sanctum.

The slow, predatory walk had you soon backed away. You weren’t afraid, you were just… slightly intimidated.

“Why are you down here?” Bucky continued to walk toward you.

“I—“ Your voice cracked, something it still did after so long of disuse. “I was… doing research.”

“Yeah?” His voice was flat. “What could you possibly need to know that would require the Book of the Dead?”

Your back hit the edge of the lectern and your stomach fluttered when he didn’t stop in his approach.

“You seem to be doing just fine with Strange’s lessons,” Bucky said, eyes roving over your body, leaving both heat and a chill in its wake. “You managed to change back.”

“Mostly.” You cleared your throat so you wouldn’t sound like a frightened mouse. “Bucky, I… I was going to tell you. I’ve just, been busy.”

“Busy, huh?”

He stepped closer, only a few feet away when he tilted his head.

“If Strange is being so thorough with his lessons, then why hasn’t he taught you how to sense when something is following you?”

With Bucky’s last few steps, his guise melted away, wings half-flaring over his back as his eyes darkened. He loomed over you, bending down to growl in your ear.

“The next demon stalking you might not be so friendly.”

You closed your eyes, fighting yourself, but your shallow breathing and the goosebumps along your skin gave you away. There was definitely something wrong with you. Normal people did not get so hot and bothered from the idea of being hunted down by a demon, even if said demon was your kind-of-boyfriend.

“I assure you, I can take care of myself just fine.” You almost said it without a hitch in your breath, too.

Bucky pulled back, brows raised.

“Want me to show you?” you pressed.

He studied your face for a moment, and then gave a shrug and said, “Sure.”

Your lips twitching was all the warning he got before there was a conjured, fiery rope in your hand, whipping him across the chest and throwing him back several feet. Only his flaring wings kept him upright as he skidded across the floor.

There was a flash of approval, and oh God, excitement in his eyes as he licked his lips. You didn’t know if he was trying to distract you, or if he genuinely wanted to sink his teeth into you.

You wanted to find the answer and see how far you could push him. It was about time you put your skills to use on a real demon, anyway.

When his wings flared and his tail danced in delight behind him, you prepared yourself for Bucky’s attack—and it was good that you did. He crossed the distance between you in a blur, and you barely had time to move your hand in a circle in front of your chest.

An orange, concentric circle formed out of thin air, and it vibrated when Bucky’s human fist collided with it. He was still holding back, but that hit would have probably knocked you out cold.

Okay, you thought, watching him with a tilt of your head. You think you can pull your punches with me?

You shoved your palm against the makeshift shield, and the lines unfolded and wrapped around Bucky’s legs and chest, pulling his limbs together in a series of fiery ropes, and he shouted in surprise as he tumbled to the ground. His wings were useless, caught in the same trap against his back, and you stood over him in triumph.

“Neat little trick you’ve got there,” Bucky commented casually as he tried to wriggle out of his bindings. “Won’t hold me forever.”

“I know.” You smiled, and Bucky gave you his strongest side-eye. Your shit-eating grin only increased in size. “Don’t need it to hold you forever.”

You stood over him, a foot to either side, and you sat on his stomach, straddling him and probably looking like the cat that ate the canary. The tail flickering behind you didn’t help.

Bucky predictably went still, a mixture of interest and exasperation on his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” You leaned down and half-laid on top of him, tucking your head into his shoulder. “Just enjoying this strapping young demon I’ve captured.”

“Young?”

“…strapping, then.”

Bucky snorted, and you dug your face deeper into his neck, reveling in his rich, calming smell. You licked him, teasing at first, but then with genuine interest.

“You gonna, uh… let me up?” He shifted under you, which was exactly the wrong thing to do, because now the growing bulge in his jeans was pressed right between your legs.

“Mmmm-no. You said you can get loose, I want to see it.”

But it wasn’t the ropes you were paying attention to when you sucked on his neck. Bucky groaned low in his throat. Both of you had forgotten about the ropes, and Bucky seemed oddly comfortable with them.

An option you might have to explore another time.

“You really want to test these bindings out, huh?” he growled, flexing his muscles as he suddenly strained against them. You nearly purred, appreciating the view of his armored bicep.

“Well, I gotta have something to show for all this training.” You went quiet, then, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “I miss you. I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted.”

“And I miss you, but I’m not going to give you a hard time for this. Not after what you’ve been through.” He turned his head just enough to press his lips to your temple. “Monster misses you too, you know.”

You lifted up, getting a good look at him.

“What? He… he came back?”

“He did. Hours after you moved back into the Sanctum.”

You didn’t know what to say. Monster had been missing ever since you… ever since Zemo shot you. Apparently, he’d been at the Sanctum when you went missing and had been an absolute nightmare to the sorcerers.

And then when the rescue mission failed to bring you back…

“How…” You swallowed. “How is he?”

To your surprise, Bucky rolled his eyes.

“A pain in my ass. He thinks he’s a lapdog. Every time I sit down, he jumps on me, kneading me with his claws like I’m mama cat.”

“Sounds like I’m being replaced,” you said, smiling as you leaned your head on his shoulder again.

“Nah. More like he thinks sucking up to me is gonna get you back sooner. Which… I’m all for that.” He brushed his lips against your hair, but your smile faded at his next words. “You will be coming home eventually… right? Because that place, my place, it’s yours too.”

You sat up again, avoiding his eye. As much as you wanted to take him up on that offer, and you did, so badly…

“Sweetheart?”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

Bucky’s voice was so soft it hurt when he said, “Can I ask why?”

Releasing a breath and closing your eyes, you knew you had to tell him. Otherwise he would just blame himself, and Bucky’s next question confirmed it.

“Is it because of… of Zemo?” He said the name like it was vile poison in his mouth.

“Yes. But not in the way you think,” you added when he blinked up at you in surprise. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Bucky.”

His eyes narrowed, scanning your face once before he looked around the room, as if just remembering where you were.

“Why did you come down here?”

You worried your lip, and Bucky watched the movement with growing suspicious. You didn’t want to tell him, not because you enjoyed keeping secrets—in fact, you had been enjoying the healthy communication between you lately—but Bucky really, really wasn’t going to like it.

“I came down here because I need to answer a question. A question that Zemo himself shed some light on.”

You focused on Bucky’s jacket zipper, fidgeting with it rather than meeting his eye.

“And… what question would that be?”

You took a deep breath. Fuck, here it goes.

“How do you prevent a free demon from being enslaved again?”

Bucky’s brows dipped.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So you… what, wanted to be trained in magic so you could protect me? That’s… I wouldn’t ask you to do that, but I appreciate the thought. Still not sure why that involves the Necronomicon.”

“There’s more,” you said with a wince at Bucky’s scowl. “It’s not just that, though getting better at magic is part of it.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Probably not. No.”

Bucky shifted under you like he was getting more comfortable, but his tone was extremely put-out.

“Let’s hear it, then. How do you prevent a freed demon from being enslaved again?”

“Well, you see…” You fidgeted again. Bucky may have been the one still tied in fire ropes, but you got the sense you were the one being dangled over a pit. “I already know the answer. I’m not sure how to… execute it.”

Bucky frowned.

“Execute what? Sweetheart, you’re starting to talk like a sorcerer, and you know how much I love that.”

You smiled a little, but it quickly faded again.

“All right. I’ll tell you my plan, but please, leave your questions to the end,” you said, trying to keep it lighthearted, but the gears in Bucky’s head were turning at the words my plan. You cleared your throat and continued.

“Now, the thing about free demons is you can’t protect them from being enslaved. Only demons bonded to a master are protected. Zemo said it himself; in fact, it was one of his selling points.”

Bucky scowled but didn’t interrupt you.

“He said if you were bonded to him, he could protect you from any HYDRA shitbags still hanging around. And… unfortunately, he had a point. It’s only a matter of time until someone else stumbles upon an old lab or a journal or whatever, and then they’ll be coming after you. Everyone knows about the Winter Soldier. Even if the world still believes he’s dead, that didn’t stop Zemo.”

Bucky’s scowl had vanished, his expression unreadable as he listened.

“So…” you continued, trying not to sweat. “If you were bonded to someone you trusted, someone who could protect you, that could be one way of doing it—“

“That’s why you’re training so hard?” he asked softly. “You would be willing to put a huge target on your back like that? Having me bonded to you?”

“Well,” you spluttered, face heating. So much for reprimanding Bucky for not keeping his questions until the end. “I wanted to be in the running, at least. I’m not exactly a threat compared to others you could choose from.”

“You mean Steve. I… actually talked to him about it already.” Now it was his turn to look away. “He said he’d be willing to if it’s what I wanted. It’s not what I want, but I still have to consider it.”

Bucky finally looked at you when you neglected to speak, and he rushed to say, “It’s different with a human master, it wouldn’t be like our pact at all. I don’t have to feed on him. It’s more fulfilling if I do feed on my master, but by no means is it necessary. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t leave you to be with Steve, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

It was exactly what you were thinking, and you were so thrown off course that you floundered. Of course, you’d considered that Steve would be a good candidate, but you hadn’t realized Bucky had already had a discussion.

“Are you considering it?” The sudden lump in your throat made it difficult to speak. “Being bonded to him?”

He gave a soft smile, the kind that always held a bit of sadness.

“I was going to talk to you first, ask you for your input before I decided. Just didn’t get a chance until now. I hope you know I wouldn’t make a decision like that without you. Especially considering what happened last time I kept you in the dark.”

Whatever insecurities and jealousy lingered in your heart evaporated, and you put a hand on his chest, wishing you could express exactly how you felt. How much you loved him and didn’t blame him for any of what happened.

But like so many moments, you found words weren’t enough, and you just had to hope your actions communicated what you felt.

“Whatever you want to do, Bucky, I’ll support you.” You squinted at him and tapped him on the chest. “And what happened to me is not your fault. Zemo was watching us for a long time, and he would have found a way to use me against you eventually. I’m just grateful it turned out the way it did. Could have been a lot worse.”

“A lot worse than you dying and going to the demon realm?”

You folded your hands over your chest.

“I could have died and stayed dead.”

Bucky opened his mouth, hung there for a moment, and then closed it again. You waited for him to continue arguing, and instead, he changed the damn subject.

“You said that could be one way of doing it. There’s other ways?”

Hell, and what a subject change, too. For a moment, you really did consider lying, or at least telling him the other option was off the table if Steve was a choice. He was a safer option—that was without a doubt.

But you couldn’t lie to Bucky, or hold back. Not after everything. So you took a deep breath and pushed on.

“While I came up with that answer, I wasn’t satisfied with you being enslaved again, even if it was to me or Steve. So I tried to search for other solutions. In the archives, on the wizard internet, even Wong’s private stash of books.”

“There’s a wizard internet?”

“Bucky, please.”

“Sorry,” he said, not at all sorry. “Keep going.”

“I wanted to find a way for you to be as free as possible, without the danger of enslavement, and then… I had a thought.” You took a deep breath. “I thought… what if there’s a way to make the human-demon relationship equal?”

“…Come again?”

“The demon-human bond is always a power imbalance, right?” you said, excitement rushing your words. “Either the human enslaves the demon, or the demon owns the human. There’s no partnership. No equal exchange. No symbiosis.”

“Symbiosis.”

“It’s a term in biology.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I know what it means. I don’t think biology is going to help us here.”

“No, you’re right,” you muttered. “Which is why I needed a magical solution in order to create a soul-bound that’s equal from both sides.”

The truth finally hit home. Bucky’s eyes widened.

“No.”

“Bucky—“

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“I haven’t even told you the plan yet!”

“Does it involve you being bonded to me?”

You took a second too long to answer.

“Thought so,” he growled. “No fucking way am I ever doing that to you again.”

“You wouldn’t be! I told you, it would be an equal partnership, not—“

You yelped as the bindings shattered and Bucky rose at the same moment. You would have fallen flat on your ass if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to your feet.

“Listen to me,” he said, face inches away. “You drop this line of thinking right now. You will not go looking into binding magic, and you will stay far away from anything demonic. Do you hear me? Tell me you understand and you won’t keep looking!”

You glared up at him. The full weight of his anger glared back, his wings rustling as his tail lashed back and forth.

“No.”

He bared his teeth at your refusal, a growl escaping from his throat. You didn’t flinch, though your tail betrayed you as the fur puffed out like a startled cat.

“Snarl all you want, it won’t change my mind.”

“You’re talking about experimental magic.” His gaze grew harder as his claws tightened around your arms. “Magic that Strange himself wouldn’t attempt. What makes you think you could survive, let alone succeed?”

Now it was your turn to bare your teeth, though they were blunted and human again. You almost missed the sharp canines.

“I summoned a portal to the demon realm when I was ten years old. I adapted to that same place, became more demon than human just to survive. I died and came back to life because of demonic magic.”

You met his eye, unblinkingly.

“Who else could do this but me?”

Bucky said nothing, his expression unreadable. You released a breath and let your voice soften.

“The Ancient One was adamant on three things. She wanted me to train with the leader of her order. She said you and I were very important to each other. And she told me that I would have to make a choice. A choice that would affect the both of us.”

You turned your hands so they were placed against his forearms. Bucky still hadn’t moved, but there was something like growing horror in his eyes.

“I know this is what she meant. This feels right. Like I’ve finally found my purpose. This is what I’m meant to do.”

“And what is that?” he asked, slowly, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. And there was another shoe. A big shoe. A shoe he was going to hate, but you wouldn’t hide it from him. It was only a matter of time before he found out, anyway.

“Everyone in the Order has their strengths,” you said. “Wong is the archivist and keeper of knowledge. Strange has an innate understanding of time and prophecy. The Ancient One, according to Strange, had a deep connection to the Dark Dimension.”

“And you?”

You swallowed dryly.

“I have… a strong affinity for magic that comes from the demon realm.”

He jerked away, as if contact with your skin burned him. Before you could stop him, Bucky turned and practically fled from the vault, disappearing out the massive door without looking back.

You released a breath as your tail sank to rest on the dusty floor. The words of the Ancient One rang in your ears, and you wished she hadn’t been right. If Bucky had been on your side, you wouldn’t have cared who else disagreed. But maybe that was the point.

It wasn’t supposed to be easy. No test ever was. You just didn’t appreciate that you still had to prove yourself after all this.

Hadn’t dying and going to Hell been enough?

Your heart as heavy as the stones at your feet, you left the empty vault.

Next Chapter

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Your Hand Print's on my Soul

Part 1 | See the Full Series Here

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 5,069

Warnings: None

Summary: After a terrifying adventure causes the Doctor to have a realisation about you, she seeks advice from some old friends. 

A/N: Fair warning, this will be a series, but each fic is a standalone. I’m using this to practise writing different characters and/or different writing styles, This fic features the Paternoster gang, because I love them!!

It hadn’t been a startling realisation, which was what had surprised her. Her realisations were often the cause of something dramatic. This one, however, didn’t involve an Earth shattering life or death situation, no one had held her by gun point until she’d had an awakening, and it hadn’t taken someone else pointing it out –  like an alien hell bent on taking some other culture over or the like.

No, it had been in a quiet moment. Just the two of you, lazing the day away.

You had been smiling, completely entranced in whatever you had been reading, sitting on the TARDIS steps whilst the Doctor had been tinkering. She had looked up for a moment, trying to remember which wire she was supposed to reconnect into the chameleon circuit, and there you were.

Under the glow of the TARDIS’ crystals, your skin warm and soft, your eyes sparkling, it had sort of… clicked.

The Doctor loved you.

She considered it for a moment, let the thought roll over in her head.

You had laughed at something in your book, and the Doctor realised she always wanted to hear it, that it was, quite possibly, just the very best sound in the world.

Yes, she loved you.

It made sense, really. It was surprising she hadn’t realised it earlier.

So she kept the thought with her, held it close to her hearts, and smiled at you softly. Before you could look up, before you could wonder why the clacketing and hissing from her tinkering had stopped, she turned away, resuming her work.

The life or death situation had caused the next realisation.

You had gotten separated from the group, and those awful, hideous (well, the Doctor assumed they were hideous, but she had admittedly never seen them) Vashta Nerada were back.

Her and the rest of the fam had found themselves back to the TARDIS, and the Doctor was about to manipulate where the light was falling over the park in a move that basically just involved popping the TARDIS in and out of time milliseconds apart.

But you weren’t there.

You weren’t there.

And so the Doctor had thrown herself into the TARDIS, furiously using every tool available to her to find some sort of evidence that you were alive – a bio print, a residual security scan, a photograph, anything.

And then you had stumbled out of a shadow, shaking, the person you had been with gone.

And the Doctor had realised then; she couldn’t lose you. Not ever.

Yaz had wrapped you into her arms and her and Ryan had ushered you into the TARDIS. The Doctor began her complicated flying manoeuvre, the day was saved, and Graham made tea.

And the Doctor realised; she had to make a plan.

The thing was though, she wasn’t really very good at this sort of stuff. Hell, she wasn’t any good at any sort of intimacy, platonic, romantic, or otherwise – as Graham could attest to.

Actually, y’know what, if Graham was to come to her today with some of those fears he’d had, The Doctor quietly reckoned she would’ve had a much better response.

That wasn’t what she was supposed to be thinking about, though.

But this was why she had found herself, parked over the Medusa Cascade, legs dangling out of the TARDIS door, cup of peppermint tea in hand, and just staring into space. Thinking about, well, thinking about you.

And what she ought to do.

“Hey,” you said, you voice only slightly louder than the low hum of the TARDIS’ engines. It was enough to pull the Doctor from her thoughts, as you so often did, even if you were the subject of her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

The Doctor nodded, turning slightly so she could look at you. You were wearing a plain green jumper and pyjama pants covered in question marks. The Doctor eyed the jumper curiously, it was setting off alarm bells in her mind, as if she was supposed to recognise it.

Then it hit her.

“Where’d you get those clothes?” She asked.

You looked down at your clothes and flushed. “Oh – um, the TARDIS. I’m pretty sure she gave them too me.”

Of course she did. The TARDIS knew the Doctor better than she knew herself.

She was surprised that the TARDIS had given you that particular jumper, and, if the Doctor concentrated, she could almost remember how it felt to wear; stumbling out of her – or well, his, TARDIS, fresh from the time war, itching to throw leather jacket on over it.

She liked it though; you wearing it. She wondered how you would look wearing something she wore today, like her suspenders or her scarf, or even her-

No. This wasn’t what she was supposed to be thinking about.

Still though, despite that, it suited you.

You nodded to the space beside the Doctor. “Do you mind if I join you?”

The Doctor blinked, turning her head to the empty space by her side, then back at you. “Yeah, of course. You’re always welcome.”

You gave her a warm smile. The Doctor focused on it, the way your eyes lit up, the way your nose creased ever so slightly, the way that utter kindness seemed to radiate off of you. She wanted to preserve it, capture that smile and hold it safe in her memory.

You toed off your slippers and joined her, leaning against the door when you had settled.

After you had all settled down after that awful, awful trip, Graham had asked to go home for the night. Ryan and Yaz had followed suit, and the Doctor didn’t blame them. After a day like today, she would to check in with her family too. It had been a frightening day, which the Doctor had apologised profusely for. Today had been worse than when they had run into the Death Eye Turtle Army – which was saying something.  

You had chosen to stay, citing that if you had left the Doctor alone, she would get into trouble, and she wasn’t allowed to get into trouble without one of the rest of you present.

It was a good rule. Clara had once had a similar one.

The Doctor sat there awkwardly, staring into her mug. She didn’t know what to say, how to comfort you, or what sort of words were the ones that you needed. She used to be so much better at this, and it was infuriating.

She took a sip, swallowing down her awkwardness, and turned to look back at you.

The stars seemed to reflect themselves in your eyes, bright and vibrant, as if they were reflecting your soul. You stared back at the Cascade in wonder. “It’s beautiful.”

The Doctor, who was memorising your face, the way the light hit your cheeks, the way it danced in your hair, hummed in agreement. Beautiful was certainly the right word for it.  

You turned up to look at her. “I can’t imagine what goes on in that great big brain of yours, but I’m here – if you need.”

The Doctor blinked again, and her mind whirring back to the very first thing you had said. Are you alright.

She stared at you dumbfounded. You weren’t even thinking about yourself, you were just worried about her.

The Doctor was acutely aware of how close you were in the narrow opening. If she leaned over just an inch or so, she could brush her shoulder against yours, feel the heat from your body.

She didn’t.

“It’s called the Medusa Cascade,” she said, turning away from you to look at the view. She gestured towards it. “It’s got around 15 broken moons –  some of them are just cracked, but others, like the 15th, are full on debris that float in orbit around each other. The eight is my favourite but humans can’t breathe on it. It’s also the halfway point of the universe from Earth, give it another couple of decades and you lot will be able to see it with telescope.  It’s even got-“

The Doctor paused for a moment. You had sighed quietly, staring downwards at your dangling legs. The Doctor swallowed, you were sad, of course you were sad, it had been a traumatic day. She tried to think of a way to fix it, to make it better.

“One time,” she continued, trying out for a story. A story would be good, she could totally tell a story, she was a great storyteller, she could keep Bruce Springsteen or Queen Alexia of Koros enthralled. The Doctor and storytelling? An excellent combination. “There were a whole bunch of planets that were taken here, and they were put out of temporal synchronisation with the rest of the universe by one second. It was actually a pretty intense feat of engineering, thinking on it now, but back then we had to-”

“You’re rambling,” you said, a small, sad smile on your face. “It’s okay Doctor, you don’t need to talk if you’re not comfortable. We can just sit here and watch the view.”

The Doctor clamped her mouth shut. She heard her teeth rattle inside her head, and wondered, belatedly, just how comical she looked, staring at this wonderful human with big eyes and a dumb expression.

She tried again.

“I’m probably down there right now,” she said, gesturing at a spot that held dancing green gas.

“Really?” You asked, your voice perking up. “But how can you be down there when you’re here? Wait, this is a time travel thing, isn’t it.”

The Doctor grinned, you had always been clever. “Yeah, younger versions of me are probably running around there right now, touring moons, sealing rifts in time, or trying out Rodravian ice-cream.”

“So you come here often?” You asked.

“Yeah,” The Doctor said. “This place here, it’s probably one of my favourites in the universe, well, after Earth of course – and Space Vegas, I’ve got to take you to Space Vegas-”

You laughed, soft and gentle, causing the Doctor to pause. Good. Laughter. That was important. Then, you looked at her more seriously. “So why here then? What makes it so special?”

The Doctor chewed on her lower lip for a second, staring back out onto the Medusa Cascade. She drummed her fingers against her mug of tea, which was still warm, and stared out at the plumes of coloured gasses that floated among the stars. After a moment, she said. “I… I guess it’s just a place that holds a lot of good memories.”

“With loved ones?” You prompted.

The Doctor looked at you, watched the way the light was reflected in your eyes, pools of colour shifting and whirring, as if it’s life came from you. “Yeah,” she said, and her voice cracked. “With loved ones.” She cleared her throat and turned away. “It’s a good place to think, too. I always come here to think, it’s quiet, it’s safe.”

Your voice was tentative, unsure, when you spoke again. It was as if you weren’t sure if you could, or rather, if you should ask. “What do you come here to think about?”

You.

The Doctor gulped back the rest of her peppermint tea in a single mouthful, set the mug aside. Then, she drummed her knuckles against her thighs. “Well,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m quite tired, I think I might head off to bed.”

She didn’t look at you as she stood, she couldn’t look at you. If she did she would be met with your big sad eyes, your worried expression, facing the way you would chew your lip when you were nervous, something the Doctor didn’t think you even realised you did. No, she couldn’t face that, because if she did, she would never leave –  and she had to leave. She couldn’t have this conversation with you.

Not yet.

“Doctor-“ You tried, but the Doctor was already hurrying to the console. This was selfish of herself, cruel, even. She knew that. Of course she knew that. But she couldn’t handle this just yet. She needed a moment, she just needed to talk to someone about this, ramble on for a bit to slot all her thoughts into place.

She paused. Oh. Of course.

She turned to face you, looking at that spot between your eyebrows and above your nose so it looked like she was looking at you, but she wasn’t actually – because she couldn’t, wouldn’t, face your eyes. “I’ll take you somewhere tomorrow, somewhere really nice, and really calming – that is, if you’d like? Just the two of us.”

“Uh,” you said. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Brilliant,” the Doctor replied and she risked a glance into your eyes. She regretted it immediately. You looked so confused, so hurt. “Well then Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re off to bed?” You asked, as if not quite believing her.

“Yep,” The Doctor said.

“Doctor… before you go,” you chewed your lip for a moment, as if contemplating something heavy, and then, just as suddenly, you flung yourself into the Doctor’s frame, wrapping your arms around her.

The Doctor felt warm, she could feel one of your hands rest against the back of her neck, as if they had found the right spot to be in. The other was against the curve of her back, resting their gently, as if you thought the Doctor was going to pull away.

The Doctor raised her arms slowly, careful not to jostle you, and returned the gesture. It had been a long time since she had hugged someone, and she felt awkward, unpractised. At the same time though, it was wonderful. The weight of your body was flush against hers, as if holding her wasn’t quite enough for you. No, you were grounding the Doctor, holding her stable in way the Doctor had never felt before, not in this face, at least.

Then, all too soon, you pulled away. “I just wanted to say thanks, for today, for um… For not giving up on me.”

That baffled the Doctor. Thanking her? It was her fault you had almost-

“Yeah, um of course. Uh, bed, that’s where I’m going now.” She gave you an awkward wave, before shooting off from the TARDIS console.

The Doctor had lied.

The TARDIS groaned in disapproval as the Doctor scurried off to the library.

“Yes,” The Doctor hissed. “I know, I know that was awful of me.”

The TARDIS whirred again.

“And selfish,” The Doctor said. “You don’t need to just tack it on, I know.”

The worst thing about it was though; the books were no help at all. Granted, the TARDIS hadn’t made it easy, but, after scouring the library for any sources that could help her process this information and work out how to move forward – well, none of it fit.

She huffed, blowing a strand of her out of her face, and glared at the growing stack of books that hadn’t given her any ideas at all. No this wouldn’t do.

“Alright,” she said to the TARDIS. “I think I need better help. Any ideas?”

Which was how, that morning (well, relatively) she found herself knocking on an old wooden door, you standing by her side.

“So who’re we visiting again?” You asked, stifling a yawn. The Doctor ebbed away a pang of guilt, it was obvious you hadn’t slept well.

“Some old friends,” the Doctor said. “Haven’t seen them in a while. I don’t think they know about my face.”

You scrunched your face up. “What do you mean by that?”

Any response the Doctor could have given was stolen when the door flew open. The man narrowed his eyes at them. “You will state your name and the purpose of this visit.”

“It’s me,” she replied. “The Doctor.”

His eyes regarded her carefully. “Well,” he said, after a moment. “You never told us that you could regenerate into a man.”

The Doctor’s hands flew to her face. “Wait, no, everyone’s been saying-,” she frowned at him, and was somewhat embarrassed that it had taken so long for the cogs in her brain to slot into place. “I’m a woman, Strax.”

“Who is it?” Came a voice from inside, and the Doctor smiled.

“It’s the Doctor,” Strax said, opening the door wider now. “He says he’s a woman now.”

“She,” Jenny admonished, ushering Strax aside. “And what do you mean the Doctor’s a…” her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the Doctor. Her eyes widened, looking the Doctor up and down. Nervously, she swallowed. In a clipped voice she said. “Ah. Right. A woman, got it.”

The Doctor rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of her feet. “This is Y/N,” she nodded to you. “I thought you’d be a great tour guide.”

By the Doctor’s side you gave an awkward little wave. “Hi.”

“And it’s nice to see you too,” Jenny pursed her lips towards the Doctor, and regarded you with curious interest. “Well come on in then,” she said, stepping aside to allow both you and the Doctor to enter. “How long’s it been for you anyhow? Since you last saw us?”

“Aw,” the Doctor drew out the sound, giving her an awkward look. “A while.”

Jenny hummed. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t surprise me. When did all of this,” she gestured to the Doctor’s general space, then gestured for Strax to close the door. “Happen?”

The Doctor’s expression brightened. “Only a little bit ago!” She twirled around the foyer, arms out, her coat billowing slightly around her. She loved the way it swooshed. “What’d you think?”

Jenny’s voice was a little strained when she responded, and the Doctor could have sworn she had muttered ‘marriage’ under her breath. “It suits you.”

The Doctor clasped her hands together. “I was hoping to see-”

“She’s busy,” Jenny said suddenly. “Interrogating someone.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Who..?”

“Ma’am,” Jenny explained. “The Lady Vastra.”

You didn’t look as though that had cleared anything up, and stared at Jenny like a confused puppy, which was adorable-

And not what the Doctor should be focusing on.

“I’m happy to wait,” The Doctor said, tearing her eyes away from you and over to Jenny. “I know how she can get when she… interrogates someone.”

You shook your head in bafflement and spoke under your breath. “What..?”

“I was wondering though, if you could give Y/N here a tour of Victorian London-”

“It’s just London, for us, Doctor,” Jenny said with an amused smirk.

“Around just London, then,” The Doctor amended. “Around some of your favourite sights,” the Doctor turned to you. “The tea shops are fabulous, you’ll like those.”

You blinked rapidly, and turned to the Doctor. “Uh, can we talk?”

The Doctor nodded and you pulled her aside. You hand was warm, even through the fabric of the Doctor’s coat, and she didn’t want you to let go. You did. “Doctor, why are you sending me off with this woman experiencing unparalleled levels of gay panic and this small potato man?”

“Potato man?” The Doctor admonished. “Y/N, he has a name.”

In the distance, the Doctor heard Jenny whisper the words ‘gay panic’.

You shrugged slightly. “Well I haven’t been told it.”

The Doctor reeled, how had she forgotten to do that? She pointed to Strax. “This is Strax, he was a nurse in the Sontaron empire,” she leaned in close to you, as if she was sharing a secret. “Essentially just mass produced clones,” then, spoke louder. “But can find the cure to almost any illness” Strax stifled under your gaze.

“And this,” the Doctor pointed to Jenny, not registering Strax’s reaction at all. “Is Miss Jenny. If an army of angry mind possessed Victorians come after you, she’s the best person to have by your side.”

“Mrs,” Jenny corrected, then turned to you. “And it’s lovely to meet you. Any travelling companion of the Doctor’s is…” she pursed her lips again, looking at you like she couldn’t quite make you out. “…is a friend of ours.”

“Right,” you said.

“And we would be more than honoured to give you a tour of London,” Strax said, his voice growing an edge of reverence and excitement. “I will show you the most strategic points of warfare, so that I may crush you in the fields of battle for the glory of the Sontaron empire!”

You looked at him blankly, and Jenny turned to him suddenly. “You’ve not been eating my sweets again, have you?”

Strax paled. “What? I – no, of course I haven’t. You have done me the most grave disgrace by suggesting otherwise-”

“You have been eating my sweets,” Jenny narrowed her eyes at him. “You took all the sherbet fizzles again, didn’t you.”

Before Strax could reply, the click of heels against the hardwood floor echoed down the hallway. Vastra emerged, tugging at her veil slightly. The Doctor could see straight through it, she always could, after all, but she wondered if you could see it.

Judging by the way your mouth fell open in shock, the Doctor assumed you didn’t see the veil afterall, which was different. “She’s a-”

“Yes.” The Doctor said.

“In Victorian-”

“Yes.”

The Doctor watched you consider it for a moment, then your face brightened. “That’s so cool.”

Vastra blinked, and it was the only indication that she was surprised. The Doctor was glad she still remembered how to read her old friend. “Well, that is a pleasant, if unordinary, reaction,” she cleared her throat. “Jenny dear, would you please introduce our guests.”

“Oh ma’am,” Jenny said. “That’s-”

“Me,” the Doctor said with a knowing smile. “C’mon Vastra, you know me.”

Vastra eyed the Doctor curiously, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Well, if I did not know any better, I would say that you’re the Doctor. I don’t know another soul who would wear suspenders of that colour.”

The Doctor grinned. “It’s so good to see you.”

“And I you,” Vastra smiled brightly, and her entire face emulated warmth. “I must compliment you Doctor, you are looking far better than any of your last faces can compare.”

“Marriage,” Jenny hissed.

“Oh come now dear,” Vastra said, but her eyes were still on the Doctor. “It was only a compliment.”

Jenny muttered something about flirting with half the galaxy, but the Doctor wasn’t paying attention, because your eyes were sparkling, as though you had solved the Collatz Conjecture. “You’re married?” You breathed. “To each other?”

Vastra’s smiled softened to you, like she was amused. “That is how marriage works.”

“That’s amazing,” you said. “How was the ceremony?”

Both Jenny and Vastra looked towards one another in amusement, and spoke at the same time. “Violent.”

“Your interrogation is over now, right?” The Doctor said, because she was itching to talk to Vastra.

“Oh, you were doing the interrogation,” You said. “How was it?”

“A bit too fatty from what I would usually enjoy,” Vastra said, her eyes twinkling. “But filling none the less.”

You let out a soft little ‘oh’, as if hadn’t occurred to you that Vastra’s interrogation technique wasn’t exactly above board. Then the Doctor realised that it probably hadn’t.

“And I am more than happy to speak to you, Doctor,” Vastra said again. “You know my parlour is always available.”

The Doctor turned to you. “You wouldn’t mind spending time with Jenny and Strax for a bit, would you?”

“Uh – no, no, of course not. You do what you gotta do space woman.”

The Doctor grinned, squeezing your shoulder, and jogged off to catch up with Vastra, who had already left the room. She knew you would be safe in Jenny and Strax’s hands, they wouldn’t let anything hurt you.

The parlour was how it always was, two tall chairs surrounded in an assortment of plants. Tea had already been brewed, because Jenny was nothing if not efficient, and Vastra sat in her designated chair.

“Your companion saw straight through my veil,” she mused, gesturing to the tea and silently asking if the Doctor would like some.

The Doctor nodded, and Vastra began serving. “Yeah,” the Doctor said, bouncing over. “I’m pretty proud about that, I think we’ve just seen so much now that nothing could be fazing anymore.”

“Well I’m sure you are one of those more delightful sights, Doctor,” Vastra passed her a mug and the Doctor took a whiff. It was French Earl Grey.

Then the Doctor realised what Vastra was saying. “I think this is the moment where Jenny would scold you about flirting, again.”

“Perhaps,” Vastra said with a smirk, which told the Doctor that Vastra knew exactly that, and that she didn’t mind it either. “So, tell me what is so urgently important, that I finished my meal early.”

The Doctor drummed her fingers against the warm ceramic. "My - my travelling companion, no, my friend, I... I think I, no. I know I..." The Doctor cleared her throat. "It's love."

"You're in love with your travelling companion," Vastra surmised, not as a question, but as a fact. "Is this something your friend knows?”

"Y/N," The Doctor said, squirming under the way Vastra had said the word ‘friend,’ like it wasn’t true in the slightest, like she could already see you were something more. No, that was ridiculous, the Doctor was reading too much into it. "And no - I... I haven't been able to work out what to do."

"So you've come to me," Vastra said, an edge of humour in her voice.

"You're my friend."

"Ah, so it's a bit of girl talk you're after," Vastra mused. "I suppose I can indulge you," she said, and then, after a moment. "My friend."

“It didn’t hit me really dramatically or anything, but I just… We had a really awful day yesterday, with the Vashta Nerda, which was already awful enough, but then Y/N got separated and I…”

“I understand,” Vastra said, her voice soft. “Although, Doctor, if you’ll allow me to say, you've been in love with many people before, need I remind you that I have been friends with most of them."

"Yes but, I haven't.. I don't..." The Doctor groaned. "I've never been a woman before."



Vastra raised an eyebrow, and took a sip of her tea. "So that's what this is," she said after a moment. "You've come to me because I am a woman who has seduced another," she scoffed. "You might be better seeing the Madame Julie D'Aubigny."

The Doctor almost smirked. "You've heard of Julie?"

"Doctor, I am a lesbian lizard woman from the prehistoric period living in Victorian London," Vastra said, in the matter of fact tone she often only reserved for the humans she considered unintelligent. "I make it my business to know of humanities greatest women."

The Doctor had a sip of her tea and took in a heavy breath. She hadn’t said these things to anyone before. It was new, it was frightening. It was also so very, very important.

"You know how humans can be can just be so bright, like there’s just that little something that shines within them, and, when you’re around them, it’s like that brightness is shining on you?" The Doctor started.

Vastra hummed, her eyes going thoughtful, knowing. Of course she knew, Vastra was another person who had fallen in love with a human.

"Y/N is like that, but... but more,” The Doctor said, and even she could tell that her voice was just filled with so much feeling. “I don't even know how to describe it, it's just – oh and that smile? Sometimes I take Y/N places just to see that smile, it's everything. Y/N finds the beauty in the mundane, and just adores absolutely everything I show."


The Doctor sobered. "How do I... what do I even do with that?"



Vastra leaned forward for a moment. "Well, do you want to be with Y/N?"

The Doctor swallowed. Did she? Could she do that to you? Could she collapse her absolute everything into you? Would it even be fair?

She thought about the way you had hugged her, how safe the Doctor had felt, how secure she had been. Perhaps, just maybe, it would be alright, to let you in, to fall completely into you.

But it would be cruel, it would be so much, and she would never want to put that burden on your shoulders.

At last, the Doctor whispered, in a broken voice. "I don't know.”

"Well," Vastra said, having another sip of tea. "I suggest you determine the answer, because I cannot tell you what you don't know, that is not how matters of the heart operate - or in this case, hearts."

“How do I do that?”

Vastra regarded her. “Doctor, that is not something I can tell you. Only you know your hearts,” she paused.

The Doctor took a sip of her tea, it was fruity, with a floral aftertaste. It reminded her of bergamot. She took one more, then another, swallowing down her thoughts.

Only she knows her hearts? What did that even mean.

The Doctor perked her head up, the pieces falling into place.

“I’m a time traveller,” She breathed.

“You are, yes.” Vastra said, frowning slightly. “That is one of your defining traits, Doctor.”

“No, I mean, I could just see another face of mine, one that’s better with all of,” the Doctor gestured vaguely around her, the tea sloshing in it’s mug. “This.”

Vastra raised her eyebrows. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant, Doctor.”

But she didn’t get the chance to reply. The door to the parlour flung open, and in stormed Jenny, with half the skirt from her dress burned off. You were walking behind her, frazzled and dazed, your hair flying everywhere and ash littered over your shirt. The Doctor noticed you had even lost a shoe.

“My word,” Vastra gasped. “What on Earth has happened?”

Your wild eyes found the Doctor’s, and immediately, the Doctor knew that her own crisis could wait. Something more important was afoot.

Part of her was excited, she had missed going on adventures with the Paternoster gang.

Besides, she had to work out which version of herself to talk to next, and that would take time.

“Well then,” the Doctor said. “C’mon team,” she screwed up her face. “Hm, no, wait. Crew?” her face then brightened. “Victorian slumber party – yes. C’mon Victorian slumber party-”

Vastra rolled her eyes, but was giving the Doctor a small smile. “You are not calling us that.”

“-let’s get a shift on.”

A/N^2: This was a bit of an awkward place to end it, sorry about that. I wanted the focus to be on the relationship advice but it all kind of spun away from me. Also, you won't BELIEVE how hard it was writing this without writing pronouns for reader, so, I have a question: how would you feel if I wrote Y/P for "Your pronoun"? I'm anxious about the fact that it could pull people out of the fic, but also, I don't want to alienate people by writing in a pronoun. So, thoughts?

[niles-rainbow-room]

Freemod Context! (Long!!)

This is Gordon Freemod! He’s my own little AU Gordon, and I love him!

I made him based around the way I play Garry’s Mod

Cause, in Gmod, my player model is Gordon, and I literally cannot change it because whenever I go to change my model he just

He looks at me. He judges me. He’s just refusing to let me change it.

Here’s just. A bunch of things about Freemod that aren’t related.

Btw, this whole thing is me going-

*projects rapidly*

These were all taken from various moments of me info dumping to my discord friends about him, so, that’s why there’s so many that are barely related.

-

So

To get some characterization down, Freemod can go from Excited Sweet Voice at Everything to This Man is in God Mode and He is Staring You Down as You Attack Him

They’re also

very scared of Gman

It’s not even funny

-

ANYWAYS something else about Freemod, he likes starting all out fights between people, but he’s very polite too so like

Someone says hi to him and he gives this big ol smile, next thing you know, he’s spawning headcrabs that could wipe out an army

-

He also has no idea what to do with bodies like sometimes he just Sweet Voice cocoons them, and other times he just beats them rapidly if it was a combine or something

-

Another thing! He doesn’t like making eye contact 100% of the time! If he gets too excited as well, he’ll despawn whatever was making him excited until he calms down.

-

He’s also really fast when it comes to no-clipping.

He’ll shoot up into the air and fling himself from place to place, just absolutely soaring and loving that feeling of flying through the air

-

He definitely makes Catboy Calhoun jokes but like

He’s also really nervous around Calhoun sometimes like he’s constantly checking in on them after making them fight a ton of headcrabs.

-

He doesn’t really like using the majority of the guns. He just typically uses the quieter/less frantic weapons like the magnum or the crossbow.

-

He’s like

Magnetically drawn to mirrors. He likes watching himself do the Sweet Voice and will do it for hours when he’s in the right mood if someone doesn’t stop him

-

He’s very giggly and smiley when it comes to hearing other characters talk. But he also can be very mean and cutting to the people he doesn’t like. Especially combine.

-

Freemod really likes Houndeyes.

*Really* likes them.

He spawned in a group of 8 and just watched them for a while, and then he spawns a MP Combine. It proceeds to stun stick every one of them. And they all die in one hit. They don’t even fight back.

What Freemod does next is basically the equivalent of “die a very painful death” and just beats the shit out of them while alive and dead.

They have to erase everything because they can’t stand the sight of the bodies of Houndeyes.

-

Hi! Sorry to take you out of the immersion of reading my brain goo, or the annoyed scrolling of “Oh my god will she just shut up already” but!

Another thing I decided to do with him, I gave him a little plot. A hint of his own character rather than just being me but an AU Gordon.

So here that is!

-

I feel like the only true way to contain Freemod and keep him from destroying the world is by keeping him in gm_construct

He likes it there sure, but like

If someone let him into Black Mesa let’s just say that the Resonance Cascade would’ve been way sooner and way more intense.

All he really does is fly around in there. Just. That’s it.

It’s his own personal Bug Bucket.

I don’t even think he realizes he’s trapped to be fair?

-

Another thing with Freemod, I’m not exactly sure how he’d react to... say, the HLVRAI characters showing up in gm_construct one day, idk Benrey takes the gang on a trip to there out of nowhere and they find Freemod just vibing by himself, flying through the air on a capture point from TF2. I don’t know if he’d:

A: Summon a bunch of things to attack the HLVRAI crew for the fun of it

B: Immediately try to befriend all of them desperately

C: Possess a creature and disregard them

D: All of the above

Cause with all this “He’s trapped/alone” sorta thing, I don’t know if I’m making him into a villain or am I just making him very touch starved and sad?

Cause like, earlier I did say that if he was let out of gm_construct, the resonance cascade would’ve been sooner and more intense

Basically what I was thinking is that he doesn’t really limit how crazy his thoughts experiments can be that often, so like, he spawns a bunch of things all at once to see what would happen.

But he’s not like that all the time, like I said, he’s also very polite, he’s just got a thin coating of God Mode on and he’s very lonely.

-

I was trying to figure out the thing with Freemod’s voice actually. I’m trying to think what they’d be like on the Gordon Scale.™️

I’d say he’s able to speak, but he doesn’t do it often. Because typically he’s only around NPCs and they can’t respond to him the way he wants, so why actually talk to them?

But he definitely talks to enemies as sort of a “I am the last thing you’ll ever hear” kind of thing.

But if he were to meet a different Gordon or someone with sentience he can talk to, he’d speak. Totally.

He talks to some of the alien/animal NPCs, cause like!!! Come on!!! That Houndeye over there needs to know that he’s a good boy!!!

-

So, maybe when Freemod is upset or something, he spawns the biggest thing he can possibly think of and posses it, and goes on an absolute rampage until he’s better

So I can just imagine.

Freemod, not feeling great and tense:

Feetman: Mod, hey. Don’t do it...

Freemod: *spawns and possesses a Gene Worm, and roars*

Feetman: FREEMOD NO GET OUT OF THE GIANT MONSTER-

Or like. He just possesses something and just. Flies away.

He just has moments where he’s too out of his head and he needs to just escape.

Something he’s been doing recently is possessing a Stukabat and flying up on top of a roof of a really high building and just. Viewing everything.

This man is SAD please hug him :((

-

Ooh, another thing,

He doesn’t like that dark room at all. In gm_construct? He will not go in there for more than a minute. That place scares him so much. Not even the fact that it’s dark, he just hates that he can’t see anything and while he knows he’s alone in the world he’s in, and he controls what can exist there or not, but, he just refuses to go there, even with a flashlight.

-

Aaaaaand that’s all the content I’ve made for them so far! Now that y’all know the context for him, I’ll post the comic of him meeting the HLVRAI characters, as well as some other drawings!

[funkymbtifiction]

Thanks a lot for answering! I wonder could you please give examples of everyday deeds/types of behavior of different primaries and secondaries? Like what are they like when there's a school test or when they need to visit a doctor? The more the better. Something more down-to-earth than the situations from the fantasy movies listed on the website that may never take place in the real world, something found in everyday life that will help someone identify themselves and mb others around them

I’m not sure I can do that, because frankly, your Primary House is a state of mind. It’s what you want and how you feel about things (or do not feel, in the case of Ravenclaws, ahem). But I can talk about a few things, particularly in response to Harry Potter, that can shed light on the state of mind of the Primary.

What I have most noticed about people in general is that we all have a built-in bias, and in order to find our true type—whether that is our MBTI type, our Enneagram core and tritype, or our Hogwarts House combination—we must abandon our ego defenses. What does that mean? We have to overcome our biases and want to know our true self, and own it, more than we want to fight against an answer that might not please us. In the Enneagram, I’ve noticed particular biases against being a 2 or a 6. Everyone wants to be the more “glamorous” 4 or the elusive, bookworm 5.

Harry Potter, for better or worse, introduced us to the concept of Hogwarts Houses, but also introduced us to a bias, because it made Gryffindor the most glamorous House, due to all the main characters (however unrealistically) hailing from that House. Or, at least, all the main characters we like. Ravenclaw is full of wise weirdos like Luna Lovegood, who irrationally believes in things no one can prove. Slytherin is host to mostly back-stabbing, snobbish cheaters. And Hufflepuff is an “afterthought” where all “the boring, nice people are.”

What I like about Sorting Hat Chats is… they made the entire system more interesting and a lot fairer. Now, Slytherin isn’t the only House with villains automatically placed in it: their villains have to be specific in their love (and not betray their family, because it is the house of My Family is My Life). This also means people, fictional or real, who prioritize their loved ones, are Slytherins. Such as Mr. Darcy, or Katniss Everdeen. Suddenly, being a Slytherin doesn’t seem so bad, right? Not if you are loyal to the ones you love! That alone will appeal to the mindset of a Slytherin, because they will think, “Of COURSE I am. Of COURSE my loved ones come first! They SHOULD!”

I have friends in all four Primary Houses, but I will use myself as an example of the Ravenclaw. When I was reading the books, having all the main characters in Gryffindor bothered me, because not only did it show a bias, but I felt some of the main characters ‘belonged’ in other Houses—such as Remus Lupin being a Hufflepuff rather than a Gryffindor. I also felt like Hermione belonged in Ravenclaw. But that is neither here nor there… my objections to the system came from the logical flaws in how she arranged it. It wasn’t realistic to have everyone ‘important’ or ‘admirable’ within the story come from Gryffindor. It was easier to have them share Common Rooms, but people don’t isolate like that and only befriend someone from their House. They look for like-minded friends who share interests, and would make them all over the place. It was my little Ravenclaw brain, pulling away at her system and finding flaws in its logic, but reacting from a place of logical reasoning rather than moral indignation.

When I took the SHC test, it placed me in Slytherin. And I was not opposed to that. In fact, I explored it for a long time, as I thought about how I respond in various situations. Slytherin appealed to me, because… I wish I could stand up for my family automatically. I wish I could prioritize my loved ones all the time. But I kept hitting upon the fact that – I like to think about things in a detached manner, and come to what I feel is a rational consensus. It’s more clinical and less emotional than Slytherins are—and it helped at the time that I knew a Slytherin, and could easily see both how possessive she was of people (they are “mine to protect” – she always reminded me of Slytherin Sam Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings, with his “MY MR. FRODO”) and how, without fail, her sister came before even me, her best friend. Through comparison, I knew I had to be something else. So in typical Ravenclaw fashion, I went through and considered them all. Because, as a Ravenclaw, I want to be RIGHT more than protect my ego. I am always looking for the truth, even when it hurts. And I am always measuring the world against an ideal in my head, built up of my belief system. I do not go against my beliefs; I mold myself to them. And it shocks me to find others who do not, but who claim to be the same as I am. I take, for example, my Christian faith seriously—so what do you mean you are ignoring what your faith says, and doing whatever you want??? YOU MOLD TO YOUR BELIEFS, DON’T YOU? Well, yes, if you are a Ravenclaw, you do. If you are any other House, you do not.

The Hufflepuff Primary I know has a far more ‘felt’ opinion of the books and their sorting system. She got livid reading them, and thinking about how constantly unfair it all was, how biased Rowling was, and how Dumbledore was clearly playing favorites constantly with Gryffindor House. She developed a bad attitude about him as a result… which, of course, is coming from her being a Hufflepuff. To a Hufflepuff, people come first. They are all treated fairly and seen as equals. You do not discriminate, you do not alienate, you do not give unfair favors to Harry and his friends, just so Gryffindor can win the House Cup over and over again. She was actually so angry about this, from a Hufflepuff perspective, that she was willing to be a Slytherin in defiance of ‘The System’ until she realized that kind of mindset is… pure Hufflepuff. “You are not being fair about this, I will oppose you.” It’s all instinctual, it’s all emotional, and it’s all loyalty to the human race, which includes Slytherins. (This caused us some friction for awhile, until I realized it was “just a Hufflepuff” objection, because... how can you be mad at Dumbledore for that? It’s just a convenient plot device in the book! ... says the Ravenclaw who isn’t getting too emotionally involved. ;)

The Slytherin I know, by the way, denied being a Slytherin at first, because she felt ashamed of it. She has been taught to act like a Hufflepuff, that she SHOULD care about everyone all the time, but… she does not. She cares about her loved ones the most, and she would protect them above other people, every time. I pointed out to her that Hufflepuff fits her less than Slytherin, because “You ARE Katniss. You told me that once. That you identified so heavily with her, because you would go into the arena for your Prim.” And then she admitted it, and saw the gloriousness that is being a loyal Slytherin.

The Gryffindor I know is always looking for a Cause, and… as a Ravenclaw, I find that exhausting. She wants to be mad about things, because that anger gives her the fire she needs to do something about it. She has taken on big Causes by financially supporting the Causes she cares about, and done physical things about smaller Causes. For example, as a teenager, she came upon three guys tormenting a dog. It made her so livid, she charged straight at them, swearing and screaming at them to leave the animal alone, and it scared them all so much, they turned tail and ran. She just knew it was the right thing to do, and she and I often butt heads a lot, because she expects everyone else (meaning me) to be as passionate as she is about doing the ‘right thing.’ My more detached “well, let’s look at both sides of this issue” has no place in her black and white Gryffindor mind (no, that is WRONG).

Secondary Houses are… something that may take a little more time to figure out, as you think about how you handle the ‘unexpected.’

Gryffindors… have to speak up if they see an injustice, or hear something they disagree with. They are they person who cannot keep their mouth shut, they need to voice their opinion. They don’t care if you don’t like it or don’t agree, to not state their views would be antagonistic to their central self. My Hufflepuff friend is a Gryffindor Secondary. Not only did she get mad about the biases in Harry Potter, she complained loudly about it, to me, and to other people, and even in a blog post, because the injustice of it needed drawn-attention to, and dealt with, and she doesn’t really care if you disagree. That’s just how she rolls, about EVERYTHING. Because Gryffindor Secondaries state their views. They see an injustice, and they rush toward it. (My Gryffindor friend is also a Gryffindor Secondary: see dog being abused, rush in to do something about it!)

Ravenclaws… want to prepare for everything, and then rely on their own skill set to handle problems as they arise. They are the person who, when their bike breaks down halfway home, consider what they know about bikes (can they fix this easily?), and what they know about public transportation (am I going to be able to catch a bus home?), and make decisions from there. Or who study for a test in advance and show up, only to panic because they found out they read the wrong chapter in the book and know nothing about it. My father is a Gryffindor with a Ravenclaw Secondary, and he over-prepares himself with any useful knowledge he thinks he might need to combat a wide variety of situations—and then is stumped if confronted by something he did not prepare for, and knows nothing about. He is always trying to think ahead and prepare so that he doesn’t have to improvise anything at the last second—because he sucks at it.

It was a comparison with him that actually shifted me away from assuming I had a Ravenclaw Secondary, because… I don’t suck at improvising. I’m actually quite good at it. And I don’t over-prepare, because in true Hufflepuff Secondary position, I figure I can ask someone for help. And they always give it to me. But what really cemented the deal for me, in terms of recognizing my Puff Secondary House, were two—no, make that three, truths from my life. 1) Ravenpuffs distill complex information and put it back out into the world for others to enjoy (hello, Funky!). 2) Puff Secondaries show up and do the tireless work, clock the hours, and are highly reliable, which is… me. I have run this site day in and day out for years. I am punctual, fastidious, I put my responsibilities ahead of all else (even turning down fun occasions because I need to work), and I will painstakingly work on perfecting something, finishing something, improving something, or polishing something (even when I’m bored). In short, I show up and do the work. And 3) the truth that Puff Secondaries have friends to stand up for them, because they have proven themselves reliable and trustworthy, is no joke. A few years ago, I had trouble with someone online and, without being asked, three of our mutual friends came to my defense. Proof of the Puff.

Lastly, Slytherin Secondaries are highly adaptable. It’s no problem for them to shift their approach given the needs of the situation. It’s the equivalent of a friend you admire, but who puzzles you (if you don’t share their Slytherin Secondary trait) because… it seems like they are a different person everywhere you go, because whatever is needed, they can become it. They are the person who has no trouble with change and no need to plan, because they just trust that it’s all going to work out fine, based on their ability to adapt. It’s the person who shows up at a friend’s birthday party expecting it to be formal, finds out it’s casual, sneaks into the bathroom to rearrange their attire, and emerges ready to play Twister. Or who will be serious with you, joke constantly with your brother, and behave like a saint around your mom, according to whatever works and appeals to you the best.

Hope some of that helps, though it wasn’t explicitly what you asked for. Best this ENFP can do, since in-depth sensory specific examples require a heck of a lot more Si than I’ve got. :P

[nobody-knose--archive]

i’ve been aching to commentate spirit phone’s commentary for ages. glad i finally got around to it, this was an ejoyable experience. liveblog below the cut

-i'm like half certain i've heard this commentary before. maybe not the whole way through & it was probably actual years ago

-nice hearing stuff like this. in-depth personal view of the album-making process. makes it seem like more of a real thing i could do myself someday

-neil cicierega real person momence

-i could probably go real in depth about neil cicierega/tally hall parallels specifically concerning like. the arc of their musical careers. but i won't, here

-wild how i legitimately don't care much about micheal jackson

-didnt we get a bunch of spirit phone stems from the needlejuice release/his patreon? we could probably hear the funny track he speaks of here in that

-i love hearing musical artists, especially neil cicierega, talking about the meanings of their songs. like, not only has this song been claimed to hell & back by the tumblr gays, but with later ones i just can't see where he gets these ideas from. also, claiming there's any one meaning or plot to a song just seems silly to me

-shoutout to neil reusing a midi from like, 1998, that he made at 12 years old, whose entire melody was reused for the main verses of everybody loves raymond. loved finding that out on my own 2 years ago. now it's common trivia in this fandom. not bad times

-it'd be neat if neil did individual trans tracks here like he did with view monstel, those things are half of why i consider it my favorite album

-it's a lot easier to ignore the creator's intended meaning behind a song when he can't even remember it. thanks neil

-seesaw effect

-and there's my joke all but 1 of my followers wont get. moving on

-what kinds of movie theater lobbies has neil been to where there are arcade machines. i mean im not one to talk but that does sound rather strange

-why do songs' titles even need to be taken from the lyrics. ive never seen that as any sort of requisite. it's like titling any form of prose you can just give it whatever name ya like

-"this part sounds pretty cool right"

-is neil's vocal range only mildly better than mine? with training i could change that

-oh i haven't processed any of the last 25 seconds hold on

-god. a shit ton of vocal modification in this song. it's like neil returned to his roots but with quality this time

-i, as an ace/aro, have never related more to an allohet guy in my life. what is the point of eyes!

-professional humming/whistling takes skill. it's different from the recreational or casual stuff. i'd know

-there's a name for the way sound (especially music) gets distorted when moving past you and i can't remember it but it's probably what neil's referring to here in the way he recorded the intro

(- update: it's the doppler effect no need to tell me cas already did)

-as someone who hasnt seen the rugrats or take me there by blackstreet i'll just say it sounded like a bouncy music box melody. nice to hear a song that messes with the typical scales though. lydian & diatonic.

-that's a rather specific thing to be glad about, but given what he talked about in his last full audio commentary about the jew harp i suppose i'm not surprised

-i know that tmbg song now. listened to it & saw the music video too. yep they're different alright

-where the hell does neil get all these instrumence from anyway

-huh. hadnt heard this part of the commentary before making my oc concerning this song but i like to hear neil's approval concerning part of my interpretation

-i love how ive heard a billion different tellings of this mellified man story from lem dem fans talking about this song and neil's is by far the wildest

-good god that does only make it worse neil

-i love making liveblogs of lemon demon albums. with the fullerenes or tally hall i cant name a specific dude to take out my woes on generally but with lemon demon i can just say neil all the time. i like being on a casual first name basis with this dude ive never interacted with once ever

-is sweet bod the one other than cabinet man with a demo in the bonus tracks? i forget

-holy shit the boston molasses disaster someone call up soapy if it doesnt already know, it'd love this

-two thousand nine. god i miss the fiddle solo. the ver with it is truly the best one

-he pronounces it jeff? i've always read it as gef with a hard g. that's what i get for knowing words that are never spoken aloud

-that's a fun meta interpretation of this ghost story that's over a century old. i like that

-i've noticed neil generally does the same synths across a whole album. it's especially more clear in the earlier ones, and does mean i occasionally mix up songs between clown circus & live from the haunted candle shop

-ah! ancient aliens! my least favorite track on this album. i cant even claim to have the least interest in a popular one i've just generally not liked this one much from the beginning. so im curious to see what neil's got to say, i think ive been in ~new commentary zone for a while now

-anyway. newest update on the loolin not realizing a song's funky time signature front: i think this one's in 6/4. or at least switches a lot between time signatures. granted i dont listen to it very often for the reasons stated above

-see the way neil describes it. eldritch horror upon being visited by the unknown at a time when humanity'd hadn't even yet had a chance to imagine such a thing occurring. should be right up my alley. but the sound itself & many of the lyrics simply turn me away.

-must i specify i don't dislike it? spirit phone is neil's best album it not being my favorite doesn't mean i think it's bad yadda yadda nobody should be surprised by this it's not like anyone in these fandoms reads my liveblogs <3

-granted i think this is. the first bit of spirit phone content i've made on my blog ever. so who knows things can change <3

-the transitions in spirit phone are much less view-monster transition tracks & more extended outros. view-monster's were a bit more intro than outro sure but they also seemed directed upon making a 2-way rather than 1-way bridge between tracks. or something like that

-.............soft fuzzy man is an incredible nickname for a cat. i'd steal that if i werent afraid of introducing my relatives to lemon demon

-jirls

-an underlying metaphor is good enough. the literal side of the lyrics are fun. nothing but agreement here neil my good man

-the transition into as your father i expressly forbid it from soft fuzzy man is the best one in this album

-buddy you ask if a musical idea has been used before odds are the answer is yes in this day & age the question is has it been used in the way you're using it. like sure this soul jazz record from the 60s that was sold out in kansas stores for a week used this bassline that youve found yourself copying. but seeing as youre using it in some angsty garage rock ballad type tune does anybody actually care

-doesn't everybody like to say things in an unhinged manner from time to time

-imagine having a guitar dad, i say, with my dad being a folk accordion/fiddle dad, which is infinitely worse in every way

-i think he was in an actual folk band at some point. idk the 90s were weird

-iron my life?

-m-more intimate? there are a lot of ways i'd describe this song but intimate isn't one of them. granted as your father is negatively intimate so from there i guess you've got nowhere to go but up

-...still glad to see his interpretation kinda supports my oc at least

-the way he says characters in songs shouldn't worry about death really strongly makes me think this is some sort of. thematic continuation of stuck from dinosaurchestra, even if there's no real death in there. interesting. would also mean that the dad from these past 2 songs is named carlos betty (no last name)

-i literally never assumed this was a flute solo. piccolo at best. it's pretty clearly a recorder

-my mom plays the recorder. i wonder if she can play recorder better than neil cicierega

-we can throw a party in honor of the crushing weight of responsibility! i simply won't be the one throwing it because i have enough on my plate already <3

-what the hell does "a sense of intent" mean

-i've never heard rush before however i disagree with neil's understanding of 6/4. 6/4 is meant to have emphasis (onbeat or another term i can't remember) on the 1st & 4th beat of every measure, which is greatly different from a measure of 4/4 then a measure of 2/4. it's why his 5/4 always sounds weird, because while it's recognizable in sequences of 10/4, it's more 2 measures of 4/4 with one of 2/4 tacked on the end. that's also how it's different from 3/4. i don't know much music theory but what i do understand i will fight to the death about

-"canonized" that's. a very interesting term to use when referring to a former president

-from now on i will interpret every love song directed at some unseen "you" to be inviting me to marry them for tax purposes. thanks neil for being an aromantic icon

-ah hell yes hell yes man-made object is my favorite goddam song on this album

-short & sweet & good damn vibes. neil's thoughts on it all are only making it better

-wild how he uses very few vocal effects for a song that he clearly is straining his vocal range for. go off neil

-the qualifier of man-made is a wonderful thing. oldest or biggest thing? oldest or biggest man-made thing? what a incredibly important specification. a world of possibilities lie between the two. oh i love it

-just gets me thinking yknow! what we consider weird/impressive in another species, in our own species- what kind of equivalent to that would there be from an outsider looking in? are there alien versions of the significances we place upon things, that we could never imagine? the limits of the human imagination mean we could never conceive of something else in the world that isn't, in some way great or small, just like us- and are we wrong for thinking that? such a juicy topic i wish there were a name for it because it's kinda hard to explain concisely

-spiral of ants. my second favorite song from this album, in fact. a good one to experience

-the vocals are just another instrument. they really truly are. i wasn't going into this commentary expecting to feel solidarity for neil cicierega in this chili's tonight on more than one occasion but here i am.

-like, his whole stance on interpreting songs is something i agree with almost entirely. you can take it at face value, you can dig to their very depths, you can listen to songs without caring what the lyrics mean whatsoever, and those are all fun. & yeah while any of these people can be annoying as one of the types who enjoys gliding on the surface more than anything i find those who dedicate themselves to figuring out the whole meaning of a song over anything else to be both slightly scary & slightly annoying <3 keep up the good work

-i want to make songs for my siblings the way neil makes songs for his sibling(s)

-spinch

-neil really shouldn't be allowed to be this funny like this whole album youre thinking golly! he's just a normal man this neil cicierega! and then he starts listing the cat hacks jokes & you remember he's had ridiculously consistent viral success with all his humorous endeavors and holy shit it's neil cicierega in action talking about his music. god bless you neil

-you're welcome, no problem, my pleasure. good eveternoon, radio audience!

[rawliverandcigarettes]

Mass Effect Retribution, a review

Mass Effect Retribution is the third book in the official Mass Effect trilogy by author Drew Karpyshyn, who happens to also be Lead Writer for Mass Effect 1 and Mass Effect 2.

I didn’t expect to pick it up, because to be very honest I didn’t expect to like it. 9 years ago I borrowed Mass Effect Revelations, and I still recall the experience as underwhelming. But this fateful fall of 2020 I had money (yay) and I saw the novel on the shelf of a swedish nerd store. I guess guilt motivated me to give the author another try: guilt, because I’ve been writing a Mass Effect fanfiction for an ungodly amount of years and I’ve been deathly afraid of lore that might contradict my decisions ever since I started -but I knew this book covered elements that are core to plot elements of my story, and I was willing to let my anxiety to the door and see what was up.

Disclaimer: I didn’t reread Mass Effect Revelation before plunging into this read, and entirely skipped Ascension. So anything in relation to character introduction and continuity will have to be skipped.

Back-cover pitch (the official, unbiased, long one)

Humanity has reached the stars, joining the vast galactic community of alien species. But beyond the fringes of explored space lurk the Reapers, a race of sentient starships bent on “harvesting” the galaxy’s organic species for their own dark purpose. The Illusive Man, leader of the pro-human black ops group Cerberus, is one of the few who know the truth about the Reapers. To ensure humanity’s survival, he launches a desperate plan to uncover the enemy’s strengths—and weaknesses—by studying someone implanted with modified Reaper technology. He knows the perfect subject for his horrific experiments: former Cerberus operative Paul Grayson, who wrested his daughter from the cabal’s control with the help of Ascension project director Kahlee Sanders. But when Kahlee learns that Grayson is missing, she turns to the only person she can trust: Alliance war hero Captain David Anderson. Together they set out to find the secret Cerberus facility where Grayson is being held. But they aren’t the only ones after him. And time is running out. As the experiments continue, the sinister Reaper technology twists Grayson’s mind. The insidious whispers grow ever stronger in his head, threatening to take over his very identity and unleash the Reapers on an unsuspecting galaxy. This novel is based on a Mature-rated video game.

Global opinion (TL;DR)

I came in hoping to be positively surprised and learn a thing or two about Reapers, about Cerberus and about Aria T’loak. I wasn’t, and I didn’t learn much. What I did learn was how cool ideas can get wasted by the very nature of game novelization, as the defects are not singular to this novel but quite widespread in this genre, and how annoyed I can get at an overuse of dialogue tags. The pacing is good and the narrative structure alright: everything else poked me in the wrong spots and rubbed how the series have always handled violence on my face with cruder examples. If I was on Good Reads, I’d probably give it something like 2 stars, for the pacing, some of the ideas, and my general sympathy for the IP novel struggle.

The indepth review continue past this point, just know there will be spoilers for the series, the Omega DLC which is often relevant, and the book itself!

What I enjoyed

Drew Karpyshyn is competent in narrative structure, and that does a lot for the pacing. Things rarely drag, and we get from one event to the next seamlessly. I’m not surprised this is one of the book’s qualities, as it comes from the craft of a game writer: pacing and efficiency are mandatory skills in this field. I would have preferred a clearer breaking point perhaps, but otherwise it’s a nice little ride that doesn’t ask a lot of effort from you (I was never tempted to DNF the book because it was so easy to read).

This book is packed with intringuing ideas -from venturing in the mind of the Illusive Man to assist, from the point of view of the victim, to Grayson’s biological transformation and assimilation into the Reaper hivemind, we get plenty to be excited for. I was personally intrigued about Liselle, Aria T’loak’s secret daughter, and eager to get a glimpse at the mind of the Queen Herself -also about how her collaboration with Cerberus came to be. Too bad none of these ideas go anywhere nor are being dealt with in an interesting way!!! But the concepts themselves were very good, so props for setting up interesting premices.

Pain is generally well described. It gets the job done.

I liked Sanak, the batarian that works as a second to Aria. He’s not very well characterized and everyone thinks he’s dumb (rise up for our national himbo), even though he reads almost smarter than her on multiple occasions, but I was happy whenever he was on the page, so yay for Sanak. But it might just be me having a bias for batarians.

Cool to have Kai Leng as a point of view character. I wasn’t enthralled by what was done with it, as he remains incredibly basic and as basically hateable and ungrounded than in Mass Effect 3 (I think he’s very underwhelming as a villain and he should have been built up in Mass Effect 2 to be effective). But there were some neat moments, such as the description of the Afterlife by Grayson who considers it as tugging at his base instincts, compared to Leng’s description of it where everything is deemed disgusting. The execution is not the best, but the concept was fun.

Pre-Reaperification Paul Grayson wasn’t the worst point of view to follow. I wasn’t super involved in his journey and didn’t care when he died one way or the other, but I empathized with his problems and hoped he would find a way out of the cycle of violence. The setup of his character arc was interesting, it’s just sad that any resolution -even negative- was dropped to focus on Reapers and his relationship with Kahlee Sanders, as I think the latter was the least interesting part.

The cover is cool and intringuing. Very soapy. It’s my favorite out of all the official novels, as it owns the cheesier aspect of the series, has nice contrasts and immediately asks questions. Very 90s/2000s. It’s great.

You may notice every thing I enjoyed was coated in complaints, because it’s a reflection of my frustration at this book for setting up interesting ideas and then completely missing the mark in their execution. So without further due, let’s talk about what I think the book didn’t do right.

1. Dumb complaints that don’t matter much

After reading the entire book, I am still a bit confused at to why Tim (the Illusive Man’s acronym is TIM in fandom, but I find immense joy in reffering to him as just Tim) wants his experimentation to be carried out on Grayson specifically, especially when getting to him is harder than pretty much anyone else (also wouldn’t pushing the very first experiments on alien captives make more sense given it’s Cerberus we’re talking about?). It seem to be done out of petty revenge, which is fine, but it still feels like quite the overlook to mess with a competent fighter, enhance him, and then expect things to stay under control (which Tim kind of doesn’t expect to, and that’s even weirder -why waste your components on something you plan to terminate almost immediately). At the same time, the pettiness is the only characterization we get out of Tim so good I guess? But if so, I wished it would have been accentuated to seem even more deliberate (and not have Tim regret to see it in himself, which flattens him and doesn’t inform the way he views the world and himself -but we’ll get to that).

I really disliked the way space travel is characterized. And that might be entirely just me, and perhaps it doesn’t contradict the rest of the lore, but space travel is so fast. People pop up left and right in a matter of hours. At some point we even get a mention of someone being able to jump 3 different Mass Relays and then arrive somewhere in 4 hours. I thought you first had to discharge your ship around a stellar object before being able to engage in the next jump (and that imply finding said object, which would have to take more than an hour). It’s not that big of a deal, but it completely crammed this giant world to a single boulevard for me and my hard-science-loving tastes. Not a big deal, but not a fan at all of this choice.

You wouldn’t believe how often people find themselves in a fight naked or in their underwear. It happens at least 3 times (and everyone naked survives -except one, we’ll get to her later).

Why did I need to know about this fifteen year’s old boner for his older teacher. Surely there were other ways to have his crush come across without this detail, or then have it be an actual point of tension in their relationship and not just a “teehee” moment. Weird choice imo.

I’m not a fan of the Talons. I don’t find them interesting or compelling. There is nothing about them that informs us on the world they live in. The fact they’re turian-ruled don’t tell us anything about turian culture that, say, the Blue Suns don’t tell us already. It’s a generic gang that is powerful because it is. I think they’re very boring, in this book and in the Omega DLC alike (a liiittle less in the DLC because of Nyreen, barely). Not a real criticism, I just don’t care for them at all.

I might just be very ace, but I didn’t find Anderson and Kahlee Sanders to have much chemistry. Same for Kahlee and Grayson (yes we do have some sort of love-triangle-but-not-really, but it’s not very important and it didn’t bother me much). Their relationships were all underwhelming to me, and I’ll explain why in part 4.

The red sand highs are barely described, and very safely -probably not from a place of intimate knowledge with drugs nor from intense research. Addiction is a delicate topic, and I feel like it could have been dealt with better, or not be included at all.

There are more of these, but I don’t want to turn this into a list of minor complaints for things that are more a matter of taste than craft quality or thematic relevance. So let’s move on.

2. Who cares about aliens in a Mass Effect novel

Now we’re getting into actual problems, and this one is kind of endemic to the Mass Effect novels (I thought the same when I read Revelation 9 years ago, though maybe less so as Saren in a PoV character -but I might have forgotten so there’s that). The aliens are described and characterized in the most uncurious, uninspired manner. Krogans are intimidating brutes. Turians are rigid. Asaris are sexy. Elcors are boring. Batarians are thugs (there is something to be said with how Aria’s second in command is literally the same batarian respawned with a different name in Mass Effect 2, this book, then the Omega DLC). Salarians are weak nerds. (if you allow me this little parenthesis because of course I have to complain about salarian characterization: the only salarian that speaks in the book talks in a cheap ripoff of Mordin’s speech pattern, which sucks because it’s specific to Mordin and not salarians as a whole, and is there to be afraid of a threat as a joke. This is SUCH a trope in the original trilogy -especially past Mass Effect 1 when they kind of give up on salarians except for a few chosen ones-, that salarians’ fear is not to be taken seriously and the only salarians who are to be considered don’t express fear at all -see Mordin and Kirrahe. It happens at least once per game, often more. This is one of the reasons why the genophage subplot is allowed to be so morally simple in ME3 and remove salarians from the equation. I get why they did that, but it’s still somewhat of a copeout. On this front, I have to give props to Andromeda for actually engaging with violence on salarians in a serious manner. It’s a refreshing change) I didn’t learn a single thing about any of these species, how they work, what they care about in the course of these 79750 words. I also didn’t learn much about their relationships to other species, including humans. I’ll mention xenophobia in more details later, but this entire aspect of the story takes a huge hit because of this lack of investment of who these species are.

I’ve always find Mass Effect, despite its sprawling universe full of vivid ideas and unique perspectives, to be strangely enamoured with humans, and it has never been so apparent than here. Only humans get to have layers, deserving of empathy and actual engagement. Only their pain is real and important. Only their death deserve mourning (we’ll come back to that). I’d speculate this comes from the same place that was terrified to have Liara as a love interest in ME1 in case she alienated the audience, and then later was surprised when half the fanbase was more interested in banging the dinosaur-bird than their fellow humans: Mass Effect often seem afraid of losing us and breaking our capacity for self-projection. It’s a very weird concern, in my opinion, that reveals the most immature, uncertain and soapy parts of the franchise. Here it’s punched to eleven, and I find it disappointing. It also have a surprising effect on the narrative: again, we’ll come back to that.

3. The squandered potential of Liselle and Aria

Okay. This one hurts. Let’s talk about Liselle: she’s introduced in the story as a teammate to Grayson, who at the time works as a merc for Aria T’loak on Omega, and also sleeps with him on the regular. She likes hitting the Afterlife’s dancefloor: she’s very admired there, as she’s described as extremely attractive. One night after receiving a call from Grayson, she rejoins him in his apartment. They have sex, then Kai Leng and other Cerberus agents barge in to capture Grayson -a fight break out (the first in a long tradition of naked/underwear fights), and both of them are stunned with tranquilizers. Grayson is to be taken to the Illusive Man. Kai Leng decides to slit Liselle’s throat as she lays unconscious to cover their tracks. When Aria T’loak and her team find her naked on a bed, throat gaping and covered in blood, Liselle is revealed, through her internal monologue, to be Aria’s secret daughter -that she kept secret for both of their safety. So Liselle is a sexpot who dies immediately in a very brutal and disempowered manner. This is a sad way to handle Aria T’loak’s daughter I think, but I assume it was done to give a strong motivation to the mother, who thinks Grayson did it. And also, it’s a cool setup to explore her psyche: how does she feel about business catching up with her in such a personal manner, how does she feel about the fact she couldn’t protect her own offspring despite all her power, what’s her relationship with loss and death, how does she slip when under high emotional stress, how does she deal with such a vulnerable position of having to cope without being able to show any sign of weakness... But the book does nothing with that. The most interesting we get is her complete absence of outward reaction when she sees her daughter as the centerpiece of a crime scene. Otherwise we have mentions that she’s not used to lose relatives, vague discomfort when someone mentions Liselle might have been raped, and vague discomfort at her body in display for everyone to gawk at. It’s not exactly revelatory behavior, and the missed potential is borderline criminal. It also doesn’t even justify itself as a strong motivation, as Aria vaguely tries to find Grayson again and then gives up until we give her intel on a silver platter. Then it almost feels as if she forgot her motivation for killing Grayson, and is as motivated by money than she is by her daughter’s murder (and that could be interesting too, but it’s not done in a deliberate way and therefore it seems more like a lack of characterization than anything else).

Now, to Aria. Because this book made me realize something I strongly dislike: the framing might constantly posture her as intelligent, but Aria T’loak is... kind of dumb, actually? In this book alone she’s misled, misinformed or tricked three different times. We’re constantly ensured she’s an amazing people reader but never once do we see this ability work in her favor -everyone fools her all the time. She doesn’t learn from her mistakes and jump from Cerberus trap to Cerberus trap, and her loosing Omega to them later is laughably stupid after the bullshit Tim put her through in this book alone. I’m not joking when I say the book has to pull out an entire paragraph on how it’s easier to lie to smart people to justify her complete dumbassery during her first negotiation with Tim. She doesn’t seem to know anything about how people work that could justify her power. She’s not politically savvy. She’s not good at manipulation. She’s just already established and very, very good at kicking ass. And I wouldn’t mind if Aria was just a brutish thug who maintains her power through violence and nothing else, that could also be interesting to have an asari act that way. But the narrative will not bow to the reality they have created for her, and keep pretending her flaw is in extreme pride only. This makes me think of the treatment of Sansa Stark in the latest seasons of Game of Thrones -the story and everyone in it is persuaded she’s a political mastermind, and in the exact same way I would adore for it to be true, but it’s just... not. It’s even worse for Aria, because Sansa does have victories by virtue of everyone being magically dumber than her whenever convenient. Aria just fails, again and again, and nobody seem to ever acknowledge it. Sadly her writing here completely justifies her writing in the Omega DLC and the comics, which I completely loathe; but turns out Aria isn’t smart or savvy, not even in posture or as a façade. She’s just violent, entitled, easily fooled, and throws public tantrums when things don’t go her way. And again, I guess that would be fine if only the narrative would recognize what she is. Me, I will gently ignore most of this (in her presentation at least, because I think it’s interesting to have something pitiful when you dig a little) and try to write her with a bit more elevation. But this was a very disappointing realization to have.

4. The squandered potential of Grayson and the Reapers

The waste of a subplot with Aria and Liselle might have hurt me more in a personal way, but what went down between Grayson and the Reapers hurts the entire series in a startling manner. And it’s so infuriating because the potential was there. Every setpiece was available to create something truly unique and disturbing by simply following the series’ own established lore. But this is not what happens. See, when The Illusive Man, our dearest Tim, captures Grayson for a betrayal that happened last book (something about his biotic autistic daughter -what’s the deal with autistic biotics being traumatized by Cerberus btw), he decides to use him as the key part of an experiment to understand how Reapers operate. So he forcefully implants the guy with Reaper technology (what they do exactly is unclear) to study his change into a husk and be prepared when Reapers come for humanity -it’s also compared to what happened with Saren when he “agreed” to be augmented by Sovereign. From there on, Grayson slowly turns into a husk. Doesn’t it sound fascinating, to be stuck in the mind of someone losing themselves to unknowable monsters? If you agree with me then I’m sorry because the execution is certainly... not that. The way the author chooses to describe the event is to use the trope of mind control used in media like Get Out: Grayson taking the backseat of his own mind and body. And I haaaaate it. I hate it so much. I don’t hate the trope itself (it can be interesting in other media, like Get Out!), but I loathe that it’s used here in a way that totally contradicts both the lore and basic biology. Grayson doesn’t find himself manipulated. He doesn’t find himself justifying increasingly jarring actions the way Saren has. He just... loses control of himself, disagreeing with what’s being done with him but not able to change much about it. He also can fight back and regain control sometimes -but his thoughts are almost untainted by Reaper influence. The technology is supposed to literally replace and reorganize the cells of his body; is this implying that body and mind are separated, that there maybe exists a soul that transcends indoctrination? I don’t know but I hate it. This also implies that every victim of the Reaper is secretely aware of what they’re doing and pained and disagreeing with their own actions. And I’m sorry but if it’s true, I think this sucks ass and removes one of the creepiest ideas of the Mass Effect universe -that identity can and will be lost, and that Reapers do not care about devouring individuality and reshaping it to the whims of their inexorable march. Keeping a clear stream of consciousness in the victim’s body makes it feel like a curse and not like a disease. None of the victims are truly gone that way, and it removes so much of the tragic powerlessness of organics in their fight against the machines. Imagine if Saren watched himself be a meanie and being like “nooo” from within until he had a chance to kill himself in a near-victorious battle, compared to him being completely persuaded he’s acting for the good of organic life until, for a split second, he comes to realize he doesn’t make any sense and is loosing his mind like someone with dementia would, and needs to grasp to this instant to make the last possible thing he could do to save others and his own mind from domination. I feel so little things for Saren in the former case, and so much for the latter. But it might just be me: I’m deeply touched by the exploration of how environment and things like medication can change someone’s behavior, it’s such a painfully human subject while forceful mind control is... just kind of cheap.

SPEAKING OF THE REAPERS. Did you know “The Reapers” as an entity is an actual character in this book? Because it is. And “The Reapers” is not a good character. During the introduction of Grayson and explaining his troubles, we get presented with the mean little voice in his head. It’s his thoughts in italics, nothing crazy, in fact it’s a little bit of a copeout from actually implementing his insecurities into the prose. But I gave the author the benefit of the doubt, as I knew Grayson would be indoctrinated later, and I fully expected the little voice to slowly start twisting into what the Reapers suggested to him. This doesn’t happen, or at least not in that slowburn sort of way. Instead the little voice is dropped almost immediately, and the Reapers are described, as a presence. And as the infection progresses, what Grayson do become what the Reapers do. The Reapers have emotions, it turns out. They’re disgusted at organic discharges. They’re pleased when Grayson accomplish what they want, and it’s told as such. They foment little plans to get their puppet to point A to point B, and we are privy to their calculations. And I’m sorry but the best way to ruin your lovecraftian concept is to try and explain its motivations and how it thinks. Because by definition the unknown is scarier, smarter, and colder than whatever a human author could come up with. I couldn’t take the Reapers’ dumb infiltration plans seriously, and now I think they are dumb all the time, and I didn’t want to!! The only cases in which the Reapers influence Grayson, we are told in very explicit details how so. For example, they won’t let Grayson commit suicide by flooding his brain with hope and determination when he tries, or they will change the words he types when he tries to send a message to Kahlee Sanders. And we are told exactly what they do every time. There was a glorious occasion to flex as a writer by diving deep into an unreliable narrator and write incredibly creepy prose, but I guess we could have been confused, and apparently that’s not allowed. And all of this is handled that poorly becauuuuuse...

5. Subtext is dead and Drew killed it

Now we need to talk about the prose. The style of the author is... let’s be generous and call it functional. It’s about clarity. The writing is so involved in its quest for clarity that it basically ruins the book, and most of the previous issues are direct consequences of the prose and adjacent decisions.The direct prose issues are puzzling, as they are known as rookie technical flaws and not something I would expect from the series’ Lead Writer for Mass Effect 1 and 2, but in this book we find problems such as:

The reliance on adverbs. Example: "Breathing heavily from the exertion, he stood up slowly”. I have nothing about a well-placed adverb that gives a verb a revelatory twist, but these could be replaced by stronger verbs, or cut altogether.

Filtering. Example: “Anderson knew that the fact they were getting no response was a bad sign”. This example is particularly egregious, but characters know things, feel things, realize things (boy do they realize things)... And this pulls us away from their internal world instead of making us live what they live, expliciting what should be implicit. For example, consider the alternative: “They were getting no reponse, which was a bad sign in Anderson’s experience.” We don’t really need the “in Anderson’s experience” either, but that already brings us significantly closer to his world, his lived experience as a soldier.

The goddamn dialogue tags. This one is the worst offender of the bunch. Nobody is allowed to talk without a dialogue tag in this book, and wow do people imply, admit, inform, remark and every other verb under the sun. Consider this example, which made me lose my mind a little: “What are you talking about? Kahlee wanted to know.” I couldn’t find it again, but I’m fairly certain I read a “What is it?” Anderson wanted to know. as well. Not only is it very distracting, it’s also yet another way to remove reader interpretation from the equation (also sometimes there will be a paragraph break inside a monologue -not even a long one-, and that doesn’t seem to be justified by anything? It’s not as big of a problem than the aversion to subtext, but it still confused me more than once)

Another writing choice that hurts the book in disproportionate ways is the reliance on point of view switches. In Retribution, we get the point of view of: Tim, Paul Grayson, Kai Leng, Kahlee Sanders, David Anderson, Aria T’loak, and Nick (a biotic teenager, the one with the boner). Maybe Sanak had a very small section too, but I couldn’t find it again so don’t take my word for it. That’s too many point of views for a plot-heavy 80k book in my opinion, but even besides that: the point of view switch several times in one single chapter. This is done in the most harmful way possible for tension: characters involved in the same scene take turns on the page explaining their perspective about the events, in a way that leaves the reader entirely aware of every stake to every character and every information that would be relevant in a scene. Take for example the first negotiation between Aria and Tim. The second Aria needs to ponder what her best move could possibly be, we get thrown back into Tim’s perspective explaining the exact ways in which he’s trying to deceive her -removing our agency to be either convinced or fooled alongside her. This results in a book that goes out of his way to keep us from engaging with its ideas and do any mental work on our own. Everything is laid out, bare and as overexplained as humanly possible. The format is also very repetitive: characters talk or do an action, and then we spend a paragraph explaining the exact mental reasoning for why they did what they did. There is nothing to interpret. No subtext at all whatsoever; and this contributes in casting a harsh light on the Mass Effect universe, cheapening it and overtly expliciting some of its worst ideas instead of leaving them politely blurred and for us to dress up in our minds. There is only one theme that remains subtextual in my opinion. And it’s not a pretty one.

6. Violence

So here’s the thing when you adapt a third person shooter into a novel: you created a violent world and now you will have to deal with death en-masse too (get it get it I’m so sorry). But while in videogames you can get away with thoughtless murder because it’s a gameplay mechanic and you’re not expected to philosophize on every splatter of blood, novels are all about internalization. Violent murder is by definition more uncomfortable in books, because we’re out of gamer conventions and now every death is actual when in games we just spawned more guys because we wanted that level to be a bit harder and on a subconscious level we know this and it makes it somewhat okay. I felt, in this book, a strange disconnect between the horrendous violence and the fact we’re expected to care about it like we would in a game: not much, or as a spectacle. Like in a game, we are expected to root for the safety of named characters the story indicated us we should be invested in. And because we’re in a book, this doesn’t feel like the objective truth of the universe spelled at us through user interface and quest logs, but the subjective worldview of the characters we’re following. And that makes them.... somewhat disturbing to follow.

I haven’t touched on Anderson and Kahlee Sanders much yet, but now I guess I have too, as they are the worst offenders of what is mentioned above. Kahlee cares about Grayson. She only cares about Grayson -and her students like the forementioned Nick, but mostly Grayson. Grayson is out there murdering people like it’s nobody’s business, but still, keeping Grayson alive is more important that people dying like flies around him. This is vaguely touched on, but not with the gravitas that I think was warranted. Also, Anderson goes with it. Because he cares about Kahlee. Anderson organizes a major political scandal between humans and turians because of Kahlee, because of Grayson. He convinces turians to risk a lot to bring Cerberus down, and I guess that could be understandable, but it’s mostly manipulation for the sake of Grayson’s survival: and a lot of turians die as a result. But not only turians: I was not comfortable with how casually the course of action to deal a huge blow to Cerberus and try to bring the organization down was to launch assault on stations and cover-ups for their organization. Not mass arrests: military assault. They came to arrest high operatives, maybe, but the grunts were okay to slaughter. This universe has a problem with systemic violence by the supposedly good guys in charge -and it’s always held up as the righteous and efficient way compared to these UGH boring politicians and these treaties and peace and such (amirite Anderson). And as the cadavers pile up, it starts to make our loveable protagonists... kind of self-centered assholes. Also: I think we might want to touch on who these cadavers tend to be, and get to my biggest point of discomfort with this novel.

Xenophobia is hard to write well, and I super sympathize with the attempts made and their inherent difficulty. This novel tries to evoke this theme in multiple ways: by virtue of having Cerberus’ heart and blade as point of view characters, we get a window into Tim and Kai Leng’s bigotry against aliens, and how this belief informs their actions. I wasn’t ever sold in their bigotry as it was shown to us. Tim evokes his scorn for whatever aliens do and how it’s inferior to humanity’s resilience -but it’s surface-level, not informed by deep and specific entranched beliefs on aliens motives and bodies, and how they are a threat on humanity according to them. The history of Mass Effect is rich with conflict and baggage between species, yet every expression of hatred is relegated to a vague “eww aliens” that doesn’t feed off systemically enforced beliefs but personal feelings of mistrust and disgust. I’ll take this example of Kai Leng, and his supposedly revulsion at the Afterlife as a peak example of alien decadence: he sees an asari in skimpy clothing, and deems her “whorish”. And this feels... off. Not because I don’t think Kai Leng would consider asaris whorish, but because this is supposed to represent Cerberus’ core beliefs: yet both him and Tim go on and on about how their goal is to uplift humanity, how no human is an enemy. But if that’s the case, then what makes Kai Leng call an Afterlife asari whorish and mean it in a way that’s meaningfully different from how he would consider a human sex worker in similar dispositions? Not that I don’t buy that Cerberus would have a very specific idea of what humans need to be to be considered worth preserving as good little ur-fascists, but this internal bias is never expressed in any way, and it makes the whole act feel hollow. Cerberus is not the only offender, though. Every time an alien expresses bias against humans in a way we’re meant to recognize as xenophobic, it reads the same way: as personal dislike and suspicion. As bullying. Which is such a small part of what bigotry encompasses. It’s so unspecific and divorced from their common history that it just never truly works in my opinion. You know what I thought worked, though? The golden trio of non-Cerberus human characters, and their attitude towards aliens. Grayson’s slight fetishism and suspicion of his attraction to Liselle, how bestial (in a cool, sexy way) he perceives the Afterlife to be. The way Anderson and Kahlee use turians for their own ends and do not spare a single thought towards those who died directly trying to protect them or Grayson immediately after the fact (they are more interested in Kahlee’s broken fingers and in kissing each other). How they feel disgust watching turians looting Cerberus soldiers, not because it’s disrespectful in general and the deaths are a inherent tragedy but because they are turians and the dead are humans. But it's not even really on them: the narration itself is engrossed by the suffering of humans, but aliens are relegated to setpieces in gore spectacles. Not even Grayson truly cares about the aliens the Reapers make him kill. Nobody does. Not even the aliens among each other: see, once again, Aria and Liselle, or Aria and Sanak. Nobody cares. At the very end of the story, Anderson comes to Kahlee and asks if she gives him permission to have Grayson’s body studied, the same way Cerberus planned to. It’s source of discomfort, but Kahlee gives in as it’s important, and probably what Grayson would have wanted, maybe? So yeah. In the end the only subtextual theme to find here (probably as an accident) is how the Alliance’s good guys are not that different from Cerberus it turns out. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

7. Lore-approved books, or the art of shrinking an expanding universe

I’d like to open the conversation on a bigger topic: the very practice of game novelization, or IP-books. Because as much as I think Drew Karpyshyn’s final draft should not have ended up reading that amateur given the credits to his name, I really want to acknowledge the realities of this industry, and why the whole endeavor was perhaps doomed from the start regardless of Karpyshyn’s talent or wishes as an author.

The most jarring thing about this reading experience is as follows: I spent almost 80k words exploring this universe with new characters and side characters, all of them supposedly cool and interesting, and I learned nothing. I learned nothing new about the world, nothing new about the characters. Now that it’s over, I’m left wondering how I could chew on so much and gain so little. Maybe it’s just me, but more likely it’s by design. Not on poor Drew. Now that I did IP work myself, I have developed an acute sympathy for anyone who has to deal with the maddening contradictions of this type of business. Let me explain.

IP-adjacent media (in the West at least) sure has for goal to expand the universe: but expand as in bloat, not as in deepen. The target for this book is nerds like me, who liked the games and want more of this thing we liked. But then we’re confronted by two major competitors: the actual original media (in ME’s case, the games) whose this product is a marketing tool for, and fandom. IP books are not allowed to compete with the main media: the good ideas are for the main media, and any meaningful development has to be made in the main media (see: what happened with Kai Leng, or how everyone including me complains about the worldbuilding to the Disney Star Swars trilogy being hidden in the novelization). And when it comes to authorship (as in: taking an actual risk with the media and give it a personal spin), then we risk introducing ideas that complicate the main media even though a ridiculously small percent of the public will be attached to it, or ideas that fans despise. Of course we can’t have the latter. And once the fandom is huge enough, digging into anything the fans have strong headcanons for already risks creating a lot of emotions once some of these are made canon and some are disregarded. As much as I joke about how in Mass Effect you can learn about any gun in excrutiating details but we still don’t know if asaris have a concept for marriage... would we really want to know how/if asaris marry, or aren’t we glad we get to be creative and put our own spin on things? The dance between fandom and canon is a delicate one that can and will go wrong. And IP books are generally not worth the drama for the stakeholders.

Add this to insane deadlines, numerous parties all involved in some way and the usual struggles of book writing, and we get a situation where creating anything of value is pretty much a herculean task.

But then I ask... why do IP books *have* to be considered canon? I know this is part of the appeal, and that removing the “licenced” part only leaves us with published fanfiction, but... yeah. Yeah. I think it could be a fascinating model. Can you imagine having your IP and hiring X amount of distinctive authors to give it their own spin, not as definitive additions to the world but as creative endeavours and authorial deepdives? It would allow for these novels to be comparative and companion to the main media instead of being weird appendages that can never compare, and the structure would allow for these stories to be polished and edited to a higher level than most fanfictions. Of course I’m biased because I have a deep belief in the power of fanfiction as commentary and conversational piece. But I would really love to see companies’ approach to creative risk and canon to change. We might get Disney stuff until we die now, so the least we can ask for is for this content to be a little weird, personal and human.

That’s it. That’s the whole review. Thank you for reading, it was very long and weirdly passionate, have a nice dayyyyy.