#and its ALWAYS mass effect that seems to struggle
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I think for a lot of people (myself included), the mannequin fight was the part of Worm where we really started to buy into the myth-making Taylor was constructing for herself. She had spent a lot of time setting herself up as an unassailable fixture of the boardwalk, but since we were in her head the whole time, the audience is privy to all the limits she makes sure to hide. The Mannequin fight fundamentally changes the reader’s perception of Taylor to be closer to the boardwalk citizens’ view of her, and I’ve struggled as to why for a long while. But I think the key thing is that its not just a fight—its a magic trick.
First comes the pledge:
We get a promise to the audience that something extraordinary will happen. Not something merely impressive, mind you: you would be impressed by Superman lifting up a truck, but it wouldn’t seem like magic. You know Superman could do that, its been established. But the audience has no idea how Taylor could defeat something like Mannequin. Hell, the story already established with the two Lung fights that Taylor has a huge problem fighting invulnerable foes. She only defeated Lung the first time with the help of other capes, and only defeated him the second time because his eyes were exposed. The first one is off because the pledge promises that Taylor will be the one to fuck up Mannequin, and the second because Mannequin’s whole thing is that he has no weak points. There is no skin to bite or eyes to burrow into, so Taylor’s only method of attack up until this point is completely useless. Furthermore, everything up to this point has established Mannequin and the rest of the nine as unstoppable forces, toying with their prey or slaughtering them en masse as it suits them. The promise in Taylor’s statement, then, is that she will defeat a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine, without her power being any obvious use, and without dying first. Its the promise of the impossible. Real magic.
Then comes the turn:
The turn is when the magician does something extraordinary. In this case, its Taylor getting Mannequin to go on the defensive, to the point where she can pull off his head. He gets caught in a web that builds around him without his noticing, before erupting in an explosion of color that gunks up his blades and leaves him open to attack. Its dramatic as much as it is effective, a showy way of counting coup. And its done largely through sleight-of-hand—Taylor distracting him while the spiders lay their silk, having paint cans brought by swarm appear as if through magic. At this point, she has survived much longer than expected and partially de-fanged a foe that previously seemed impossible to affect.
Finally, the prestige:
The prestige is where the pledge is answered and surpassed, where the turn is trumped by the truly amazing. And I especially like how it happens here, because the narrative itself was using sleight of hand. We were so focused on Taylor, we paid no attention to the other hand: the normal citizens held in the warehouse. They had been de-emphasized enough to fade into background, but with their sudden reappearance you realize Taylor was always counting on them to accomplish the impossible: drive Mannequin away. And they do it.
Once you see it, I think a lot of Taylor’s most impressive moments can fit into this trifecta of pledge-turn-prestige. You can see it in the escape from Coil’s trap (”How is Skitter going to escape this house and all the soldiers surrounding it?”-> “Oh wow she managed to get out of a locked burning building” -> “Oh she just became a full-on horror movie and escaped in the most dramatic way possible”), the birth of Weaver (”How is turning herself in to the PRT going to help the Undersiders?” -> ”Did- did she just kill Alexandria somehow” -> ”They just spun killing Superman into a successful heel-face turn for the nationally infamous warlord”) and Gold Morning (”How will 16 ft of mind-control help a now-mute Taylor defeat God?” -> “Oh shit she just figured out how to munchkin her way to omnipotence” -> “Taylor and Lisa just overcame 5 different cognitive barriers to work together and defeat God with the power of incredible trauma”). I love it. It’s almost cinematic to read, and it turns the use of established mechanics in new ways from merely interesting to completely arresting.
#worm#wildbow#parahumans#taylor hebert#skitter#yeah i know that pledge turn prestige aren't actually widely-used terms in magician circles#doesn't mean it can't make for good analysis#I mean even Freud can make good analysis and that's all FAMOUSLY wrong#leo says#leo reads worm
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Book Review 58 – The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin
I originally put a hold on this at the library back in the spring, so by the time I actually got my hands on it I’d entirely forgotten why I’d asked for it specifically. Still, in general I’d been meaning to read more Le Guin (and more classic sci fi/stuff written in previous generations, generally), so it isn’t too mysterious. It’s definitely a meaty read as far as cultural artifacts go, but I must admit that as a reading experience it left me a bit cold.
The story takes place in the distant and futuristic year of 2003, in a Portland that’s rather worse for the wear – overpopulation, widespread and crippling malnutrition even in American cities, a war in the Middle East threatening to spiral out into nuclear Armageddon, climate change has led to mass resettlement away from the coasts, and also its always raining. Into this comes Gregory Orr, a man whose dreams can retroactively change reality. Horrified by this, he almost overdoses on stimulants to avoid sleep – and is basically given court-ordered ‘voluntary’ therapy. Dr. William Haber, after taking a bit to believe him, starts using the magic of hynpotherapy and also Orr being kind of a pushover to trigger, manipulate, and direct his magic dreams and start trying to retroactively fix the world. Because it turns out hypnosis-induced dreams have a lot in common with asshole genies, side effects include a pandemic killing the majority of humanity, an alien invasion, everyone having identically coloured grey skin, and eventually the execution of anyone discovered to have a inheritable medical condition for eugenics reasons. Eventually Haber believes he’s discovered a way to induce the same dreams in himself, and when he tries just kind of breaks reality and himself at the seams. Before he does, he finally cures Orr of the dreams, and amid the ruins he gets a girlfriend (who had in other versions of reality been his lawyer and then dead and then his girlfriend) and settles down to a good life working with his hands.
The overall feel of the book is, like, Seeing Like A State as Twilight Zone episode. There’s a distaste for capital-P Progress – for top-down utopias, technocratic utilitarianism, psychiatry and eugenics and public health initiatives, tolerance through the erasure of differences, bureaucratic work, lives without strife and struggle, and just generally measuring the marigolds – that absolutely pervades the work. It is good and virtuous, the book seems to (or outright does) say, to help people you know and directly around you, and in the face of an apocalypse you do whatever you can. But otherwise, in the course of normal life, thinking you can really improve the world is the height of hubris, and thinking you have any duty to is just disguised megomania – anti-overpopulation efforts lead naturally to democidal plagues, trying to cure cancer to brutal eugenics regimes. The good life is a grounded one, where you have a job where you work with your hands and do something constructive, and don’t mess around with dangerous dreams – the only alternative is playing a cruel god over the masses.
The aesthetic and political revulsion towards 20th century modernism is of a piece with what else I’ve read of Le Guin, but the sort of conservative, struggle-idolizing quietism it puts forward as the positive alternative kind of took me by surprise.
Speaking of overpopulation – as an artifact of anxieties about the future and science, the book is just fascinating. Written in 1970, it really does take it as almost a given that in thirty years overpopulation would be an acute crisis. The numbers actually aren’t far off – a global population of 7 billion is mentioned – but this is taken to mean a world where childhood malnutrition is a fact of life for the average American in the Pacific Northwest, and there’s so much demand for grain-as-foodstuff that a psychiatrist can’t afford brandy. Hypnosis is also treated with a level of seriousness and gravitas that these days its only shown in self-conscious pulp and fetish porn. On the other hand, the fact that a book written in 1970 is talking about ‘the greenhouse effect’ and how climate change is going to cause ruinous natural disasters is, well, deeply depressing.
Completely tangential from everything else – so the only female character in the book is Heather Lelache, a lawyer Orr goes to for help and then a couple reality iterations later starts falling in love with. Or properly speaking after he accidentally dreams her out of existing in the process of abolishing racism, he dreams her back and it’s functionally an entirely different and much meeker and milder person (like, she gets POV chapters, the change in internal monologue is striking) and also goes from ‘lawyer’ to ‘legal secretary’, and he continues falling in love with and marries her. This is never really called out or commented upon but it did strike me enough that I wanted to bring it up as interesting.
Anyway, don’t regret reading this, but probably the Le Guin I’ve gotten the least out of, overall.
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There's a great irony that I embrace. There's a "warlike" aspect to insurrectionary anarchism or perhaps anarcho-nihilism, to the point that nerds accuse either tendency of promoting or embodying "the aestheticisation of violence", but it's also something that you can infer (at least with the right instincts) from a longstanding (but often overlooked) aspect of the whole history of anarchism.
Henry Brown's analysis of the militarisation of the Spanish anarchist movement in The Anarchist In Uniform is in some ways instructive, or at least I find it fascinating and derive certain insights for own construction. Conflict had a strange place in 19th century anarchist thought. Whether it was Mikhail Bakunin's opinion, in the context of the certain defeat of France in the Franco-Prussian War, that civil war was "always favorable to the awakening of popular initiative and to the intellectual, moral, and even the material interests of the populace" for the simple reason that it meant the destruction of states and shocking the daily existence of the masses, or Pierre Joseph Proudhon's contradictory belief in the "divine fact" of war, there is a tendency in which armed struggle, at least in a revolutionary context, had a creative potential or effect, one that was framed in contrast to the violence of state instrumentality. This, of course, entails a logic that necessarily (whether explictly or implicitly) rejects pacificism. It can seem incongrouous, since, at least as Henry Brown says, there is always the yearning within anarchism for "universal peace" But then again Bakunin's example seems fitting for the negative dialectic that he espoused, as Erica Lagalisse outlined in Occult Features of Anarchism. It's even possible that negation as a subject must seem an all too abstract way of conveying what people like Bakunin really meant.
On the one hand, there is a danger presented by the historical experience of the Spanish anarchist movement, which, faced with the demands ofopen warfare against the Nationalist faction, decided to embrace a broad trend of militarisation in both practice and cultural/philosophical attitude. In pracitce, part of this had the unfortunate effect not only of "pragmatising" the anarchists but also synthesizing an ideology that could be uncharacteristically chauvinistic by anarchist standards (they wound up idealising the male frontline soldier in the revolutionary Republican struggle, while often denigrating the role of women in the same struggle). To be fair perhaps that aspect is ultimately more indicative of a strain of male chauvinism that already existed within the Spanish movement at the time, even before militarisation. It wouldn't be particularly surprising for the early history of anarchism, since Proudhon was so notorious in the French anarchist movement for his views on women that the term "libertarian" was coined by Joseph Déjacque to describe the kind of anarchist who would be more consistent on social liberation than Proudhon. For all that, though, the Spanish anarchists were ultimately defeated, and after this many Spanish authors retrospectively presented the militarisation they accepted as a compromise of their revolutionary ideals that ultimately hindered the anarchist war effort. On the other hand, Brown is right to say that modern scholarship on anarchism emphasized this late rejection to the neglect of the real diversity of anarchist thought, and that it is possible to derive a nuanced understanding of the potency of "martial ideals" outside the domain of the state and statist politics.
The fact is, the notion that the "martial spectacle" (again quoting Brown, this time via ¡Vivan las tribus!) of revolution as a wave of creative destruction sweeping away the old order is not so far removed at least in spirit from the negation espoused by anarcho-nihilism or in insurrectionary anarchism, and of course why should it be given its ultimate source. But the really interesting thing is how the same recognition can be detected both implicitly and hypocritically within non-anarchist revolutionary socialist movements. There is the old slogan, "No war but the class war", but it is a weak hypocrisy, not just because the "Class War" (and at that inevitably a class reductionist framing of that concept) serves to obscure the other cross-stitching social struggles that characterise the real landscape of modern socieities, but moreover because, although the anarchist rightly refuses to fight in the wars of the nations, they are resolutely fighters in what is more accurately called the social war: the ceaseless everyday struggle against all vectors of domination on the side of autonomy. That struggle can, in many instances, be as truly a war as any other, at least in that it is never really a bloodless struggle. But then again we know that already, or at least we realise this from the moment we think to raise our fists against our enemies. But then as long as we accept that, we can embrace the warlike spirit it calls for in any terms we want, and not limit ourselves to the revolutionary archetypes of the 20th century. Even by reaching to the past we can seek the example of any warrior spirit as long as it is ungovernable and therefore individually sovereign. Or, perhaps, we can see that sovereignty not in the past but in the present, in something as simple as queer bodies fighting for both survival and autonomy against the entirety of their world.
Remember, Gilles Deleuze was not wrong to say, "There is no need to fear or hope, but only to look for new weapons.", but, if you are looking for weapons, it might well be that you need to wage war with them. As anarchists are always fighting in the social war, at the very least, one need do not much more than embrace the spirit of the matter.
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I have a bit of a question here with a probably long answer but you reblogged a post a while ago about ttrpg culture that linked another post and I was really curious why it is people say you cant or shouldnt hack 5e into a sci-fi campaign. I did it just fine with little effort outside of the usual task of building out a world (or several in this case) for it. Granted its essentially spelljammer meets shadowrun but thats still sci-fi enough to have been told time and again by people online that it cannot work
Like I get starfinder exists but im really comfortable in 5e and overall I find starfinder, like pathfinder, relies on a lot of modifiers for rolls, where 5e's math is simpler overall since there are less floating modifiers to calculate, and most importantly my players didnt want to learn a new system since a few of them have trouble committing all the rules to memory and JUST picked up 5e for our other campaign.
Overall people always act like it could never work and theres never any reason to try, even in situations like this i should have just slapped my players with my starfinder book instead of just changing up how a some of the spells work, and the campaign was great, so why is it that people are so insistent on not even trying to do it?
re
So I've never actually played/looked at Starfinder, but to the extent it's 'Pathfinder IN SPAAAACE' it's, like, possibly the single worst possible suggestion to give someone when you're trying to explain the benefits of a non-D&D system, so not sure what the people who say that stuff are really talking about. (Even saying pathfinder/starfinder isn't D&D seems like useless pedantry to me. It's all just Edition 3.75 but with a third party publisher)
But to actually answer the point - there's no problem at all hacking D&D 5e to run Sci Fi instead of Fantasy - the difference is basically set dressing and aesthetics and renaming all the magic stuff. But the sci fi it's good at is still very distinctly D&D sci fi - a zero-to-hero adventure series where the challenges and obstacles the heroes face are primarily expressed in terms of physical harm and danger, and which are primarily defeated through small-scale violence between the protagonists and their opponents.
Like, if you're willing to squint about character classes and whatever, D&D can do something like Mass Effect fine. It would really, really struggle to do Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. (Or I mean, you could do Duet or By Pale Moonlight as D&D sessions, but they would be roughly 90% freeform roleplay with a few die rolls thrown in here and there to keep up appearances. At which point why did you spend an hour doing all the math for character creation in the first place?)
Honestly I think a decent chunk of the rhetoric around this is kind of cartoonishly vitriolic and pretty unbecoming, but it is kind of painful to try and hack at the thing to tell stories it's not at all suited for (if you're not looking for power fantasy pulpy heroic tactical violence, don't use the game that spends 90% of its word count on that!).
(The other thing is that D&D very much relies on the players as acting as independent agents - if you're character isn't someone who solves problems by personally charging into danger, and whose primary problem solving toolkit can be expressed in terms of tactical violence, they just don't really work as a D&D character.)
...sorry, it's pretty late and I'm rambling. Hopefully I understood what you were getting at?
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The Creative Director of Remedy Entertainment, Sam Lake, seems like such a cool guy. He’s really big on the idea of video games as an art form mixing in live action (he’s really big on that part) and music into it. It’s so cool that Alan Wake 2 went from a project that he believed wouldn’t ever happen due to the company hitting a low point back in the day to a Game of the Year nominee.
It's a refreshing view after so many companies seem to treat games as cash grabs and nothing else. Because games really are their own form of art. But I also hate when they try to make games to be art like movies and pander to Hollywood. I don't want games to just be movies 2.0 with more player interactivity.
The player is as much part of the game as the game itself, the fact you help make the art is what feels so special about it. That's you're both the auidance and a non-passive participant.
The little choises you make, the ways you try to outsmart things, the rewards and the reaction the game has to your moves. It feels like a dance, like how a cake must be eaten to be appreciated not just watched like a movie.
Some games really never get justice when simply watching them as a playthrough. It's two different experiences to watch something and to actively play it. You miss the qualia that you can't get anywhere else, the experience of experience.
Because each person gets a completely different experience when playing the game, a different finished painting for each of them that you make at the end of the game. With Dark souls I finished the final boss in one try without realising he was the final boss, so I never related to the final boss joke the community had about his soundtrack. I had my own experience, my own struggles with stupid mini bosses that I died to more times than any other fight.
I hope more games go in that direction. Where they consider the player as a part of them rather than an outiside observer, where they make things smoother for you to explore and personlise them. Where they embrace themselves as a form of art and not just a collection of cutscenes.
I've paused Mass effect mid battle to take pics more than I've ever done it during cutscenes. Because you can't always predict where you find beauty, and sometimes it's in the shape of the clouds in the background while a geth colossus bends you over and one shots your pathetic shield with its laser balls.
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Broken Faith
Rating: Teen
Fandom: Mass Effect
Character: Thane Krios
Summary: In which we follow a young assassin on one of his assignments.
Warnings: Contains themes of religious/cultural suppression, though not gone to in-depth.
Read on AO3
The rain never stops- but that doesn't mean the sun never shines. Blade-thin rays pierced the clouds, leaving the domed city awash with glittering light.
The wind filtering through was light and cool, but each breath still felt heavy in Thane’s chest as he hauled himself up some scaffolding. It seemed everywhere was under construction nowadays. The hanar had long been an insular people, but the last few decades had seen an influx of trade and tourism, even immigration - salarians, mostly, but here and there were the bulky forms of krogan, ocean-hued asari, even the strange faces of humanity, bare of any sort of scale or shell. And, he supposed, newcomers aside- there were always repairs, the incessant storms were always damaging the drell cities and homes. Always a struggle to keep the sea at bay - many simply gave up trying, in the end.
Another breath, shallow and unfulfilling.
'You must focus.’ Even in the sunlight, even only as memory, his handler's reprimand flashed bright enough in Thane’s eyes to give him pause. Memory or not, it was right- he was wasting time. Thoughts on Kajhe’s visitors didn’t matter, nor its work, nor any residents save one drell. He closed his eyes, recalling the face, where to go.
“Lord of Hunters, be with me. Grant me your sight, so my quarry may not slip by.” His prayers were still clumsy, uneasy things- but it did the trick. His thoughts slowed, sank back into the dark as only the task remained. His movements grew fluid, automatically darting through construction zones abandoned for the evening and over the close-crowded rooftops, through to the heart of the city.
Drell tended to cluster close, every building crowding up against the other- indeed, most were linked, small throughways and doors allowing access between a school to a shop to an arcade; much like those said to have been cut into Rakhana’s cliff-
“You must not have heard me the first time.” The ethereal voice at odds with the lightning-bright flares that burn his eyes, the searing, tight pressure around his wrist-
Useless information.
Such was the nature of memory that refused to let even the smallest scrap go. He pushed the rest aside as best as possible as he scanned the buildings before him, rubbing his aching wrist until- there. The graceful sea-glass studded walls of the temple, where all paths met.
His target wasn’t difficult to find, even at the distance he kept. She was broad and glowing bronze in the faint late-evening sun, the delicate skin of her hood gleaming like gold. It was rare that Thane’s handler set a target personally, but this priest had drawn ire from the Primacy for some time now. To not recognize the Enkindlers was one thing- unfortunate, but understandable. To reject them, to say they had no place at all- well, that was another matter. It risked societal instability, and every polite inquiry had been met with venom. Some even raised concerns she was intentionally stirring hostility, now. Best to put an end to it now, before it could bring harm to many.
Thane blinked, reaching for the packet of thorns tucked in his jacket. A frequent tool for jobs on Kahje, long spines from a common plant coated in a toxin that mimicked a frequent- often fatal- illness. No prolonged suffering, no trauma to unsuspecting civilians like a shot through the head, no messy inquiries. He opened the pack, focusing his biotics so one sliver hovered over his hands - his handler assured him time and again, it was only a risk upon entering the bloodstream, but he had no desire to test that. Besides that: it was best to do this kind of hit at a distance. He was no longer a solid-hued child, close enough to dozens others that there could be any hesitation to his identity; any mistake- any glimpse, any witness could identify his emerging patterns in a heartbeat, now.
‘Grant that my hand be steady, my aim be true.’ A silent prayer accompanying by a flick of the fingers, propelling the thorn ahead faster than a bullet as the priest passed by a clump of greenery. A pause, a cry of pain affirming he'd struck true. No reason to linger.
Thane turned away.
A few hours and she would feel uneasy, a few days...
She will be wrapped in sea fronds, hanar singing like the tiny bells sounding in this temple as the hour changed, beseeching the flame of her life, meager as it was, be kindled anew. But she is a priest, a rallying point among the community, no doubt there will be many drell.
They will linger after the hanar leave, jewel and sand and stone clustered together by the seashore. There are no speeches- no chants or long invokations for the deceased, those are things to be shared in the home, memory to be afixed and passed to those who could not be here.
No words like the hanar give, but oh, how they sing. Delicate trills and chirrups weaving melody through the steady keening of others, and a few who sing words he still has yet to find the meaning of. He thinks they sing of the sea, the one thread of belief they and their saviors have in common - that all life, eventually, returns to the waves.
He shakes the thoughts away, before memory of his handler can. He retreats… somewhere, slinking into an alleyway to collect his thoughts. Perhaps to thank Amonkira for a successful hunt, to breathe-
He doubles over, feeling something like knife between his lungs as he breathes in, all thought gone as he struggles for even a shallow sip of air. It passes, and with it, any thoughts but returning home. The gods have no place here. Best not to get distracted.
#my writing#mass effect#mass effect fanfiction#thane krios#This was half a worldbuilding exercise but also I've wanted to flesh out some specific events for Thane's history so here we are#yes I know the tense is kinda broken I Made Mistakes and stand by them xD
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(4/4) and yet you get all these young, new writers writing as if instead of using our language the way it should be used, create things that read as if they’re literally translating English syntax to the letter, with results that, more often than not, are unreadable and pretty cringe-inducing. Sorry, this is all very rambly, but it is to say: what are your personal thoughts on that? Do you write differently when writing fanfic vs original fiction, and if so, what are some of the key differences you can think of? (Besides the obvious) Is there even such a thing as a “fanfic writing style”? And would you say it’s fair to say some fanfic is actively on par with published literature? Because to me it seemed obvious until I started seeing all the online discourse around that, on both extremes. I’m very curious to get your in-depth thoughts on that, besides just reflagging a post and agreeing with its contents.
Sorry I couldn't include your whole 4-part ask, Anon friend! I didn't want to make this too long. Speaking of which, here's a readmore.
Okay. First: there's discourse about fanfic vs original fic? Again? Yaaaaawn. And to answer: I do alter my style for fanfic, mostly to match canon better. Like, in my Dragon Age fics, I try to use the same dialogue style that the games use. Cullen sounds posh, for example, and overly formal even when he's trying to be casual; Carver sounds more casual and uses more rough slang. In Mass Effect I mostly do the same, plus I sometimes use choppier narration for a militaristic, "macho" feel, again emulating the games' style of making everybody sound Extremely American and badass. Devil May Cry was more of a challenge because those games don't have a consistent dialogue/narration style to emulate, just "who translated this and were they drunk?" Instead I had to focus on character and motivations -- i.e. "Dante is always hilariously nihilistic but he really just wants a family and some peace & quiet." With Trigun I've been struggling a lot because there are three completely different canons with three completely different characterizations and narrative styles -- two of which directly contradict each other -- and then there are the six or seven different translations! I haven't really settled on a style for that fandom, but trying to blend everything is part of the fun, for me. I like a challenge.
I'm not "dumbing down" or negatively affecting my own style by doing this, I don't think. Playing with other voices, by other rules, helps me refine my own authentic voice in much the same way that improv helps actors and comedians. I think that's the case for anyone who writes fanfic, but it's probably easiest to see with the pros. Take astolat, for example. Some of her Aubrey-Maturin fanfics are more restrained than her Temeraire novels, even though the latter were inspired by the former. The restraint is because there probably weren't many dragons running around during the Napoleonic wars, and because she's sticking close to Patrick O'Brien's style on purpose. But then, in the Temeraire books, she discards these constraints, which to me is her doing the writing equivalent of this:
Then she just fucking goes ham on her readers. Kicks them in the head with one of the best alternate histories I've ever seen, rewriting colonialism from scratch and giving it a better ending. She replaces a deep human friendship with the closeness between a man and his bus-sized Chinese dragon, and it works. These are feats of literary derring-do that a lot of writers cannot emulate, and wouldn't dare try. And yet I've heard more than one reader complain that she "wastes time" on fanfic. Which to me is like complaining that Rock Lee "wastes time" wearing weights.
tl,dr; Most people who insist that fanfic is inferior lack the expertise to judge the real skill involved in making it. Doesn't stop them from opening their stupid Dunning-Kruger mouths, tho, does it.
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I posted 3,294 times in 2022
That's 3,140 more posts than 2021!
130 posts created (4%)
3,164 posts reblogged (96%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
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I tagged 3,177 of my posts in 2022
Only 4% of my posts had no tags
#the unreliable q - 2,029 posts
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Longest Tag: 139 characters
#especially the pro tip about being about differentiating between having empathy for one’s friends and acknowledging that they’re being mean
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Reply to this post for a DRUNKEN EFFUSIVELY COMPLIMENT okay
20 notes - Posted December 3, 2022
#4
you are SO right for autistic Manfred lmao that is also my hc. This dude once screamed at the top of his lungs in the middle of court cause someone interrupted his routine. He's so fucking relatable unfortunately
TRULY. I too want to scream aloud when things don’t go as I’d planned in my head!
Like, there’s the other obvious things: law is clearly his special interest. He’s the kind of person who has a place for everything and everything in its place.
Then there’s the just fucking off-the-wall things, like, he retrained the parrot. Even thinking to ATTEMPT it doesn’t seem like allistic behaviour to me, and by god, Manfred succeeded.
But the biggest thing to me is just how … rigid he can be when things go wrong, and how he really struggles with emotional lability in times of crisis. I know relating villain’s crimes to autistic traits can often be controversial, but I believe in most cases with villains I personally headcanon as autistic, it’s the lack of support in their life and society that contribute to the crimes, not simply being autistic.
Which is why the part about the tragedy of it all — how it hurts more — if Manfred had been trying his best in your meta really hit home to me! I know for myself one of my autistic traits is obsessing over what people tick and what makes them do the things they do. I don’t think anyone’s truly evil, but I do believe that people so often act in the preservation of their own self image and … yeah, it that doesn’t explain Manfred’s actions … perfectly (ba dum tsch).
OH, and there’s also just like, his sense of humour? It’s so arrogant but dry: “My PIN is 0001 because I’m number one!” “My granddaughter’s dog is named Phoenix, are you saying you’re her fiancé?” “Defense attorneys are like bugs to me, needless things, to be crushed.”
God, I love this man.
21 notes - Posted November 29, 2022
#3
introduction!
BASICS.
Asha. Late 20s. they/them. autistic & adhd. brown. biracial. bisexual. shift-worker. Fascinated by fictional villains.
FANDOMS.
Primary: Ace Attorney & Dragon Age
Dabbling in: Mass Effect, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, Suits, Schitt's Creek
(see fave characters and ships list here)
LINKS.
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Dragon Age Fanfic Masterlist
[Ace Attorney & Mass Effect Masterlists TBA]
ABOUT THIS BLOG.
I'm a fanfic writer and occasional art doodler & cosplayer from Australia.
This is a personal blog, which contains everything from my own rambles about daily life, to reblogs of content I enjoy, to my own fandom creations.
I enjoy fannish meta but am generally disinterested in discourse. To clarify, I'm always down to read other people's takes and interpretations of media, but dislike being told what to think, or that there's only one valid way to perceive something. I'm more than happy to be friends with people who disagree with me over fandom things, if the same courtesy is extended to me in return.
As a general rule, I don't talk about international politics in this space. I do, however, talk about Australian politics (#auspol)
Big fan of curating one's own space. To that end, if there's anything I'm not tagging which you would like tagged, please feel free to ask! Caveat: I might not agree to do so, but would not hold any hard feelings for the request and/or if you needed to unfollow or block me as a result! Do what you need to for your best experience, as will I.
21 notes - Posted November 20, 2022
#2
ngl but rewatching the first season of the handmaid's tale after watching season 5 is so funny. one of the first things serena says to june is 'i want to see as little of you as possible'. followed up with basically 'if i'm given trouble i'll give you trouble back'
and now they're going to be raising their babies in exile together and you know what. good for them.
22 notes - Posted November 24, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Fanfic Author Self-Recs!
@haljathefangirlcat tagged me to rec five of my own fanfics with you all — thank you, friend! 💖
I've tried to go with a variety of different fandoms and have mostly focused on older works. I also purposely haven't recommended any of my Dragon Age works as I feel DA has been occupying a lot of my brain space lately, and I wanted to give some of the spotlight to my other fannish interests!
I'm gonna tag @mxanigel, @barbex, @joiningthefandomeightyearslate, @chocochipbiscuit and @fandomn00blr to share five of their works with us (if you so desire!)
Without any further ado, I present my self-recs:
1. Retrospect - Mass Effect: Andromeda - Alec Ryder/Ellen Ryder (10k, rated M)
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die and he's about to find out just how right they are.
A series of vignettes exploring Alec Ryder's relationships with his nearest and dearest, and the faltering steps he took to bridge the gaps between them.
Every time any sort of self-recommendation meme comes up, Retrospect is always the first fic that comes to mind. To this day, I still consider it my magnum opus, as I feel it really captures my strengths as an author.
Character study of a morally grey, controversial character? Check. Non-linear narrative? Check. Experimental prose? Check. Vignettes? Check. Themes of family and struggling to fit in? Check check.
If anyone ever wants to make my entire fucking month, please read this fic and tell me your thoughts on it. You will have my undying gratitude! 💖
2. Grounded - Mass Effect Andromeda - Calvin Kosta/Joelle Kosta (2.2k, rated M)
Calvin remembers the first time he held Liam in his arms. Big baby, nine pounds. His son is an ugly, wrinkly thing and yet also the most beautiful sight in the world. He smooths down the infant’s hair, kisses the soft spot on his head and whispers, “You’re gonna do great things."
During the Reaper War, Calvin Kosta reflects on his relationship with his son.
This fic did really well on Tumblr (one of the few times I'd ever gotten over 100 notes on a post), but didn't quite get the same level of traction on AO3, which was quite interesting to me at the time as I'd never had that happen before (or since!) Honestly, it covers a lot of similar themes as Retrospect, but this time focused on Liam's family and how they deal with the Reaper War when they're left behind on Earth.
IDK, I'm just obsessed with examining the human drive to live and survive, and what we struggle for, and how both our past experiences and our hopes for the future shape our actions, whether we're willing to admit it to ourselves or not.
3. Best Served Hot - Ace Attorney - Miles Edgeworth/Franziska von Karma (2k, rated E)
Franziska's gloved fingers seized Miles's jaw, digging into the sides of his face. "We were never siblings," she said. "Papa made sure of that. But if I can't best you in any other way, then I will have this."
If Retrospect is my ultimate magnum opus, then Best Served Hot is my franmiles manifesto. It truly is all of my feelings about this complicated and messy relationship dynamic carefully distilled into a fanfic!
Anyway, I'm obsessed with the fact that Franziska regularly refers to Miles as her little brother, but Miles never refers to her as his sister.
However, the way that Miles acts with Franziska is SO sibling-like, whereas Franziska's a bit... weirder. She never really had normal familial relationships modeled to her (Miles, on the other hand, at least had something of a normal upbringing before his father's death).
Franziska is also a character who, for lack of a better term, weaponises her femininity. She's so young but she's built this whole aesthetic around tight miniskirts and kitten-heeled boots and carrying and using a fucking bullwhip. So, I 'm particularly fascinated by the cross-section of Franziska's obsession with Miles Edgeworth and her insecurities (and how she over-compensates for them).
Of course, if she stopped to think about it for a minute, she should have realised that Miles Edgeworth is perhaps not the ideal target for her feminine wiles, but Franziska's not exactly known for keeping a cool head in a crisis.
Finally, this fic also explores another point in Franziska's life that I'm fascinated by, which is her reaction to Phoenix Wright's disbarment. Phoenix is the only lawyer who has ever bested her (if she can even admit that much), and I think she would be INFURIATED by the insinuation that he owes his career success to forgery. Franziska von Karma would NOT be bested by a fraud!
(And also she would be furious that Klavier Gavin got the chance to do what she's always wanted to do -- that is, defeat Phoenix Wright -- but that's a topic for another fanfic.)
4. Intermission - Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - Audra Levine/Greg Serrano (2.3k, rated T.)
Recently divorced Audra Levine visits West Covina to provide moral support during her frenemy’s open mic night.
Greg has always had a type.
While gregaudra (graudra?) might be something of a random ship, I was really surprised by how well they worked together (although in hindsight, it should have been obvious -- Greg really has a type, huh).
I love Audra as a character, and I'm always obsessed with giving her room to grow and move on as a character and determine the shape of her own life, the way she wants, much as Rebecca (and Greg) got to do in the course of the series.
(Also, its sequel, Realization, still has one of my favourite lines I think I've ever written: Audra's been busy filing away the parts of her life that don’t spark joy while retaining the parts that do, like she’s Marie Kondo-ing the weight and burden of everyone’s expectations instead of her household possessions.
I so rarely write in contemporary fandoms that it was a fun exercise to write stories where the popculture references actually help ground it in time and place.)
5. Sink or Swim - Harry Potter - Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood (12k, rated T.)
Percy has always struggled to keep his head above water.
(Or: the story of Percy Weasley, from his youth, through to his estrangement with his family, to the end of the war.)
It feels weird to be recommending HP fic in this day and age, but my complicated* feelings towards the fandom aside, I'm still really proud of how this fanfic turned out and how I was able to cram all of my Percy Weasley analysis into a coherent story.
I particularly loved delving into how Percy was pushed into positions of responsibility from a young age (and then simultaneously derided for the very same qualities his parents reinforced), and how he struggled with his conflicting desires to fit in but also to succeed and be recognised for his talents and efforts. There's a couple of sentences from the fic which really encapsulate how I see Percy's relationship to his family, which I'll quote here:
In bits and pieces, Percy tells Oliver all about the estrangement to his family: how he’d always gotten along with his dad best growing up, no matter how his mother had doted on him. How when he was younger, he’d wanted nothing more than to be the next Arthur Weasley. How he’d always thought that his dad deserved more.
How it was easier to blame his father’s idiosyncrasies and personality for his family’s struggles with money, than to acknowledge it as a failure of the society he’d been raised in.
How he’d foolishly thought that if he studied enough, worked enough, succeeded enough, he could change it all.
Percy's story really is that of every working-class child who's sought to improve their life (and their family's life) through education and I just... relate to that a lot!!
25 notes - Posted November 27, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#long post#not me reblogging myself the third most#what can i say i love the sound of my own voice#about me
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HEARTBEAT
cw: mcd (major character d*ath)
doctor!seulgi
angst
IN A QUIET HOSPITAL ROOM, THE STERILE SCENT of antiseptic hung heavy in the air. Seulgi, a talented and compassionate doctor, stood beside the bed, her heart heavy with sorrow. The love of her life, Irene, lay frail and weak, her body ravaged by a relentless illness that had stolen her vitality.
It all started with Irene's recurring headaches. She always put up a brave front, telling Seulgi everything was fine and that it was just another headache. Seulgi was naturally concerned and kept a watchful eye on Irene, but Irene always reassured her with a loving kiss.
The headaches grew more intense over time, until they finally reached a critical point. Irene, who had been waiting at home in their shared bed, was left in agonizing pain. Her head throbbed, her eyes stung, and her entire body ached. In a moment of desperation, Irene reached for her phone and called Seulgi, begging for her to return home. Seulgi's heart sank as she heard the desperation in Irene's voice. She immediately left her work at the hospital, and dashed to her car.
“Be okay, please.” Seulgi mumbled to herself, driving back home. Her phone calling Irene’s number again, but her lover wasn’t picking up. Once she reached home, she immediately opens the front door, calling out to her lover’s name, but she got no response. She went to their shared bedroom, and she saw Irene unconscious on the white, wrinkled sheets.
A medical examination revealed an alarming white mass forming in Irene's brain, nearly the size of a plump grape. Both Irene and Seulgi decided that chemotherapy would be the best course of action, with Irene trusting Seulgi's expertise and judgment. Despite the treatment having some positive effects, Irene's health continued to worsen, and Seulgi was well aware of the situation.
Seulgi had devoted her life to healing others, to bringing light into their darkest moments. But now, as she looked into Irene's eyes, she felt powerless against the merciless hands of fate. She had always been the rock in their relationship, the one who held everything together. She found herself crumbling under the weight of despair.
She asks herself, "What kind of doctor am I?" She felt helpless and stupid, everything happening so quickly and unexpectedly, especially after she had kept such close tabs on Irene. Despite always reminding her to eat well and on time, she couldn't stop her from getting sick. How could this have happened?
Seulgi couldn't bring herself to sleep. She was determined to stay by Irene's side, no matter what. With her heart aching, she struggled to accept their fate. She wanted to grow old with her, just as they had both vowed. Now, she could only hold Irene close and shower her with as much love and comfort as possible, as she watched her most cherished person gradually weaken day by day.
It was a game of pretending for the doctor. Seulgi pretends that everything is fine and all is well, that Irene will be okay, that this was just a severe headache, that she wasn’t going to lose her—
Seulgi pretends until she couldn’t anymore, not when she hears her name being called by Irene.
Irene's once vibrant smile had faded, replaced by a pale visage and weary eyes. Her hair, which Seulgi used to run her fingers through while they cuddled, had grown short and then dwindled away entirely. Despite her appearance, Irene remained the most beautiful woman in Seulgi's eyes. Irene grew small over her changed appearance, often breaking down in tears each night as Seulgi held her in her arms, whispering sweet words.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as Seulgi watched Irene's condition deteriorate. She spent every waking moment by her side, clinging to the fading moments they had left together. Their love had always been a source of strength, a sanctuary from the harsh realities of the world. But now, it seemed like a cruel joke, mocking them with its ephemeral nature.
Irene's touch grew weaker with each passing day, but her spirit remained unyielding. She knew the end was near, and yet she found solace in Seulgi's unwavering love. In their quiet moments together, they shared bittersweet memories and whispered promises of eternal devotion.
Seulgi’s nightmare comes to life one early morning as she held Irene's fragile hand, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of love and longing. The weight of their impending separation bore down on them, threatening to break their spirits. Seulgi's voice trembled as she spoke, her words barely audible above the sound of her own tears.
"Irene, you are my everything. My reason for living. I can't imagine a world without you."
Irene mustered a gentle smile, her voice but a whisper. "Seulgi, my love, you have given me a lifetime of happiness in the time we've had together. Promise me that you'll find joy in the days to come, even without me."
Tears streamed down Seulgi's face as she pressed her lips to Irene's forehead. "I promise, my love. I'll carry you in my heart."
"I love you, Irene," Seulgi whispered, her voice filled with sorrow. "I will love you forever."
Irene smiled, her eyes shimmering with love. "And I love you, Seulgi. Always."
In the hushed hours of the morning, as the world bathed in darkness, Irene took her last breath, leaving behind a shattered soul in Seulgi. She tightly hugged her wife's body, tears streaming down her face, and softly murmured tender words into the cold air as the machine emitted a monotone beep, signaling the cessation of life. The weight of grief threatened to consume her entirely, but she clung to the memories they had shared, finding solace in their enduring love.
Seulgi continued her work at the hospital, dedicating herself to saving lives, all the while carrying Irene's spirit within her. Each day was a struggle, a painful reminder of the void that now resided in her heart. But she knew that Irene would want her to find joy, to continue to make a difference in the world.
As time passed, Seulgi found a glimmer of hope in the faces of the patients she treated. She discovered that her love for Irene had not vanished; it had transformed into a guiding light, urging her forward. Though her heart would forever bear the scars of loss, she knew that her love story with Irene would never truly end.
As long as Seulgi still breathes and her heart beats, she will carry Irene's wish with her, and her love for Irene will remain eternal.
#seulrene#angst#mcd#major character death#irene red velvet#irene bae#irene#seulgi#rv irene#red velvet#wlw#kpop gg#kpop imagines#kpop#rv seulgi#rv#hospital#doctor
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okay would be too bad if i let this rot on pdb so longread on why emperor belos isn't an isfj (with some good old character analysis sprinkled in)
starting point here is that i type him as an istj sx1w2sp 146 but i'm too lazy to explain the sx1 part rn so let's focus on istj vs isfj. disclaimer everything i that say is my personal opinion and reading of the character.
first off i don't se him exhibiting aux fe at all as fe cares about the relationships and obligations, its main function being basically to pick up on the behaviours of people around and help dom si relate to them more effectively (to not get stuck up in the systems it builds). i agree that the "poor self-awareness" aspect that people usually attribute to fe is definitely there, but for me it's rather about the struggle of tert fi. aux te seems more probable to me because his general approach to life is less focused on people and more focused on plans, him openly admitting that he lied to people once his plan comes into the next stage where he doesn't need to uphold the lie anymore and failing to take into account how those people might react to having been deceived is one example of that. also te's quick spur of the moment actions and reactions in dealing with people (him to hunter in hollow mind and to collector+kikimora in king's tide as prominent examples), again - more concerned with the best outcome for the plan at all times and not hesitant to discard people he normally sees as valuable assets (and maybe, in case with hunter, even feels some emotional attachment towards) just for it to work in the long run, and fixation on long-term goals to an unhealthy extent where literally no hardship that the unfamiliar and hostile outside world poses and no inner emotional turmoil (of confusion, anger, spite, guilt, maybe something along the lines of bitter nostalgia as well) can stop him from pursuing them (him weaving for himself this net of delusion, hypocrisy and god complex, relying on si and te to develop it further through the survival- and goal-oriented routine and way of life, not giving himself a moment of time to assess how he really feels about all this, and fi getting squashed into the annoying voice in the back of the head, the one of little philip crying for his brother to come back).
and as for him "wanting to harmonize everyone/for everyone to share his values" take, i don't think this is a case at all due to the fact that him being a prophet was not the plan all along, he thrust himself in this position when he realized that this way he could achieve his goal of exterminating the realm (+ i feel like he enjoyed the aspect of it where he, an enlightened human being, ruled over this unholy savage mass and brought order into their wretched meaningless lives). and, surprise, te users can also feign being nice to people and read people's behaviour/soft spots to manipulate them, the absence of fe being evident especially as him "relating" to people always comes from a very personal place, he's chronically unable to see different perspectives rather than his own, and all his "what people want to hear" lies and almost-truths are pretty half-baked and fall apart the moment it stops being convenient for him to keep lying.
also, the way i see it, he doesn't actually want to "save humanity from evil" as much as to a) destroy the place that took his brother from him and b) prove himself/be seen as a hero and obtain some authority in an abusive environment he came from (which functioned in an "eat or be eaten" fashion), though this is one more of the lies he tells himself - that he fights for a cause, that there's a noble purpose to what he plans on doing, and that the whole thing doesn't stem from a place of him feeling deeply hurt and betrayed. the "can't reason with crazy" moment goes here as well btw - the way i see his character, it's less about him looking down on luz as she doesn't understand his logic and much more about him dismissing her point of view altogether, refusing to admit that he is, in fact, an evil monster, and that he did this to himself in the first place, turning himself into something even worse than a witch (which, the fact that he doesn't realize this and clings onto his humanity until the very end in itself is a very te-ish "us vs them" mindset, where "we" are inherently good and "they" are inherently evil, as opposed to fe that would try to understand the "enemy force" and get into the details of how their minds function and what they care about) as a consequence of him being unable to let go of what he sees as the boiling isles leading his brother astray and taking away the only family he had, indirectly leading to him killing caleb. basically tldr to that is deep down he doesn't actually believe that what he's doing has a noble purpose, so tert ti isn't really plausible either.
of course he's a multifaceted personality and i haven't even touched on the grimwalkers here but umm there's that.
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I posted 316 times in 2022
That's 316 more posts than 2021!
54 posts created (17%)
262 posts reblogged (83%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@painterofhorizons
@commander-krios
@miniature-space-hamster
@comeoniwantacoolname
@hunnybadgerv
I tagged 225 of my posts in 2022
Only 29% of my posts had no tags
#mass effect - 97 posts
#jeff joker moreau - 73 posts
#commander shepard - 31 posts
#my writing - 28 posts
#shoker - 27 posts
#holy shit this art is good - 25 posts
#mass effect fanfic - 22 posts
#this looks amazing - 18 posts
#fic recommendation - 17 posts
#between the end and the beginning - 16 posts
Longest Tag: 102 characters
#jumped off an office chair and my knee had a very short and passionate meeting with the table’s corner
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Between the End and the Beginning - WIP snippet
slowly but steadily, this fic is coming along! Writing this is probably the only thing keeping me sane as I study for the last exam of my university career :D
Here's a snippet from the 'Aftermath' chapter. Hope you like it!
It was a comforting sensation, the warmth of the blankets and the sight of the stars, and he embraced it, along with the sweet -if brief- thoughtlessness that came with it.
Outside the reinforced glass, millions of shimmering dots speckled the absolute blackness, their faint lights nowhere near enough to break through the dark emptiness of the cosmos. And so many light-years between each of them. Here among the stars, it was easy to feel lost and insignificant, a fading particle of dust against the endless expanse of time and space. All his life so far, and all the life he had yet to live, mattered next to nothing to the vastness of the universe. And why would it? His mere decades were less than droplets in an endless ocean compared to the eons and eons of a star’s lifetime.
Once, this thought would have scared the crap out of him. Tonight, however, Jeff found it oddly reassuring. The stars didn’t care about his struggles. They’d seen much worse and they were still there, eternal and unmovable.
He wished he had one ounce of their stoic indifference.
But no. Life rolled a 1 on mindfulness and gave me crippling anxiety instead.
He slid down the bed, turning on his right side to face the window, and readjusted the pillows and blankets until he was swaddled in them like a soft cocoon and the soothing heat almost reached his heart.
A few constellations seemed familiar - Is this Decoris? Nah, the relay’s on the wrong side - and he slipped a hand out of his bedspread wrapping to trace the pattern of stars on the cold glass.
If this is Farinata, that means we jumped from the Charon relay straight to Antaeus and we’re now in the Hades Gamma cluster. It made sense - the sector was crossed by the Anansi-Ishtar trading route, and its heavy mercantile traffic made it the ideal place for ships wishing to cover their traces. Even assuming his conclusions were right, though, the new information gave him no insight into where the Cerberus cruiser was taking him. It was still a pastime good as any to keep his mind occupied, at least.
He followed a few more paths, running the tip of his index finger on the smooth surface of the window to connect planets, stars, moons and relays.
Fortuna. Nephron. Enoch. Hydra.
With every line, every dot, his eyelids became heavier and recalling systems harder.
Micah. Illium. Omega.
He was already asleep before he could name Alchera.
11 notes - Posted June 26, 2022
#4
Can I prompt a little fic maybe, Shepard having a nightmare or flashback and being comforted by Joker? :D
Sure, prompts are always welcome! Anyway, this "little fic" turned into a 4.4k words story, hope you like it!here
Read it on Ao3
Read it on ff.net
Burns like a forest fire
The undergrowth was soft and damp under Shepard’s bare feet. The air was crisp and felt pleasantly chilly on her cheeks, and a gentle breeze carried around the scent of pines and dew-splashed grass.
She put one hand forward and let the sunlight paint a play of lights on her skin, casting shadows of the thousand branches, leaves, and bird nests separating her from the light blue sky above, shielding her from the galaxy and all her fights and obligations.
She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed: the quiet was so deep and serene, it saturated the atmosphere, soaked through her skin and bones and muscles. It reached the depths of her own soul and made her forget everything that wasn’t this, and now. Come to think of it… how did she end up there?
I suppose it doesn’t matter all too much; she muttered to herself. I’d better enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.
She could hear the gurgling sound of water flowing in the distance- a stream, perhaps? Or maybe a small waterfall? Curious, she decided to investigate: was there a more perfect place than a forest creek to sit down in the shade and enjoy the nice weather? The murmur seemed to come from her left, so that’s where she headed.
She walked for a few minutes, or maybe longer- she had no way to tell without her omnitool. Did I forget to wear it when I got out of bed this morning? This wasn’t like her but then again, she’d been under an immense amount of pressure lately and she was still human after all.
Step by step, as she got closer to its source, the noise grew louder masking the chirping above and the buzzing of insects below her…
Until it suddenly stopped.
Even the bird had ceased singing, and the wind blew through the fronds without making a sound.
What is happening?
Did she go deaf all of a sudden? Maybe her cybernetics were malfunctioning- I should ask Chakwas or Miranda to take a look at them.
She took a step forward, and the crunching of dead leaves under her feet broke the silence.
This is strange.
At least her ears were still working.
A shiver ran down the back of her neck all the way to her fingertips, making the fine hair over her arms raise to attention. She looked up to study the thick curtain of clouds obscuring the sun, dark gray spots looming above her through the trees.
How is that possible? It was sunny up a few moments ago…
Something else felt off about her surroundings, and it wasn’t just the unnatural silence. Had the canopy of threes been that autumnal reddish-brown hue all along? She seemed to recall vibrant shades of green coloring the branches and flowers littering the verdant grass under her feet. Now a carpet of moss and fallen foliage gave way under her feet.
A few white specks started littering her vision, falling slowly to the ground from above, a few of them finding their resting place in her hair. Was that… snow?
I need to get away from here.
Shepard quickened her pace, despite having no idea of where she was going - she supposed moving in any direction at all was better than spending another minute in that unpredictable forest. She stumbled over a sharp rock and hissed in pain- why was she barefoot in the woods, anyway?
It wasn’t completely silent anymore, she realized. The pounding of her heartbeat and the creaking of the dead twigs snapping at each step almost covered the distant sound of…
Voices?
“Is somebody here? Can you hear me?”
Shepard was running now, but the whispers were all around her. They echoed beyond the leafless trees, reaching up to the sky above the bare branches that were waving towards the dark clouds like thousands of arms desperately begging for salvation.
Whoever they were, they were coming closer. And, she realized with horror, they were calling her name.
See the full post
14 notes - Posted May 6, 2022
#3
Fics masterlist
You can find me on Ao3 as tittyFish (yeah, I know, my username is awesome), or on ff.net as StargazerKyra.
I hope you enjoy reading my fics as much as I loved writing them!
Space monkeys and space trees
One of Hackett's errands has Shepard climbing up a tree to go after a pyjack. set during ME1.
read on tumblr | Ao3 | ff.net
Of fish and fireplaces
In which Shepard is a terrible fish owner, EDI is a snitch, and Joker can't deal with compliments. Set during ME3.
read on tumblr | Ao3 | ff.net
Doctor's orders
Joker has a string of bad luck that lands him in the med bay. Luckily, Doctor Chakwas is there to take on her unofficial ship mom role. Set during ME3.
read on | Ao3 | ff.net
Burns like a forest fire
During the events of ME3, Shepard is plagued by nightmares. After a particularly horrific one, Joker tries to comfort her, but the Commander's walls are hard to tear down. Set during ME3.
read on tumblr | Ao3 | ff.net
Thunderstruck
A cabin in the woods, a warm couch, cuddles, a fluffy dog, and no Reapers in sight: Shepard and Joker’s post war happily ever after is looking as relaxing as ever. Until natural forces add to the mix, that is.
Read on tumblr | Ao3
…and a drink with two umbrellas
The last time Alexandra Shepard and Joker tried to have a fun, relaxing night out, they were almost killed by her evil clone. They deserve a proper dinner date to make up for that fiasco. Hopefully, this time it'll be a less eventful one. Written for the ShepardSummer2022 exchange.
Read on Ao3
Between the end and the beginning
It was supposed to be a simple patrol run, but life is never that simple. Death, unfortunately, often is. After Alchera, Joker knows it all too well. But sometimes, death is not the end and life gets a second chance. Follow Joker as he deals with the consequences of the Collectors attack on the Normandy SR1, and eventually finds a new beginning.
Chapter 1: Mayday. An unknown enemy takes down the SR1, and Commander Angela Shepard with it. Read on Ao3
Chapter 2: Choices. Dr Chakwas receives an unexpected visit, and an alarming phone call. Read on Ao3
Chapter 3: Aftermath. As they deal with the consequences of the previous night events, Chakwas makes Joker an offer he can't refuse. Read on Ao3
Chapter 4: Roots. After joining Cerberus, Joker spends some time with his family. Read on Ao3
Chapter 5: Steps. Frustration and doubts pile up as Joker goes through the intense medical treatment Cerberus has planned for him. Doctor Chakwas is determined to show him her support. Read on Ao3
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
15 notes - Posted May 11, 2022
#2
Hello everyone!
I’ve been rather silent for the past month or so- to make a long story short, October started with a new job as a teacher, went on with a close encounter of the awful kind with Covid, and ended with me being accepted into a PhD program.
But I’m back, and with news: after months of work, I’m proud to announce I’m finally publishing my first multi-chapter fic ever, Between The End And The Beginning.
I posted snippets, I’ve raved about it… and now it’s finally here, so enjoy the read!
A special thanks to my muses @painterofhorizons and @commander-krios (who also did an amazing work as a beta reader), and to @spaced0lphin cause of course this fic will eventually evolve into pure Shoker, and the HatBoy mod has provided the best inspiration for it.
18 notes - Posted October 31, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
This post is for anyone participating in the ShepardSummer2022 exchange.
Since the organizer hasn’t been able to keep up with the exchange, I’m taking over the gift reveal process.
Unfortunately, I don’t have access to the list of participants and matches- if you’re participating (either as a giftee/gifter or as a treat creator), please fill this form so that I can begin the gift reveal process as soon as possible.
Also, it’d greatly help if you could share this post so that it can reach as many exchange participants as possible!
Thank you!
https://forms.gle/Cn627NzgyRV7CWQ26
19 notes - Posted September 28, 2022
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Weekend Top Ten #547
Top Ten Small Spaceships
Welcome back to Pappa Heslop’s Two-Part Spaceship Rundown! I promise never to refer to myself as “Pappa Heslop” again!
Yes, after last week’s ranking of big-ass starships, motherships, and sentient ships from Hell, I'm downsizing. Today we're looking at smaller ships. One-man fighters, dinky UFOs, or even vessels that can carry a limited crew but aren’t, y’know , super-spacious. This one was a bit harder, not just because big ships seem more prevalent, but because I struggled a bit to define the line. Is Starbug big or small? What about Serenity? Or even the Falcon?
Truth be told though the biggest problem I had was Star Wars shaped. Quite frankly I wanted to put about half a dozen SW ships on here. The Naboo fighters, the funny-looking B-Wing, the Razor Crest, Dooku’s solar sailor... Tons! But then it just becomes a Star Wars fest and I wanted to avoid that, so I limited myself to two. Well, three. I cheated.
Anyway, that's it for now. Just get reading.
The Millennium Falcon (Star Wars, 1977): I'm sorry to be so basic but what else could it be? It's a beautiful ship, instantly iconic, a character into itself, but it's also, in a way, every other ship on this list. Ragamuffin cobbled-together working class ship populated by cheeky scoundrels with hearts of gold? That's pretty much everything.
Starbug (Red Dwarf, 1989): I love its filthy industrial interior, how great the set design is for a cramped shuttle that's also a sitcom set. But it's the iconic exterior, the series of growing green bubbles, that wins the spot; part spaceship, part dirty green snowman laying on his side.
Shuttlepods (Star Trek: The Next Generation, 1987): it was a toss-up between this and the Defiant, but I've always loved the minimalist design of the shuttles. Tiny little wedge things with dinky nacelles, like a space hatchback or a piece of cheese. They're just so cute!
Cosmos (The Transformers, 1985): oh Cosmos! I love you so! Making a reappearance after having his alt-mode praised a few weeks ago, he's back with his gorgeous little stumpy UFO design. He's just a beautiful green flying saucer with a round red head and I love him.
X-Wing/TIE Fighter (Star Wars, 1977): once more I cheat but these two are inseparable. Simultaneously conveying the jerry-built nature of the Rebels and the brutalist factory line efficiency of the Empire, they also have truly unique and era-defining quirks (S-foils, ion engines) and fantastic sound design.
The Normandy (Mass Effect, 2007): I love the design of the ship, partly evoking TNG but also – for me – echoing the edges of 80s car design, a vision of the future dreamed up in the past. Maybe I'm alone in that. Anyway, it's really the interior that matters, as you get to run around your own ship, corridors leading to offices and cargo holds, a pilot you can bark orders to. It's totally great.
The *batteries not included aliens (*batteries not included, 1987): do these count as ships if they’re really living beings? Who knows? So was Cosmos, although he could theoretically carry people inside him (steady). Anyway, these are adorable mini-UFOs who tug on our heartstrings and make everyone's lives better. So they count, dammit.
The Benatar (Avengers: Infinity War, 2018): some people prefer the Milano, the Star Lord’s original ship, but not me. I like this one’s design, inside and out, and its massive tiered cockpit that lets everyone see out. Plus it comes with a big mining pod thing that can fly off on its own.
Serenity (Firefly, 2002): another big loveable junker peopled by loveable jerks. Great swan neck style design leading up to the bridge, with massive industrial engines. I feel a bit less affinity for the brand than I used to but it's still a great ship design.
Banshees (Halo: Combat Evolved, 2001): these are right at the bottom only because I'm not 100% certain they’re real space ships. I think they can go into space, but you'd better be in your suit because your arse is sticking out the back end. Still, what a great design; chromium neon people aesthetic, organic curves, tiny wings, pink lasers... Truly beautiful.
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Religion: A Powerful Manipulation Tool
History bears witness that religion has always been used as a tool to manipulate the masses for personal and political gain. Religion has been in the thick of power struggles, wars, and almost every country's political scenes and cross-border conflict. Belief is a powerful concept, and people believing in something greater than them and their world gives them hope for tomorrow. When times are hard, and a person's spirits are in the trenches, he holds onto his belief fast. Though it might seem cruel, people often turn to their God when they are at their lowest in lieu of when they are doing good in life.
As it turns out, desperation makes people lose their good sense, making killers out of them. Most cults use religion as the core of their ideology, and with a little bit of theatrics, they can convince their followers to do the craziest things possible. Before 9/11 (another catastrophe instigated by religion), the mass suicide of Jonestown held the title of America's largest civilian casualties.
The incident happened in November 1978 under the leadership of Jim Jones in a secluded countryside settlement located in Venezuela. Around 900 Americans drank poison to kill themselves, children, women, and animals included because their deranged leader Jim Jones said so. They were part of a religious group, Peoples Temple, that gained much support and media scrutiny in its early years. Tired of the public’s rising suspicion about his practices, Jim Jones decided to move somewhere else with his trusted followers. The gruesome details of the incident show barbaric hold a religion can hold on its believers that they don't hesitate to take their own lives.
As mentioned before, 9/11 is another historical event that shows the power of religion as a manipulative tool. The scale of that destruction is unfathomable to many even to this day but is just another proof of the power religion holds over us. Even when people say, “not us” or “none can shake our morals,” they end up falling prey to their own beliefs. The Burari Deaths in India is another proof that education and sensibility have little to do with a person's beliefs. A sliver of hope in a time of desperation and a well-planned miracle can make people turn even on their loved ones.
Aside from terror and violence, the flag barriers of many religions have used it to fill their coffers. A person on his knees in the pews will give the last of his money to the church in hopes of gaining God's favor, while the pope and the priest will go from one country to another to "preach" and spread "God's words"—whatever that means. To encompass the title and all that has been said, know that this isn't about or against any religion but rather about the leaders who influence the fragile minds of their believers. The urge to believe in a higher purpose is intrinsic in most humans, and when they see a sign hinting at the truth of their beliefs, they stumble to meet their purpose halfway. A white-collar suddenly comes alive when he realizes he has more purpose in life than going to the office from 9 to 5.
Cletus McMurty raises similar questions in his book, "Is that really in the bible?" and explains his reasoning to hold religious leaders responsible for their many deprecating actions. Cletus unravels the harmful effects of entrusting knowledge in the hands of the few and then blindly following until you meet your end. Time and time again, in his book, McMurty points out why one should invest time and effort in studying the bible for a better understanding of its religion. In a way, he wants to say what has been the core of this piece: choose your religious leaders wisely and never lose sight of your beliefs.
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Hey, I’m gonna be honest I don’t know what I’m looking for right now as I write this maybe someone to listen to me, probably just attention knowing me but if you have any advice that’d be nice. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Lately I’ve been feeling like I let down everyone around me and it’s worse than usual I right now. I feel like any time I build an identity for myself it’s all based on a lie and all I am is just some idiot who draws a lot. I feel like I built this identity and image recently of a confident, smart, capable person but as soon as I saw I wasn’t as smart as I thought I just felt like I let everyone down. This is a pattern pretty much. I don’t even feel like a whole person just a bunch of pieces with nothing to connect them. No real core or true identity just nothing. Now I’m afraid because I let these people down they’ll stop hanging out with me so I still try to stay on their good side and give them something to like about me but it feels like I cant. At least not a genuine part of me. It seems I do stuff like this to people often because I don’t want to be hated. I don’t even know why I’m like this, my life hasn’t been great but it’s not awful. I feel like I’m barely holding on anymore and at this point I feel like all that motivates me is positive attention from peers and loved ones. I don’t even know why I need so much attention. I just want a normal life but I doubt that’ll ever happen. I don’t want to be a bad person but it feels like I am and I’m afraid to talk to people in case that’s true. Why do other people find it so easy to be kind? What’s the secret? I want to be a kind person but it feels like I’m not and never have been. In fact I don’t even feel like a person just an unfocused mass of pieces or a shell of a person. I want to be a person but I don’t know if I can. I don’t even know if this’ll be seen or answered but I hope it is I just want someone to acknowledge me.
Do you want free, fast mental health help? Visit askingjude.org.
Hi love,
Thank you for reaching out to Asking Jude. Your feelings are completely valid; building an identity for yourself can be challenging and confusing, and it is never a linear process. The people around you may also have certain expectations for you and your life, which is likely exacerbating your confusion over your identity. It was incredibly brave and commendable that you had the courage to reach out and express these thoughts and emotions. Struggling with identity and the fear of disappointing those around you are challenging issues, and you took the first steps towards healing by asking for help.
You may find it beneficial to reach out to your close friends and family for support. If you share what you’re feeling with them, and if you are honest with the challenges you’ve been facing, they should offer support and a listening ear to your struggles. If the idea of speaking to someone you know feels too daunting, you can always reach out to a mental healthcare professional who can provide a more confidential and non-judgemental space for you to navigate through your emotions. Here is a link where you can find therapists in your area: https://www.goodtherapy.org/find-therapist.html.
You may also benefit from journaling. It is similar to speaking to a therapist because you are able to freely speak your mind without fear of criticism. There are many different ways to journal, but the stream-of-consciousness method is particularly effective because you do not have to worry about proper grammar or punctuation. Here is an article that discusses journaling and its benefits in greater detail: https://www.urmc.rochester.edu/encyclopedia/content.aspx?ContentID=4552&ContentTypeID=1.
It is also important for you to explore your passions and hobbies. You can try new things, like crocheting or making bracelets. Try to be patient; there will likely be a learning curve with any new activity, but you will find what works best for you eventually. Taking time to explore your interests without thinking about other peoples’ expectations will likely be beneficial to you. Here is an article that contains a list of new hobbies you may enjoy: https://bucketlistjourney.net/hobbies-list/. These new activities will help strengthen your sense of identity because you will get to know yourself better.
I have also linked some additional articles that contain tips on how to cope with identity confusion: https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-an-identity-crisis-2795948; https://www.betterup.com/blog/identity-crisis.
Try to be patient and kind to yourself. Always treat yourself the way you would treat your closest friend, and remember that it is normal to have occasional bad days.
Thank you again for reaching out to Asking Jude. I hope that some of this information was helpful, and please feel free to reach out again if you have any further questions.
Love,
Irene
Ask a question here.
#ask#advice#mental health#help#support#love advice#health advice#lgbtq advice#dating advice#relationship advice#life advice
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Symphony No. 9 (Anton Bruckner)
At-A-Glance
Composed: 1887-1896
Length: c. 63 minutes
Orchestration: 3 flutes, 3 oboes, 3 clarinets, 3 bassoons, 8 horns (5th, 6th, 7th, 8th = Wagner tubas), 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, and strings
First Los Angeles Philharmonic performance: November 12, 1959, Bruno Walter conducting
About this Piece
"Te Deum” is a dedication that, for Anton Bruckner, signifies infinitely more than the single, albeit substantial vocal work so-titled (and sometimes suggested as a fitting finale for the Ninth Symphony) that he completed in 1884. “To God” was the engine, the motivator, the dedication of Anton Bruckner’s life and work, his belief, his raison d’être, his blessing and bane. When Bruckner believed, he created; when his faith wavered, his artistic self-confidence and with it his reason crumbled, to wit the mental breakdowns he suffered along with various severe physical ailments over his years as church organist, teacher, and composer in Linz (he was born in nearby Ansfelden) and Vienna.
He was further victimized, ironically, by the intense but curiously patronizing devotion of friends who regarded him as a supreme inventive genius, but a strictly instinctive genius, lacking the technical means to achieve his musical ends unassisted. Thus, their constant “improvement” of his symphonies, not merely by suggesting changes which he would then (often) make himself, but drastically altering – with or without his permission, during his lifetime and after – his scores to make them conform to some personal or academic notion of practicability. The result of this treatment was to create an all-too-durable, to some observers appealing, image of Bruckner as a sort of idiot savant. Later generations of musicologists have, happily, set this situation to rights, so that we are now more readily able to hear Bruckner’s music as he, and not his well-intentioned associates, conceived it. In recent years additional evidence has continued to turn up that modifies, at times negates, previous notions of the composer’s definitive (a word always to be used advisedly in this context) thoughts regarding his symphonies, even by the selfless latter-day editors of his scores, such as Robert Haas, Alfred Orel, and Leopold Nowak.
The dedication to his “dear God” would be affixed again, a dozen years after the vocal Te Deum, to his Ninth Symphony, which was left incomplete at the composer’s death in 1896. His sketches for the fourth and final movement have been fleshed out by at least a dozen hands in the century just past; but like that other celebrated “unfinished,” Schubert’s B-minor Symphony, the three-movement Ninth hardly seems like a torso: It is complete in effect if not fact, floating, sublimely, ultimately into the ether at the close of the third movement after an hour of alternating struggles and victories.
The Ninth Symphony becomes in a sense self-sufficient with what turned out to be its final measures, which reprise themes from earlier Bruckner works: the Miserere from his Mass in D minor, the Adagio of the Eighth Symphony, and, finally, a fragment of the opening theme of the Seventh Symphony. How odd, and touching, to engage in such a retrospective before even reaching the work’s conclusion. A premonition that this would, indeed, be the end? Or are we merely romanticizing?
Bruckner commenced labors on what would be his last symphony in 1887, immediately after putting the finishing touches to his massive Eighth. He was still at it two years later, having interrupted work to revise earlier compositions. Further interruptions were caused by physical weakness. By the beginning of 1894, however, he had recovered sufficiently once again to travel, to Berlin, to hear his Seventh Symphony and Te Deum performed. In the following months he returned for the last time to the Abbey of St. Florian, near Linz, to play the organ – as he had done for so many years when he was younger. He then made an attempt to resume his lectures at the University of Vienna, but was too weak to continue for more than a few weeks.
By year’s end he had written the three movements of the Ninth Symphony, although he clearly wished to continue. He is quoted as saying at the time, “I have done my duty on earth. I have accomplished what I could, and my final wish is to be allowed to finish my Ninth Symphony. Three movements are almost complete, the Adagio nearly finished. There remains only the finale. I trust that death will not deprive me of my pen.”
He was by then spiritually exhausted, and physically as well, with a chronic hacking cough that defied diagnosis but was situated in the larynx, and extreme nervous agitation alternating with periods of forgetfulness and depression. Nonetheless, he was achieving belated recognition in his native Austria: At the age of 70, he was given the Freedom of the City of Linz, a signal honor, and the Austrian Emperor awarded him a generous subsidy as well as an apartment in Vienna’s Belvedere Palace, with a splendid garden and a view of the city below.
The third movement occupied the composer nearly all of the last two years of his life. Six fragmentary versions preceded the Adagio we hear today. He was still tinkering with it on the morning of October 11, 1896, when he paused to take a walk in the Belvedere Park. He died in the Palace a few hours after returning. The funeral was held three days later, in the Karlskirche. The composer’s remains were eventually interred, as he had earlier requested, beneath the great organ of St. Florian’s, at which he had officiated so many times and whose sound was never far from his mind when writing his symphonies.
With the composer seven years in his grave, the Ninth Symphony was published and first performed in the bowdlerized edition of one of the most influential of the aforementioned friends, Ferdinand Löwe. Something resembling the composer’s original (“resembling” and “original” are other words to be used advisedly in any discussion of Bruckner’s symphonies) did not see the light of day until 1932, when it was published, then performed by the Munich Philharmonic in a private concert conducted by Siegmund von Hausegger, alongside the corrupt Löwe edition, giving at least a handful of listeners a choice. Several months later, Bruckner’s “own” Ninth Symphony, divorced from Löwe, made its public debut in Vienna under the baton of Clemens Krauss, but in a version still sufficiently far from what the composer envisioned to make our more dedicated Bruckner scholars take to their cudgels. The debate over the “real Bruckner” has raged ever since.
The observation “but death never means the end,” made by Otto Klemperer – himself a noted Brucknerian, by the way – in connection with the Berg Violin Concerto, bears a notable irony relative to the Bruckner Ninth, where it has no such benign, spiritual connotation. For the composer’s death was a “beginning” – of wrangling over his legacy. And it became particularly heated (and time-consuming) over the sketches Bruckner left for the finale of his Ninth Symphony.
Among the nay-sayers to a good deal of previous Bruckner scholarship, few have expended more passion and effort on attempting to set this matter to rights than Benjamin Gunnar Cohrs, a principal member of the team editing the collected works of Bruckner, “and the representative of the editorial team for the performing version of the finale of the Ninth Symphony” (his words).
For nearly three decades now, Bruckner scholars have been sifting through the sketches Bruckner left for the fourth movement, with, of particular importance, a “reconstruction” by Nicola Samale and Giuseppe Mazzuca that was publicly performed in Berlin in 1986. A successor version appeared in 1990, produced by Samale’s team, based on new discoveries made by the Australian musicologist and composer John A. Phillips.
Cohrs relates that, “Subsequently, Phillips prepared the ‘documentation of the fragment’… and this was first performed in Vienna in November 1999, with Nikolaus Harnoncourt conducting the Vienna Symphony,” and again in 2002, with Harnoncourt and the Vienna Philharmonic, at the Salzburg Festival as a pre-intermission teaser to the standard three-movement version. “The documentation of the fragment serves not as a concert piece but simply to give a vague idea of a piece of music that must, strictly speaking, be considered lost,” Cohrs observes. “That Bruckner’s own vision of a splendid finale died with him cannot be denied. Any performance version by another hand can only be provisional, a work in progress, because it is by no means impossible that material now lost could resurface.” It would seem to be a never-ending story, for scholars, at any rate.
It seems likely that – in concert, as on the present occasion – the Bruckner Ninth will remain a three-movement work and capstone of a career. A complete three-movement work. As to the viability of a four-movement version, the jury may remain out, but it is not difficult to guess what its verdict will be.
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