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whyiask · 3 years

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Once Upon a December

relationships: platonic creativitwins, platonic LAMP WC: 1476 Summary: Roman has been singing a song to himself, but something is always missing. The same song has popped into Remus’s mind and he can’t stop humming it. Maybe all they’re missing is each other. tw: a bit of gross stuff having to do with intestines during Remus’s bit in the middle genre: light angst --> fluff

Roman and Remus had almost nothing in common. Roman was a prince, Remus was a duke. They had separate sides to the imagination. It was difficult for them to hold a civil conversation without some big disagreement. They had been separate for so long, neither could remember the brotherly relationship they once had, except in wistful daydreams and faint memories.

“Dancing bears, painted wings,” Roman sang under his breath. “Things I almost remember.” He raised his arms and self-orchestrated, waltzing with an imaginary partner around the room. Something felt off. Missing. It always had.

“And a song someone sings.” He performed a perfect pirouette, stepping out into a lunge. Roman could almost hear someone singing along with him, a whispered memory in the back of his brain.

“Once upon a December,” he murmured. He had trailed off from singing, coming to a stand-still. The music halted as he stopped his solo dance. It was wrong, something was wrong. It shouldn’t be a solo. But… a duet wasn’t right either. It felt like a part of him was missing, the power and emotion in the song was excellent, the passion was clear and the dramatics were all in place. Roman couldn’t place a finger on what was missing, but he knew that he couldn’t fill the void.

In the back of his mind, he could remember performing the song, although he never had before. In his mind, it was magical, a rich, full sound and it was complete. But as hard as he tried, he could not produce the sound. It didn’t frustrate him like it should have. Instead, all he felt was that whisper, the broken sound trailing off, the wisp of memory slipping through his fingers.

Roman was almost afraid to start his song again- afraid of breaking the spell, losing the moment. Sighing, he wiped away his makeshift ballroom and left the imagination. Maybe someday he would finish the number. Maybe someday it would feel whole.

He doubted that day would ever come.

Remus wasn’t particularly fond of music, not unless it was nails on chalkboard or screams of agony. That’s why he was surprised at himself when he found himself humming Once Upon a December. As far as he could recall, he had never seen the musical, leaving all the Broadway and Disney to Roman.

“Someone holds me safe and warm,” he hummed under his breath. The lyrics sprang to his mind and he was drawn to them, unable to stop himself from singing lightly. It felt weird, wrong for him to be singing such a soft song, but he couldn’t stop- he didn’t want to stop.

“Horses prance through a silver storm.” Remus conjured a small, silver horse. He held it up, examining it closer. He pulled open a hatch on it’s stomach and held back a chuckle as the horse’s intestines fell into his palm.

“Figures dancing gracefully across my memory,” he sang, slightly louder. He weaved the long, meaty strings into red ribbons, dancing in front of his eyes. After a moment, he snapped and they fell back into his palm. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

The melody had been echoing in his mind for some time now, but it had always been dissonant, notes striking minor and empty. Singing it out loud had been the closest he had been to feeling complete in a long time. Even as he finished a few lines of the song, he could almost hear another voice, echoing it back to him.

Remus shook his head and snapped away the items in his hand. It wasn’t worth dwelling on. He was cold and lonely, it had never bothered him before, and a silly song- that wasn’t even part of his side of creativity- wouldn’t come along and fix anything just like that.

“Someone holds me safe and warm,” Roman sang out, spinning into the living room of the mind palace. Logan rolled his eyes fondly from behind his book but didn’t look up. Virgil was lounging across an armchair, scrolling through his phone, and he didn’t acknowledge Roman’s presence at all.

“Horses prance through a silver storm,” he continued, riffing his way through the line. Patton stuck his head out from the kitchen and his face lit up when he saw Roman. Roman gave Patton a small flutter of his fingers as way of greeting.

Patton came out into the middle of the room to join Roman. “Figures dancing gracefully across my memory,” they sang together. Roman took the melody and Patton sang a light, upper harmony over the top. Roman paused and his eyes lit up.

It had… sounded almost right. Something was still missing, but singing with Morality had been closer than singing by himself.

“That’s it!” he gasped. Patton beamed.

“What’s it, kiddo?”

Roman pointed directly at Patton dramatically. “You, my dear padre! That harmony is everything I’ve been looking for.”

Patton’s eyebrows scrunched, signaling to Roman that he was slightly confused. “I’m glad I could help…?”

Roman thought for a moment. “Logan, Virgil? Would you mind-”

Logan sighed and put down his book. “Is it important?”

Roman nodded vigorously and Virgil stood up as well, slouching over to Roman’s side. “One time, Princey,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes. “But only because I’m in a good mood. Don’t expect this to be a regular occurrence.”

Logan stood up as well. “I’m not sure I can be of much assistance, but as Virgil said, I’ll try one time.”

Roman’s smile was bright enough to light up the whole palace. “Brilliant!” he cried, grabbing Virgil’s hand(ignoring the yelp of protest) and Patton’s, who then linked with Logan. They sunk out together, rising up in the imagination, where Roman quickly pulled up his ballroom from before.

Logan, Patton, and Virgil backed up to the corner of the room, waiting for Roman to begin. He looked down and took a moment to breathe, to get in character, before lifting his gaze with passion alight in his eyes.

A wave of his hands later and music had started playing. Roman hit his first note, launching once more into his intricate solo waltz. In the musical interlude after the first verse, Roman looked over to the other sides with a carefree laugh.

“Feel free to join in anytime, guys.”

Patton joined in immediately, providing a light, twinkling upper harmony. Logan took a second longer, but added to the song with a low, steady one-note harmony that added richness and texture to the song.

It took Virgil another few lines, before slowing adding his voice with a mid-range, twisty, discordant harmony that nearly made Roman gasp at the sheer brilliance. It added an eerie twinge to the song, but it was bittersweet and sounded much better than before. He shot Anxiety a blinding grin before continuing to belt out his lyrics.

Singing with the other sides was magical, it was a beautiful moment, and Roman felt bad for feeling incomplete still. They had a rich sound. They had a magical moment. What was wrong? What could possibly be missing still?

“Far away,” Roman sang, growing softer on the bridge.

“Long ago,” another voice joined him, singing the melody line, only altered slightly to be dissonant. Roman spluttered and spun around to see Remus standing behind him.

“Re?” Roman asked hesitantly, almost unsure if he was hallucinating his brother’s appearance.

Remus scrunched his nose up and gave an awkward wave. Remus being awkward? What was happening?

Roman didn’t know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of: the show must go on.

“Glowing dim as an ember,” he sang softly, approaching Remus slowly.

“Things my heart,” his twin responded. Roman held out a hesitant hand to his brother.

“Used to know,” they sang together, harmonizing effortlessly. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and their voices sounded weirdly rough together, but for the first time in his entire life, Roman felt whole.

“Things it yearns to remember.”

The whisper- the memory- was it from before the split? When Remus and Roman had been one and the same?

“And a song someone sings,” both voices were light and disbelieving. Remus took Roman’s outstretched hand.

“Once upon a December.”

The last note lingered in the air. The other sides had frozen in place, unsure what was happening but not daring to interrupt. Roman made eye contact with Remus and a silent message was conveyed.

This is how it feels to be one with your other half, even if just for a moment.

Roman and Remus had almost nothing in common. Roman was a prince, Remus was a duke. They were as opposite as can be, but once upon a time, they had been one. Together. King Creativity. Although they fought and clashed, they made each other complete. And maybe they weren’t as different as they liked to believe.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #ts roman #ts remus #creativitwins #roman & remus #song fic #sanders sides song fic #light angst #fluff #king creativity #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #oops sorry jan- i forgot to put him in this fic aha-

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jinkisbelly · 3 years

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A Simple Request - 11/?

Pairing: Jongyu

Rating: Pg

w/c: 1.8k

Other Parts can be found a little ways down this [x] Ao3 AFF

Summary: The Fae King is under a lot of pressure to conceive an heir, while given a deadline by the Council he turns to his personal guard and best friend to help him with it

Warnings: Future mpreg

Jonghyun is led down twisty alleyways and between homes. The kingdom this late at night is beautiful and quiet, almost like a dream. Faera is never this quiet. With all the different species living within the capital city, there was always music and sound of bustling life even in the dead of night because of those who were nocturnal. He loses his way as he focuses back on Jinki, not that his limited knowledge of the city's layout would help him that much to begin with. Before he knows it, they stop in front of what entirely looks like a dead-end, dark green, and tightly woven vines rising up to where the two buildings on either side of them curve and connect.

The question he’s about to ask is forgotten when Jinki looks over his shoulder and beams, so beautiful and free in a way Jonghyun knows he hasn’t done since he stepped over the border into his homeland. There’s a tug on his hand, and then they’re stepping towards the thick vines at the end of the alleyway. Jonghyun knows he should be concerned, should be worried, but all he feels is safety as Jinki’s grip on his hand tightens. He trusts Jinki, more than anything, so it’s not difficult to put his well-being in the man’s hands and follow him through without resistance. Jonghyun still squeezes his eyes shut as they’re about to hit the wall of vines, only to gasp as tingles travel over him, and a cool mist falls onto his skin. There’s a sound of water splashing and soft twinkles, and when he finally opens his eyes again, they are no longer in the middle of a great city.

There’s a lagoon with a small waterfall trickling into the blue pool. Wisps flutter across the plush, green surface. Some are landing on big pink and red flower petals, while others float to greet them with quiet tinkles and warm impressions. “What is this place?”

“I made it as a child. This used to be an abandoned fletcher shop.” Even with how absurd such a statement was, Jonghyun could do nothing but believe Jinki. He had seen the man do amazing things, impossible things even. He’s seen him walk through dragon’s fire unharmed and create a flourishing forest on ground completely destroyed by the war. Creating this gorgeous grove as a child was the least of it all. “It was after Saferus hatched for me and my parents ordered Master Wixu to take him from me. Master did so against his wishes. I ran away from my manservant and.. Created this.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to be back.” Jinki finally released his hand, slowly stepping further into the grove. Jonghyun finds himself missing the strength and warmth of the man’s hand in his own the moment it slips away. Jinki’s fingers run over the flowers as he passes them, each growing a bit more as he continues by them. Each step a flower popped up as he lifted his foot and Jonghyun fondly grinned. This place was so attuned to Jinki and his magic. It reminded him of all the times he watched Jinki meditate, only for the plant life around them to go from finally groomed and trimmed, to almost wild as his magic ran away from him. “I agree with Saferus, that it was his magic that allowed me to do this.”

“I don’t know,” Jonghyun raised his eyebrows, holding his hands behind his back when Jinki stopped to look back at him. “I’ve seen you do miraculous things. With and without Saferus near.”

“A keeper is only as strong as their connection is to their dragon.” Jinki gave a little smile before continuing on his way. He disappeared around the corner of a large rock surface for a long moment. When he appeared again he was pushing a large wooden chest in front of himself. His smile was wicked as he straightened and put his hands on his hips. “I knew I left these somewhere around here.”

“These?”

Jinki snapped his fingers and the lock on the chest fell open. When the top was lifted inside blankets and a few throw pillows were visible if only a little old. He picked up the blanket on top, holding it over his loosely crossed arms. “I don’t particularly want to return for a while and I figured comfort would be nice.”

Jinki wasn’t meeting his gaze and before Jonghyun thinks about it completely, he’s crossing the distance between them and resting his hand on the man’s arm. “We can stay here as long as you wish.”

“Thank you.”

-----

Every so often Jonghyun would feel the grass against his skin as he shifted, brushing across his foot or hand, and each time it was soft and cool. Now though, he’s on his side warmly gazing across at Jinki’s beautiful profile. The man’s eyes are closed, but there’s a peace to his expression as his chest slowly rises and falls with his even breaths. Jonghyun felt at that moment he could spend forever looking at him and never truly get tired of it. Suddenly there’s a smile curling on his lips, amusement in Jinki’s voice as he asks, “Yes, Jonghyun?”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t need to,” Slowly Jinki turns, left arm coming up to bend under his head, cheek squishing a little as he settles, “Something on your mind?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jinki slowly raised his eyebrows, “Depends on what ‘it’ is.”

“How you feel, you know,” Jonghyun lowered his gaze from the other man’s eyes, biting his bottom lip for a moment. “About being here, what happened at dinner, and all that.”

“Ah, well. I feel a bit abandoned, like the only family I truly have is Saferus.” Jinki’s leg brushed against his as he shifted a bit, but he was still as he spoke again. “To my parents when I chose Saferus I was turning my back on them and my people. That only worsened when I chose to remain in my duties instead of joining them in their fight against Faera and the Fairies. The sentiment is still felt by veterans who fought in that war. I’m not welcome here.

"Over the years they've reached out with letters, bits of gifts, summons home. At first, I was hurt by what was said during the treaty signing and even as those feelings passed, others filled their void." Jinki let out a deep breath, then another, before speaking again. "They never apologized for their words or how they made me feel since I was just a boy. They told a child to choose between this new destiny and their family, and immediately cut ties with me straight after I made what they believed to be the wrong choice. As silly as it is, I thought I would have made my parents proud with all I've done."

“To me, you’re wrong about one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

He finds Jinki’s right hand resting against the blanket between them and gently grips it. “While I have my sister, you’re the closest person in my life. I’d like to think we’re family by now, Jinki.”

Jinki pulls his hand away, but before the ache of rejection can settle completely in his chest, the man is pushing his fingers into his hair and a kiss is pressed against his forehead. When he speaks his voice is but a whisper, “You’re right.”

Jonghyun finally looks up when Jinki pulls away just a bit, but the hand remains softly intertwined in his hair. He can’t place the expression on the other man’s face, but whatever it is, it makes him feel safe; immensely cared for. Jinki’s eyes are so warm as a smile slowly forms on his lips, and for a moment Jonghyun could see himself falling in love with a man who has a gaze like that. “Your parents might not be proud of you, and sure, there are some elves who believe their leader’s lies, but there are so many people who love you, who have you to thank for them being alive. You saved so many lives. Hell, you’ve saved mine more than I can count. If it’s worth anything, I am proud of you Jinki, always.”

“It’s worth everything.”

Before Jonghyun knows it, he’s being tugged closer, the back of his head cupped with Jinki’s hand. Immediately he wraps his arm around Jinki’s waist, snuggling closer as if pulled by a string. Jinki rumbles quietly as he shifts to hold him better with both arms, chin on the top of Jonghyun’s head. He knows then he’s never felt as warm or safe as when he’s in Jinki’s embrace, and a part of him doesn’t ever want to leave. When Jinki doesn’t try to pull away, he stays, even as sleep finally tugs at his consciousness and he stops fighting it, letting his eyes close.

-----

Jinki wakes up extra warm with something soft brushing against the tip of his nose. The scent as he breathes in is familiar and even with his still half-asleep mind, he presses closer, breathing it in deeply. With a rumble deep in his throat, he relaxes again. There’s a slight movement against him and instinctively he tightened his hold. It takes a long moment for him to realize what, or rather who, he’s holding, but that just makes a smile pull on his lips as he finally opens his eyes.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but from the sun hitting the outside of the vines it’s early morning. There’s a blanket thrown over their intertwined legs. Soon they’d have to head back to prevent a national incident, but that could wait a bit more. Jonghyun was still sleeping and after the past few days, rest was exactly what he needed. If Jinki was honest with himself, he was also a bit selfish. There was something about holding Jonghyun so close that Jinki wanted to cherish. For a few moments, he could pretend he had said those simple words with so much meaning hanging from them, and they had shifted from friends to partners. He knew it could never be, not with their roles and destinies. Even if he ignored all that, there was no way Jonghyun would ever feel the same way about him.

Maybe it was a bit depressing the more he thought about it, cherishing little stolen moments such as this. One day Jonghyun would find someone to love as much as he deserved. Whenever they finally had a child together, he would lose all these little moments, so he’d take what he could. His parents taught him never to refuse one's blessings and he wouldn’t start now. Jonghyun wiggling back into his hold broke his thoughts and all he could do was gently chuckle, affection and fondness bursting into his chest.

Just a few more minutes, that’ll do just fine.

----

#Jongyu #Jonghyun #Onew #shinee #my fic #fae au

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adamrevi3ws · 3 years

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Jedi: Fallen Order

When I finished playing DOOM, I told myself that the next game I would play wouldn’t be one that pissed me off. Unfortunately, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order did not live up to those expectations.

While the source of my frustration with DOOM was mainly growing pains with its intense gameplay and action, Fallen Order mainly drew ire from me due to its unfinished and unpolished nature. Its publisher, EA, is in the same club as Ubisoft, Bethesda, and apparently now CD Projekt Red, often releasing games as broken glitchy messes when they first come out to meet quick deadlines. I’ve seen and heard how unplayable this game was at launch, and while it isn’t as bad as it was then, it still has enough subtle mistakes to ruin my gameplay experience. The main source of this and my frustration, in general, was the extremely finicky and unresponsive controls, particularly found in its two main selling points: platforming (and plot but I’ll talk about that later) directly lifted, if not plagiarized from the Uncharted games, and Dark Souls-esque combat gameplay. Nothing really lines up or “clicks” when it really needs to. Regarding the platforming, it feels like it takes a miracle to properly grab onto something and takes a thousand tries for a jump to work. When the double jump gets introduced, it really only works when the game, in its divine ignorance, feels the whim to let it work. A lot of reviewers complained about the difficult and unwieldy ice slide sequences in the game, and while I had my fair share of annoyance on a very specific ice slide, I think it’s just a symptom of a much larger problem. The combat shares this similar “the game only works when it wants to” problem. You don’t always dodge or block right when you want it to, but I think its biggest problem is healing. Instead of pressing a button and having part of your health restored, pressing said button instead “calls” your robot companion, which needs to do a special little animation and THEN you get healed, which takes a long 15 seconds. Not only does this waste a good amount of time in a game where time is absurdly precious in its hardcore combat, but every other time I tried calling the damn robot it straight up ignored me. I don’t know if this is a glitch, or it needs a cooldown period, or you can’t heal while being hit by an enemy, but it made the fights a lot more unnecessarily grating than they already are. Speaking of straight up screw you moments from the game, whenever I hit the “target” button in close combat with multiple enemies, it’d always target the farthest away enemy, for no reason. All of this is a shame because these main gameplay components are actually quite fun when they aren’t broken? A lot of the level design allows for really fast and exhilarating platforming that is absurdly fun when it syncs up, but that’s only, like half of the time. The combat can be enjoyable too, allowing for some great lightsaber duel boss fights, which can feel pretty cinematic when the combat actually works.

Outside of gameplay, the game’s unfinished nature shows itself a lot in its cutscenes. Its graphics just straight up dip and fail to fully render for 90% of these moments, often also feeling extremely choppy and cutting off a bit too soon. There was even one time an enemy was supposed to show up in a cutscene to initiate a boss fight but they just weren’t there and it was quite confusing because it felt like the main character was speaking to an empty wall. Around the middle of the game, both cutscenes and gameplay sequences would just freeze, and this is probably the first game I’ve played in a while to straight up crash on my PS4. If the developers took an extra, idk six months to actually fix this game a bit more I’d rate it a lot higher than I am now. I was actually warned about the game’s poor performance before playing, with a friend mentioning its horrible load times, but I didn’t know it’d be this bad. As my unopened copy of the infamous Cyberpunk 2077 waits on my mantlepiece for the developers to actually make it a playable game months after its release, I fear it may have the same fate as Fallen Order, still being quite a bit buggy and annoying over a year after its messy launch.

With its buggy and incohesive gameplay in mind, Jedi: Fallen Order’s strongest element is its plot. To my surprise, this is much less of a Star Wars game and more a game that just happens to be set in the Star Wars universe. Taking place between episodes 3 and 4, I kind of expected it to be an epic quest detailing the rise of the rebel alliance, but instead, I got a more generic treasure hunt storyline heavily reminiscent of the Uncharted series. Although this sounds quite disappointing, the game’s plot still soars in its great character arcs and setpieces interspersed the vague framework of its less-than-original overall plot. Combine these great individual moments with an absolutely bombastic ending and it almost makes trudging through the glitchy gameplay worth it. This is elevated by some great voice acting performances, particularly from Cameron Monaghan, who gives a movie star performance to the main character, even in a lot of moments where he doesn’t have much to work with. The setting is also a high point. Disney’s milking of Star Wars has led to a variety of media set between episodes 3 and 4, this game feels particularly special because it is more focused on the aftermath of Episode 3 rather than the buildup to Episode 4, which I think the rest of the media in this era is focused on. It’s clear that there are so many parts of the game that the studio put a lot of love in, ranging from the plot, to the memorable soundtrack (Mongolian throat singing, anyone?), to even the hilarious enemy dialogue, I just wish they put this amount of effort to make the game fully playable.

The one elephant in the room regarding this game that I haven’t mentioned so far is the game’s worlds/levels themselves. They aren’t annoyingly unpolished like the gameplay but aren’t really a labor of love either. Instead what we get is an admittedly gorgeous maze of areas within a few planets, constantly getting more twisty and confusing as you go on. It may visually resemble an open world, but it is very much a series of paths that make you go “hmmmm, should I go back to that other branching path to see if there are any healing upgrades or character customization options I can collect?” There’s nothing wrong about this MetroidVania style format, but frankly it’s not my type. A lot of the areas look visually similar so it’s quite easy to get lost, and despite each planet’s map being absurdly big, there’s no way to actually fast travel between areas, just between planets. Finally, the incentive to go back and explore isn’t particularly convincing, where the healing upgrades are a bit too well concealed and the character customization options are like, absurdly mid. This is the one time I actually wished an EA game had its own in-game currency so I could buy something cooler than “the same damn poncho you’re wearing except a slightly less boring color combination.” Come on, man! The one good thing I’ll say about the overall game world is that the in-game map highlights which paths you haven’t explored yet, making it much easier to get on track. While the game’s maze-like level style isn’t necessarily my thing, I think if the developers tried to make it a bit more interesting a lot of people would get a kick out of it.

Jedi: Fallen Order is a game that finally made me understand my college professors that went a bit too hard on my grammar mistakes when grading papers. The central content and ideas this game presents have a lot of potential, but they’re heavily weighed down by an infinite number of fixable mistakes. I give this game a 6.7 out of 10 stars.

#jedi: fallen order #jedi fallen order #cal kestis #star wars

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dvp95 · 4 years

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quiet on widow’s peak (9)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.1k (this chapter), 29.6k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

The sleep Phil has is restless and patchy. He wakes up so many times, spikes of panic cutting through the calm as he tries to remember where he is and who's breathing next to him. Dan is either a very heavy sleeper or very good at pretending to sleep, because Phil jerking awake never makes them stir.

It's a comfort, to look at Dan and see their blurry face slack with a peacefulness that wasn't there all night, but Phil doesn't do it for too long. Watching someone sleep is the pinnacle of creepiness. He just looks for a couple of seconds until his heart rate slows back down and he can roll onto his side. He faces away from Dan so he isn't tempted to keep looking at them, staring at the boring wall instead and waiting for sleep to momentarily take him again.

He's still tired when he wakes up properly to Dan tossing and turning, but he decides that's his cue to be awake.

"Hey," he murmurs, reaching for Dan's hand. He squints, but he can't tell if Dan is having a nightmare or if they're awake without getting even closer to their face. "It's okay. You're okay."

Dan takes a deep, shuddering sort of breath and cradles Phil's hand in both of their own. It's like they're afraid he's going to let go. "Sorry, fuck."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," says Phil. His stomach is doing a weird twisty thing at the sound of Dan's voice all husky with sleep. As long as he acts normal, it's fine, right? It's hard to convince himself of that when Dan's hands are pressed to his own and making him feel impossibly small. "How did you sleep?"

"I mostly slept fine," Dan says, and Phil nods like he didn't already know that.

"Good. You needed it."

For a moment, Dan is quiet. Then, they shuffle onto their side so they can properly face Phil, who has to fight the urge to hide away from their gaze. It's a good thing that he can't see the depth and warmth and sparkle of Dan's eyes without his glasses on.

"You didn't sleep very well," they say like it's a fact. Phil doesn't bother trying to deny it, he just shrugs. "You could have woken me up."

"Why would I do that?" Phil asks, puzzled by the offer.

Dan smiles, and Phil reaches for his glasses. He feels so vulnerable without them, and the sensation of not being able to see the way Dan is smiling while Dan can probably read every tiny emotion on his face is anxiety-inducing.

He leaves his other hand in Dan's. Maybe it would be easier if he just let go, but he finds that he doesn't want to.

The world comes into focus, and Phil blinks over at Dan like it's his first time seeing them. They look so different with their lashes clumped together and lines creased into their soft cheeks by the pillow. Curls are in complete disarray, and Phil presses his fingers into his palm so he doesn't try to brush the frizzy, unruly mess off Dan's forehead. Their smile doesn't fade when Phil just kind of stares - if anything, it gets even wider.

"You stayed with me all night," says Dan. Their tone is dry, but Phil imagines there's not a small amount of sincerity behind it. "You didn't have to, like, be alone."

Alone isn't something Phil had felt at all. Dan's steady breathing and the warmth of them emanating from their core even when they weren't touching were the only things keeping Phil grounded every time he woke with a start. He doesn't know how to say that to this person he barely knows, though, wouldn't know how to say something so open to most of the people in his life, so he just chuckles.

"No use in neither of us getting any sleep," he points out.

Dan is very warm, and Phil can feel his palm starting to get sweaty where it's trapped between both of theirs. He makes an apologetic face and pulls his hand back, patting it on his flannel pyjamas. Dan doesn't seem bothered by the lack of contact, but they also don't seem relieved - Phil can't tell what they're thinking at all, if he's honest.

"So," says Dan. "Where do we go from here?"

Before Phil can even think about it, he echoes the question in falsetto. It's louder and more obnoxious than he intends it to be. He swings his legs out of bed and reaches for his phone on the nightstand to try and hide a blush. "Uh, we go eat breakfast. Lunch, I guess."

"You lied," Dan says to his back. "You are always thinking about Buffy."

"Not always," Phil says weakly.

"Often enough."

"Once More With Feeling bypasses my brain entirely. It's just a primal call and response to anyone as obsessed with the show as teenage me was."

"I've never seen the show the whole way through," says Dan. "But Buffy is a style icon of mine."

Phil's tired brain offers him a half dozen mental images of Dan in various Buffy outfits before he shakes his head to try and clear it. He's never been particularly interested in boys wearing girls' clothes, but the concepts of gender identity and presentation are so blurry when it comes to Dan that he's going to have to rethink that position. They're not 'girls' clothes' on Dan. Maybe there's no such thing as 'girls' clothes' at all.

It's too early in the day for a deep dive on his own perceptions of gender, though. He thinks that sort of existentialism can wait until after his second or third coffee.

Phil's parents eat lunch with them and do their best to make small talk, but only Chris is On enough to properly converse with them. At Phil's umpteenth 'huh' of the early afternoon, they give up entirely and migrate to the lounge to watch tv.

For a long few seconds, the kitchen table is quiet. Then, Dan stands and starts to clear everyone's plates.

"You don't have to do that," Phil says, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I need to do something with my hands or I'll lose the plot," says Dan. They dump the dishes carefully in the sink and start running water. Having their back to the group seems to give them the courage to add, "I don't have all my meds with me. I didn't exactly expect to be out all night."

"What d'you take?" Chris asks.

"Little fucking nosy of you," says PJ.

"Well, one of us might have what he needs, love. I'm not just asking for the hell of it."

Phil feels a bit like his mum has possessed him when he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "You really shouldn't share medication," he says when Chris gives him a look.

It makes Dan laugh, anyway, so Phil feels like he's done something right. They still don't turn around, just washing everybody's dishes and looking so weirdly at home in Phil's clothes, Phil's old kitchen. Phil doesn't realise he's staring at their back until someone kicks him under the table.

"Earth to Phil," Chris murmurs. He's resting his chin on a hand and smirking, but his eyes are too sharp for how little sleep he must have gotten. Phil feels heat rise to his cheeks and pulls his coffee closer to use the steam as an excuse.

"I don't need anything, really," Dan hums. "Thanks for asking. My brain just struggles a bit."

"A big mood, as the kids say," Chris says sagely.

Dan laughs again. It isn't as loud as Phil knows it can get, but it still fills the room and makes everything seem a bit brighter. "Do the kids say that?" they ask. "Is that what they say?"

"I believe it is," says Chris.

There is another stretch of silence. Phil watches his friends' faces as the elephant in the room weighs on them all. He's making a bet in his own mind about who will be the first to break when Dan turns around and bluntly says, "I still don't think that was a ghost, but I really fucking hated it."

"Sorry," says PJ, "but what else could it have possibly been?"

"I dunno," says Dan. They cross their arms over their waist, holding onto their own elbows. Phil is beginning to recognise the position as a protective one for them. "But I'm sure there's an explanation. Sleep paralysis is normal."

"The way it happened was not normal."

"What do you think it was, Dan?" Sophie asks. Her tone is much kinder than PJ's, but she seems just as skeptical.

Dan's dimple is pulling downwards in unhappiness or discomfort, so Phil waves a hand to get everyone's attention on himself instead.

"Why don't you guys tell us what exactly happened to you," he suggests, meeting Dan's eyes almost apologetically. He knows that none of them want to relive it, but it's easier if they're all on the same page here. "And we can toss around theories later."

PJ says, "It was a demon. I could see it. It was tall and humanoid-ish and had a Cheshire Cat smile and it kept going closer to Chris and Soph just to watch me panic. Then it would laugh and sharpen its claws on the wall. It felt like hatred and fear in a physical being. I really don't think our protection sigils did fuck all, but it didn't actually touch any of us, so maybe they helped a bit?"

Dan says, "It was nothing of the sort. I saw the same shit you did, Peej, but that doesn't mean anything. Haven't you ever heard of mass hysteria? Folie à deux - not the album - isn't unheard of. Maybe there's a high level of carbon monoxide. Maybe the asbestos got to us. I don't fucking know, but there's a hundred explanations before you hit demon. But, yeah. It looked like what PJ says. It felt like I was frozen for a fucking week, not just a few hours, it was awful. Zero out of ten, would not do again."

Sophie says, "It smiled at me and I felt cold."

They pile into the basement to recuperate so they aren't bothering Phil's parents. Or, more accurately, so Phil's parents aren't bothering them. Most of the games are packed up, but Phil finds the Wii and its small collection of disks in a box under the stairs. He sets it up, hands his friends the controllers, and sits back to zone out while they tear each other apart at Mario Kart.

Phil doesn't consider himself a skeptic. He knows that his threshold of belief is a lot lower than he makes it appear to be in his videos, but he'd never call himself a Scully. He always thinks about the supernatural aspects of any case he's looking into, even if he doesn't commit a hundred percent to the mentality that it must be something weird. He usually just prefers the weird option to the more common and boring reality of things.

So this thing with the Wilkins place is downright terrifying. Not only is it in Phil's proverbial backyard, too close for comfort in a lot of ways, but he hasn't had an experience quite so chilling since he was sixteen and dipping his toe into this hobby at Martyn's side.

He and Martyn still aren't sure what exactly left those finger-shaped bruises on Phil's ankles, but it's become a funny story in the years since.

Maybe this will be something to laugh at in a few years, too. Phil hopes so.

"You sure you don't want to play?" Dan asks, breaking into Phil's reverie. They're in first place and not even looking at the screen, their concerned brown eyes focused on Phil. Phil gives them a small smile and shakes his head.

"No, I'm alright."

"Phil, please take the controller from him," says Chris. He seems annoyed, but Phil can never tell how much of that is a show. It's possible that Chris isn't actually competitive at all and just likes to work Phil and PJ up by acting like he, too, would rather eat a whole head of lettuce than lose. It's also possible that Chris genuinely feels that way. "He's not even fucking trying and he's kicking our asses."

"Maybe you deserve to have your ass kicked a bit," Phil says, watching the screen to see how easily Dan ducks around various obstacles.

It still jolts a bit, hearing the people around him make an assumption - however logical it is - about how Dan wants to be addressed. Phil knows it isn't his place to correct them, especially since it seems like they're not using any less correct terms than he is, but it still rankles a bit.

"Fuck's sake!" PJ exclaims, looking like he's a hair away from throwing the Wiimote at something. He's never actually hit that level of gamer rage, but getting lapped by someone who keeps checking their phone during a race seems to be getting on his nerves. Phil reaches out and pats at PJ's mess of curls.

"You'll be okay," he says, dry. "They're just better than you, you'll live."

Maybe the pronoun use is a little more pointed than it needs to be, but Dan gives him such an exasperatedly fond grin that Phil can't bring himself to regret it. There is a brief beat of quiet, and then PJ groans again.

"It's not fair," says PJ, gesturing dramatically with the Wiimote. Sophie leans out of the line of fire. "This is unacceptable. We have to play a game they're bad at, now."

"I don't care what you call me," says Dan. They sound more amused than anything else. "As long as you know I'm winning anything we play."

"That's why they call him Winnie," Chris says in that very mild voice he uses for absolute nonsense. He puts his own controller aside and flops onto his back on the basement floor, stretching. "I can't do it, I can't play another round of this farce. I'm going upstairs to let my future mum-in-law dote on me."

Phil sighs. He can feel Dan's eyes on him again, and he shrugs helplessly in their general direction. He does not control the Chris. "Please stop saying things like that. Dan is going to think I'm mixed up in… this."

He gestures vaguely at the three of them, and Chris' eyes sharpen like he's spotted prey.

"Oh, so you want Dan to know you're horrendously single, then?" Chris gives Dan a wide, conspiratorial sort of grin. "He's useless at this, you know."

"Me rejecting you doesn't make me useless," Phil huffs. He can feel a flush creeping up his neck, because Chris is more right than he wants to admit, and Dan is smiling back at Chris like they're in on the joke.

"I think it demonstrates a lack of taste," Chris sniffs.

"You know what I think?" Sophie asks, stretching her arms above her head. "I think I need a shower."

"Me too," Dan says with an unnecessary little sigh. Phil pinches his own thigh to circumvent the mental images before they start. It's annoying to have such a good imagination, sometimes. "And I need to take my meds. Is there a bus that runs around here or something?"

"Don't worry about taking the bus," says PJ. "I'll drive you."

"I don't mind," says Dan.

"I mind," says PJ, more firmly. He stands like he's planning on dragging Dan to the car himself if Dan tries to say no again.

Dan's shoulders relax forward. Phil knows the anxiety of riding unfamiliar public transit all too well, and he definitely wouldn't make Dan do something so harrowing after they got roped into ghosthunting. He's glad that PJ is on the same page again, keeping Dan in that sense of protection that being a team gives them.

It's only been a weekend, but Phil is already reluctant to let Dan go home and leave the team bubble. He wants to insist on coming along, but he knows PJ probably wants solitude on the drive back.

Still. Phil chews his lip and looks down at his phone so he doesn't have to see the looks on his friends' faces when he says, "You can keep the pyjamas. If you want them."

"Okay," Dan says softly. "I will, thanks."

He knows that he should look up, should smile at Dan or stand and hug them before they leave his life, but that all feels so big at this moment. Phil's anxiety lets him wave and murmur a goodbye before he's left alone in the basement. At least, he thinks he's alone, until he sighs heavily and Chris responds from the floor. "Oh, you're fucking mooning over him, aren't you? This is awful. I preferred the ghost."

Phil takes a shower after his friends have, to be polite, and it feels incredible to wash off the dirt and dust from the attic. It feels less incredible when the door opens.

He hadn't bothered locking it, because his parents' shower is loud and it should be obvious that he's in there. At least the curtain isn't see-through. He takes a moment to just stand under the spray, bewildered, before it occurs to him that he can ask what's going on. It probably isn't a serial killer. "Er, hello?"

"Hi," Chris' voice comes, tense. "We've got a problem."

"I'm a little busy," Phil says pointedly.

"Well, get your hand off your knob and get out here," says Chris. "We need to figure this out before Peej gets back."

Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn't bother arguing about why exactly he's busy. He rinses the last of his mum's conditioner out of his hair and squints at the unfocused, opaque shower curtain like he'll be able to see Chris if he just tries hard enough. "Figure what out, mate?"

"All of the footage is fucked," Chris says, blunt. "It's corrupted to high hell. Every single second. There's no evidence we were even there at all."

#quiet on widow's peak #words words words

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timotey · 4 years

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Ficlet: The Roundabout Ways of Dreams

Dark Blue Kiss ficlet. PeteKao. @coolthingtrash requested: Kao having a nightmare about losing Pete and spending the next some days totally clinging to Pete and Pete being confused and suspicious and eventually finding it out and comforting Kao?

I promised I would try. Though my muses took to this concept very loosely and then decided to make it as angsty as possible to boot. Because why not, right? Twisty little beasties!

Or, Kao’s mind works in roundabout ways. He wishes it didn’t. Even smoke signals would be more useful.

xXx

That morning, he breaks a glass clearing the table. It’s the last straw.

Kao is tired. It’s the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones and settles in your joints, that makes you feel twice as heavy and thrice as old. That happens, apparently, when you don’t get enough sleep.

During his waking hours, Kao’s happy, so happy. After Pete’s Live, everything fell into place: his job, his internship… his relationship with Pete. That especially. It’s been perfect, so much better than before now that Kao allowed himself to be open about whom he loves.

That’s why he doesn’t understand where his dreams come from, his nightmares really.

They’re never the same and yet - in all of them he loses Pete. Sometimes in his dreams Pete never does his Live and Kao’s troubles just keep piling up until they swallow him whole. Sometimes Pete does the Live but when Kao comes looking for him, he can’t find him and keeps running around the city, searching desperately but it’s all in vain, Pete’s just gone.

Pete’s starting to notice that something’s wrong, that something’s off about Kao. Because whenever Kao jerks awake after a particularly nasty dream, he wraps himself around sleeping Pete and clings to him like a drowning man.

And then last night, last night, Pete died in Kao’s dream…

Kao stares down at the shattered glass. There’s blood in the sink: Kao cut his palm open on a sharp, jagged piece sticking up as if waiting to do him harm.

“Shit, Kao!” Pete exclaims, and taking Kao by the forearm, he turns his hand palm up. Blood floods the creases in Kao’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Kao responds with a remarkable calm. “I’ll just wrap it up.”

“Wrap it--? Are you dense?” Pete snaps at him. “This needs stitches!”

Kao watches as Pete grabs a dish towel and wraps it around and around Kao’s hand, ordering him to hold it tight; it’s quickly soaked through. Pete takes Kao by the shoulders and marches him out of the kitchen, outside and towards his car. They leave droplets of blood behind, on the counter and the floor too.

The kitchen looks like a crime scene.

xXx

Dripping blood tends to grab even the busiest doctor’s attention. They’re led into an examination room and Kao’s cleaned and stitched back together like a ripped pillow. He feels like one too, with half its filling gone.

“Alright, spill,” Pete demands once the doctor leaves them alone for a minute and he’s sure his boyfriend isn’t leaking anymore. “What’s up with you?” His voice sounds annoyed - it always does when he’s worried.

Kao sighs and hunches his shoulders. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” he admits.

“No shit,” Pete responds.

“I’ve been having nightmares,” Kao continues, looking down at his bandaged hand.

“About?” Pete prompts when he falls silent.

Kao glances up. “Losing you,” he whispers.

Pete’s whole face softens. “You won’t,” he assures Kao. “I will never leave you again.”

Kao lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. I believe you. I trust you. That’s why I don’t understand--” He cuts himself off and rubs his forehead with his uninjured hand.

Pete touches his shoulder. “Kao…”

Letting his hand drop, Kao looks straight at him. “Last night, you died in my dream,” he says. “I ran to you after your Live and I found you there, in the pool, floating in the water. You weren’t moving. And when I tried to get to you, to save you, I couldn’t move from the spot, no matter what I did. I looked over my shoulder and…” He pauses. “I saw Non. He wouldn’t let go.”

Pete frowns hearing Non’s name. But then his expression clears and he reaches out to stroke Kao’s cheek gently. “You know it’s just your subconscious dealing with things, running haywire, right?”

“I know,” Kao sighs, and leaning forward, he drops his forehead down onto Pete’s shoulder heavily. When Pete pats his back in comfort, Kao mumbles into his chest, “But I still can’t help but feel like something’s not right, something’s... off.”

But what, dammit? What?!

xXx

Kao is prescribed some sleeping pills on top of painkillers and… something else. He’s so tired that he’s not really listening but Pete is and that’s enough because Kao would trust Pete with his life let alone this.

He falls asleep in the car on the way back and Pete lets him nap. At one point, when they’re almost at Pete’s house, Kao’s home away from home, Kao thinks he hears Pete make a soft, disturbed hmm sound but he’s probably mistaken.

A few minutes, a glass of water and one sleeping pill later, Kao’s lying in their bed, curled up under sheets that smell so wonderfully of Pete’s shampoo. Pete sits down on the edge of the bed, and stroking Kao’s hair, he tells him softly, “Just sleep. I’ll take care of everything.”

Kao smiles.

He sleeps.

xXx

He wakes up a couple of times to stumble to the bathroom and back, other than that, though, he sleeps through the day and night, for once undisturbed. The next morning he wakes up refreshed and ready to face anything.

Or so he thinks.

“He… what?” Kao asks in a shocked, disbelieving tone of voice.

It’s after breakfast and they’re sitting in the living room: he and Pete and Pete’s dad - and a policeman in a fresh and neatly pressed uniform. They’re all staring at Kao who... simply doesn’t understand. He must’ve heard wrong.

“Yesterday, when I brought you back from the ER,” Pete says, sitting next to Kao on the couch and holding his uninjured hand, their fingers entwined, “I saw Non farther down the street. At first I thought I saw wrong but when I went and asked our neighbors to check their security cam feeds, yeah, it was really him.”

Pete’s dad adds, “The CCTV at my company caught him sneaking around, too. Several days in a row. Then two days ago, it was the camera at our gate here.” He sounds disapproving, angered. “So I called the police.”

The policeman admits reluctantly, “He was caught by the CCTV around the school where you teach, too. It seems he was waiting to catch you alone.”

Alone. Yeah, by pure chance, Kao has been rarely going anywhere alone lately, hasn’t he? Either Pete or his dad usually drove him, dropped him off and picked him up.

The policeman continues, “We brought the young man in for questioning. I’m not certain what his real intentions were--”

“Nothing good, that’s sure!” Pete jumps in angrily. “That brat almost ruined my boyfriend’s life!”

Clearing his throat, the policeman says, “Yes, I’m aware of that. Still, there’s no evidence he meant any harm...”

Pete stares at him in disbelief, but before he can snap, his father cuts in. “I filed for a restraining order,” he says, then he turns to Kao. “That is, if you don’t mind, Kao?”

Kao blinks at him, still overwhelmed. Non? Non was stalking him? And does he mind the steps Pete’s dad took on his behalf? Something like a restraining order would leave a permanent mark in Non’s record...

Still.

Kao shakes his head. “No, I don’t mind. I think that Non went too far. I don’t want him to come anywhere near me ever again.” Yes, he’s done being kind to this boy.

When he finishes, the policeman sighs - he must’ve hoped to change Kao’s mind - but Pete’s dad and Pete, they look... proud of his decision. Kao has to admit, at least to himself, that his first reaction will probably always be to give people the benefit of the doubt but Pete’s pointed reminder that it was Kao’s kindness that got him into trouble? Yes, those words stuck.

xXx

Later on, when the policeman leaves and Pete’s dad goes to work, he and Pete sit by the pool, leaning against each other comfortably. Neither of them has to go in today; discovering that you’re being stalked and getting the cops involved is apparently a good enough excuse even for the most hard-nosed of bosses.

“I really didn’t notice him,” Kao says after a while, when Pete scoots closer to let Kao rest his head against Pete’s shoulder.

Pete shrugs, careful so as not to dislodge Kao. “Maybe you did, without even realizing it.”

“You mean my nightmares?” Kao asks, intrigued. An interesting concept, that’s for sure. Though he would prefer if his subconscious did not work in such weird, roundabout ways. Even smoke signals would’ve been more useful.

“Who knows? Maybe losing me wasn’t their point, the consequences of Non’s actions were. And in end result, they did help us catch that little creep.”

Kao lifts his bandaged head. “I ended up with stitches,” he complaints.

Pete takes Kao’s hand in his and kisses Kao’s fingers. “If it’s only that then I’m grateful. I really hope that we’ll never, ever, ever hear of that brat again. I swear he’s turning into a real bane of our existence.”

Kao smiles. “‘Bane of our existence’?” he teases Pete.

“Oh, hush you, I was trying to avoid being rude,” Pete retorts, mock annoyed. “But if ‘pain in the ass’ suits you better, then there you go.”

Laughing, Kao turns his head and kisses Pete’s jaw. It’s stubbly. He didn’t shave right again this morning. “I love you,” he says.

Pete pulls Kao closer and returns the kiss, dropping it on the top of Kao’s head. “I love you, too. And never forget that.”

Kao hums happily. “I won’t.”

#dark blue kiss #petekao #my fics #my petekao fics #dbk drama #mé

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raeofalbion · 5 years

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Rules: List 5 quotes from various fics you love and link to the fics! Quotes can be short or long. Tag as many people as you want! (tagged by @leafenclaw - thanks so much! :D)

tagging: Idk who I follow and who follows me who hasn’t done this yet, so, if you want to do it, go for it and please tag me so I can see!

Okay, so I’ve decided to twist the rules a little and use this as a rec list for my current top five Sherlock fics and my top three Fable fics, in no particular order, so people who follow me for either fandom have something to go through. Under the cut because...long.

BBC Sherlock

Inevitable Destruction by @jimswestwood (formerly Dionysisch)

(Ao3; Sheriarty) Bored, Jim invites Sherlock into his home, Sherlock decides to stay. — It’s a beautiful 4 part oneshot series that deals heavily with existentialism and wanting, framed in an almost elegant, bordering on philosophical light. Oh and it makes me cry. It makes me cry a lot.

Sometimes it would hit him so hard it became painful even to breathe. The meaninglessness of it all. It all dissolved into the same ephemeral prettiness of clouds, of smoke, of things that could fascinate but hold no substance at all, vanish at the touch. The air in his lungs, the wall he kept staring at. Himself. The words flowing through his brain. Nothing. Just a casual connection, weak strings giving intolerable heaviness to sounds and letters. In the end, the more he repeated something, the more he realized emptiness. Sounds rolling in his mouth numbing his palate, as he took another mask, another voice, another self - an evocation of something he forgot along the way, and in which he forgot part of himself.

Bored, bored, bored. Bored.

His thin lips part slightly, tongue darting gently over scabs of a tormented nature, sign of a certain carelessness betraying a polished image in all its destructiveness. “Bored,” Jim repeats, again. Just a murmur. Gentle, quiet, making sure not to disturb the non-existent life in a bubble of static silence. It makes him think of grey, grey dullness, something like quicksand but gripping at his brain and his heart and paralyzing him until he cannot breathe and exploding into a million pieces sounds like the most tolerable image. Scattering himself like cosmic dust. He wonders if, in that case, he would give life to other stars or just decay. Once more.

Not Until Then by @jamlocked

(Ao3; Sheriarty, Sherlock/James Moriarty) After Sherrinford, Sherlock goes to see Jim’s brother. What follows is in no way straightforward. — There was a three-way tie for me between this fic, Daemon, and Between Shadows and Sunlight, but this fic. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it and I still can’t say for certain what I think is really happening. It’s gorgeous, elusive, and I love how much it makes me think. Jam’s a master at well-crafted, incredibly twisty plots and I’m just...endlessly fascinated by this one.

Sherlock watches his chest stop moving. David’s head tilts a fraction, like he’s listening to a far-off sound. And then…

…and then, his left hand moves to his left knee. It’s an instantly familiar gesture, one burned into Sherlock’s hard drive. Every other thought falls away. Sherlock feels his eyes widen and his mouth drop open, a gasp stuck behind his teeth. The cold, the silence of the country, the light of the windows, all melt to nothing as he watches David ripple his fingers (beats like digits) over his bent leg, pushing a slight emphasis on the roll of his thumb.

For a few seconds, he can’t breathe. His eyes snap up to David’s face - and it is David’s face, it is, but all he can see is Jim. Jim sitting there with his eyes closed and his hair a mess, slumped in exhaustion but still, always, drumming his own beat. Except that wasn't his beat, that was theirs. He knows of no one else who ever saw Jim make that move, and there’s no reason anyone ever should. That was part of their game.

He whirls to the side, back into darkness. His shoe makes a noise as it shifts on the gravel, but it barely registers. He blinks rapidly, playing the movement back, checking he saw what he thought he saw, not just what he wanted. Why would he want that? (Except wasn’t that his secret hope, wasn’t he sad when he realised he was wrong?) He doesn’t want that. It was just…

Logic. Logic. They’re brothers. He doesn’t know what characteristics they shared, and he doesn’t know when they last talked. There are any number of explanations; indeed, they’re lining up in his brain, each one ready to squash down the live-wire burst of shock. Coincidence (rarely so lazy), or wishful thinking, or his brain overlaying a strong moment from his past onto something innocuous.

Sherlock breathes out, and looks back through the window. David is rinsing the plates at the sink, ready for the dishwasher. Just a too-thin, tired man. Sherlock calms himself, and walks back around the house to let himself back in. He has to see this through. He has to know what he’s doing here, and then there’ll be no need to come back.

To What End? by collaborativesheriartyparty

(Ao3; Sheriarty) Texting, drinks, and...something more. Unique. Possibly dangerous. Definitely addicting. — I don’t know what to say about this series that someone else hasn’t already said but gods, they (the writers) are so good. There’s a depth and a complexity and a lovely, wonderful vulnerability to how both of them write their respective characters and watching Jim and Sherlock’s relationship unfold feels incredibly intimate and, at times, like I should have given them a bit of time alone. It’s fantastic. <3

Sherlock had a funny way of getting revenge, of paralyzing his enemy. Jim appreciated it. Why do with effort what could be done with a whisper? The nights he’d dreamt of the detective had transformed his mornings, either giving him a renewed sense of patience or a real urge to get creative in his ventures. Jim had wanted to give Sherlock every chance to notice him, and chase him down. If Sherlock slipped cuffs on his wrists right now with a ‘gotcha’, would it be worth it? Yes. “I think…” Jim murmured, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips and, oops, brushing Sherlock’s lobe in the process, “that you should be texting John.” How he managed sing-song just now was a bloody feckin’ wonder. Maybe because he only took John so seriously. “Telling him you’ll be home…soon,” Jim continued, tone back to a distracted drawl, and took another deep inhale of Sherlock, his leg almost brushing the other’s now. To Jim, they were the only people in the bar right now, in the world. His eyes had closed, and it took every effort to keep his hands off Sherlock. “Instead of starting something you don’t want to finish.” He’d intended warning, but somehow it had turned out sounding like a challenge.

Circadian Disruption by @like-the-direction

(Ao3; Sheriarty) They are many things--brilliant, determined, enemies, lovers, human only in looks--and, if Molly has any say in it, soon they’ll also be free. — It was a tie for me between this series and Corpus Callosum--both invoke similar levels of internal joyful screaming, but I seem to recall CC being recced recently, so I thought it might be a good idea to rec this one. And oh, gods, what to say about these fics. They’re so incredibly well written--the prose is beautiful and feels impeccably well-thought out. There’s so many layers to everything that it’s impossible for me to read without finding myself just sitting there, wondering. And crying. This one makes me cry, too.

“Do you dream of waterfalls?”

Sherlock pauses mid-step.

“Waterfalls,” Moriarty says, hushed, “and a precipice. You, and me.” There is something in his voice, a quiet heartbreak, and it cracks ever so slightly when he asks, “Do you dream of falling?”

Slowly, Sherlock turns. Moriarty is deadly serious when he meets his eyes.

“Victorian clothing,” he goes on, while the image - the recurring dream Sherlock has had since the day he met James Moriarty face to face - begins to form in his mind’s eye. “Me, all in black. You, wearing that fucking--”

“Deerstalker,” Sherlock says in unison with him, unsure what is happening, but feeling in his bones that it is significant, important somehow. Moriarty nods a bit, and Sherlock slowly continues, “I...refer to you as--”

“‘Professor,’” Moriarty finishes with him, and Sherlock is dimly aware of his pulse rising as he makes his way back toward Moriarty at the ledge. His adversary’s eyes briefly appear wet, but it’s difficult to tell in the light. Moriarty says, “We stand at the cliff’s edge, and I ask you something. I ask, ‘Shall we--’”

“‘Shall we go over together?’” Sherlock whispers with him. They are standing so close. Sherlock can see his reflection in Moriarty’s eyes. “Why do you know that?” he asks faintly, looking between his twin reflections. “How could you know that?”

“You tell me, Detective.”

It’s a test - Moriarty knows, certainly he knows - but Sherlock thinks he may, as well. “It...wasn’t a dream.”

dinner by @very-trivial

(Ao3; Jimcroft) Mycroft Holmes is a dangerous man--mysterious, isolated. Sherlock and Jim are convinced he’s secretly a top government official, but they can’t begin to comprehend the scale of his power. To clarify: Mycroft Holmes is a food critic. — This fic never fails to cheer me up. It’s lovely and the descriptions of food, as well as the character interactions, are so amazingly spot-on. Jim and Sherlock’s insistence that Mycroft is a scary government-man is surprisingly funny, particularly alongside Mycroft’s worry that they’ll figure out what his job really is. Also, the end is oddly heartwarming? The whole thing is just really good.

“You’re a crit-”

A hand slapped over Jim’s mouth.

Despite everything Jim now knew about Mycroft Holmes, in this very moment, he looked scarier than ever.

“I’ll tell you everything, but not a single word passes through your mouth - not now, not ever,” the man hisses, sotto voce. The silencing hand did not relent one millimeter as he pressed on. Jim was starting to regret seating them in a corner booth away from prying eyes.

“If my identity so much as appears as a rumor on the D-list food vlogs , I will make sure you never eat in this town again. You’ll never be able to order curry without wondering if the dish has been tampered with. Maybe poison, maybe they just spit in it. I have clout in this world, Jim Moriarty, and you don’t. You put my name out there and I will use it . I have friends in high places, sir , and they owe me favors. I’ve made careers, I’ve launched veritable nobodies into international stardom. Don’t think for one moment you’ll ever be able to set foot into any decent restaurant again if you cross me. You'll live off cheap instant noodles for the rest of your life. Not even the good Korean kind.”

Fable

The Sergeant by deadpan riot

(FFN; m!Sparrow & Reaver) Reaver returns home from Samarkand to find Sparrow has usurped his home. Oh, and Sparrow has a new pet. — First things first: I adore deadpan riot’s Sparrow; our Sparrows are somewhat similar, so it makes this fic (well, actually series but the series isn’t up in full) a really easy read for me. This fic balances out the ridiculousness and hilarity of poorly-paired roommates (with a pet balverine) and the solemnity and almost depression that comes from everything that happens in Fable II and all the choices one makes but still manages to keep the story lighthearted and well-paced.

"Did you know, my dear boy, that that beast of yours has, in fact, retained a marginally functional knowledge of the human language? Illiteracy aside, of course…" Reaver toyed with one of the bottles nearest him, watching the hero through his bangs. Smiles had again gone to try his luck at bottle roulette.

"Well, yea, I guessed as much since he does tend to listen to me…But what the hell are you two doing?" Sparrow was now coming down the stairs, prompting Reaver to stretch languidly across them.

"Whiling away my time banished to the foyer, what else?"

Sparrow stopped on the step above Reaver, eyeing the pirate, the bottles, and the general disarray of the room at large. "So 'whiling away the time' includes turning all the pictures upside down as well?"

Reaver cast a glance at the reversed paintings. "As a matter of fact it does, oddly enough."

Snow and Stones by Lilith Encodead

(FFN; f!Sparrow/Reaver) Reaver hears rumours that someone new has taken control of Bloodstone only to find Sparrow and a cursed snowglobe waiting for him. — Considering I prefer platonic Sparrow and Reaver fics, you might be surprised to learn this is my favourite Fable fic of all time. And it kills me that it’s not complete. Lilith creates such an amazing atmosphere in here and there’s such a gravity to the fic that everything, even the lighter moments, just seem to carry a lovely weight to them. The way she writes Sparrow and Reaver is gorgeous too, and I just...Lilith, wherever you are, please??? finish??? fic??? D: Please???

"I'm not going to play your stupid little game." she sneered slowly. "If you want answers - look around."

Reaver did not move. He did not speak. Then, ungraciously he eased his grip, before giving his pistol one last shove into her head. Her fontanelle was knocked back into the stone Cullis Gate, as the force reverberated through her skull. With an aching head and blurred vision, Sparrow watched him rise up and survey his surroundings.

Reaver examined the hauntingly empty area briefly, before looking straight back at Sparrow, as if averting his eyes from something disgustingly gory. Around the two of them were the smashed remains of once mighty stone ruins covered in ivy and surrounded by dandelion weeds. Jagged lumps of stone nested the Cullis Gate, depicting faded carvings of the Old Religion bleached by sun and faded with time. A standalone rock archway stood crumbling in front of them; beyond which was a chalky white path leading down to the town.

Every water, every cell, of Reaver's body could sense a foreboding danger through the archway, down the dusty path, and back to his past.

"This is a trick." he insisted. "An elaborate deception fabricated by a vindictive Will-user."

Sparrow remained sat on the Cullis Gate, knowing that Reaver would knock her down again if she gave another dissatisfactory answer.

"Its not." she said simply, as if talking to a child that should know better. "You know it's not."

That Which Moves the Stars by ingresviolin

(Ao3; f!HoBW/Reaver, f!HoBW/Ben Finn) Beatrice, empath and princess, embarks on a quest to find her missing father shortly after her mother’s death. — It’s still in early days, but there’s something very charming and curious about this fic. I love that the quest is mainly research-based so far and that all the characters have a wonderfully defined depth and clarity. I’m so curious and excited to see how it all comes together in the end.

"You look very young for being very old," Beatrice whispered at a nearly inaudible level. Her mother and Logan did not catch the comment, but both men at the table did. Reaver glared at her with the same menacing expression as earlier that day, but his eyes were darker than before. Beatrice felt an internal prickle of excitement: her favorite feeling.

She didn't need to touch Reaver to know he was upset, but as his glare darkened her excitement turned to fear. She could see her own image in the darkness of his pupils, as well as the glowing flames of the fireplace behind her. And she could have sworn to Avo that the two were not separate, but that the Beatrice-shaped homunculus at the center of the tiny conflagration in his eyes was being burned alive.

#thanks for the tag!#memes #fic rec I guess #very long post #sorry this took so long I wanted to reread my favs to make sure I was getting my actual fav fics/lines #there are so many fics I wanted to put in here but couldn't because of space #I'm sure some people will be surprised by my Fable fic choices buuuut...yeah #the Fable ones were hard though; I have too much history with some of these writers #maybe one day I'll do a proper rec list #leafenclaw

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comicteaparty · 4 years

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March 21st-March 27th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from March 21st, 2020 to March 27th, 2020. The chat focused on the following question:

What are some background details you know about your story that won’t ever actually come up in the main narrative?

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Oh boy... So many in Whispers of the Past... The first—which I believe I've mentioned before—is that some of the characters' sexualities never really get brought up outside of some subtle subtext. For example, Ryukou is asexual aromantic, but he is married, and he honestly doesn't even know that being aroace is a thing. His wife, Maya, is bisexual, and her attraction to women is hinted at, but not explicitly said. The second background detail that will likely never make it into the main narrative is Kelan's grief after SPOILER the death of his wife. END SPOILER The story takes place years after this event, and yet he still hasn't completely recovered. That being said, it just never really comes up in the narrative, again, outside of subtext. Thirdly, Izrekiel actually has a dependency on physical contact and skinship, because of the lack of affection he was given as a child. This, once again, only really comes up in subtext and is hinted at through his actions, but it is never explained. Aaaaand finally, there is a lot of magical lore that is never explained even remotely. In the story, it is treated very much like a soft magic system, but there are some "harder" elements that go into explaining why certain things have happened, but... they are not actually explained in the story. More like... I know about them, and I can explain these things to anyone who cares to ask (edited)

Capitania do Azar

Oh I suppose that in https://www.sarilho.net/en/ I'm never gonna go in detail about the geopolitics, the different power structures or even how the main empire is structured. We may get hints at it, but it's not necessary for the story so I don't think I'm gonna include much. Details about characters' sexualities are prolly just gonna be hinted at mainly because they don't have the words to express them the same way we do Also I really care about the differences between the different languages and particularly between the spoken and written versions of these, but I can't find a way to have a character explain those just because so you'll have to figure it out through background information like posters and graffiti

sagaholmgaard

Ohh this prompt came at the right time because it's been on my mind lately!! In Reclaim, https://tapas.io/series/_Reclaim_ My two main characters, Albus and Styrka, are in a queerplatonic relationship, which they don't have the word for and it doesn't ever come up except in subtext. I'm trying to write them so that it really shows that they love each other, and everyone knows this, but there won't be a point were they "get together" so to speak because they already have everything they want between each other! And I'm very Soft for this but also nervous that when the story is finished people might feel let down that it doesn't end up in straight up romance? if that makes sense And there's a lot of history research I did that is contextually there but not mentioned in words. That's just one of those things where my knowledge is deeper than what shows in the comic, but I think the story is better for it :D (It's not historic fiction because I'm taking a lot of liberties, but the research is helpful all the same)

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

One of the paladin/church knight's gay, but it never comes up, because, you know, marriage in their world's decided by the parents, because it's a matter of inheritance and heirs not love. He's married, and actually decent friends with his wife and children, but he's taking his oaths seriously. So he never even mentions the people's he's attracted too.

There are openly gay couples in the story, it just didn't work out for him; his family needed that alliance.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

In Phantomarine (http://www.phantomarine.com/) I have two gods that drive the entire story. But seven other gods existed at one point in time. I will be delving into at least two other gods’ stories - as a good background for why the remaining two are in such a tumultuous relationship - but there are five others that I don’t really plan on writing about in great detail. Their symbols and names may pop up in various texts/decorations/etc, but there’s not enough time for a super detailed character study of each. Perfect for side stories, though

mariah (rainy day dreams)

Rainy Day Dreams (http://rainydaydreams.mariahcurrey.com/) takes place in an alternate dimension and the plot deals mostly with interdimensional travelers, but the world is post first interstellar contact also. Only the story isn't a sci-fi so there's no real reason to talk about how robust their space program is and there are already monsters so there's no easy way to tell who's a native and who's and alien.

eli [a winged tale]

Whoa Mariah that sounds fun! I love how everyone’s worlds are complex and in depth and there are clues within the story

Would these details be part of another project/side stories/lorebook? What’s everyone’s plans for these secrets

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

My secrets are basically just stewing in my brain I mean, I guess if a reader ever asked, I'd spill all the secrets, but so far, that hasn't happened.

Tuyetnhi (OIYD!)

same lmao

I guess a background detail the comic won't get into is how the imagery in Cara's dream became promiment before her dream boyfriend came to the picture. I did wrote a prequel where she was having dreams of her late grandma who's stories got super visual in her head. Most of the events she told to Cara were from late 70's Vietnam.(edited)

some of those dreams and nightmares were partly inspired from my parent's part growing up in the time, such as my dad encountering a ghoulish corpse with his grandpa and my mom actually building things from a hut in the jungle

so yeah lmao. ghost story dreams

eli [a winged tale]

Mariah I’m curious about non-scifi parallel universe space program alien monsters are they more the reasoning for how the story exists but you won’t be going into depth with them? (Ie not a plot twisty thing?)

Ghost story dreams and parallel places in real life sound like a good atmosphere/mood element in your story!

Tuyetnhi (OIYD!)

yeah lmao. I wasn't sure how to add it but Cara does mention about her grandma's story in future chapters (if my hands let me draw faster lolol). but as a small tibit. Maybe I'll sit down and write more as a side story lol

eli [a winged tale]

Side stories sound like a great way to showcase more of the world

Tuyetnhi (OIYD!)

I'll consider it lolol

mariah (rainy day dreams)

They're just kind of an additional details that I came up with while thinking about the world. The planet itself I decided a long time ago is Eart but like 100,000 years in the future so the tectonic plates have shifted and the continents are different. The setting is kind of a mix of old-timey and futuristic, but also mixed with magic so the lines between what is technology and what's just supernatural are already pretty blurred. So since it's already sort of a futuristic society I thought it would just be a neat addition to also have had aliens either have shown up or been discovered. I also figured that since the world is super used to inter-dimensional travelers they probably wouldn't be super freaked out to life from off-planet since they already know they aren't alone in the multi-verse? X'D but this stuff really doesn't have any baring on the main story. Like it might be something Mara tells Tristin as some point to blow her human mind. I just like to dig into little setting corners and make tunnels readers probably won't ever see X)

eli [a winged tale]

Ooh that sounds really neat! A big world to discover for the attentive readers

DanitheCarutor

Oh I got some stuff! 1. Part of this can be spoilers for future scenes, so I'm putting it behind a thing. SPOILER Apollo's origin. He was adopted and while at some point him and Julian discuss his parents briefly, it never really comes up in the main narrative. Apollo himself doesn't really care much since he was adopted as a baby and doesn't even know who they are outside of a picture that was given to him as a kid. Essentially they were an Irish couple who moved to the states, the father died at some point and the mother followed close behind during childbirth. There weren't any known relatives, at least ones that wanted to him, so Apollo went into the system and was lucky enough to be adopted almost immediately. END SPOILER 2. Julian's origin. This is kind of brought up briefly later on, but Julian doesn't really know where they're from so nothing much comes of it outside of remembering small bits of how their life was before being found. Although it is eluded to what the situation possibly could have been. 3. Julian's real age and date of birth. Since they didn't have any kind of ID the doctors had to guess their age, which isn't an important detail for the story so I don't see a point in adding it. 4. The details of what happened at Hopeful Hands. This place is discussed a lot, but the talk is more about the trauma that was inflicted and how to move on, rather than lingering on the details. Although enough of what happened is brought up to get a good picture of what kind of place it is/was. I figured laying it all out would be a little too much, and would take away from the main point of the story. 5. The lives of Apollo's friends. There are a couple side character who get fleshed out a bit later on, but since the story isn't about them I didn't see a need in showing more than what is necessary.

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

Hmm... there's certainly quite a few things that don't show up in the main narrative. Like Super Galaxy Knights Deluxe R is very much the Mizuki show, very few other characters get deep explorations into their backstories. But, like, that's what the short stories are for. As for things that never show up in the series at all... the only ones I can think of are the history of the world (because, like, it's pretty boring) and the specifics of how certain technology works. Like, I have a list of people & companies that various locations in the series were named after, and a list of the dynasties in the Giduli Kingdom. There's... not really any interesting stories there, it's just a dry list, so it's not something really worth caring about. And, like, saying "FTL travel in this world works by traveling to a parallel universe where everything is exactly the same except half as big" is kinda interesting I guess... but there's no reason for any character to mention it, and that specific detail really isn't relevant to the story besides "there is FTL travel in this world".

Feather J. Fern

Oh man, for Teasday, any detail about what the actual background of the story is. It's mostly character driven, if the characters don't care, or don't know, they don't talk about it. For Go Figure, I think no one is going to be told anything about the other battles in the past but they did happen.

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

There are so many stories I have built into the backstories of various characters that probably won't come up in the main work but have thought about making other adjacent comics about. For example I could imagine doing a prequel type thing about Joe's life & exploits

Since he is a cool character but unfortunately dead for this entire story

AntiBunny

In AntiBunny, http://AntiBunny.net/ I can't think of any reason to bring up the fact that Runo is asexual. Juju is also bisexual, and that also never comes up.

Desnik

Right now it's the warlock's magic system. I got it all worked out and then it suddenly had nothing to do with my plot.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

I think sexuality details are easier to work in than a lot of people expect. You don't need a character to stand up and announce Have I Mentioned That I Am Asexual Today -- it can be an offhand mention that not all your readers will even pick up on. (But the ones who are looking for it will notice.) https://leifandthorn.com/comic/family-deserts-4-33/

What I've teased but never been able to work into Leif & Thorn canon (yet?) are the details of the World's Largest Cheese Sculpture.

There's also a lot of country names and flags in the bank that haven't shown up yet...but I'm about to draw scenes from a big international song competition, so I'm probably gonna need even more than I already have.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

TBH as an ace person, I don't really pick up on these things. It has to be more concrete for me. Kudos for those who do pick up on them and find them validating, though.

The cheese sculpture sounds epic.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Ahhh, that's what "reading the comments section to check out other people's theories" is for!

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I do that, but I don't consider that canon until the actual comic convinces me

It's also not something we creators can rely on, especially those of us who don't get many comments...

I'm not saying this is bad. Offhand mentions are great, just not concrete proof for everybody (and nothing is for everybody, sooooo).

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Yeah, as a reader I like a lot of comics that don't get many comments...but it's cool when they do and there are people coming up with things.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

So I get it if a fellow creator finds it difficult to show that a character is ace -- like, maybe they're like me and they want Concrete Proof rather than an indication.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

But the creator would already have concrete proof, right? Since it's their character. And the idea is that, even if it won't reach all readers, the indications are still better than nothing.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Yeah, like I said, they're not bad to have.

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

(for reference, the comic I linked above isn't the first offhand-mention related to that character, it's just the point when readers started putting it together)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I'm not trying to dissuade anyone from slipping in those indications. Just saying different strokes for different folks.

DanitheCarutor

Reminds me of a comic I read called 'WANDERING' (https://tapas.io/series/wandern), the main male character in it is ace, although this is never stated out right in the story. At some point readers were speculating about his sexuality due to some hints, although I was totally oblivious. Didn't have any idea where the discussion came from. I do agree that a reader is more likely to pick up on something if they're looking for it though, as someone who doesn't care too much about a character's sexuality and gender (when those subjects aren't important to the story) I don't pick up on then unless the author holds my hand a little. Although when it comes to one of my character's genders it's never stated in my comic either, someone just asks about pronouns and attire later on and that's it. Kind of ironic. Lol

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I'm in a similar boat. Most of my characters' orientations are left ambiguous. I may need to drop an additional hint or two for some of them...

DanitheCarutor

Pfff right? I don't think my comic even had the word 'gay' in it until a few pages ago and I'm already into chapter 5. (to be fair, Apollo's sexuality is pretty obvious. The hits are really unsubtle.) I've thought about making my character's gender more easy to read for oblivious people like me, but that part of the comic is more about what makes them feel good in their own skin rather than putting a title to it. So people who miss my Twitter posts and author's comments can just speculate for themselves, I guess.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I can respect that. For me, a big part of the reason I'm wanting to put more hints is because I don't want people to accuse me of.... what people accused Legend of Korra about (I didn't watch it, but I did see some of those complaints)

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Ah... The good ol' "why is she randomly bi?"

They didn't do a good job of showing it throughout the series up until that point at the end

But, big but, the creators mentioned that she was always intended to be bi, but they were afraid that Nickelodeon wouldn't let them represent a bi character on TV.(edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Again, coming from someone who hasn't watched it, I feel like the complaint should be "why is she suddenly in love" rather than "why is she suddenly bi" -- same issue with shoehorned in straight romance

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

That too

These characters were fighting over the same man at some point

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

big shrug indeed, it sounds like

DanitheCarutor

Oooh! I thought it was the "stop the show to announce my gender/sexuality" thing. I never saw the show either and didn't see many of the complaints since I don't hang out on social media very often. Lol @keii’ii (Heart of Keol) That's understandable! With how stuff like that is nowadays it's better to be safe and make sure readers know, rather than not make it known till the last possible minute. It does kind of suck if putting in bigger hints doesn't mesh with will your story though.

Gosh, about the Korra thing, they could have dropped some subtle pick up lines in while fighting over the dude. But not wanting your show to get pulled or not wanting to be denied stuff is understandable.

Tuyetnhi (OIYD!)

oh yeah, the LoK convos about Korra and Asami. I watched the show during that time and it's just rip

Nick said to the creators they will pull the show if there's an explict statement that Kora and Asami being BI

so they had to be lowkey as hell in the end, which at the time of 2013-2014? idk the year

it was a steping stone for american cartoons I guess rip

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Yeah, and even though LoK aired back when things were a little different.... honestly I still feel that kinda pressure from EVERY angle, just a different flavor of it.

Tuyetnhi (OIYD!)

yea

DanitheCarutor

Well, last minute LGBT+ is better than none. Now there are a few shows like that, right? SU is super into it? (I don't watch this show either so I'm guessing based on fan discussion) and the MLP final dropped in some last minute stuff.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I have at least one character with cross orientation, and that's really awkward to show when I don't wanna put any... sex in the comic. (It's got lots of juvenile "tee hee butts" kinda stuff, but nothing steamy)

AntiBunny

Other tidbits I've thought of that I couldn't really address without just dropping a big exposition bomb are bits of lagosapien biology. They for instance have a shorter adolescence than humans, so they're shorter, but reach adulthood sooner. Their eyes are a bit wider than a human's, giving them a wider field of view, but less depth perception, and that they have higher muscular density, but being about half the size are on average human, are a little weaker than an adult human.

eli [a winged tale]

I know some webcomics have world lores and character notes at the end of each chapter

mathtans

Oh, things that don't show up? Randomly I'll toss in here that Expona is left handed. (Mostly consistently, I may have slipped up in the art once or twice.) Never something that makes sense for characters to talk about though, and not plot relevant, so... does that qualify? I dunno.

Joichi / Sarah

@Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn) sorry I'm late but I like the way you point out about asexuality. I was thinking of how to show concrete proof one's ace. But most of the time, I can pick up 'emotional signs' if it has inner monologue about romance.

The hard part of it, is being one myself, and it's always 'been like this' but in comic, it has to be said somewhere

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

Ah, good to hear!

Erin Ptah (BICP | Leif & Thorn)

And yeah, that was my intention, encouraging people who feel stuck between "explicit announcement" or "nothing at all" to remember that you have in-between options. And if you take that approach, there's all kinds of creative/offbeat/fun things you can do with it.

(Applies to everything else, too, sexual orientation just happens to be the thing people were talking about when it came up.)

#ctparchive #comic #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #creator interview #comic creator interview #creator babble #comic tea party #ctp

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safarikalamari · 6 years

Text

Coin Flip (Tails)

Summary: Spot sees Race every day, but Race doesn’t notice him. That’s just fine with Spot.

Pairings: Spot/Jack, Spot/Race

Rating: G

Genre: Canon Era, Crushes, Slice of Life, Past Relationships

Words: 2197

A/N: Companion piece to the first Coin Flip story! The readers got me motivated to write a part from Spot’s POV. Also, don’t worry, no cheating happens in this

AO3

Spot remembered the day Race showed up in Brooklyn clear as day.

Race had followed Twisty around like a lost dog, begging and pleading to sell at Sheepshead until finally, Twisty had enough.

As Race bounded away, Twisty yanked Spot from his hiding place and pointed at Race’s retreating form. “Keep an eye on him. Report back to me.”

With a single nod, Spot trailed behind Race, blending in the streets whenever Race looked over his shoulder. He was glad Race had that much sense in him, but he couldn’t help his small laugh when they reached Sheepshead, Race blowing all his money on bets.

If he had just come to gamble, Twisty would have let Race be with no trouble.

Sitting outside the gate, Spot stared at the clouds, imagining their shapes as he waited for the races to be over. It was too long before the announcer spoke loud and clear from the stadium and Spot tucked himself in a nearby alley as he waited for Race to appear.

He was easy to find, a mess of a kid mixed in with fine gentlemen and squalors alike and Spot started on his tracking again. True to whatever promise Race had babbled on to Twisty, he went directly towards the bridge, a bounce in his step.

Spot scowled. If Race did as he was told, then this was going to be no fun at all.

Race came every day.

Spot had hoped to have some days without spying on Race, but as soon as Twisty was alerted of Race’s arrival, there was Spot two steps behind.

Making sure his papers had been sold quickly, Spot took to whittling as he waited for Race to leave Sheepshead. It was better than staring at the sky and Spot looked over the bird in his hand.

“Dove?” A voice pulled Spot from his thoughts and he squinted.

“Nah, pigeon, Kelly.”

Jack shrugged, plucking the wooden bird from Spot’s hand. “Look all the same to me when they’re like this. Should let me paint it for you.”

Spot’s heart skipped and he pursed his lips. “If you wanna.”

Jack pressed up against Spot’s side, leaving Spot to blush at the sudden touch.

“You uncomfortable?” Jack asked as he tucked the bird away in his pocket.

“Nah,” Spot shook his head, leaning into Jack. “Just didn’t know we were at this point is all.”

A smirk grew on Jack’s face and he shrugged, glancing all around them. “Heard you were following one of my newsies is all. Didn’t want you making assumptions about him.”

“Don’t got none besides gambler,” Spot responded. “He does his business and leaves. Kinda boring if you ask me.”

Jack laughed then, shaking his head. “Then you oughta spend time in Manhattan. Kid’s wet behind the ears to this pape business, but he’s smart. That’s what’s scary about him.”

“Scary,” Spot repeated, almost rolling his eyes. “Okay, Jack.”

“Calling me Jack now, huh?”

Spot ducked his head, kicking at a particularly interesting pebble on the ground. What he and Jack were was unspoken. They veered on the edge of dangerous, too much too quickly. He wasn’t in love, no, but he never did shy from sharing a kiss with Jack.

“I’ll take you someplace nice for dinner first,” Jack spoke low, close to Spot’s ear, and Spot jumped away.

To his relief, the races were over and he nodded to Jack before he sped after Race’s retreating figure. He didn’t want to think about what Jack had just said.

Oblivious as ever, Race whistled as he walked down the street and Spot grinned to himself. This was nice. No talking, no intruding thoughts, just Spot’s duty of watching Race.

He could get used to this.

Spot sat on the fire escape, his legs dangling off the edge as he overlooked the streets.

Up here, he felt like Twisty, surveying Brooklyn, keeping an eye on everything and everyone. It might be nice one day to be in that position and Spot hoped his efforts were being noticed.

Seeing a familiar figure trail down the streets, Spot perked up, his movements stilling as Race walked past the lodging house. He didn’t even glance up, but Spot didn’t mind, allowing him to watch Race as long as he could. Once Race was out of sight, Spot shot from the fire escape and down into the streets to follow after Race.

Today, Race stopped in an alley to light his cigar, taking a few puffs and blowing the smoke up into the air. From his view across the way, Spot wondered what it’d be like to talk to Race. He had heard his voice as he hawked away, passing compliments to strangers, but nothing serious passed Race’s lips.

Not his deepest thoughts, his concerns of the day.

Spot shrank into his hiding place and frowned. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to care about Race. All that mattered was his business. Why he chose to sell in Brooklyn rather than Manhattan.

By the time Spot shook himself from his thoughts, he almost lost Race, running down the streets to catch up. Again, Race disappeared into Sheepshead and Spot didn’t follow.

Pulling out a piece of wood, Spot shrank back to his usual seat and whittled away, hardly noticing the face his fingers were carving for him.

Jack was too close and Spot turned away, catching his breath.

“Spot, what’s wrong?” Jack asked, concerned as his hands held onto Spot’s waist.

“Nothing,” Spot lied, trying to find a place for his hands on Jack’s shoulders.

This wasn’t anything new to them, but all Spot could feel was irritation. Usually, he let himself fall into Jack’s embrace, the two of them savoring the physicality, but now, Spot didn’t want that.

“Okay.” Jack wasn’t convinced and he pulled himself away until he was at the opposite side of the alley. “Speak, Conlon.”

Spot glared at Jack, fists clenching at his sides. “I just don’t wanna do anything tonight.”

The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t rush to argue. Instead, Jack turned his gaze to the entrance of the alley where the street still shined with the rain from earlier.

“Who is it?” Jack drove the nail into Spot’s heart.

Spot held his composure, breathing out as he met Jack’s wandering eyes. “No one. I just...I think what we got doesn’t work no more.”

Race was a well-guarded secret and Spot wasn’t going to spill his heart to Jack. Not yet. He wanted time for them to move on, for Jack to find someone that wasn’t him.

“All right,” Jack seemed at a loss for words, his voice cracking just a little. “That’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Spot tried to apologize, but he wondered if he was so sorry after all.

Seeing Jack’s forlorn face tore at his heart, yet Spot felt relieved. He didn’t want either of them dragging each other along, not when they weren’t even something established. Jack’s reply came in a singular nod before he headed into the street without a goodbye, Spot following to the end of the alley and watching Jack disappear into the night as he sighed.

This wasn’t how anything was supposed to go, Spot was drowning in his confusion. He didn’t even know Race and here he was, taking over any coherent thought Spot had left.

With a small huff, Spot marched back to his lodging house all while thinking of how to be rid of Race for good.

Race was smiling.

Spot was too far away to say just why he was, but it was nice. The grin lit up Race’s entire face and he seemed just excited as the other newsie with him as they chatted on.

It was easy enough. Spot could go up and join the conversation, but he remained where he was. After cutting off what he had with Jack, Spot didn’t want to jump into things. His heart still needed healing, surely.

He had felt something for Jack, but it wasn’t like what he felt with Race. Race was exciting, new, while Jack had been a comfortable routine. Spot knew Race could fall into the same category, but Spot didn’t want to think about that.

When Spot had fallen for Jack, there wasn’t a spark, just mere acceptance. Now, Spot found himself aching for Race’s attention, to have that smile exist because of him.

Holding onto himself, Spot tucked into the alley, taking a breath.

As nice as this was, he hated it just the same. He had pushed away a good thing for the uncertainty of Race. He and Jack could’ve been the fearless leaders of their boroughs, brothers in arms, if Spot ever made it to being a leader. Now, all that had been severed for a whim. Spot would be lucky if Jack ever spoke to him again.

Laughter rang clear in the air and Spot stuck his head out of the alley, watching as Race and Clover walked by, not even noticing Spot’s presence as they stayed in deep conversation.

It was all for the best.

Spot wasn’t ready to speak to Race. There was still too much that needed to be sorted out. It had to be perfect.

Staring after them, Spot’s heart grew heavy and he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. Race was a faraway dream and Spot could feel him slipping away one day at a time.

Spot blinked, hoping Twisty would repeat his words.

“Spot,” Twisty waved his hands in front of Spot’s face. “Can you hear me?”

Shaking his head, Spot met Twisty’s gaze, finding his words. “Me?” he managed out with a small squeak.

“Yes, you,” Twisty ruffled Spot’s hair and Spot swatted his hand away. “You know Brooklyn best, all the kids respect you, it was meant to be.”

Spot wanted to question Twisty’s judgement, thinking of all the times he was chewed out for the littlest mistakes. Even his hardest work didn’t seem to gain any of Twisty’s favor, but Spot was beginning to think Twisty was hiding more than he wanted to admit.

“Well, I won’t let you down,” Spot puffed his chest out, standing tall.

“You better not or I’ll have to come down from the factory to soak you,” Twisty winked as he walked past Spot out of the room.

Letting out a breath, Spot took a moment to collect himself. He was Brooklyn’s leader now. The responsibility was daunting, but this had been his dream for so long. To be respected, his efforts recognized. Most of all, this was his chance.

He could finally work up the nerve to speak to Race. Spot was sure Race wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to speak to the new kid in charge. How perfect this all was, scenario after scenario swarming through Spot’s mind.

Smiling to himself, Spot thought out his plan, nodding to no one as he left the room. He was ready to meet Race and he hoped Race was ready too.

Race was a goddamn tease.

Spot was still frozen, watching Race leave and he was glad he had enough sense to say goodbye to him.

He let out his first breath when Race rounded the corner and he stubbed out his cigarette before shoving his face in his hands.

“What, Clover?” Spot muttered out when he heard nearby rustling.

“Just wanted to know if you wanted me to follow him or something,” they asked, barely caught above the noise of the ship workers.

Spot dragged his hands down his face and sighed. “Yeah. Follow him. Let me know what he does.”

With a nod, Clover bounded away and Spot shook his head climbing up onto his perch on the docks. His newsies would be filing in soon, reports of the day, taking a break from their selling. He supposed news of his position traveled fast and Race wasn’t going to be the only foreign newsie he’d see today.

Race was the only one that mattered however.

With his crooked grin, his shining eyes, Spot could feel his heartstrings being pulled at and he traced his finger along a crate, not realizing until halfway through that he was spelling out Race’s name.

A blush rose to his cheeks and Spot wanted to laugh at himself. He wasn’t supposed to get tangled up in a mess like this, yet here he was, thinking about Race and their first official meeting. At least he wasn’t following him like usual. Not that Spot would have much time for that anymore.

Needless to say, Spot was curious what Race would do, if he would feel the same way as Spot some day. Even if he didn’t, Spot was content enough with friendship. However, Race had accepted his cigarette and in an odd way, Spot might consider that their first kiss.

Groaning, Spot leaned back until he almost fell off his crate and he rushed back forward, a small laugh leaving him.

Whatever was to happen between him and Race, Spot could only hope for the best and in all honesty, he couldn’t wait to see what awaited them.

#sprace #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #Jack Kelly #safarikalamari makes newsies stuff #can you believe i'm skipping out on dinner to post this #i'll...eat soon....maybe....

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captainkirkmccoy · 7 years

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In San Francisco, about a mile out from Starfleet there was a hill. It was almost like every other hill in San Francisco, except that this one was particularly twisty and particularly private (which is a certain Starship Captain and Chief Medical Officer bought up once dilapidated Victorian and redid it, before filling it with more kids than the house knew what to do with--and probably what the Captain and Doctor knew what to do with also). On that same twisty hill, there happened to be a Victorian, one that was usually hidden by various plants and trees. (This offered even more privacy, and created, for the much-loved inhabitants, a closed in happy chaos) In that once dilapidated, long suffering Victorian, was a Jim. But not just any Jim but a very important Jim--to his friends and family and the long suffering Doctor in the long suffering Victorian, especially. But on the particular morning that was not quite Summer and no longer Spring, Jim was not the Jim that his husband and six children knew him as. Because something was wrong. Very wrong. "Holy fuck." Maddy said around a yawn, that might have been a quiet scream. "Dad's like, our age."

“Language,” Joanna said, but didn’t really mean it. Leonard McCoy, Bones to his husband, Papa to his kids, Doctor and exasperated spouse, stood between the threshold to his bedroom and the hallway, keeping his six children from seeing their dad-but-no-longer-the-dad-they-knew in nothing but his boxers on, the threadbare Starfleet shirt he stole back from Jo and mismatched socks. He had a headache from whatever he drank last night and a hatred for his past self--who turned down the offer to let the brood stay Scotty and Jaylah (who were roommates, nothing more, he'd assured Davie and Chrissy who kept making googly eyes at the pair). "Is Daddy going to be okay?" Abby said around a thumb--a habit that was usually saved for late night cuddles and the moments after loud noises. "Alrighty, who wants pancakes? Let's go make pancakes!" Jo, firstborn, miracle of miracles, swept Abby up, pulled on Maddy's shirt and nudged Davie's butt with her toes. Chrissy made a face, swinging under Jo's other arm and poked her head through Bones' unprotected side. "Whoaaaa," she said, as George, bleary eyed and stumbling dragged his little sister back. "Who the fuck are you?" Jim spit back. Fuck, it was going to be a long morning. ~*~

Fortunately, but probably unfortunately, this was not the first time the Kirk-McCoys had been at Defcon 1. They had a neat system in place, now, after years of baptism by fire, which led to planning by fire, and afterwards, much tweaking of emergency systems. Reinforcements were called in the form of their Bridge Family (Jo had explained once to her teacher that while she wasn't related to her Aunt Ny in the genetic way, she was a part of a large Bridge Family and so of course Auntie Ny could take her out of school, duh). The Bridge Family was just as disgruntled this morning--having had way to much to drink at their annual Bridge Family Dinner at Spock and Nyota's and Bones still didn't know how they all got home tonight but by the way the hover car is parked, he assumes Jo drove--and yet they still manage to stumble in, graciously accepting mugs of steaming coffee and in the case of Spock, green tea. Gray and Amanda arrive in the kids' War Room--also known as the Tent Room--just as Jim tries to make a break for it. The scuffle is heard throughout the house (Maddy has sequestered herself in the bathroom with a pile of books and her Comms becuase she gets stomach aches when she's nervous) and can hear through the radiators, the whole shouting match. She hasn't heard that many F-Bombs in one sentence since George let them watch an old Terran gang movie. "Just calm down, DAMMNIT." Her Papa screams. She can imagine his red forehead and the vein popping out and probably a million more grey hairs turning stark white, as Papa says they always do when Daddy does something stupid--which, also according to Papa, is all the time. "Fuck you, you fuck face. Where the fuck am I? I will fuck you up." "I'm guessing," she hears George from across the hall in the Tent room (most of the walls haven't been reinforced in the house so you can usually hear everything that doesn't happen in a bedroom, thank the gods). "That this is dad post-Tarsus." "Pre-Tarsus," Jo corrects. "He probably would have just stabbed us all with a a shoelace and left, if it was post." "WHAT?" Davie yells over the yelling downstiars, a cacophony of the voices of their Bridge Family. "Nothing, Davie Dave. Wanna play a game, I think we still have all the twister pieces in tact." George answers. "We can probably escape to my house," Amanda answers and Maddy wishes she weren't stuck in the bathroom so she could join them. "Sounds like a plan," Maddy can almost see her sister getting up and brushing herself off. "Through the window?"

Before she can get up, before she can ignore the way her stomach clenches painfully, she hears the window open. Hears the scuffle of feet over windowpane, the giggling of her younger siblings sneaking out of the house.

A knock. “Abs, you okay?”

Jo. Big sister to the rescue.

A loud bang downstairs reverberates up to the hallway. Maddy winces.

“I’m fine. Go ahead.”

“You’ll come find us when you’re ready?” Jo is talking over a series of raised voices, a cacophony of swear words and adult anxiety.

“Yep,” she gathers her hair up in a bun and settles back, stuck and feeling sorry for herself as Jo makes her way back to the tent room, over the window seat, out and down the trellises to join the rest of the Brood.

~*~

Two hours later, Maddy is staring at her lined ceiling, tracing the Enterprise’s shape with her eyes over and over, when a thump outside her door makes her bolt upright.

Situation one: It’s an intruder. Someone has incapacitated everyone downstairs and is on it’s way to come abduct her.

Situation two: It’s the Bridge Family wrestling her dad-turned-teenager as he makes his escape.

Situation three: Whoever turned Dad into a teenager has turned everyone else into a teenager and is coming to turn her into...an infant?

She has a huge Shakespeare’s collected works her dad found in a bookstore in Portland and a deadly swing that made her the star of her softball team before she quit.

She’s not expected him. But he’s not really expecting her either.

She swings and hits her dad, teenage version, smack in the face with Shakespeare’s tome.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, fuck,” Her dad says, hands cupping his nose. He snorts and it actually sounds like a laugh. “Wow, that was a good hit.”

She’s handing him a scarf from her nightstand and maybe a pajama shirt or a band tee or something for his nose and now he’s laughing. And she’s laughing.

And she’s doubled over because how many times can you meet your dad when he’s your age?

Only in your life, Maddy Kirk-McCoy, only in your life.

When Jim (she can’t really think of him as dad anymore, it’s too weird) assures her it’s not broken, she doesn’t feel much better about hitting him. The way he wriggled his face and prodded at it gently spoke of experience. She’s heard about his reckless childhood, of Grandma’s long trips to the black and a step-dad who forgot that Uncle Sam and Jim existed most days. And that was before Tarsus. Paradigm shift, Dad once said about it.

“How’d you get away?” She thought Pop was going to sit on Jim until they figured out a way to fix this. Her Papa could be scary when she was worried, she thought teenage Jim didn’t have a chance.

“Ah, the Scottish dude? Scotty? Was supposed to be watching me and he’s kind of easy to sneak away from.”

Maddy knew this to be very true.

“Are you okay?” She asked, rubbing her arms.

“I guess. Are you? Did all the other stays abandon you?”

“Strays?”

“This is a home for like misfit kids or something, right? That’s why I’m here? Knew Frank would sell me out eventually.”

“What? No! Wait, no...no one told you?”

Jim’s head tilted to the side the way it did when Davie suggested breaking into their neighbor’s pool to go swimming at midnight or Chrissy announced that she decided to only talk in pig latin for a month. Her dad was in there somewhere, still. That was good.

“Um. Shit.” She expected a rebuke. None came. She remembered all the f-bombs from earlier.

She sighed. She needed to get out of the house. Jim grinned, like he was reading her mind. “Want to escape for a bit? I think I heard someone say the window was a good way out.”

****

End of Part one. Let me know if I should continue. This might get long!

#mckirk #jim/bones fic #kidfic #age regression fic #jim and bones have six kids #star trek fic #boneslegendaryhands #dammitmccoy #ricechex

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opticor · 7 years

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yesterday i had queued a text post, and it started like this: “it’s not my style to review books while still reading them (or, indeed, ever) but i wanted to tell you that i’m reading Ninefox Gambit right now and it’s giving me a lot of feelings; not exactly in the “so many feels” way, but rather in the “a lot of very conflicting feelings” way, which while less memetic is no less overwhelming.” but since then the post became obsolete, first because the book descended (ascended?) straight into the so-many-feels territory, and then because i actually finished it, and what a book it is! i want to say some things, so this post, while not a review, is probably not spoiler free either. you have been warned!!

so, this is subjective stuff, i won’t pretend otherwise. the reason i mentioned conflicted feelings (let’s say, i was in the first half of the book then) was, well, i’ve consumed some amount of media through the years, so unfortunately i often think of things as being like-other-things (unless they are totally-unlike-other-things) and so, i was reminded of things, such as the Divergent faction system (which i don’t like) and certain scenes in the early instalments of Hellsing (which, embarrassingly, i do like) and quasimagical warfare in The Solstice War (which i love; in my opinion, if you liked Ninefox Gambit you are likely to enjoy The Solstice War as well! the opposite may also be true, depending on what you like the most about The Solstice War -- give it a shot!)

there was also a scene that unpleasantly reminded me of an unhealthy pattern in a past relationship. that was rather painful because it was also a scene i really liked, actually the most Hellsing-like scene. i am actually not certain anymore if anything exactly like it happened in Hellsing and i am not in the mood to check right this moment, but i seem to recall an episode where Alucard in his many-eyed form terrorized Seras with the intent of teaching her some important lesson about being a monster. there is nothing improper about monsters being monsters, and it’s a soft spot for me. i liked it. in the book, though. well, in that scene Jedao torments Cheris until she’s completely broken and it’s a game, a test. he apologizes and is awfully nice afterwards, but it gave me a pause. i mean, by this point this is more of a personal post than anything remotely resembling a book review but i still want to stress that i absolutely don’t want to say anything bad about the book as such for having this in it! it was just, viscerally unpleasant to me personally in light of, you know. and it made me think about my embarrassing preference for hurt/comfort in fiction (is... is it hurt/comfort if they are provided by the same person? i am not even certain) in contrast with the same in real life; and also what would this dynamic look like if the roles were differently gendered. i guess it is also a mark of a great work that it makes you think, about stuff?

so i thought about that some, then decided thinking about it does no good, scheduled my text post and went on about my evening. but regular activities were unengaging because what i really wanted to do was continue reading the book. and so i did. and i couldn’t stop reading. not to say there weren’t horrible, gruesome, heavy things from there on. it’s not harmless and virtuous. it, actually, not only made me cry, but was painful enough that it physically hurt which a book hadn’t done to me since i read Stephenie Meyer’s New Moon at age eighteen. but there wasn’t anything displeasing to give me a pause, or a stop, after that tenth chapter. book just kept going and went from an uncertain four to a solid five and, i don’t know, i don’t think it’s got anything to do with its technical qualities. just how it went for me. that was certainly an Experience.

speaking of technical qualities, i thought it was paced really well. i’m not an expert but i don’t enjoy fiction that doesn’t live up to my personal standards for good pacing, stuff like slow pilot episodes or filler or what have you -- though not, mind me, infodumps. the menace of infodumps is a blunt instrument applied by amateur critics to scare readers and authors alike away from exposition, and is, just like tvtropes, probably not real. i had, actually, read a scathing review for Ninefox Gambit that condemned it for its infodumpiness, among other things. well i am happy to say that that-reviewer can stuff it. information about characters and setting is, in my opinion, elegantly inserted and never out of place. i may have more thoughts on this after a re-read of course since it takes time to ease into the specific terminology, but that is my initial impression.

which brings me to the plot. where, after all, is this wonderfully paced story going? spoiler: a good place. was it twisty? well... no, i wouldn’t say, for something mentioning many a multi-layered plan. hindsight is a harsh mistress. near the beginning, the book gives you a problem: why did this character do that horrible, monstrous thing? and it gives you a hint: the answer is not insanity. if you assume, as i did, that Jedao is a good (for some measure) person, i don’t think that could lead to many significantly different answers, in the context of this book. and answering that question, there are not many directions it would make sense for the story to go. i don’t think this a defect, by the way. i think it’s good writing. of course, the answers could potentially change as it is, among other things, also a first book in a series. it’s something of note on both pacing and story. it’s definitely a part-one and there are some subtle things that are impossible to fairly judge a part-one on. story, i guess? or, more like, how satisfying is the story arc overall? as it is, it would be called open-ended, i guess. so i won’t say anything about it. i just don’t want to be saying something like “it’s a good first book in a series” -- it’s a good book, period. but also, a first book in a series. speaking of which the second one is coming in just a few days and i for one cannot fucking wait to read it

thank you for taking the time to read this wall of text, i am awfully flattered that you value my opinion on books this much; i also apologize for putting a very long post on your dashboard, and i may put a cut in it after i see it on a real browser. i wish we had LJ’s functionality of only putting some of the text in a readmore, rather than everything

the part i’d leave outside of a cut is this: if you want to read an actual, nicely written review, there are many but i particularly recommend this one, over at Strange Horizons

and since it’s a recommendation, content warnings include: graphic depictions of injury and body horror; death, violence, and other war tropes; torture, emotional abuse, rape

#nath reads things #long post #i want to tag it for convenience but im afraid of fandom #oh! something i wanted to mention but forgot #i liked how courteous Cheris is to servitors #but at the same time i didn't like how she is an exception for it #and it's like a defining character trait #it is a GOOD trait i support but since it is so isolated it made her seem like a Disney princess a bit #which ?#ninefox gambit #machineries of empire

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theglintoftherail · 7 years

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Review: The 1972 Annual World's Best SF

For years and years, I’ve been collecting editions of the Annual World’s Best SF anthology series edited by Donald A. Wollheim, which ran from 1972 to 1990. A couple of years ago I decided to commit to reading or rereading every single one of them - and to reviewing every single story in each of them on Goodreads. As of now, I’ve gotten through 10 of them and reviewed a total of 107 stories, which can all be found here!

I’m doing this partly to expose myself to a wide range of SF in order to grow as an SF author, and partly because there are so many great SF authors whose work didn’t just stick around in public consciousness for one reason or another. I’ve found so many authors that I absolutely love and had never heard of before. (And because those authors are not widely read, it makes me feel like a total SF hipster, which is perversely enjoyable.)

Here are the reviews of the stories from the 1972 edition:

The Fourth Profession, Larry Niven

Well what do you know. I’ve read a few things by Larry Niven and straight-up disliked most of them, but this one was very fun. A few mysterious aliens have landed on Earth, and a bartender happens to get one of them way too drunk and is given pills that essentially give him superpowers. It’s well-paced and funny, with likeable characters and surprisingly high stakes. The ending didn’t quite live up to the rest of the story, but I still liked this a lot.

Gleepsite, Joanna Russ

The editor’s intro to this one recommended reading it twice or even three times, and I’m glad it did, because it’s pretty much impenetrable on the first read – but once I figured out what was going on, it was really cool and fairly chilling. It packs a huge amount of worldbuilding and characterization into about five pages. I’d hate to spoil it so I’ll just say, it opens on a woman with bat wings pedaling dream machines in a polluted dystopian wasteland where most of the men on Earth have died, and goes all sorts of even weirder places from there.

The Bear with the Knot on His Tail, Stephen Tall

Eh. Maybe it’s just that this story is closing in on 50 years old, but it was really just a bog-standard ‘humans discover the first alien life and oh no they’re in trouble’ story. I really thought there was going to be an interesting twist at the end – I even thought I could see how they were setting it up – but nope.

The Sharks of Pentreath, Michael G. Coney

In the near-ish future, overpopulation has resulted in a system where at any given time, two-thirds of the population is kept in Matrix-style tanks and can interact with the outside world via tiny robots, and people swap out on regular schedules. The story’s about an innkeeper at a popular tourist destination who is currently in non-Matrix-mode and who is kind of a dick. I always like SF where the speculative part is just a backdrop to a character-based story, but there was something about the whole concept that just didn’t feel quite right to me - and honestly, the main character was just too much of an asshole for his ‘I learned a lesson’ moment to ring true for me.

A Little Knowledge, Poul Anderson

Three human criminals stranded on a planet of extremely pacifistic aliens kidnap an alien space pilot so that they can sell forbidden technology to a warrior race. I loved everything about the premise, the characters, the worldbuilding, the plot resolution, etc – but the pacing was bizarrely bad, particularly when compared to how strong everything else was. Huge exposition dumps, lengthy scenes that were interesting but have little plot importance followed by rushing through much more significant events, more exposition, etc. Still worth reading, but man, somebody should have taken a scalpel to this thing.

Real-Time World, Christopher Priest

A group of research scientists in an enclosed space station are secretly being manipulated by the people who sent them there, via carefully controlled feeds of news and information personalized for each of them. I loved this at the beginning, but then a bunch of additional SF concepts and twisty plot elements were added in, and then more, and then more. Which could have been cool, but in practice it just wound up making kind of an incoherent hash of what could have been two or even three good stories.

All Pieces of a River Shore, R. A. Lafferty

Perfect from start to finish… almost entirely. An eccentric Native American collector of Old West and Native American artifacts has run across a few impossibly detailed, several-foot-long paintings of the banks of the Mississippi River. He has a theory that there are even more of them out there, and that they might actually depict the entire span of the river when put together. I loved everything about this – but the final cymbal-crash line that explains the mystery pretty much requires you to have had personal experience with 1970s information storage technology. I had to google the story to figure out what the hell was going on, and once I did, it was like “Oh! I see, awesome!”

With Friends Like These . . . , Alan Dean Foster

Hundreds of thousands of years ago, there was a galactic war in which the humans, fighting on the side of the good guys, destroyed the enemy so thoroughly and terrifyingly that the rest of the galaxy forced them all back to Earth and barricaded them in there. But now the bad guys are back, so the other good guys plan to free these mythical monstrous warriors. I wasn’t mad at this, but I personally dislike the trope of ‘humans are the most exceptional race in the galaxy.’ (Also, in general I feel like 70s SF throws a lot of psychic abilities shit around when there’s no real need or justification for it, so that aspect was also annoying.)

Aunt Jennie's Tonic, Leonard Tushnet

A research chemist interviews his old-country hedge-witch-style aunt in order to discover the secrets of her medicines. There was a lot I liked about this, but the main character was just too much of an idiot for me to be fully immersed in it. “I’m purposefully not even writing down the parts of these processes that I think are bullshit, even though there’s no real reason not to” plus “I didn’t make any backup copies of my notes on this incredibly valuable medicine recipe” equals how the hell did you ever manage to become a research chemist in the first place.

Timestorm, Eddy C. Bertin

Did you know that changing the past in a way that you’d think would be beneficial might actually cause something terrible to happen? A guy gets transported to a future place where aliens are doing things to Earth’s past that seem bad, he stops them, oh no they were actually helping. Like the third story, this was either unoriginal at the time or feels unoriginal now that we’ve seen it a million times. And the collection of things that the aliens were manipulating was weirdly arbitrary – stopping the birth of Hitler and the birth of… the Marquis de Sade? Really? And of course, since this was written in 1971, it opens on the assassination of JFK.

Transit of Earth, Arthur C. Clarke

Ok, well this almost made me cry. A Mars exploration mission is doomed and they’re going to run out of food/oxygen, so everyone but one man takes suicide pills early in order to give the man enough time to record a rare astrological phenomenon before he dies. The story is written as a combination of his notes of the transit of Earth plus his personal reflections on life and death. It’s really great. (There is also an almost completely throw-away suggestion that maybe just maybe there are also aliens on Mars, which added absolutely nothing to the plot and probably should have been edited out.)

Gehenna, K. M. O'Donnell (aka Barry N. Malzberg)

This was gorgeous. It’s three vignettes about characters with intersecting lives – all of them go to the same party, and their meeting there changes their lives in various ways, but each story also takes place in a just slightly different world. It uses parallel universes as a metaphor for how everyone’s experience of the world and their conception of themselves is totally different from what other people see. The fact that the stories are taking place in parallel universes is established at the beginning of each vignette by a device that I thought was really cool – each character takes the subway down from Times Square to get to the party, and the stations they pass are all numbered differently. (I looked up another review of this and the reviewer described it as ‘funny’ and ‘an amusing puzzle,’ which is hilarious to me – I thought “how could we have read it so differently” and then realized that that’s exactly what the story is about…)

One Life, Furnished in Early Poverty, Harlan Ellison

Earlier in this project I read Jeffty is Five, also by Harlan Ellison, and this is so similar that I would have known immediately that it was the same author even if I wasn’t already aware. You can never go back to your lovingly-described childhood which specifically involves a lot of comic books and radio dramas and delicious no-longer-produced candy, but you desperately want to because your adult life is boring, but if you try to, it will have terrible consequences, because childhood is delicate and precious. This story is good on a technical level but that theme just doesn’t do anything for me at all, so I didn’t love it.

Occam's Scalpel, Theodore Sturgeon

The mysterious head of a shadowy criminal organization is about to die, and his personal doctor is worried about the right-hand man who is primed to replace him, so he goes to his brother for help… but what kind of help? There are a couple things in this story that are awfully convenient, and it does rely on a super-genius being tricked in a way that an actual super-genius would almost certainly see right through, but I liked the concept enough to overlook those things.

Favorites: Gleepsite, All Pieces of a River Shore, Transit of Earth, Gehenna

#science fiction #sf #classic science fiction #classic sf #Larry Niven #Joanna Russ #Stephen Tall #Michael G. Coney #Poul Anderson #Christopher Priest #R. A. Lafferty #Alan Dean Foster #Leonard Tushnet #Eddy C. Bertin #Arthur C. Clarke #K. M. O'Donnell #Barry N. Malzberg #Harlan Ellison #Theodore Sturgeon

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tinnefoil · 7 years

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Mon-El, Prince of Daxam

I’m not really super excited for the Mon-El, Prince of Daxam storyline, mostly because, well, it was all very predictable. It would have been interesting if there was another twist to it.

But alas, I think outside of “Hank” turning out to be J’onn to me Supergirl isn’t really a twisty/defy expectations kind of show. I guess President Lynda Carter being an alien was supposed to be one, but it felt kinda thrown in there. In short, I don’t really see Supergirl as the kind of show that tries to wow you with amazing out of the box twists. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing the show would go that whole unexpected routes some more, where plots are concerned. (remember, I look at this mostly as stuff I think would make good tv plots and not necessarily what helps or harms any ship)

I think the expected route for the storyline to go is that Mon-El’s parents are evil, that Kara and Mon-El quarrel over his dishonesty and break up (whether temporarily or permanently). A reasonably high chance of there being a scene where Mon-El chooses Kara over his parents (whether she is impressed by this or not being unclear).

- I think of all of the somewhat likely options, my preferred one would be if Mon-El leaves with his parents, potentially semi-heroically to protect Kara/Earth from his parents’ wrath. Bittersweet goodbye, door open for Mon-El to eventually return (with various options like having been converted to evil or slightly evil by his parents, being emotionally torn over not approving of what his parents do but still sticking with them, or being good and fleeing from them). This option is appealing to me, mostly because I think it would be a very interesting scenario for Kara to find herself in, that an ex of hers is on the other side or a battle (whether he his evil or semi-evil at this point). IMO it would very cool to see her deal with something like this.

- I think another semi likely option is that one parent will turn out to be slightly less evil than the other. I’m cautiously intrigued by their relationship dynamic of Sorbo/Hatcher. Most people have pointed out the Queen seems to be in charge and having the more active and assertive role in most scenes we have seen so far, but Mon-El made a comment specifically about his father not being a nice man. Anyway, one parent is less evil than the other, eventually doublecrosses the other parent and is responsible for both parents leaving the planet. Mon-El is left with mixed feelings, still resentment of the more evil parent, but torn over less evil parent who somewhat came through for him.

- BTW, just how hilarious would it be if it turned out that Daxam was matrilineal and the Queen or King was actually disappointed that Mon-El is only a son and not a daughter? I’ve seen too many historical movies recently about daughters who were treated as disappointments for not being sons. I know it’s unlikely because of all the comments Mon-El has made (for example of objectifying, but hey, maybe on Daxam maybe everybody was objectifying everybody) and it’s also unlikely because I’m sure Kara would have known about it and made a comment about it. But still, it’s fun to dream about what a hilarious subversion that would be and how it would give a good motivation as to why Mon-El enjoyed staying on earth rather than trying to track down any stragglers who might still be loyal to Daxam, if for example, he was never groomed and expected to be the next king anyway.That Mon-El the "fratboy of the universe” was more the equivalent of Paris Hilton (or Claude from Reign). And less a future ruler being irresponsible and shirking his duties.

- Another interesting variation would be if again there was an evil and a slightly less evil parent and the slightly less evil parent actually stayed on earth. I admit this is mostly fuelled by my liking of Hatcher/Sorbo and I don’t think that it would ever actually happen, partly for cost reasons and partly because the size of the supporting cast won’t really allow it and of course Mon-El’s status within the show not being 100% stable anyway. But I think that would make interesting content for a fanfic.

- I think a slightly more doable option would be if Mon-El actually had some feelings for his parents after all, but Kara defeats them and locks them up (for example in the Phantom Zone) and Mon-El disapproves or at least isn’t too happy about it. That would make an interesting conflict even if, or particularly if Kara and Mon-El broke up. Because it would give them a reason to clash with each other even while broken up.

- If Mon-El stays on the show, I think an amazing twist would be if his parents were actually impersonators. Think about it, Daxam gets destroyed, the king and queen presumably perish, some enterprising shapeshifters decide to impersonate the King and Queen so they can wield whatever influence the king and queen of Daxam would have left. And now they track down Mon-El because they find themselves in a situation where they need a more legitimate claim? I think it would be an interesting addendum to the theme of returning, but shitty parents, that we also had with Kara&Alex/Jeremiah and Lena/Lillian. So King/Queen arrive, try to pick Mon-El up, he is put through the emotional wringer a bit, Kara and him fight the parents and in the end it turns out they were impersonators and the king and queen were dead all along. I think that would be an excellent setup for Mon-El to finally actually show some genuine reaction about the death of his parents. He thought he saw them again, he thought he hated them anyway and then it turns out it was all a ruse, it wasn’t his real parents. Something like that would make for a really compelling scenario for the show.

By comparison, to me these are the more uninspiring scenarios which I could picture happening:

- Mon-El turns evil or at least decides to go home with his parents because he is angry that Kara breaks up with him. (imo the slightly better option was if Kara broke up with him but convinced him that it was for the best if we went with parents, because he needs to deal with it, because at least his parents are still alive and he has a chance to try to do good at their side)

- Mon-El turns against his evil parents. Kara and Mon-El defeat them. The parents take off. Kara forgives Mon-El, everything continues as if nothing had happened.

- The parents get disposed off in some way, Kara and Mon-El break up and he grovels a lot. This grovelling and arguing about the break up lasts for several episodes.

- Mon-El heroically sacrifices himself. Granted, Mon-El dying in the context of this storyline would be one of the more original options to me and I have always thought that Mon-El dying would be an interesting way to advance Kara as a character (yes: boy fridging), but I kinda feel that at this point, in this context, it would feel either manipulative or just not fully earned.

Whatever way it goes, IMO the interesting questions I would like to see answers to are:

() What’s up with Mon-El’s reaction to his parents’ presumed death? We know he has hinted he wasn’t exactly close to them. And we know he initially tried to set off a distress call to Daxam. So, did he think his parents were dead? If so, why didn’t he show any reaction? Or did he know there was a good chance they might be alive (maybe because they were off world)? If so, why didn’t he contact them (antagonistic relationship with them, enjoying getting to live a normal life, smitten by Kara already?).

() Jeremiah hinted that he knew Mon-El’s real identity. So why do Jeremiah and presumably Cadmus know?

() Why do Mon-El’s parents still have power, how did they survive? Where they off world with their ship and a handful of loyal followers? Do they have vast off world resources? Did they maybe team up with some other evil to gain resources? Is it generally known within the universe that they are alive? If no, why do they hide that they are alive? Are they worried about any grudges (like maybe the Daxamites took slaves from other worlds?).

#supergirl #supergirl meta #mon-el #terri hatcher #kevin sorbo #karamel #supergirl speculation #kara danvers #chris wood

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