#<- the tags aren't but i am covering my bases here

[ethosiab]

jesus christ dude i have no idea which mutual you are but you gave me a fucking heart attack in my notifs earlier GGs. sobbing

what d'you mean I'm definitely ethoslab. minecraft youtube legend inventor of the hopperclock and bdoubleo100 enthusiast. yeah. ahem. totally ^_^

[yvesdot]

How To Get Roughly 50 Notes On An Original Writing Post And Possibly Net A Single Reader

I had someone ask today how I get people to click through and read my writing, and I'm realizing that I've never actually made a post all in one place of everything I do to get a new piece of short fiction off the ground... so here you go! How to get (some) eyes on your work, even if it is not published anywhere of interest and you don't have a marketing team behind you.

The #1 thing is presentation. You want to get people's attention, and once you have it, convince them to keep paying attention. Fortunately, people tend to be both reasonable and predictable, which means all you have to do is follow The Formula.

(original post link)

Here's the formula from the above post broken down:

[giant horizontal title card, preferably animated to catch the eye] OR [a few tasteful parallels, if you're good at parallel posts]

TITLE (linked to where you can read the piece) / wordcount

a quote that is representative of the tone, themes, prose style, and/or the "promise of the premise"

A longer pitch, featuring the overall subject of the piece (transsexual reality TV drama), any comp titles (Detransition, Baby), the main draw (in this case, watching trans people be awful to clueless cis people), major themes (performance), and any other promises you'd like to make (food romance and tigers). You can see that the quote I chose delivers on the promise of trans people intellectually outperforming cis people-- if I were a reader, I would be more likely to trust that the rest of the pitch was accurate based on that assurance.

If you have any positive reviews on your piece, say so. If it has won any awards or contests, say so. If your work has made people cry, Doja Cat - Say So. Always. Generally speaking, more personal and more detailed is better, but keep it to one or two people-- e.g. "when I gave this to my S/O to read he shot milk out of his nose so far I had to go clean under the couch" or "my favorite review of this piece is the reader who said they read it chapter-by-chapter under their covers because they wanted it all to themself." This should be one sentence.

Depending on where the story is published, what you usually promote, etc., it may be worthwhile saying the story is free. Use your judgment on whether the reader can tell.

I also like putting my links at the bottom so someone seeing this on a friend's dash can easily track me around the 'Net. They make me look more professional (I now include a link to my website) and they visually balance the post, in my opinion. This post also happened to have some additional links for bonus content.

This is not as high stakes as it seems. I'm not 100% happy with the pitch here, and I'm not 100% happy with the graphics I've used in other cases. These are some bones that help to sell the piece even when the details aren't as sharp.

REBLOGGING

When is the last time you read something the first time you saw it on your dash? I schedule reblogs of all important posts at least twice over the next 2-3 days, often three times so I can get the morning/afternoon/evening reblog. If your followers tend to be more active at certain times, go ahead and use those. In the past I've intentionally scheduled posts for times I knew more popular mutuals were active, and it has paid off!

I also schedule a reblog for a week and a month and sometimes even a full calendar year out, because I know there is going to be that person who tags the piece '#to read' and instantly forgets about it, only to get excited when they see it weeks later. I am very often that reader. The goal is to catch people when they're ready to read immediately, and this is a game of chance.

Every so often, I go through my entire #writing or #important writing updates or even just #popular tag(s) and queue two dozen posts before shuffling my queue to redistribute matters. This keeps my older work circulating, ensuring new readers get a chance to see older pieces and giving those older pieces another shot at dashboard space. (More on #popular later.) This sounds like a lot, which is why you have to space everything pretty far apart. Fortunately, this is the world's best site for cool things to reblog. I guarantee you that you can find something new you love to post in the meanwhile.

COPING WITH FAME

The post above is what I, a published author, consider "doing well" for a post about my writing on Tumblr. As of October 10th, 2024, over two years after its initial posting and over five years into my posting doggedly about my original fiction, it has 77 notes. More than half (43) are likes. Around half of the reblogs are me promoting my own work or the same very sweet person dutifully reblogging me every time I do so. Glancing through the reblogs now, I know of four people whom I can confirm have read it. Presumably, there are more who are completely silent and have never interacted with the post whatsoever. Genuinely: wahoo!! I am so grateful and happy for the attention and reception of my work.

This is the number one thing I suggest: focus on what you have, and not what you lack. Imagine your post from the perspective of an outsider: even one reblog means you convinced that one person to spread your art! How cool is that! This is also good advice because moping is simply not helpful; it will not get you more reads. (And no, neither will guilting others. Kill that vent post in your head!)

GETTING FOLLOWERS

I don't have that many followers. Of the followers I do have, people are very unpredictably active. When I hear about other people's follower counts I am consistently surprised, because people with half of mine will have fans and haters the likes of which I could not possibly dream of. I follow 500-follower folk who post "I ate a strawberry today" and get 6 asks ranging from "Wow I respect you so much for eating that strawberry" to "I'm going to come to your address at [REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED] and shove bananas down your throat for hating on my favorite fruit."

I point this out to establish three important things. 1) Be grateful for what you have (in my case, 0 anonymous hate asks about fruitpinions), 2) followers have far less impact on interaction than one might think, and 3) followers don't engage with the things you might like them to.

Think about yourself. Are you more likely to reblog a photo of a cat in a pumpkin (alright, here) or something advertising fifteen minutes' worth of writing, which could be, for all you know, bad? Or, for that matter, by a person you should not like to support? Reblogs on generically interesting things are 'safer' (unfortunately) than reblogs on art, and it makes perfect sense that people are skittish around the latter. People don't often reblog things they haven't read, and nobody can reblog every artpost on their dash. Having someone else put it there, however, is incredibly powerful—someone's vetted this post as Worth a Reblog, after all. Having more followers allows for much more of this.

(Followers don't guarantee any one sort of interaction, but having more of them is rarely bad. Rarely.)

Across my most popular posts, one theme becomes very obvious: people like things that apply to them or their blog. I try to post writing advice/opinions/memes every so often, because I know I have a loyal base of writerfolk who like to see that from me, and it's "easier" to reblog than my writing. This is simply the nature of the universe. I used to pretty frequently go into the #writeblr tag and check out what was recently popular so I could figure out how to serve the same base, and from time to time it worked.

You're welcome to examine the list of #writing posts that made it to 100 notes, because each tends to have a notable reason behind its success: a reblog with an exceptionally good review, a contest win, a wordcount that lends itself to pasting the whole thing in one go.

(Posts about my book's release are a notable exception, in part due to Blaze and in part due to my absolutely relentless flogging of their reblog buttons during the ~year of promotion. Also in large part to a dedicated circle of friends who passed the post around nonstop! Thank you so much!!)

A lot of people will tell you to attempt covert reciprocal promotion. You know—reblog a lot of stuff, in the hopes that people will reblog yours. If I could change one thing on Tumblr, it would be this: the culture that quietly encourages disingenously interacting with other people with a secret True Goal in mind. (On the autism website.)

Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, do not do this. If you comment on other people's work, do it because you're happy to do so. When I released Paper Tigress, I went through everybody else who responded to the same prompt and read their work, because I had the day off and I was curious. This has led to Paper Tigress having more comments on Reedsy than one of my contest winners, and even outranking the shortlisted story in the same prompt category. However, this would have been a waste of my time if I did not genuinely enjoy reading the other stories. I read 80+ stories, taking several hours, and gained 30 comments from the venture (half my comments are my responses).

Crucially, I do not promote other writers' work on Tumblr in the hopes of them reading or boosting mine. This is the #1 tip I see thrown around that I viscerally disagree with. While, again, I am grateful for engagement with my work regardless of the context, I do not want people suffering through my work in the hopes that I will promote them. I work a full-time job, and my reading calendar is perpetually overbooked, including with work by my absolute best of friends. Even if it wasn't, I think it would be quite insulting if I were posting works in the hopes that someone would choke it down like medicine. I post what I think is good so that people can read and enjoy it. If you are not enjoying it, I do not want you to feel as though you have to read it. My aim is to give to others what my favorite authors have given me, which is most certainly not A Bad Time Spent Being Dishonest In The Hopes Of Getting Something Back. You have better things to do with your time. Please be honest.

CONCLUSION

Realistically, the readers I have, I gained through being a published author for five years promoting my behind off on Tumblr, the least forgiving social media for promotion. People like it when you have a book they can buy, especially if it has Goodreads reviews that make it look like you have been vetted for them. Many people who follow me have read only Something's Not Right and nothing else. (Many people who follow me have read everything but Something's Not Right.) I have posted dozens of pieces on Tumblr and Wattpad (and AO3). I gained a small number of readers writing and posting fanfiction for the Locked Tomb Tri(?)logy, even though I marketed it absolutely terribly.

Just keep writing. Keep writing, keep posting, and keep making sure everyone who follows you knows you write. And keep writing because you want to. There's no better advice than that.

[simpjaes]

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ SIMPJAES WRITING TIPS ͏❤︎

hello! I realize how often I get asked to provide tips for new writers and here I am making a full post for it so that way I can always have something to refer people to! So, here's my personal tips with writing. they might not work for everyone, but these are all things I do or have done when starting out.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ ACCESSIBILITY.

• something I always do, and literally beg other people to do: please put works over 1k under a read more bar. not just for the ease of scrolling for others, but because when you don't you end up forcing anyone and everyone to scroll your work. this is not being mindful as there are minors who may run across your fics and you should not be allowing it to be that available for them to witness. better yet, force them to scroll through it. • see the gradient text titling this post? this is cute, it's fun, pretty to look at, but keep in mind not everyone uses light mode like i do, they may not be able to see the darker parts of my text because of this. same goes the other way around. maintain visibility if you're trying to make your fics legible. not everyone has the best eyesight either, keep that in mind when making your posts and trying to make them pretty. • tag. your. fics. properly. in. the. content. section. of. your. work. do not censor your trigger words, be blatant and honest about what you are posting so that people do not find themselves shocked or upset if you happen to write darker fics. • also tag your fics properly within the tag area of your post. do not tag every member on your post if they aren't in the fic. it will more often than not annoy people rather than get them to read your work. additionally: i wouldn't tag hard hours under the smut tags unless it's actually relating to smut or is long enough to be considered a drabble. Otherwise, tag it under the hard hours tag for your fandom, not the common fic tags. • no, you don't need a banner or "cover" for your fic though I will say that it helps tremendously to include a visual alongside it. many gif makers here do not want their work involved with smut though, so be sure to make your own banners or gifs and do not use someone else's images without their permission.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ IDEAS & OUTLINING

• How do you come up with new ideas? typically, for me at least, ideas come naturally or when I get some sort of inspiration and build off of it. Many times, inspiration comes from a lyric or a scene in a movie. Other times, it can come from something as cringy as a dream, or a funny conversation with friends. You can even base your fics off of your real life, just be careful with that if you're sharing them publicly, as with anything personal, it's not always fun to share with everyone. • how do you start to flesh out an idea? I have different methods but my first tip is to keep your notes app open on your phone and write down literally any and every idea possible. whether it's for a new fic idea, or one you're already working on. Often times just a few words is enough to remember your state of mind at the time and inspire you all over again when you get to it. fleshing it out is different. my primary way of doing this goes in this exact order: ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏write a few paragraphs that would sum up the entire fic in a document. from start to finish, summarize it however you need to. it does NOT need to be perfect.➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏give it a title and a make a banner. ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏i always write the fic synopsis at this point, it helps me stay on track and stick to the plot. if I go off track anyway, I just change the synopsis lmfao. ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏take your previous paragraph of ideas and one sentence at a time, start outlining each portion.

ex paragraph: jake is always alone, and it's driving him mad. so mad that he seeks the company of a familiar face that would never, ever, expect to see him again. Strangely enough, your curiosity upon your ex best friend's ex boyfriend contacting you drives you to places you never thought you'd go (his house.)

➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏now ask yourself questions: why is jake alone? why is he going mad? what makes him seek company? why does he choose you? how does he contact you? what happens after he contacts you? what is the point of view? how do you as the reader feel when he contacts you? where does this lead?

all of that is the very start of an outline. from there you can start fleshing out scenes vs. filler in as much or as little detail as you like.

example of outline: ① ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏scene of jake alone in his room wallowing in his thoughts. angst angst angst filler. talk about his dynamic with his ex girlfriend and why he's so lonely at this point. move forward to his relationship with reader and explain why she's on his mind too. ② ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ jake texting you, blah blah blah, you give him the run around but he seems really desperate. not for like...sex or anything, he genuinely just seems lonely. you're curious despite, you know, being well aware that if your ex bestie found out, she'd beat the fuck out of you. cute flirting for like a few weeks via text. ③ ➤͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏three weeks pass, you and jake are kinda flirty via text but it always ends abruptly. he's....very sad, like a lost puppy. you might sort of have some sort of crush. explain reader's point of view, her dynamic with jake before vs. now. she ends up texting him after he dips on his previous flirting again, being blatant and forward with him about it. "why do you keep flirting then acting like im weird when i flirt back?" etc etc etc, you get the point. I'm not seriously going to sit here and flesh out an entire outline i made up just now and don't intend to ever write, sorry KJFHDSKJ

• Do i need an outline? hell no you don't. sometimes it's better to just take your initial idea and run with it. my best advice here is to do a first draft. free write, as in: write without fixing anything, go wherever your mind takes you, then when you're done for the day just leave it be and come back with fresh eyes. if you like where it's going, keep going. if you don't, boom, second draft.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ WRITING PROCESS

• don't be hard on yourself. no one is looking at your fic but you right now. try any and all ideas, shift scenes around, change whatever you want. it doesn't matter if it's not what you promised. you are the writer. • you may notice that i rarely proof read my works, you can search for a beta/editor if you'd like. just make sure they know the time frame you'd like for your fic to be posted and set some boundaries so they don't end up insulting your work. for instance, in the past, i only allow editors to fix typos, sentence flow, and grammatical errors. i do not ever allow them to comment on plot changes, character changes, etc. • don't want an editor but also don't want your fic to be full of typos? the best I can offer is: every time you finish writing for the day/night and pick up on another day...re-read everything you previously wrote. not only does this help get you into the right mindset, you can catch typos and errors along the way. • not every fic needs research, sorry. If you're writing a smut fic and you intend to focus on smut, just let people know you may have incorrect information regarding whatever. for instance: i like religion kink because i hate religion. because I hate religion, i do not do research on it and use the knowledge i know and what i grew up with. I make that loud and clear to everyone. It's kind of bitchy and lazy though, not gonna lie. but again, if it's smut, people are there for the porn anyway, and not the ins and out of the career one of your characters has.

• TALK TO YOURSELF. Speak the dialogue out loud, yes, even the dirty talk. This is the best way to determine if something sounds awkward.

• this is more of a me thing but, avoid using "y/n" in dialogue. more often than not, this is where it gets very very cringe. In reality, you do not need "y/n" as an indicator that your name is being said or called. You can change that part from dialogue to "He/she/they call(s) your name." or "You hear your name in a broken voice as you swiftly turn, only to find no one there."

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ MOTIVATION

• Motivation is hard and not every method works for me. Meaning, it probably won't work for everyone else either. What I do is: i write fics in my head before going to sleep. I listen to songs that remind me of the fic. I re-read feedback from previous fics. If you've not written one yet, the best move here is to discuss it with a trusted friend.

• do not allow numbers, notes, likes, anonymous messages, or any form of "popularity" force you to write something you're not in the mood to write. sometimes we just need a break, and it's okay to break promises. people want fics you loved writing, not the ones you suffered for to get through.

• IGNORE ENTITLEMENT. This will kill your motivation more than anything else imo, and it will fucking destroy your confidence.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❤︎ HATE ON TUMBLR DOT COM

• first and foremost, block and ignore any and every hateful or entitled anonymous (or not) person in your inbox. I'm not joking, if you respond to them, you will have your friends defending you but at the end of the day, it does nothing but generate negativity and pity. I answer my hate from time to time too, but at the end of the day, it's more like a slap in the face to the hateful anons when you ignore them and continue to be happy. do not let them feel like they have power over your emotions or mood, even if they do. do NOT let them dictate what you want to write and do not be a people pleaser. you are doing enough already by making attempts to write. you don't owe anyone anything.

• relating to the last point, eventually you just grow numb to it. the bigger your blog grows, the more people will hate you for one reason or another. stay kind, try not to let it make you a miserable bitch like I was at one point. focus on the plethora of love you can and will receive.

• don't resent or send anons to other writers either. so what if their fic did more numbers? so what if they didn't follow you? so what? so what? being a writer on this site has a lot of down sides to it, and the writing community + all the shit that comes with it can really be exhausting. My best advice to you is to remember that this is tumblr. nothing more, nothing less. it's not the end of the world if someone dislikes you, and it's not the end of someone else's world if you dislike them. feeding into that energy ruins the entire environment for everyone.

That's all I have for now! Feel free to ask anything else, i'll do my best to answer and add it here! I am open to giving advice on designing and editing your banners btw, i'm not some bitch ass gatekeeper. i will go into more depth with all of this too, such as "how do i write a good synopsis?", "how do you know when your fic is finished?", or "how do i start the fic in a way that's interesting?" etc etc etc

[psychokatrixxxy]

Based on a post from @jupiterliketheplanet

Tags for my amazingly supportive mutuals @valdeswan @theacemagpie

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

Noise.

Deafening noise.

That's the last thing Matthew Murdock remembers. A sharp piercing noise that his heightened hearing had no problem picking up. It was deafening.

Matt remembers covering his ears, but it did nothing to alleviate the pressure building in his ear drums. His cowl feeling all too tight.

The ground was hard and cold, providing no comfort. When did he end up on the ground? Did he fall? Was he already on it?

The pressure lessens, as does the noise, now just a faint ringing in his ears. Matt can finally hear his surroundings again. Sirens are blaring somewhere in the distance.

Breathing in the air is heavier. The taste of chemicals is heavy on Matt's tongue. New York's air has never been this bad, Hell's Kitchen's air has never been this bad.

Something's wrong.

Matt jumps to his feet only to fall forward, bracing himself on a brick wall, his legs feel weak, and the ground unstable.

All of his senses are screaming at him. Everything is wrong. It feels wrong, smells wrong, and tastes wrong.

Where the hell am I?

Think, what happened…

As Matt tries to recall the events that lead up to the horrible noise and ending up here, he draws a blank. The memories aren't fuzzy, they aren't fractured. They aren't there. Whatever happened, however Matt ended up here, where ever here is, he can't remember.

But that's okay. Of course it's okay, he's Matthew Murdock, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's, the Daredevil.

Breathing deeply, Matt focuses on his surroundings. The metallic scent of blood assaults his senses. Using one arm to keep himself standing, Matt uses his thumb to wipe away his blood. Broken nose, great.

By the way sounds echo and the stench of trash, Matt must be in an alley. The brick wall under his gloves is ruff. The comforting pressure of his cowl rests over his head, no longer feeling too tight.

So he's suited up, depending on where he is right now that could either be a good thing or seriously detrimental to figuring out where he is and what happened.

Other than the fading pain in his head and his broken nose, he doesn't seem to be too injured. And the pain in his head is hopefully just from that noise and not a concussion.

I need a plan.

Step 1: Find out where I am.

Step 2: Get home.

….Perhaps he does have a concussion. That's fine, nothing Matt hasn't handled before.

Matt pushes away from the wall, staggering slightly as he finds the fire escape. From the rooftops it will be easier to survey his surroundings and listen in on conversations below to get an idea of where he is so that he can make it back to Hell’s Kitchen, and his apartment.

Making his way up to the roof of what seems to be an abandoned six-story apartment complex without much trouble, Matt perches on the ledge, straining his ears to pick up on the sounds surroundings him. Sounds should carry easier up here than down in the alleyway, the smaller space making it harder to distinguish the direction sounds come from as they bounce off of walls and muddle together.

Up on the roof top, sounds are clearer. And they seem to be the only thing clearer. Somehow the stench of chemicals in the air seems worse than down in the alleyway.

Along with the chemical scent is the smell of rain, a warning to those unfortunate enough to find themself out and about to find shelter from the coming storm.

But before Matt can even begin searching for a suitable place to seek refuge from the approaching storm, a familiar sound causes him to jump into action.

A cry for help.

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

Sorry for it being so short for a first chapter, but school has been killing me lately. Please forgive me 🥺

Edit: link to fic in comments

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC Part 16 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Hey guys, listen it's gonna get happy soon, hehe, maybe. Oh god I just keep writing sad stuff. I swear I am so happy and funny in real life! I just like to dump all of my feelings and sadness onto Emily, cause then it isn't my problem but hers and she's not real so... my problems aren't real. OK! ahahah. Also I am so so so so sorry for this is the slowest slow burn of all time, if you are here for romance I am totally sorry. I just want them to kiss, but then it isn't the right time, like idk if I make them get together while she is just going through it. Plus I feel so mean for Don he always helps her and he's just fine. IDK ahhh a lot going on up in my brain. Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @xxluckystrike (let me know if anyone else wants to be on the tag list 🥰, totally understand if you don't, this is the most depressing story and if you're having a good day I'm sure it will ruin it.)

Emily stands from her crouched position, striding over to the Nazi soldier. She stands over his body, tilting her head to analyse the dead man. But she doesn’t see a man nor a human. She sees filth. Pig scum who was a waste of space and air. She kicks his leg hard, but he stares up at the sky. Emily bends down picking up the gun slung across his body, she yanks it free. She checks the ammo, seeing the gun is still full, she scavenges over the body taking his magazine. She stands tall walking to where the assault happens, she strolls past her own men who yell at her to take cover. They look at each other confused, wondering why the medic is holding a German gun and walking straight into fire. She spots a group of German soldiers who take cover behind a hay bale. Her finger squeezes the trigger spraying the men in fire. She watches as they fall like dominos. She moves to where they were, firing more shots into the bodies to ensure they are dead. A round fires near her all missing, she scoffs, turning her attention to where the shots came from. Emily picks up her gun, shooting the men down one by one. She marches over to where they were stationed. One man that she had missed scrambles back from her, she notes he looks young, like the boy who’s blood covered her face and chest. She pins the boy to the floor, getting in his face.

“This is for them!” She snarls as she pulls the pistol from her pocket. 

She gets up from the now lifeless body picking up her discarded semi-automatic weapon, continuing on her warpath. She walks back out into the opening as if taunting the men to shoot. She stands with dead eyes, her hair loose from the vigorous movement, blowing across her face. Her men stampede either side of her, taking the advantage she just created for them. She tosses her now empty gun to the side but still grips her pistol tightly. A firm grip lands on her shoulder. She doesn’t hesitate, whipping around, she aims the gun right at the man's head. Familiar eyes locking onto hers.

I hold the pistol right between Malarkey’s eyes, the tang of blood on my tongue and the stench of copper on my clothes. I exhale shakily, eyes frantically darting around. 

“Em, you’re ok!” Malarkey grips the barrel moving it down from his face. 

I step back, dropping the gun to the ground. I take in my hands tacky with blood, I go to wipe them on my front but the green uniform is stained red. Tears spring to my eyes, my heart pounds in my ears. What happened? I look again at my hands, they shake as I recollect the scene that just unfolded. I killed those men. I killed a young boy. I caused the life to leave from his eyes. I shake my head, frantically trying to wipe the blood from my hands, it won’t leave my skin. I drop to my knees tearing at my clothes trying to find my canteen. I pull it from my belt pouring the water over my hands, I desperately rub them together to wash away the stains. I grab at my button’s needing to get the smell that permeates in my nose off my body. I shake violently, unable to unfasten the buttons. “Help me!” I beg Malarkey who watches me with a sympathetic look on his face. He kneels in front of me, undoing my shirt, he helps me to pull it off. I touch my fingers to my face, finding more blood. I pour water from my canteen onto my hand rubbing the liquid into my face. I sob as I wash. Snot mixing in with the blood and tears. I tear at my skin not feeling clean enough. My wrists are grasped. 

“Em, please stop, you’re hurting yourself!” Malakey begs me. I gasp for air in between sobs. 

“What did I do?” I choke out. Malarkey and I kneel in the open field as he holds my wrists. The sound of gunshots slowly dissipating. He shakes his head, unable to find the words to tell me, not knowing how to put what he saw. 

“I killed those men?” I ask, not believing my blurry memories. 

“Em you weren’t yourself.” Malarkey tries to explain. I wasn’t there, felt like I was pushed back into my mind and I lost all control. Like falling asleep. 

“I murdered those people, Don. This is their blood. I… killed them.” I hyperventilate, shaking my head. Trying to rid my mind of the images that flash behind my eyelids. I gag, retching the contents of my stomach onto the ground. Don watches, sitting helplessly in front of me. “I can’t, I can’t.” I muffle my screams behind my hand. I curl over myself. Pressing my head to the ground. I grip at the grass underneath, hoping that something will help my world stop spinning. I dig my nails into the ground tearing at the earth. I sob uncontrollably, choking on my own breaths. I have never felt this pain in my life. Like my soul is being torn from me. Like everything is being ripped from my body. Unbearable. I wail. Unconsolable.

“EM!” Don pleads with me. He moves to my side, raising me from my hunched position on the ground. He presses me into him, my chest against his. His hands in my hair, pressing my face into his neck. I sob still. His hands rub circles on my back, soothing my hair down. Don rocks us. 

“Em this is not your fault. Shhh you’re alright.” He coos in my ear. I hiccup, the cries easing from my throat. I feel the tears still sliding down my face, pooling on his shirt. I grip at him, Don stops my world spinning. I hold on for dear life, worried he could slip away if I loosen my grip. 

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper, into the air. I send it out into the universe.

“I’m so sorry.” I see the men's faces, cold and still. Young men, lives ahead of them, I took it. Their chance to live. I took their opportunities. I took a mother’s son, a sibling, a friend. I can’t justify my actions, there was no rationale, no means. I took advantage of the hatred I held and turned it against them. They were following orders, just like our men, just like me. I was the one out of line, I did not follow my orders. I look up at Don, his eyes meet mine. No disappointment in his face, just sorrow. The other men come back, the assault is over. We need to keep moving to Noville. If we sit out in the open we make ourselves more vulnerable. I hear crunching footsteps approach us. 

“Let’s get moving.” Lip says to Don. I move to get up but Don holds me close. I look up at him, I nod my head, showing him I’m fine. He lets me go, I move to stand. I shudder looking at my clothes. I lift my head trying to distract myself. I still feel the blood coating my skin. I just want to get somewhere I can change. We walk in silence, Don close to my side. We hang back from the rest of the men. I’m ashamed, I don’t want them to see me like this, covered in blood. That is a normal state for me but this feels different, this blood was not shed from a wound I was trying to fix. It was shed from maleficence, my malice, my hatred. Lip walks in front of us, casting his glance back every so often to make sure I’m still there. I can’t read his expression, but I know he is disappointed, all of the men will be. 

We set up camp in one of the houses on the outskirts of town. By the time we reach it night has fallen. I wait outside by myself asking Don to go and get me a new uniform, I don’t want to be paraded through the house in my blood soaked clothes and skin. 

He re-emerges out of the house holding clean clothes for me.

“There is a stream not too far away, would you want to go wash there?” Don asks, I nod. There were no showers or places for me to wash here. I would take a cold stream over anything else. I followed behind him, he still held my clothes for me. We used a small torch to light our way. We didn’t talk on our journey, but it was short, we arrived at the stream soon enough. Snow covered the ground but thankfully the stream hadn’t frozen over due to the running water through it. He placed my clothes on a rock.

“I will wait for you up on the bank.” He said and left. I stripped down to my underwear, untying my hair from its bun. I took off my shoes and socks last. My feet burning from the cold underneath my soles. I stepped tentatively into the stream, gasping at the coldness. I walked further in the water coming to my waist. It was freezing, my breathing quickened due to how cold it was. I took a deep breath and sank beneath the water. I didn’t stay under long, my urge to gasp from the cold forcing me to resurface again. My teeth chattered but I persisted. I scrubbed my skin from the dried blood. I washed my face, my hair, and my hands. Washing away all of the bloodshed I'd caused. I didn’t realise it but I was sobbing as I washed. I slipped under the water again, my body now more used to the cold. It was quiet under the surface, muffled and muted from the outside world. My heavy bones felt light floating in the water. But I couldn’t hold my breath forever, I needed to surface at some point and face the world again. That felt all too real. I broke the surface, gulping in air. My body was numb by this point from the cold. I needed to get changed before I got too cold. I stood moving back to the edge, walking out, I dried myself with the towel that Don had brought for me. He was always so thoughtful, and I had pushed him away. Guess I didn’t learn my lesson last time. Luckily I couldn’t push him away so easily, we were in the same company, I had to see him everyday. I got dressed quickly, making my way back up to where Don waited for me. A soft smile formed on his lips seeing me clean again. He opened his mouth to say something but I walked into his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me. He stayed quiet but wrapped his arms around my back squeezing me. 

“I’m so sorry, Don.” I whispered into his neck, “I was being selfish. I pushed you away. But I don’t want to be apart from you.” Tears ran down my cheeks as we held each other still. “I want to remember them with you. I don’t want to forget them.” His hand rubbed up and down my back. 

“We will remember them, Em. Those guys will be with us forever.” He said softly into my hair. He knew exactly how to comfort me. I pulled back to smile at him, his thumb brushing away the tears on my cheeks. 

“As long as you have me, we won’t forget. And you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He grinned at me, making me laugh tearily. 

“I don’t want to get rid of you.” I shook my head. “I’ve decided to keep you, for as long as I can.” He grinned at me nodding his head. 

We made our way back to the house. The building was warm due to all the bodies packed into it. I was ready to crash, I had been running on fumes for days. The quiet chatter died when we walked back into the house, I was very aware of all of the eyes watching me. I walked closer to Don trying to hide behind him, but it was no use. I looked down at my feet as we walked, finally making it to where Don had saved a spot for us on the floor. What were they thinking? They had all seen it happen, so surely they all knew about it. Did they hate me now? See me as a monster? I bit my lip nervously, thoughts swirling in my head. Don’s warm hand landed on top of mine, he gave me a reassuring smile. I nodded not needing to speak, we both knew what we were saying without words. 

“Do you mind?” Malarkey said loudly turning to the group of men, they all looked away from us, their chatter resuming. I laid down, resting my head on my bag, he pulled the blanket over the both of us, resting beside me.        

“Tomorrow will be easier.” He squeezed my hand before rolling over away from me. I fell asleep not long after. Tomorrow will be easier.  

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

Chapter 17

[dungeonmalcontent]

So, I'd like to showcase a few things that I've put on DMsGuild because there's a whole lot more now.

I want to start off with Grimdark & Dangerous. Follower turnover is pretty high on Tumblr, and people go inactive pretty quick. So many people that see this will not be familiar with G&D. It was a huge project for me and I am very proud of it.

Grimdark & Dangerous is a 5e d&d homebrew book available for purchase on DMsGuild for $19.99. It comes as a PDF (for now) and is 159 pages of content geared towards gritty aesthetics. You can follow this link to see my full post on the book or the DMsGuild page here. It has a lot of content and is more than worth the price tag.

While G&D is my biggest item on DMsGuild, I have a nice handful of middle sized docs as well. These are mostly pay what you want (PWYW) titles and quite old. They are also more prone to errors and unintelligible text (where I just started writing and went into a stupor and created something I no longer fully understand).

+ Ancient Artifice Primer for Modern Practitioners (PWYW) - A magic item crafting system which can allow players to create magic items with some degree of value based balancing. It doesn't cover as much as it should in my opinion and is one of those unintelligible texts. However, I do still appreciate my very limited world-building of early runic magic and early graphic design work.

+ Better Backgrounds: 5e Character Building Alternative (PWYW) - A short book on how players can build characters without relying on race based ability score increases. I built on this premise in Grimdark & Dangerous and I'm still quite proud of how I did it in Better Backgrounds. This is a much rougher document than G&D and the writing has a handful of errors, but still decent.

+ The Inheritor: An Artifact and Exploration Class (PWYW) - A homebrew class option. I always say that if you want to play in a game and have a strong connection to the setting, run vestiges (Critical Role), or have a complex backstory this is the class for you. Inheritor characters come with a prebuilt artifact which functions as a growing magic item. You get to customize the item and there is a lot of variability to what your item can do (also includes a modular builder if you aren't very creative). Still pretty proud of this.

+ Mystic Revised (PWYW) - A full remake of the mystic UA class using my own opinions of what it should be. It's based, roughly, on the Nen system in Hunter x Hunter. It's a pretty fun class, but is not very mystic/psionic-y.

+ An Outcast's Notes on the Plane of Pensos - A Planar Adventure Setting for 5e (PWYW) - Don't pay money for this one unless you really genuinely love it. It's an outline and not worth much (IMO). Technically, it can't really even be sold on DMsGuild because it constitutes a homebrew setting (which they don't allow). I created it because I ran (and still do run) this setting and figured it could be a fun thing to share.

+ Plague Pestilence Parasite (PWYW) - A disease book that introduces new mechanics for how contagious diseases spread and how they can be integrated into 5e adventure settings. It also includes a handful of new diseases of varying danger (not all of which are actually threats to player characters). Still a decent book, though I now recognize it lacks some clear writing and has a handful of errors (I may come back and redo this book at some point).

+ Plague Pestilence Parasite: Avolakia Overrun (PWYW) - I don't think I'm really fit to write actual adventure modules, and this book is why. It is an adventure module written to use the rules in Plague Pestilence Parasite. It is still technically an open beta test. It's not unplayable, but I don't think it represents an adventure that players would latch on to (feel free to prove me wrong).

+ The Emissary: An Extraplanar Class (PWYW) - One of my first docs. It's a homebrew class heavily inspired by the Fate/Stay series (has nothing to do with any of the core themes/tropes/abilities of any Fate title) and is actually way more fun than it may sound. The premise: you get a little pocket dimension to store things in and it gives you a variety of powers (the ability to make a little nature preserve, become an auto-crafter, or be Gilgamesh in UBW and launch items at people).

Then there are smaller docs. These are moderately more expensive than most of my short docs (will list those later) but have a significant amount more content than my short docs. These are more recent docs and I generally have higher opinions of them because I was more skilled when I made them.

+ Grimdark Puzzles ($5) - An extension of the themes present in Grimdark & Dangerous. This document contains three (technically 5-6 depending on how you think about it) puzzles that present unique puzzles with dark aesthetics. I really like this doc.

+ From the Dwarven Vault ($1.50) - An item collection themed for dwarven cultures. This does rely a lot on dwarven stereotypes in fantasy, but I did get to bring in some fun things (like burial armor and the DUBA) that I think most people would really appreciate having in their games for lore and aesthetics. Also includes some content for rune carving.

+ From the Elven Vault ($1.50) - Like FTDV, this is a collection of items themed for elves. However, this one is a bit different. While Dwarves are smiths and warriors, elves are crafters. Not just of metal, but most mediums and particularly with mediums that take a great deal of time. If you like crafting in campaigns (if artificer is your favorite class), you want to take a look here because I added in crystal singing and there are three new sets of artisan's tools.

+ Lich Minions: A Lair Building Guide ($2.50) - I really liked making this doc and I am very happy with it. This is a guide for making lairs when your BBEG is a lich. It includes a variety of undead themed minions and how they fit into a lich's minion hierarchy. Each minion has some unique difference from their generic variety or are outright unique, they all have stat blocks. This is a really good resource if you want to do a short dungeon run campaign or a siege campaign. I plan on making more docs like this and I really enjoy this format.

Finally, I have my short docs (there's a lot of these). For simplicity I'll break these into two sub-categories: "Encounter With" and "Subclass".

The “encounter with” docs are short docs that include information on a unique or updated monster, a specific NPC, or a type of NPC. Each is given a stat block, has an outline of what kind of hazards are in the same area as this creature, and lists what kind of loot you might be able to gather from encountering this monster. These encounters include:

+ Archchancellor Ensiid

+ Dracolich Gollryn

+ The Athach

+ The Beholdra

+ The Boom Goblin

+ The Chaos Beast

+ The Destrachan

+ The Drow Paleweaver

+ The Introspective Terror

+ The Lifeblood Magus

+ The Musclemancer

+ The Non-Phaneron Beast (note the cover of this doc is intentional, as the beast does not have a visible form)

+ The Pale Widow

+ The Silkscale Coiler

+ The Soliptic Nightmare

+ The Sunken Effigy

+ The Venomous Plesiodrake

+ The Werewolf Lord

(I feel like I'm missing one...). All encounters have a $0.50 or $0.75 price tag depending on if the encounter features an original or converted stat block.

The subclasses are just that, subclass docs. I really love making subclasses and I try not to burn out on them because I have so many subclass WIPs I want to do. These subclasses include:

+ Druid: Circle of the Grove (Plant druid. Why doesn't this exist already?)

+ Druid: Circle of Witchcraft (Discworld witches, love this one)

+ Fighter: Blade Drifter (I just want to link a song from the Sonic Riders franchise here, but they're all so corny)

+ Ranger: Hell Skulker (nine hells/abyss ranger, also really like this one)

+ Warlock: The Greatwyrm (DRAGON PATRON! Why doesn't this exist already?)

These subclasses all have a $0.75 price tag. I will probably be making a lot more of these, they just take a bit longer than the encounter docs.

[tacky-optic]

Had a question about who our favorite Zenigata partner is in a server I'm in and now I can't stop thinking about them. Tis the zaza sickness.

anyway here's literally all of the characters Zenigata's been partnered with that i could find (within reason). if anyone wants to elaborate on any of these guys (cough yata cough) please feel free to go absolutely ham. *(obligatory spoiler warning for a whole lotta lupin specials, waow-- notably zenigata keibu since that's probably the most unwatched of everything i cover. but if youre here im guessing youre as unfortunately well-versed as i am so LETS FRIGGIN GET INTO IT)

Starting off nice n' mellow. I'm pretty neutral on Yata, tbh. I just think he's neat and it's easy enough to write him and not much else. I've rambled about him being a stand-in for the viewer before, but overall i just don't have all that many thoughts on the guy (seriously someone please do yata). ironic considering he's hands-down the most prevalent sidekick to date, but alas. head remains empty.

MARIYA. Mariya my girlie oh how i love thee. finally, someone with a Gimmick on par with Mr. my-sword-can-cut-anything. Plus she's super sweet and smart and sharp and just an all-around endearing character. AND SHE'S DIFFERENT!! she's tagging along with Zenigata of her OWN FREE WILL like gurl what are you THINKING. there isn't a shred of coherent interview material to draw from this man, especially about Lupin. The dynamic they end up developing is on point, though!! Zenigata's initial total miscall of it aside, It's just plain ol' wholesome. If Yata's his surrogate son than Mariya's obviously his daughter. No shot in hell they don't at least keep in contact after the special's done. plus her snapping a pic of him every time he eats shit is peak comedy journalism

MOTHAFUCKIN' MELON COP!! an absolutely magical reefer-smokin' shitbag, especially in the edgy Tokyopop translation. He's a great foil to our otherwise serious(ly neurotic) manga Zenigata. Not to mention the combative potential with a down the line Melon.... ough. A more toned-down "newer part"-esque Zeni getting slapped with an extremely smug and insistent reminder of his angstlord past is such a delicious concept to me. i will be using this guy extensively in that exact way one of these days-- he's too fun not to.

a bit of a sidenote but i've gotta point fingers at gray jacket again (can't recommend it enough) for having my favorite melon depiction in fic; walther recently had him show up in their fic secondhand vanity as well (which i also can't recommend enough), so needless to say i think he has some fun potential.

Sakuraba and Kunikida from the live-action show get honorable mentions, obviously. They're both so different yet learn so much from Zenigata all the same. As far as reacting to the inspector goes, they're the ideal Yatas (again i am so so sorry yata-- surely someone will do you justice). Even though they aren't technically "new" to the force they're new to the Zenigata Shenanigans, and that is where the entertainment factor is. Sakuraba's the traditionalist keibu method-doubter whereas Kunikida's this mousey blue around the gills fella, and over their respective case file appearances, they both gain faith in/learn confidence from Zenigata, respectively. It really is a great bit of development to watch play out.

I'm gonna count The Guys™️ as a collective group/formless mass with maybe one of the Guyest of Guys as Zenigata's right hand Guy, like that one dude in Cagliostro. Apparently the name he's given in one of the dubs is Sam?? That's neat. Sam's neat. for anyone interested in some homework, here's the link to the highly informative lupin forum thread i found that out from: [x]

But yeah the Guys! Right from the start, Zenigata having this army of inexplicably and absurdly loyal cops was always a fun trope and i love to see 'em whenever they show up. I had this idea ages ago for this fake documentary-style miniseries based around them-- all the usual Lupin nonsense goes on in the background while we get a peek at the typically unseen shenanigans happening on the law-bearing side. Getting assigned to the lupin taskforce is probably seen as some kind of punishment, but that just makes the camaraderie all the more tight-knit. There'd be some behind-the-scenes Zenigata/how he interacts with them, what they get up to on their own whack case assignments when they're in a Lupin sighting lull.... hell maybe we even learn why they're all so damn loyal to this one supposedly hyper-independent guy. I think it'd be fun but maybe that's just the Zenigata hopeful in me. Surely he's capable of building some semblance of rapport with the fine group of folks he drags around the world with him....

Let's just rip the band-aid off-- I dislike Oscar with a burning passion. which is weird, right? because i like Melon Cop, the dude who's totally cool with straight-up cold-blooded judge/jury/executioner-style murder. I dunno dude the obsessive daddy kink simping's just too feckin' weird for me. i checked the hell out so fast. If the goal was to make Oscar extremely disquieting, they friggin' did it. Granted he was written to be a bit whack from the start, and getting raised(?)/mentored by THAT Zenigata would irreversibly mess anyone up. I get that the fucked up-ness is part of the appeal, but man. How anyone can gravitate towards Oscar without heavily modifying his whole deal escapes me.

I've seen him written tolerably in fic maybe... twice? He's in gray jacket (there it is again!) and SMRO (needs no introduction nor explanation), so obligatory kudos to anyone who can wrangle [gestures vaguely at all of that].

Vicky though. Vicky Flannigan from Island of Assassins is so goddamn funny. Still can't believe they took one of the most badass Zenigata character designs and actively went out of their way to make him bedridden. I've seen folks call him "Proto-Yata" and. Yeah. Can't argue. He's a glorified babysitter, if anything, and the only reason he's even remotely effective is because he (accidentally) broke both of Zenigata's legs. Funniest shit istg

ICPO LADIES!!! They're cute. Designs could be better but it's Babylon yknow. Despite being an admittedly fun romp, the special has its obvious.... uh. issues. product of its time and all that. iykyk. anyway LADIES. They're competent. They take No Shit from Zenigata. The random little crush that comes out of nowhere between Chinjao and Goemon is cute as hell. Plus, I've seen some pretty rockin' fandom redesigns floating around.... wouldn't mind in the slightest if they made a comeback.

I'm gonna lump all of the Betrayers into one category: Emily O'Brien from Angel Tactics, Kazami from Fuma Conspiracy, and Terry Crown from Alcatraz Connection. Never expected the "Zenigata's partner is the bad guy!!1" trope would be so prevalent, but it tracks in retrospect. It's a neat enough idea-- bummer they never seemed to nail it down, though.

The only reason O'Brien is so predictable is because she's so goddamn unlikable. There's hardly any screentime of them working together and in every single scene, the incompetency just feels so blatantly intentional its almost offensive lmao. Zero surprise in the slightest when she showed her true colors-- just mild annoyance, which tracks for the whole special tbh. Only worthwhile parts are the beginning and the end, and absolutely none of that has anything to to with O'Brien.

Kazami just has that chump secondary villain face y'know. Again, a bit on the nose how obnoxiously dorkish he is-- but them playing up him putting on his glasses so Fujiko can recognize him got a little laugh outta me, ngl. He served his purpose, plain and simple.

I'll never know whether Crown was predictable or not because I stumbled across ""Evil Columbo"" before I watched Alcatraz, but despite the spoiler I can at least say he isn't lame as shit. Pre-reveal, he's probably the closest we'll get to a taste of what Melon might be like in modern Lupin media. He's your run-of-the-mill corrupt sleazebag detective-- steals evidence, generally doesn't give a fuck, takes cheap jabs at Zenigata-- but their final standoff is what puts him above Kazami for me. Just a real melodramatic overdramatic moment of Zenigata Zenigata-ing his heart out.

Welcome to the ELDERLY MEN CATEGORY, OORAH. The old guy from Twilight Gemini, Kogoro Akechi from the pilot, and George McFly from First Contact. I could track down Gemini old guy's name, but I hand-to-god couldn't care less. The only worth a damn thing Gemini's given me is that one jigzeni screenshot, so we're just gonna move on to the next two.

Not much of Akechi, huh. He only shows up in the pilot and doesn't do anything of note besides be someone for Lupin to disguise himself as. Dare i say Goemon was a more effective ally to Zenigata than Akechi...? yeah sure, why not. Goemon's a zeni sidekick. i'll die on that hill. anyway I believe he's also a reference to a pre-existing character...? like Lupin, Goemon, and Zenigata are. All in all its probably for the best that he didn't make it to part 1.

Finally, the only old guy that actually has aspects to talk about. I actually really like McFly and the role he plays in First Contact; it isn't Zenigata learning from whoever his partner may be, but McFly learning from Zenigata. He's a jaded, on-the-verge-of-retirement type that thinks he's seen all the force has to offer, but here comes this young (is he considered "young" in this?? early, maybe) freak-ass foreigner cop with a vendetta he's practically frothing at the mouth to rectify. Neither of them are exactly enthused to be working together, but McFly sticks around anyway and learns to see past a lot of Zenigata's first impression baggage; the tenacity, the passion, the genuineness of it all. Not only does he want to make real change, but the crazy bastard can actually friggin' do it. ...Or at the very least make a sizable dent.

Zenigata sincerely adheres to the idea of what a cop's supposed to be, fundamentally, and not what a "cop" actually is, as a vague collective occupational concept. Zenigata has a genuine effect on McFly-- enough to make him just the slightest bit less soured by the end of it all. It's a nice sentiment; that no matter where you are in life, ideas can still change. It's a small arc that flies beneath the radar of everything else, but i noticed it. I FRIGGIN' NOTICED IT, MAN

tl;dr Zenigata's a lonely guy, sure, but he doesn't have to be.

That should cover all of the significant parts/specials/movies, but if i missed anyone (any notable episodes? manga?) lemme know. Either way, it's nice finally having 'em all in one place.

[deityoftherain]

Hello there :D

My name is Rain (Deity works too) and I use they/fae/star pronouns.

I am a young adult, so keep that in mind when interacting with me, and my timezone is ET. I do a lot of fanart reblogging, but I am also a MCYT fanfiction writer in the Empires/Life Series/Hermitcraft sphere! You can read my fanfics on my ao3 deityoftherain, or you can read oneshots (usually not multichaptered fics) on Tumblr by clicking your fandom of choice under the Fanfiction header.

Pinned Post Summary Socials/Links Fanfiction Blog Tags Rain's Tips & Other Resources Creative Boundaries/Desires Other Blogs

If you are discriminatory or hateful to people in any way (queerphobic, transphobic, ableist, rude/cruel, or anything else), please stay away. You are not welcome here <3

Socials/Links

AO3 (if the link doesn't work, my ao3 username is deityoftherain)

Discord Server (the only requirement for joining is that you have enjoyed/read some of my fanfics)

Carrd (best viewed on Desktop)

Pronouns Page (includes more than just pronouns)

Cashapp (for tips; thank you so much if you do, but no worries if you don't, I still appreciate you <333)

Fanart (both fanart created of my fics and fanart that I've written a fanfic for)

Fanfiction (listed links, and oneshot reading for when AO3 is down)

Traffic Life/Life Series Fanfics

Empires SMP Fanfics

Hermitcraft SMP Fanfics

Feel free to filter through my fics on AO3

Blog Tags (and AU masterposts)

#deity writes #fanart for rain #rain answers #rain rambles #rain drabbles #rain's tips #tales of the empires au #traffic life superpowers au #fallen stars au

Rain's Tips & Other Resources

tonetag masterlist

short guide on how to tag your own fics

short guide on how to title your fics/stories

writing lessons for beginners/basic writing review (the guide above briefly covers Formatting Quotes with Dialogue Tags, Commas and Conjunctions, Capitalization, Pronouns, and Person POV with examples of usage)

how to embed images and links on AO3

miscellaneous AO3 tips

mcyt writing cheat sheet (+tangotekification)

mcyt ship/duo/etc name list

learn about the nuances of mcyt shipping

singular they pronouns (info/practice)

Creative Boundaries/Desires

You can...

create fanart or other creative works of my fanfics (please tag me)

mark a work as "Inspired By" my fanfics (and I'll likely check it out); write within any and all universes I create, I just request you tag me for both credit and so I can gush over it :D

recommend my fanfictions on other sites; post the title, tags, and summary screenshot for your tiktok/etc fic rec post

gift me(/create treats for me if we're in an event together) and tag me in said works

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I love it when people...

interact with my fanfics via ao3 comments, Tumblr tag reblog comments, bookmarks, kudos, likes/notes, etc

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[cycas]

Fanfic: what is it anyway?

This post set my thoughts rambling about the edges of fanfic and its many definitions again.

At one end of the Fanfic Definition Spectrum, you have people who consider fanfic to be stories written in the time period to which modern copyright laws apply, which use copyrighted characters and settings, and can be shared publicly only because they make no money.

Many people seem to believe that the fanfic that is closest to this definition is also least likely to be 'real writing' because of its relative lack of originality.

I don't think this is true. Writing within a set of tight constraints may look easy, but doing it well is as hard as, say, sticking to a complex rhyme scheme or writing to a strict word count.

The fact that some people are doing the thing without any great skill does not devalue the people who are doing it with artistry. Disliking a story for conforming to a pattern is individual taste, not an absolute judgement of writing skill in the task undertaken.

This definition of fanfic is obviously incomplete. Fanfic can be and is written for canons outside legal copyright protection. And a great deal of content published as fanfic is highly original, in that it does not use the setting it is riffing off, makes massive plot and characterisation changes, focuses on characters who barely appear in the canon.

Sometimes the only hint that this story is fanfic of a copyrighted work is that it has been tagged as such.

Some of these stories are written by skilled writers with a depth of research and creativity that frankly seem to outshine the work they tagged as their inspiration.

Some are not much of a delight to read for anyone except presumably the writer. I am not sure we can deduce anything from this, except that the barriers to entry are low and there's no requirement for fanfic to please anyone but the writer. The fact that there are terrible fanfics does not make the superb fanfics bad, in the same way that the novel is not permanently scarred by the terrible works that have been given that label.

But originality is definitely not the border of fanfic. Fanfic CAN be commentary on an original canon, but it can also be a story that nobody has ever told before in which all the characters are ferrets.

So both the legal limitation (it's about copyrighted stuff) and the originality limitation fail. Neither is a good border around the outside of 'what is fanfic'.

At the other end of the Fanfic Definition Spectrum, you have people who consider all writing that uses existing ideas, characters and worldbuilding to be fanfic, regardless of date or copyright status.

A good thing about this approach is that it actually includes all the fanfic.

The first definition means that all the fanfic about things that aren't copyrighted works of fiction is excluded, despite the intentions of the writers.

If I write a story about, say, Beorhtnoth, and publish it as fanfic, I can't see why I should be excluded from being read and judged as part of the body of works-that-are-fanfic, because both the historical figure and the literary work The Battle of Maldon fall way outside the period covered by modern copyright law.

The awkward thing is that this broader definition includes content that pre-dates the term 'fanfic', and/or co-opts writers who did not think they were writing fanfic into that category.

Tolkien wrote a story based on The Battle of Maldon, and presumably did not intend it to be fanfic, though it absolutely fits all parts of the fanfic definition apart from the copyright/date term invented one.

I think I'm coming back to the definition: that thing people have been doing since the dawn of time? Some of us call it fanfic, when we do it, now.

But that does lead me again to say: why can we NOT call it fanfic when someone else does it? Why is that label writer-opt-in, rather than reader-applied? It seems like the only reason that really fits here is 'because a lot of people think the word fanfic is an insult.'

[agentoffangirling]

Regarding your post about trans men never being mentioned:

I don't disagree with your statement, but the way it's worded is something a TERF would say. Like, the reason trans men aren't mentioned is because it's not transphobia and the concerns aren't around trans people- it's specifically a female issue surrounding an "invasion of their spaces"

To make it very clear, I am not a TERF

Like I felt like that was kinda obvious from the tags, but just covering all the bases here, very much not a TERF, they can suck it, a special "fuck you" to them specifically

While the majority of it does have to do with "invading women's spaces" (if I hear this ridiculous excuse again my godddddd), the root of it is transphobia. The people making these laws believe that trans women/men are not women/men. They only say it's bc of women's safety to try and excuse it

But like. It is transphobia. Otherwise if they really cared about women being safe they'd give them bodily autonomy

[dio-the-thot-exterminator]

I feel so weird and like I'm doing something wrong?? My Boss manager always being so passive aggressive to me or maybe I'm just not used to ppl being so stupid.

She's like "you NEED to be selling the credit cards more. You know we base your scheduling on how many credit card u sell and if you don't have high numbers then when I start hiring new people..."

HIRING WHO?????? HIRING WHOO???? Id like to see all the people you’re hiring hmm? Where? You can barely keep ur own managers from constantly calling out of work. So ur forced to do 60 hr work weeks every month. I know u ain't talking to me And the other two associates always call out or don't show up so I have to come and cover for them…I KNOW YOU AIN'T TALKING TO ME!??!??!?!?

"Your job is to sell the stuff at the counter and credit cards" ok then why am I sweeping the floors and cleaning the bathrooms and wiping the mirrors and pricing merch and tagging and taking out the trash and dusting and packaging online orders etc?

She like "even tho ur just an associate u NEED to be reading the emails everyday" girl how is knowing what the stores over n Texas and Florida make gon help me 💀 She acts like she got hella people on stand by bitch u dont she tryna lecture telling me I need to do more... All you do is talk on the phone and ask ppl to join ur church.

She be in the corner somewhere on the phone and the customers are like "um...excuse me?" And she ignored them so I gotta help them. Even tho she tasked me with scanning all the fucking items in the store!!

And she literally told me "u need to pay attention more to the customers YOU'RE NOT HERE TO COMPLETE TASKS!!!" AHHHHHHUAHHHHHHHHHHHHH what do you mean???????? Wtf am i here for then??

I'm bout to snap on her fr maybe I'm too combative… she got me pushing around this chart.

She was like complaining "uh make sure you fix that bcuz y'all like to leave it a mess 😒" And I was bout to say "bitch who tf is y'all??????" I KNOW how you are and I know you complain about every lil thing, so whenever i'm pushing that chart around it be looking neat and tidy and I put it back like that too. 

I'm da best employee she has!!! My other managers Jays and Red were literally like “ugh we were so lucky to have found you” and the other day a customer had came back into the store to tell my manager Red what a good job i did helping her find what she needs and being accommodating…The other associates dont do shit.

The college girl who barely works saw a box all messed up, she tried to quickly close the top (didn't work) and then she just walked away. I was like "um aren't u gon fix that?" And she was like "oh yeah right" Like??? And all she does is stand behind da counter. The store be a mess and she be standing.

The phone guy just be on his phone and he be chilling in da back. I know u are not on my case. when u let a whole ass employee stay in the break room his entire shift 💀.

I feel like she get someone sort of power trip off it and she just needs someone to terrorize and she choose me because I'm always there 🥲 (this is the reward i get for being a real ass employee??) 

Boss manager was like "I'm going to start quizzing you guys on what was in the manual  bcuz y'all act like talk forgot, you NEED to be following them!!" Girl still on shit from da "training" videos. Shit she don't even follow…

Yesterday she was like, “go reprice the entire clearance section, make sure you don't leave the chart out!!! Every Time someone walks in the store, put the chart back and greet them!!! (she's standing next to the entrance doing nothing) Well this NEEDS to be done before your shift ends so get it together hurry up!!! And you can actually leave the chart out when u need to ring someone up on the register (she is one the phone and didn't notice someone standing there) OMG WHAT ARE YOU DOING THAT GUY NEEDS HELP!!! HELP HIM!!! GOOOO!!! AND TAKE THE CHART WITH YOU!!!!! OMG OMG STOP STOP LEAVE THE CHART HELP THAT GUY NOWW UGHHHHHHH!!!!!" and she is...standing there doing nothing...he walked up to her first bcuz she was closer…

Its so awkward asking someone to apply for the credit card, bcuz the boss manager expects you to harass every customer (she literally follows them around the store and asking them repeatedly to sign up i counted once…she asked one person 7 times) AND it's not even only the credit card, it's everything in the damn store. AND she only wanted 1 person on the register even when its rlly busy, trying to sell everything in the store…. (you guys only 2 people are allowed in the ENTIRE STORE one associate and one manager bcuz the company wants to be cheap)

It's like the customer places whatever they’re buying down and I have to say “hey this thing is buy one get on half if you're interested, and we have this item on sale, also if you wanted any of these items they’re behind you. Do you want any of this? I can show you the different ones we sell. And we have this too. I can help you pick out the one you need. We also have a credit card, if you want, you'll earn coupons and get a discount off today's purchase :D"

And she wants us, to say that, TO EVERY SINGLE CUSTOMER!! Everyone…

So it gets so awkward asking, especially if they are just buying like one little item. And to make things worse she's so nitpicky about everything like I was asking if they wanted to join our rewards and she was like "ugh if you ask it like that of course they're gonna say no!!!" And then she...didn't give me a way I should ask them…

I just nod and say "okay" whenever she starts ranting. She just get on my nerves a lot but that's also bcuz ima hater. Idk i feel like i do everything correctly and efficiently so idk why my managers are always attacking or complaining about me. 

Can I pleaseeeee have a job where I only need to complete tasks??? Where are those jobs?? Someone point me in the right direction

[thatshadowhunterlife]

Pressure Makes Diamonds (THG AU)

Summary: Winning isn't everything. It's just the only thing that matters when you have people waiting for you at home. Chrysanthemum Everdeen is the oldest of the Everdeen siblings. Her whole life is based on the survival of her and her family. When it's time for the annual Hunger Games to take place, she can't even imagine her name getting picked even with the odds stacked against her. When she is called to enter the deadly games she feels her whole world shift. Winning would mean everything to her family but her odds aren't the best. If she is to win, she has to make difficult decisions about survival, family, and love.

OR an AU where Katniss has an older sister that participated in the 70th Annual Hunger Games.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56708572/chapters/144564574

─────── ─ ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚─ ───────

Chapter Two

One time, Katniss and I were playing tag in the woods. While I was running away from her, I tripped over a tree root and broke my arm. It hurt so bad I almost blacked out from pain. Katniss cried the whole way home about it because she felt like it was her fault. I cried because I was in pain and I couldn't hunt until it was fixed. That in turn made Prim cry about it because she doesn’t like seeing us cry. My father scolded us all while my mother fixed me up a cast. Ashton and Gale were even really nice and brought over some strawberries to make me feel better. Katniss and my father went hunting to raise enough money for us to afford some of the fancier pain medicine for me. At the time, I thought that was the worst pain I had ever felt though. I never thought anything would ever come close. 

This is a million times worse than that pain. 

It’s like I could feel my heart collapse in my chest. All I felt was fear. The fear of leaving my family to fend for themselves. The fear of my sister being the sole provider for my family. The thought of Katniss having to take out tesserae because I’m not there makes me want to throw up even more.

My mother will completely fall apart. She’s barely together as it is. There is no way that she can take care of my sisters. My mind keeps racing in a million different directions. But they all lead to the same conclusion. My family is now in trouble because I am going to die.

I don’t remember falling, but the kid next to me grabbed me to keep me from hitting the ground. 

I look up and all I see is big brown eyes staring back into me. Effie’s voice rings through the speakers calling my name again. My legs move as if they have a mind of their own. They carry me towards the stage. 

“Chrissy!” 

I turn around and see Katniss running towards me. Ashton starts running right towards her and picked her up before she could get to me. She starts kicking and screaming for him to let her down. She’s sobbing harder than I’ve ever seen her cry before. “You can’t go! No!” She screams. Ashton covers her mouth to keep her quiet. 

“Go ahead Chrissy…” He says. You could hear in his voice how hard he was fighting back tears of his own. I nod silently and head up the stairs onto the stage. The crowd mumbles unhappily. 

From the stage I could see my mother crying and being comforted by some women she must’ve known from years ago. Primrose is holding her hand and just looking right at me. 

“Oh finally, she is here!” Effie says cheerfully, “now onto the boys!” She struts over to the boys bowl and grabs a name quickly. Way quicker than she did the girls that’s for sure. She opens her mouth to read the name but is interrupted by a loud thud. The whole crowd looks in the direction of the sound. Our district’s only living victor, Haymitch Abernathy, is face down on the ground. The Mayor looks incredibly embarrassed but tries to help him up. Once he is back on his feet, Haymitch throws up all over Mayor Undersee. The smell of vile quickly fills the area.

“Oh dear! How revolting !” Effie exclaims. She turns her nose and tries to get everyone back on track so that the janitors could clean up the mess quickly. Haymitch could barely stand at this point. Mayor Undersee is given some napkins to help clean up some of the vomit off of him. But man if looks could kill, Haymitch would be dead where he stood. “Let’s wrap this up, shall we? For our male tribute, the honor has been given to Sage Emrys!”

That name sounds vaguely familiar. Like he might’ve been in one of my classes at one point or maybe someone said his name in the hallways. The person who comes up the stairs, is the same one that kept me from falling on my rear. His long, shaggy blond hair is unkempt. His brown eyes were full of fear but his face showed none of that. He’s tall and lanky but didn’t look as underfed as those of us from the Seam. His parents are definitely more wealthy than mine. Maybe my mom knows them.

Sage Emrys stands on the other side of Effie as far away from the vomit as he could get. Effie puts on a big smile and announces us as District 12’s tributes. The entire crowd stays silent. They are not happy about this. I’m not sure which person getting reaped made them upset. Maybe it was both of us. While I doubt many people will miss me, at least I can feel like my presence was once acknowledged. Whether it be from the people at school or the people in the Hob, they will all remember that I was here.

The Mayor returns to the podium and begins to read the Treaty of Treason but no one is really listening. It’s the same speech every year so everyone could care less. I’m more focused on not losing my mind completely in front of all these cameras. I try to not look at my sisters, mother, or Ashton. I see Gale in the crowd for a split second and feel the tears well up. I know Ashton promised to take care of my family but his own family is hard enough to care for. My family has just lost my father and now I will die too. This will be traumatizing for Katniss and Prim. Maybe even Ashton.

After the reading of the Treaty of Treason, Sage and I face the crowd as the Panem anthem plays again. At this point, even the people that bet on the tributes had stopped. All eyes were on the two of us. I’ve never felt more self-conscious than I did at this moment. When the anthem finished, we were escorted off the stage by Peacekeepers. That in itself is pretty scary. Peacekeepers only escort criminals and dead bodies places so I wonder why they are escorting us. Maybe some tributes have tried to run away before. The Peacekeepers barge through the doors of the Justice Building while the cameras follow. 

The Peacekeepers take me into an empty room and leave me by myself. I’ve never been inside of a room so fancy looking. The carpet looked as if it had never been touched by shoes. The velvet couches look almost inviting. I only recognized the material because my mother had a dress with a collar made out of that stuff. I sit down on the couch and just stare at the wall. I’m trying to focus on anything other than the next hour. This will be the time that my family and friends are allowed to say goodbye to me. I don’t know if I will be able to keep myself together for this. I know I can’t leave here with puffy eyes and a running nose, but the thought of a final goodbye to my family is beginning to feel very overwhelming. 

It felt like I was sitting there forever before the door finally swings open. Both of my sisters rush towards me and tackle me with hugs. I hug them tighter than I ever had before. This could be my last moments with them and I need to make them count. When I could finally get a good look at their faces, I could see that Katniss’ eyes were puffy and red from crying. “Chrissy you better win!” she says into my chest. 

I run my fingers through her hair and give her a soft smile. “Of course I’ll try to win. I want to come home to you guys,” I say.

“No! You have to come home! You know how to fight Chrissy. I watched you beat up Liam that one time because he called me ugly! You can come home,” she says seriously. 

I can’t make her any promises. There will be a lot of competition. Certain districts train their whole lives for this. I’m just some kid from the Seam that happens to know how to hunt animals for food. Animals are not humans. Killing someone is something completely different than throwing a few punches. It isn’t for food or to protect my sister. It’s for someone else’s entertainment. I’m not cut out to win the Hunger Games.

However, instead of telling Katniss what I was actually thinking, I just smile and nod. “I will win. Just for you,” I say softly.

I turn to my mother, and my expression hardens. “You can’t leave them. You have to be there for them. It doesn’t matter how you feel right now, they need you more than anything. Do you understand me?” I say. 

“Yes,” She says. I could tell she was holding back tears. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly. This might really be the last time I get to hold my mother. By the way she is holding me,  she must be feeling the same way. 

“I love you,” I say. I haven’t said that to my mother since my father died. Tears well in her eyes and she hugs me tighter. 

“I love you more,” She whispers in my ear. Even now that’s the most sound she is able to muster. It’s still so comforting to hear though.  I feel her slip something into my pocket. When we break away from the hug, I reach into my pocket and look at the small object. It is a gold ring with a small diamond; this is my mother’s wedding ring. “The tributes are allowed a single token from your district. I just thought it would always remind you of home,” my mother says. I’m sure this was hard for her to part with. She kisses my head and pulls my sisters in for a hug. We all stay that way until the Peacekeepers make them leave. It felt like my heart left with them. It keeps getting harder and harder to fight back the tears. I try pacing around the room to see if that helps. Eventually I allow myself to let a few fall before my next guest comes, though I’m sure I know who it’s going to be.

Ashton bursts through the door and rushes towards me. He picks me up and hugs me. When he sets me down, he looks deep into my eyes. “You have to win Chrissy,” He says in a low tone.

“I don’t know if I-”

“No Chrysanthemum! You need to win! I know you can. You know how to hunt and you know how to survive. You’ve lived in this place your whole life so I know you won’t starve. You need to get your hands on some knives, Chris. You can win this. I know you can. I’ve never met someone else like you,” he says. 

All I could do was nod. I think I was more in shock that he called me by my name. He never calls me Chrysanthemum. He has so much faith in the fact that I’m going to come home. Maybe even for a second I can believe it too. 

“I’ll try my hardest to come home to you guys,” I say.

“Chrissy, I need you to come home,” He chokes out. The tears he had been trying so hard to keep in have finally started to surface. I’ve never seen Ashton cry before. Not even when his father died. He was always the strongest person in the room.

I do the only thing I could think to do in this situation. As stupid as it might be, I hold out my pinky. “I’ll come home. I pinky promise,” I say. He lets out a small laugh through the tears and embraces me in a tight hug. He smells like the woods still. Like home. 

We stay that way until he has to go. I look at a clock on the wall and I can see that my hour is up. Two Peacekeepers come inside to escort me to the train station. I’ve never been before because its only really used for the Games and exporting coal. It looks less decrepit than the rest of the district though.  I should have expected the hoard of cameras and reporters from the Capitol. Bright lights keep flashing in my face while people keep calling my name and asking me questions. The sound of clicking starts to give me a headache. I just try not to look at any of them to at least seem unfazed by everything that has happened today. Maybe acting tough will improve my chances at survival. I don’t look at a single camera or answer a single question. I act as if they are undeserving of my time. 

Sage Emrys on the other hand is smiling at all the cameras and waving. He hardly seems bothered at all. His hair looks a bit neater now, I’m sure his mother might’ve touched it up. People in the merchants area care about appearances like that. I bet the people in the Capitol will call him brave for not even crying. I just think he is being stupid. 

The inside of the train is fancier than I could have ever imagined. It’s like something we only read about in school. The floors are adorned with royal purple rugs and white flowers. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling tops. Burgundy velvet chairs sat at a deep reddish brown wooden table. I think it might’ve been mahogany. The walls are a deep, navy blue.

“Wow they really put down money on us,” I hear from behind me. 

I roll my eyes hard at Sage. “It’s all a waste since we’re gonna die anyways,” I say. A tall woman with pale skin and dark brown hair escorts us to our rooms. She never spoke to us which I thought was kind of rude, but what can you expect from Capitol people? 

My room is just as lavish as the rest of the train. I can’t stop myself from investigating every single door. The closet has a few dresses in there already. I guess for me to wear on my way to the Capitol so I look more presentable. Though I still think my mother’s dress was nicer. Or maybe I just miss them already. Another door leads to a gold and white bathroom. Maybe I’ll bathe in a few minutes. The bed is bigger than any other I’ve ever seen. The silky gold sheets looked alive with the sunlight from the window. Gold chairs matched the bedset. My goodness did they look comfy. Primrose would love them. The walls were the color of the trees in the Meadow. The Meadow . It hurts my heart to even think about. I can still hear Ashton laughing and Katniss and Gale bickering. I still smell the fresh scent of earth after it just rained. The wild berries. The flowers. All the herbs I would bring home. I can see Katniss and Prim’s beautiful eyes that lit up whenever I came home. 

Realistically, I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about home. I’ll have even less of a chance at winning if all I do is miss my family. I lay in the bed and let out a small, humorless laugh. What am I thinking? It doesn’t matter what I do now. I’ll still be delivered in a wooden box back to District 12. I suppose it’s nice that I get to enjoy this soft bed first. The bed smells like the fresh cut flowers you only find in the wealthier areas of my district. Ashton got me some for my birthday one year. They were roses I think.

Apparently I fell asleep because I woke up to Effie knocking at my door. “Ten minutes until dinner!” she says in her stupid accent. I sigh heavily and walk into the bathroom. I’ll be honest it took me a few minutes to figure out how to get the water working. When I got it though, hot water rained from above me. While it felt really good, I figure I shouldn’t be late to dinner. I lather myself in a sweet smelling soap, wash off, and head back into the room. I pick out a dark green dress that I thought matched the rest of the room in a way. I left my own clothes on the bed.

The dining table was filled with more food than I had ever seen in my life. Golden brown rolls, three different meats dripping in sauces, vegetables that I’ve only seen in books, and grains that were so much better looking than tesserae ones. My mouth instantly begins to water while my stomach betrays me with loud growls. Effie sat down at the head of the table. How fitting for Capitol trash. “Haymitch won’t be joining us tonight. He’ll more than likely be passed out until tomorrow,” she says. There is a hint of disgust in her voice that almost makes me laugh. I sit down at the table and the silent woman from earlier begins to serve my food. 

Sage comes in a few minutes later wearing a light blue t-shirt and black pants. His wet hair falls just under his shoulders. He sits across from me and stares at all the food. Another woman, who was also silent, serves his food. 

“Thank you,” he says politely. 

Effie looks appalled. “You shouldn’t talk to them,” she says. I couldn’t help but wonder why but I don’t think it’s a good time to ask. I begin to eat but it’s so hard to pace myself when all the food is so delicious. I remind myself to mind my manners. My mother raised me better. I look over at Sage who seems like he was also trying to not seem sloppy. “You two have better manners than the last two,” Effie says.

“And you’re as much of an airhead as I thought,” I say. Did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean to. Sage snickers across the table and Effie glares at me but doesn’t speak.

“No need to be so mean sweetheart,” Sage says, “Effie doesn’t know any better.”

I roll my eyes hard. “I’m not your sweetheart,” I snap. 

“Now now. Thats no way to talk to the person who kept you from falling on your ass on national television,” he says

Effie clears her throat. Her plate was only half eaten. I hear Capitol people like to eat less to stay skinny. Never made any sense to me as someone who had sleep for dinner on many nights. I pile more food onto my plate. I may not be able to beat the other tributes but at least I can last longer if I get more meat on my bones.

I think Sage was on his third plate. I guess he has the same idea as I do. He is definitely a healthier weight than me because he had more money, but we are both way smaller than we should be. The Careers would look at us and laugh. Career Tributes are tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4. Sometimes they bring in people from other districts into their group if they like them enough to save them for later. What an honor right? They almost always win the Games because they train their whole lives for it. They are typically better fed and stronger, however, they are also very arrogant. Maybe I’ll be lucky and that’ll be someone’s downfall? Doubt it though. This isn’t a fairytale.

After we eat, we watch the recording of the Reaping on the television. Effie says it’s best to scope out the competition but I think she just wanted to watch it and needed an excuse. Sage and I sit on opposite sides of the couch. We watch as each name is pulled. In the Career districts, they make the Reaping so complicated. They actually fight over who gets to go into the arena. Arguing who gets to kill other kids their age. The female tribute from District 1 looks like she could easily snap me in half. Don’t even get me started on the male from District 2. He almost looked excited to kill someone. I can’t stop myself from shuddering at the thought of his face being the last one I see. Oh God why did I ever promise them I would come home? 

I barely register most of the names as they pass me by but I did catch a few. I know the male from District 1’s name is Valor. The female is Jewel I think. District 3’s tributes were Techna and Acer. Barley and Maize are the boy and girl from 9. The youngest in the arena are going to be from 11. Their faces remind me so much of Katniss and Prim. Just two little kids. They couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. Clementine is the name of the girl. Her brown curls bobbed up and down as she walked to the stage. You could tell the poor thing was terrified. Tears were streaming down her face. She called for her mother. It absolutely broke my heart. Cinnamon is the little boy. He didn’t cry but he wanted to. He refused to look at the crowd. The cameras abruptly switch to our Reaping. 

Katniss made her television appearance, trying to keep me from the stage. Ashton is there too. Trying to pull her off of me. This feels like the last time I’ll see their faces. My own face looks stoic. I don’t even recognize myself up there on that stage. They cut out the part of Haymitch making a fool of himself. I’m sure Effie is happy about that part. I look over at Sage. He looks lost in thought. I gently touch his arm. I think that snapped him out of it. He looks at me for a moment then shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

Seeing the Reaping made everything feel more real than it had before. Those are the people who are going to kill me. Kids just like me being turned into murderers for the entertainment of the Capitol. Some of them are even excited about it. Silence hangs uncomfortably in the air for what feels like hours. Though I’m sure it was just a minute or so. Effie breaks awkwardness with a loud clap. “Well, I will be leaving you two now. I’m sure you two will need to be getting sleep soon,”  She says. She walks past me and heads out the room. 

“Where is Haymitch?” Sage asks. 

“Probably passed out in his room still. Effie says he won’t be up until tomorrow,” I reply. 

“We should check on him,” Sage says. 

“Trying to get on his good side, Emrys?”

“Well he is the one that’s gonna be keeping us alive,” he reminds me. 

That shut me up real quick. He’s one hundred percent right. I let out a frustrated groan and start walking towards where I assume Haymitch’s room is. Sage follows quickly behind me.  Honestly, the smell of vomit hit me before anything else so it wasn’t hard to tell which room it was. I feel terrible for the people that have to clean that up. Sage knocks on the door first. There was no answer so I called out his name. Again, no answer. 

“Has a mentor ever died before the Games?” Sage asks.

“I don’t think so. But ours better still be breathing because he’s the only one we have,” I say. Trust me, if the other victor was still alive, I think we would all be happier. I turn the knob and the smell hit me like a truck. Haymitch is sprawled across the floor in a puddle of his own vomit and a liquor bottle in his hand. I’m staring at my only hope at life. This is more depressing than going to bed hungry.  

“Look, I’m not really doing this to get on his good side. I don’t even think he has one. I just feel bad for the guy,” Sage says holding his nose, “I got it. Just go to bed. At least leave him the dignity of not letting a random girl see him naked.”

I think for a moment about what Sage’s intentions could really be. But eventually I relent. I really didn’t want to clean this grown man up. Even the thought, mixed with the overwhelming stench, made my stomach feel funny.

“Alright. Good night then. See you tomorrow morning,” I say as I leave. 

I make my way back to my room. It’s such a shame that this is the first time I’ve ever had a room this nice and I can’t fully enjoy it. I hate it. The room itself feels like a beautiful prison. A cruel joke.I sink into the bed the same way my heart has been sinking into my chest. I roll over and grab my mother’s ring from my dress pocket. I stare at it in silence. Katniss and Prim are probably asleep by now. Well maybe not Katniss. She is probably awake with my mother. They might be trying to figure out the next few weeks and how they will survive. I doubt Ashton is getting any sleep either. He probably walked to my house to comfort Katniss and my mother. Maybe they are all sitting by the fire, longing for me the way I do for them. 

The bed is so warm. The sweet smell of flowers fills my nose as I bury my head in the pillows. I begin to fall asleep to the quiet hum of the train. 

[mixotrophics]

Ive posted about the ABasteCer stalls before in my books time tag, WRT the book World Hunger. While ABasteCer is one of the many, many examples in the book but it has really stuck in my mind.

I think it's because it's a city-level initiative. There are a lot of examples of national policies that are good, but forcing national change can take a long, long time, and covers a very large area so doesn't provide the "immediate benefit in one's own life" that a highly local initiative can provide more easily. There are also a lot of examples of community groups, and while I love these, they can take a while to gain momentum and resources (financial, legal, otherwise) -- often either slower than one would like, or practicing illegality and therefore more precarious. Seeing something at the city-level is refreshing I think, showing an ability to leverage existing legal frameworks at the local level.

Though, I will note, ABasteCer is an initiative by the municipal food agency SMASAN, of the city of Belo Horizonte in Brazil ... a metropolitan area which has a higher population than the entirety of the country I live in. so it's not easily comparable to municipalities here, which only 4 cities surpass 100,000 people.

This scale thing is why Im trying to find out more about ABasteCer, and comparable other initiatives. If you know more, / if you have interacted directly with ABC, I really wanna hear abt it!!

...

At its basics: ABasteCer (ABC) is a municipal action taken by Belo Horizonte, one of many seeking to secure each citizen's right to food. I am struggling to find the specifics, only able to find stuff via the aforementioned book World Hunger, the World Future Council (which involves an author of World Hunger), and some pamphlets ... the Belo Horizonte govt website is denying me access to webpages, and I can't read portuguese.

afaik ABC involves the city designating land specific for vendors -- farmers markets, maybe shops? -- in which a vendor is nominated to run that location. The vendor does not have to pay rent(?) in exchange for running the shop, but can be removed from their position as the vendor if the community / city feels they are not performing their duty. In exchange for being given the shop to run, the vendor must sell certain food items at a below-market price. These food items are designated by the government and are not only staples but nutritionally important foods like fresh fruit and vegetables, heirloom grains, so on. The food items are purchased at above-market rates from local farmers who opt in to contributing to the ABC -- the farmers get paid more for their crops, and then those crops are sold on to the final consumer for less. The vendor, functionally, does not turn a profit on these crops at all, but not having to pay for premises offsets a lot of operating costs. The vendor can then also sell the usual fare like other produce, meat, dairy, eggs, processed and ultraprocessed food, etc, for whatever price they want, which is how they turn a profit & maintain a livelihood.

This system does a lot of good in a few ways: For the vendor -- job security, being able to turn a profit on selling stuff but not having to worry about operating costs as much, so rent hikes or similar aren't a risk. I would imagine that they'd also become an important community figure in some cases. For the farmers -- small, local farmers often struggle to turn a profit, especially in the face of competition from unethical, unsustainable farming by international firms. In cases where they do sell in farmers markets (etc), their customer base is often reduced because of needing to sell at above-market prices due to costs like market stall permits. ABC structure allows them to sell at better prices to an even larger customer base. For the community -- food is expensive & things like fresh fruit & vegetables, even more so. Even in populations where caloric intake is sufficient, nutritional intake is insufficient due to food lacking variety, & crop cultivars being bred for appearance and sweetness and transportability rather than nutrition ... e.g. USA, UK, etc, where poverty manifests in simultaneous obesity and malnutrition. As per the World Future Council, there is integration with family & urban farmers, providing benefits to very small initiatives within the city as well as supporting rural peasants.

Poverty, unemployment (& related dissatisfaction with life), malnutrition, food insecurity, all tackled in one system of 20 programs (ONE of which is ABC) , those 20 programs being only 2% of the city's annual budget. So very, VERY hopeful for small-scale / local government level potential for incredible good, with a real-world example to point to. Rallying a group to pressure a municipal government is less daunting than a national one. I could imagine a similar model being workable w/o a government's support but governments do have a lot of people and connections that are useful if we can access them, even if the idea of "municipal government policy" isn't an ideal endpoint in one's mind.

so big wall of text. anyways calling for responses here.

Do you have access to more info about ABC specifically? I'd love to see it. Either your / your friends' experiences (etc), or if you have statistics & policy specifics from Belo Horizonte , I would be super duper excited to see :] I don't speak portuguese, so english translations are ideal, I can read spanish which is somewhat mutually intelligible with written portuguese so non-english info is workable.

Do you have info about ABC-comparable programs elsewhere? Especially at different scales. I <3 looking at case studies and as mentioned the Belo Horizonte municipality has a higher population than the whole country I live in. So if I were to try and start something similar here, grassroots or otherwise, this factor should be considered.

I will note I don't use tumblr much, so I may not get back to responses quickly ... thanks for contributing anyways, if you do!

[teddybeartoji]

⺡THE LITTLE LAMB AND THE BIG BAD WOLF

on a hunt for supplies, you stumble across someone's belongings. a little bit of theft is fine, right? the cold barrel of a gun at your temple says otherwise.

☆. contains: toji fushiguro x gn!reader; apocalypse au; horror, detailed descriptions of blood and death, slow burn, crack, reader is simultaneously a scaredy-cat and a baddie, toji looks scary oh nooo

☆. word count: 6k

☆. note: the world is based on tlou!!! i am soooo into this fucking concept like i'm officially sucking my own dick here. tagging my beloveds @staryukis & @awearywritersworld bc omfg apocalypse ideas!!!!!! and also @dollsuguru @venusiansilk @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @mossmurdock i love you guys so so much thank you for all your support<3333333

+ here's the masterlist

in a world so fucked up – it's easy to get lost in the darkness.

when the infection took over, everything changed. everything. people aren't people anymore – they've become hosts for a type of fungus known as the cordyceps. it grows all over the brain and takes control of the body, turning the person into something they're not.

if anyone were to ask you how many have you killed, infected or not, you'd be devoid of an answer.

it's hard to find your way when just about everything is out to get you. infected or not – there's always something ready to tear you into pieces, to sink their teeth into your soft flesh – that's just the way things are now.

but you're used to it. used to the feeling of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you run from a horde, used to the feeling of a blade at your throat, used to the feeling of a punch, of a slap. used to the constant grumble in your stomach, used to the sore legs and shoulders, used to cleaning off blood from yourself and your clothes, from your weapons. you're used to the gurgling and clicking, the crying and sobbing, the begging and pleading.

but no matter how much you tell yourself that you've grown used to the horrors of the new world, you cannot escape the anxiety that hides under every inch of your skin. it's always with you – holding your clammy hand as it drags you into the depths, into the shadows. you try to fight it but it's hard.

it's hard forcing away the only thing that holds you so tight, the only thing that truly cares for you. it's is a suffocating blanket that hides you from the cruelty of the world, trying its best to shelter you from it all. it's better to stay inside. it's better to stay away. they're going to hurt you. something is here. just stay here with me, under the warm blanket. they're coming. it's going to hurt. let's stay here forever.

don't you want it to stop?

being torn apart by the cold crippling fear and the warm rotting hands – it's getting harder and harder to breathe. but you've learned how to keep them at bay over the years; always in the line of sight, always on your mind. there's no rest for the wicked.

moonlight leads the way as you make your way to a shopping mall. the wind howls in your ears and sends a shiver down your spine. moss and ivy cover the walls of the massive building, swallowing it bit by bit, making it a part of the nature as the time passes.

the axe in your hand feels heavy, but right nonetheless. the handle is stained with blood; it has seeped deep into the wood and now acts as an extra weight to the blade. a small 9mm handgun sits pretty in the holster around your thigh, a knife hides in its leather sheath on your belt, a bow rests on your shoulder and a few arrows peek from your bag.

despite the armory, your bag hasn't been this empty in a while. the blame falls on a group of men you ran into a week or so back. precious ammo and resources were spent on the bastards, and while the blood reward was good - the lack of food and meds is now becoming concerning. your shoulder still hurts from the fall, a big dark bruise transforming your skin into a painting of the midnight sky.

you shake the flashlight on the strap of your backpack and listen to the batteries bounce around inside it. you give it a stronger shake and it turns on. the broken glass shines as you carefully step inside the big atrium and take a look around. your little light forces back the creeping shadows, now showcasing you the infected bodies that lay dead on the ground before you.

pools of blood conflux together and paint the tiles a dark shade of maroon; the ichor flows in between the cracks and disappears under the soles of your boots when you step further inside. they're fresh. light reflects off the liquid as you squat down to take a closer look. none of the three bodies seem to have bullet wounds – one of the runner has a slit throat while the other leaks from a hole in the side of the head and the clicker... it's head has been completely bashed in, making it hard to even recognize it as one.

beating up a clicker is not easy by any means; though the fungus growing on their face and head blinds them, it also acts almost like armor. they can take a bullet to the head and still keep coming – the call of death rippling through their body as they run at you, hands reaching out to grab, to pull, to hold.

the fact that they did this, either with their bare hands or some other blunt object, just means that they're good. it also begs the question whether they didn't have the bullets to spare or they simply decided not to use them. you just hope you won't bump into them.

standing up, you take another look around. a trail of bloody footsteps leads right up the escalators and you decide that you won't be going there yet. there are a few more bodies, two runners, sitting limp against the crumbling walls as you step down one of the hallways. the broken tiles and the glass cracks below your feet and you cringe at the noise.

never letting go of the axe in your hand, you stroll past the first stores seeing as they're completely ran through. with a sigh, you make your way over to one of the clothing stores. it's almost pitch black in there and you almost jump out of your skin when a mannequin suddenly falls at your feet. muttering out a row of whispered curses, you lower your axe with a shaky breath and adjust your flashlight. the shelves are pretty empty but that was expected; still, when you open up a cupboard door under one of the mannequin stands, you find a stack of perfectly fine sweatshirts. you check the other side of the piece of furniture and find... nothing. scoffing to yourself, you just bag the a sweatshirt and a pair of pants from another shelf before moving to the next store.

glass breaks and you hear shuffling – head whipping towards the sounds, fingers tightly gripping the axe, you take a step back and bump right into the shelf behind you. pieces of clothing fall onto the floor and a cloud of dust rises from the impact; you pay it no mind as your eyes are still glued to the counter, to where the noise came from, but when after a few second absolutely nothing jumps at you, you let your shoulders relax a little.

a stalker, maybe? but they don't tend to live in open spaces like malls, or so you think at least. the majority of them you've ran into in places like office floors and a fucked up basements – meaning they like to lurk everywhere where it's extra dark and where there are places to hide behind. yeah, they do that. little shits, taking cover behind desks and walls, playing a game of hide and seek that you never agreed to. you're never forgiving yourself for taking that wretched route.

you peek over the counter and look all around it but find jack shit. it's the darkness – it's what it does to you, to everybody. the shadows start to speak and move, the floors creak and crumble, and the growths on the wall whisper your name, no matter, how much you tell yourself that they aren't actually doing any of that that.

it's just the old building crying out from loneliness, the haunted ghosts simply looking for company as people pass by, as the infected pass by. you have to keep your head straight. faint blood marks stain the floor but it's too hard to tell whether those've been there for years or less.

you hastily knock on your flashlight when it begins to flicker, leaving you in the dark for just a blink but it's enough to have your heart thumping loudly in your ribcage.

making your way out of the store, you scour for your next location and ah-ha!

a pharmacy.

two bottles of antibiotics rattle in your bag but those aren't enough. you'll always need more of those, you'll always need more of gauze, painkillers, of everything – going in there is a must.

a metal roll-up door closed mid way is going to make this harder, but as if that isn't ominous enough – the quiet cries coming from behind it only makes the situation worse. a runner. but luckily, it isn't making too much noise and you make an educated guess of it not moving around. they do that when there's nothing to catch and tear apart, when nothing has caught their attention. they stay in random spots and whimper and cry to themselves. it makes them an easy prey.

the thought of the metal door sliding shut just as you're trying to pass under it, is making your stomach churn. and so is the thought of you making too much noise by accident and attracting the runner when you're still down on the ground. stop being a pussy. there could be emergency kits in there, pills, there could be a feast of medications in there and you're holding back. it's unacceptable.

you slowly kneel down to the cold floor and inhale sharply before lowering yourself further down. the only light in the room is yours and it immediately finds the twitching runner.

it is cowering in the corner.

you're just fucking glad they don't react to light as much as they do to noise, otherwise you'd be fucked already.

you crawl in the dust as quietly as you can, careful to not touch any of the furniture beside you that seems to be holding up the door. the last thing you'd want is to get locked in here. or get cut in half. you clench your teeth and push yourself up and to your knees the second you can do so and take a second, as you wait for him to turn around and lunge at you. but he doesn't. his back is still turned to you as he waits for you, sobs for you; his body trembling, hands folded in front of his chest – almost like he's hugging himself.

quietly holstering the axe, you pull out your knife instead. it's quieter. you grip the handle, fingers molding into the dents that have formed over time. another step and the light goes out. it's complete darkness. you hear your own heartbeat in your ears and the miserable cries of the infected just a few feet away. your eyes widen as you try to focus on your surroundings. your hands grow clammy in a matter of a few seconds and panic seeps into your body.

you shake the flashlight a few times and it turns back on. your breath is still stuck in your throat as you try to compose yourself. stupid old thing. the light paints the runner's shadow onto the wall in front of him, making it look like he's a part of some shadow play.

one more step and you're with him, a breath away. your hand goes around his chest, holding his hands and body in place as you sink your blade into his neck. it sinks into skin and flesh like butter, soaking you in the dark red ichor that hides underneath as he gurgles something at you (a thank you perhaps).

yanking the knife back out, the splattering ichor coats your skin and you immediately wipe it off against your shirt. his body falls with a thud! and another big dust cloud rises from the contact and your nose itches— it's— it itches— achoo!

your eyes are an inch away from escaping your head as you spin around, making sure that nothing is jumping at you for making a noise that loud. but surely enough, nothing seems to be interested. exhaling deeply, you rub your nose and force down the embarrassment that's crawling on your skin before starting your hunt for supplies.

it doesn't go as well as you'd hoped – only bagging a few stitching kits and a bottle of painkillers. better than nothing.

ecstatic to get the fuck out of a closed, pitch black room, you crawl back out from under the metal door and dust off your clothes.

strolling through some more stores, you're met with more dead infected. two clickers and two runners, no bullet holes. ignoring the corpses, you manage to find yourself a few nice t-shirts, a pack of boxers and a box of 9mm handgun ammo from under the cash register.

when you've gone through most of the wrecked stores on the first floor, you finally decide to take a look upstairs. the bloody footprints haven't left your mind but the fact that it's been so quiet, makes you think that maybe they did really just pass through here.

the moon light your way as you drag yourself up the escalator. the stars in the sky are barely visible because of the dirt on the ceiling window and you frown.

in front of you there are two hallways with stores on the sides and in the middle. the prints lead to the left side and towards the a lonely door at the end of the coridor; the signs on the walls don't indicate what room it might be – a security one, maybe? shaking your head, you focus on the stores ahead of you. the shop in the center is a big sports one; most of the mannequins have fallen over and their limbs are scattered all over the floor, pairless sneakers rest on top of each other and the shelves are a push away from collapsing into tiny little pieces.

stepping over the bloody clothes, you view the baseball caps on the rack when your light goes out again. you feed on the faint moonlight that's coming from the hallways as you scramble to shake the thing again. steps, you swear you heard steps. the last standing mannequins stare at you from the shadows, laughing at your misfortune. a hand touches your hip and you can't hold back the yelp that slips from your lips. you turn and bump into another statue. the light flickers three times before it actually turns on and you find yourself inches from an eerie smile. intinctively, you give it a firm push as you take a step back, hands shaking as the panic settles down once more.

no one else is here. you can't see whoever could've made the noise and by now you're sure that if something or someone is really hiding in the dark – it would've already made a move if it wanted to. stalkers don't play for that long and neither do humans.

a row of protein bars hide in a drawer in the staff room of the store and you happily throw them in your bag, along with some weird looking granola bars.

the right side of the second floor only offers you a new lighter, three pairs of socks, a can of soda, a simple necklace and a broken watch. what's the point of it if you can't tell time? it looks cool. no other reason.

heading over to the left side of the building, you keep a keen eye on the door. the remaining shops are forgotten the closer you get to where the prints lead and you officially commit to checking out the place.

the blade of your axe shines in the moonlight, your steps extra light as you creep up on the door. readying your weapon, you press down on the handle and quietly push it open. it swings all the way and thumps against the wall. the room is lit up, the windows letting in the natural light. you're greeted with rows of computer and tv screens on the tables, three black duffel bags and some lockers and cabinets next to the walls.

you check the corners of the room and let out a relieved sigh when you don't find anything hiding. closing the door, you carefully step around the broken glass on the floor. it seems to be originating from what used to be a glass case showcasing various medals. awards for the best security guards. how silly that sounds now.

the lockers have been cleared out, the only things left behind being two lovely couple's phots with hand-drawn hearts above their heads. you leave them there. the cabinets don't have anything good either. you glance back at the door for good measure before kneeling down in front of one of the bags on the ground. you pull the zipper and are met with treasure – multiple bars of chocolate, the same sweatshirt you found from the floor below, various cans of canned food, two water bottles and a small knife.

your eyes glint and the corners of your lips twitch upward, your body has a mind of its own as it immediately reaches for the chocolate. glass breaks and your eyes flick to the now ajar door as you reach for the gun on your thigh but when you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel resting against your temple... you freeze.

"don't."

...

your stomach drops, eyes glued to the bag in front of you. the voice is deep and it's rasp, confident and sure of himself; the metal against you doesn't move, it doesn't shake.

you hold your trembling hands out, fingers spread to show that you don't have any intention of grabbing your weapons. a deep breath in and a deep one out. you try to turn your head towards him but he just presses the gun deeper into your skin, forcing your gaze right back down.

his big stature looms over your smaller one and you feel like an ant that's about to be stepped on. he lets you soak in the threatening silence, the only sound being your own racing heartbeat.

"s'rude to steal, y'know."

the man doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound mad or upset. he sounds... annoyed, if anything.

"i asked you a question."

shit.

"i– i wasn't stealing." you stammer out.

he scoffs. "wasn't stealing? just fondling my shit for fun then?"

the teasing tone makes your eyebrows furrow and you try to turn to look at him again, your body slightly raising from your knees but the gun on your head keeps you down. funny, how heavy a piece of metal can suddenly feel.

"it was empty in here! i didn't know these belonged to anyone! i–i'm sorry! i'll leave, i'll leave!" it's a pathetic slur of words accompanied by a pleading tone and you hope that it'll do the trick.

there are strategies for dealing with people and this is simply one of them.

and it does work because the next thing you know, he's lowering the weapon. you let out a shaky breath before turning to him and fuck.

he's... terrifying.

towering over your kneeling body, he's massive. big chest and broad shoulders, he looks like he could snap your neck with his bare hands. the moonlight is only making him more menacing – his dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares down at you; there's a scar on his lips and streaks of blood cover his skin, from his cheek to his jaw and down his neck.

dark clothes and a dark jacket – he looks like he belongs in the shadows. the fact that you didn't hear him until it was already too late is making your skin crawl. he probably only let you hear him. for the fun of it.

the terrified look on other's faces can be addicting. the big eyes and the wobbling lips; how they shake and beg – you're no stranger to it, you've had your moments, too.

other than the gun in his hand, there's a second one holstered around his big thigh just like you do. a serrated knife sits his belt and it keeps winking at you, the flashlight reflecting from it as you pull in big breaths of air.

"you're saying i oughta just let you go?" he scoffs, yanking you from your thoughts.

"please..." your stomach grumbles on cue, helping you look meeker than you really are.

you're sure you just saw him wince as he squats down beside you but the thought is brushed away immediately when the man cocks his head to the side and scratches his temple with the barrel of the gun. his scarred lips stretch into a big wolfish grin, showing off his sharp canines and his eyes glint from behind the black strands of hair, making him even scarier now. the big bad wolf.

he's taking you apart with his eyes, dissecting you and your thoughts with a smug expression while you're fending off the waves of fear and try to look as composed as you can. though you feel like it isn't working at all.

"d'ya find anything good from the pharmacy?"

"why were you stalking me?" your bark comes out sharper than you intended and his eyebrows raise an inch, eyes shining with something teasing.

"kind of hard to miss ya when you're making so much noise, sweetheart. and yer in my spot, anyway." he sigh with an eye-roll.

your lips part in a small gasp. "i was not making that much noise! and– and what do you mean 'your spot'? it's a fucking mall, i need things, too!"

"clearly." he motions to the duffel bag resting at your feet and you swallow your next snarky comment.

"sorry."

"what was that?"

just glaring at him, you hate how amused he seems. the fear in you dissipating fast and something akin to annoyance is starting to grow in it's stead.

"i didn't even fucking take anything!"

body leaning forward, fists balled up and eyes on fire – he's thoroughly entertained by your barking and you immediately purse your lips.

"relax, little lamb, will ya? tell me... what'd you find in there?"

you scrunch your nose at the stupid nickname. despite how non-threatening he's being right now - you're still planning on running. you'll give him whatever he wants and you're getting the fuck out of here.

"nothing much. stitching kits and painkillers."

he's hums disappointedly and you can't help but wonder why. is he looking for something in particular? is he hurt? "what do you need?"

"forget it."

"i have antibiotics, if that's what you need."

at that, his ears perk up. "is that so?"

you nod at him.

"well, c'mon then, show me what ya got."

you stare at him for a moment before peeling off one backpack strap. you pull the bag onto your lap and feel his heavy gaze on you as you dig around the thing. it doesn't take you long to find the right bottle, pulling it out and handing it to him.

the floor creaks and it has you both turning towards the sound in an instant. he has the door in his sights but nothing is there. your heart is hammering in your chest again and you can taste the bitter anxiety in the back of your throat again.

you've never seen anyone hold their gun so steady as he does. no shake, no tremble; he's not even really squeezing the thing, he's just holding it. there's no pressure, no anxiety – it's simply an extension to his body. he's comfortable with it, and he looks good with it. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and mixes with the drying blood on his skin before disappearing under his clothes.

his breathing is normal, he's calm as he lowers the gun back down and starts observing the bottle in his other hand. your eyes are still on the door, still wary of the ghosts that lurk around.

the man squints his eyes at the miniature text on the bottle in the dark and you hold back a laugh.

"need me to read it for you, old man?"

"watch your mouth." it's playful at best, no real sternness behind it whatsoever and it makes you roll your eyes. you're about to ask what he actually needs the pills for but something in the corner of your eye draws your attention.

a pair of dull, grey eyes. staring right back at you. dark veins run all over her face and neck, her shoulders and her hands and she peeks from behind the doorframe.

one second. no more, no less. your sharp intake of air gets his attention just as the stalker lunges from the dark hallway, but she is met with a hole in her forehead before she can even take a proper step inside.

small pieces of brain splatter onto the wall behind her and she falls limp to the ground just a few feet from you. he's waiting for another one to pop up, his eyes still glued to the door and you know that this is your moment. he has the meds, so he shouldn't chase you down anyway. you have to go now.

scrambling up from your knees, you try to speed past him but immediately choke when the collar of your own sweatshirt sharply cuts into your airways. his grip on the material is strong and he pulls you right back into him, back into his arms. he's mere inches from your face but before he can do anything else – he feels a blade against his throat.

you really aren't the little lamb he thought you were.

he's comparing you to a feral cub in his head – big wild eyes, snarling and showing your teeth, trying to act tougher than you are, but when the sharp edge of your blade sinks deeper into his skin, he realizes that maybe you're not actually in over your head.

he already expected you to run, he was waiting for that but he thought it'd end up with you you crying and begging or something. he didn't see this coming – you're definitely craftier than he thought, faster too.

"now... why would you do that-"

you don't let him finish. "are you gonna hurt me?"

"you're the one with the knife at my throat. i should be asking you that." he rolls his eyes as your knife grazes the soft skin below his adam's apple and you're thinking about actually cutting him just out of annoyance.

"you have the pills, why not let me go?" you bark back.

"you're hungry, aren't ya?" he questions calmly. his gun hand is lowered, he's not pointing it at you but his other hand stays on your back, fingers still digging into your sweatshirt. it's warm, his body is warm.

"so what? you gonna feed me like some stray cat?"

"y'don't want to eat?" he deadpans.

...

you bite into the soft flesh of your inner cheek. of fucking course, you want to eat.

"y'can take two cans from the bag. i mean, y'were eyeing them anyway."

"why?"

"for being my entertainment tonight."

the blade on his throat finally draws blood and a drop of it runs down his skin, disappearing under his shirt.

"i oughta kill you for putting a gun at my head."

"yeah?" he cocks his head closer to you, the blade moving with him, making a few more droplets dribble from the tiny wound. "go for it, sweetheart."

his eyes are green. they're green like the leaves that sprout from between the cracks in the asphalt on a sunny day, green like the moss that flourishes on the trees in the forest, green like the ivy that is trying to swallow the world. you feel his heart beat a; calm and steady while yours is amped from the sudden proximity. he sounds so arrogant, like he knows you're not going to hurt him.

(you aren't.)

when you lower the knife to push at his broad chest with a scoff instead, he lets you. his hand falls from you as you take a step back, your face now illuminated by the moonlight. scars litter your skin, bumps and cuts – just like him.

"are you done?"

you hum with a pouty lip and put away your knife, eyes following his figure as he holsters his gun before picking up the fallen pill bottle. when he steps by you, he plucks your flashlight from its place on the backpack strap with way too much ease and proceeds to head over to one of the duffel bags that sits on the table behind you, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

"hey!"

he shushes you and your fists tighten beside your body. you look at the dead body that lays next to the door with a perfectly centered hole in her forehead. the blood pools around it, soaking her clothes and the ground below her.

you used to think about the infected more, used to ponder about how long they've been like that and whether the person they used to be is still... in there.

it doesn't matter.

you've come across people, who talk about not wanting to kill them – what if they really are still in there? but isn't that exactly why one should kill them? you can't even begin to think about how it'd feel to be stuck inside your own body as the infection takes over, making you into something you're not. how it'd force you to tear your loved ones apart just for the sake of it, how you'd turn into a bigger monster with every passing day, every passing second. you just hope that if you were to get infected, you'd still have the mind to end it. or have somebody do it for you.

you don't want to end up like her.

"i didn't realize there were stalkers here." you mumble to yourself as you tear your eyes from her. "other than you, of course. fucking creep."

he starts digging around in one of the bags and you take the moment to really observe him. his back is almost twice your size and you're sure his one bicep is bigger than your whole head.

the man scoffs. "thought i got them all but... oh, well. should've let ya handle it – was your fault anyway."

"how the fuck was that my fault?" your voice raises at his claim and you regret it, knowing exactly what his response will be.

"you are fucking loud, sweetheart."

"fuck you."

he just hums out a mhmmm. he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and uses your flashlight to examine the text on it. his eyes. he waves at you over his shoulder. "you know where the cans are."

simply scoffing as a reply, you kneel back down to the bag but his voice cuts in again.

"and don't you dare take that chocolate." he doesn't even turn around, completely focused on comparing the information on the paper to the info on the bottle of pills. you roll your eyes again and curse him under your breath. "i wasn't gonna take your stupid fucking chocolate..."

when you've bagged your goodies, you push yourself up again. the trees dancing in the wind outside catch your eye, they look so carefree. just living from the sun and the moon and the rain, they have nothing to fear. nobody will harm them, no infected, no people. you can't wait for nature to take back everything it deserves. the cities and the buildings; it'll swallow the corpses and the living alike and you're happy for her.

he rustles with the paper, twisting it around a few times and you're about to ask what he's looking for but he cuts you off.

"why not make a run for it earlier?"

you stare at his back with a confused look. "what do you mean?"

"you gave me the pills and then tried to run. antibiotics are hard to find, y'know." he sounds curious. or patronizing.

"i know that... i had to wait for the right moment." you admit, fiddling with your fingers. "i was going to give them to you anyway, old man."

"not a lot going on in that little head of yours, huh?"

...

you let his audacity waft over you before biting back. "oh, i'm sorry... for... being a... good person?"

he turns around and leans his ass against the table, folding his arms over his big chest as he mocks you with his annoying smug grin. "i pointed a gun at you and you still wanna share your little precious belongs with me? that's cute, i guess."

"yeah. you just look like you fucking need them, alright...."

"so, you agree that you're a fucking idiot?"

your lips part in shock. "hey! look– do you want anything else or can i go now?"

"can i have my flashlight back?"

"no."

"wha— " you take a step toward the man and he raises his brows. "but it's mine! how do you expect me to go outside without it?"

"no manners whatsoever."

huh?

your jaw drops again. "excuse me? wha– what's that supposed to mean?"

"first, i catch you stealing— "

"i already apologized for that— "

"—then you try to kill poor old little me, and now you're asking for things without the magic word... tsk-tsk-tsk." he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.

"i'm not gonna fucking beg for my own flashlight back, bitch."

...

he barks out a laugh.

a loud one, from deep within his stomach. his head falls back and a pout forms on your lips, heat crawls up your neck involuntarily and you avert your gaze. "you're terrible, just terrible, sweetheart."

he takes your prized light and tosses it to you before pulling out his own from behind his back. you flip him off. "funny though, i'll give ya that..."

you grumble a yeah, thanks under your breath as he blinks the light at you twice. "may i go now?"

he stares at you before answering. "yes, you're dismissed."

at that, you knock your heels together and sharply bring your right hand to your temple – imitating a military salutation. "yes, sir!"

something sweet.

he tastes something sweet on his tongue. he wipes the drying blood from his neck and his cheeks hurt.

you're some random feral cub and yet, you've peaked his interest like nothing else. no cries and no wails, no begging and no tears – scared but alive. ready to part with valuable meds just because he apparently looks like he needs them. tch! growling at him even though he's caught you red handed, cutting him even though you weren't in danger anymore.

he hasn't felt this alive in a long time, either.

"don't let me see you again, old man."

playful, at best. you're matching his tone and the corners of his lips are reaching back behind his ears. you bite your inner cheek; despite everything – he's the most normal person you've met since the end of the world. he's not mean nor is he aggressive; everybody points a gun at a stranger these days. he made jokes and he gave you supplies – it's more than anyone has done for you in a while.

you look at the wolf in the shadow and he looks at the lamb in the moonlight. the wolf that offers food and protection and the lamb that cuts and steals.

the wolf that bleeds and the lamb that holds the blade.

[ceasarslegion]

A few folks have asked for my experience-based travel guide for trans people on HRT who don't want to be limited to the west, so here's what I've found.

First, you're going to have to answer a few hard questions completely and utterly honestly for me:

1. Do you pass according to the cultural gender expression of where you want to go?

This specifier is incredibly important. I've mostly tromped around the mideast region, whose cultural gender expressions are very strict, so most locals would see short hair + the absence of a head covering and automatically assume I'm a man. That isn't the case in a lot of other places, like east Asian cultures where short hair on women is quite common. I know that there's a lot of discourse about passing on the internet, but it is something you will have to consider when you travel to countries that are more legally conservative. If you don't pass, don't fret or think your travelling days are over. Your main concern is getting through your port of entry, so you might just have to play a role for a customs officer according to what your passport says and then go. As someone who works in an airport, they deal with so many people that unless you give them a reason to suspect you're a minority their country penalizes, they just want to stamp your passport and let you go. I know it sucks in the moment, but it is necessary.

2. Do your legal and travel records match up with your gender?

If yes, and you pass, congratulations! Theres very little to be concerned about that a cis person isnt concerned about. Just dont announce yourself and youll be fine. If no, you're gonna have to play a role until you get past your port of entry. Which yes, i get it, it sucks, but it is necessary. And it's just until you get into the country. I have a voice deeper than the grand canyon and facial hair and short hair and my records still say F. So before I travel to the middle east to see my parents, I grow out my hair a bit and style it in a more feminine way, shave my face, throw on some mascara, and if they comment on my voice and facial features I'll tell them I have PCOS. Hormone disorders exist worldwide regardless of gender roles. That always makes them blush awkwardly and go "sorry, ma'am. my apologies" and stamp my passport.

3. Does your passport have the gender marker X on it?

If yes, I'm very sorry, but you are severely limited in which countries you can visit. There is nothing we can do about that. If you wish to travel worldwide in the future, I would very much caution against changing your sex marker to X and recommend changing it to whichever sex marker you can best pass as in conservative areas.

4. Does the country you want to visit legally recognize trans people, or do they consider it illegal?

If they legally recognize you, congratulations! Very little to worry about at your port of entry. If no, please consult this guide.

5. Are you traveling with HRT?

If yes, let me tell you something about airport security as an officer myself: we don't know why you're taking something, and you don't have to tell us. Solid pills won't be a concern to an x ray operator, and liquid vials are only a concern if they're over 100ml per vial, which I've never seen HRT be in my life. And we see so many medical needles from diabetics and people who take other injection medications that we aren't going to question it. If i see a vial with a prescription tag and a bag of injection supplies I am not going to interrogate you, I have 15 other bags backed up on the line I have to get to and Karen with her screaming kids is glaring at me because I told her I'm not going to let her skip the line because she showed up late. I don't even read the prescription tag or wonder why passengers take something. A doctor prescribed it, not my business why, I don't get paid enough to care.

6. Did your airline agent give you a customs form to fill out that asks what medications you take and why?

Sometimes they'll do this on the flight before you land. This is not to weed out who might be trans. This is because they're concerned about things like medical Marijuana in countries where weed is heavily illegal. But yes, you should tell them what you take because if you're caught lying to customs, that's an international incident waiting to happen. But if asked why, you don't have to tell them it's your HRT. Just say you have a hormone imbalance disorder. If you're worried, let your doctor at home know where you're going and that that's what you're going to say if they question your medication. That way they can back you up if they get contacted later. Worth noting that I've never had them contact my doctor and I've traveled to full on authoritarian dictatorships.

7. "What about airport security coming back? I'm scared of that body scanner because I've heard online that it targets trans people :(("

Let me tell you how it works as a security guard: it uses radio waves to detect dense concealed objects within layers of clothing, and stops at your skin. Meaning that if you aren't wearing anything like a packer or fake breasts, it's unlikely to be an issue. Most crotch alarms are from tied up drawstrings, belts, objects left in front pockets facing inward, thick heavy pads, and uh... fully erect penises. Most chest alarms are from underwire bras, bedazzling, large pendants on necklaces, and multiple layers bunched up at the chest. Surgical scars cause both because the tissue is very dense, but you don't have to tell them what your surgery was. If you go "yeah I got heart surgery and it always does that now" or whisper in fake embarrassment "I had to get surgery down there and it always alarms now :((" we won't question it. I don't recommend wearing any gender affirming items because the machine sees a dense inorganic object and we'll feel it. Leave them at home for your trip if you're going to a country you aren't recognized in, or in your bag if you are. I promise that we see so many dildos and fake breasts that we aren't going to even remember you or your bag if we get it on x ray or have to search it for something else.

8. "I read about this cartoonishly evil thing this airport in a dangerous country did that would out me. Should I be worried?"

No. When those things happen, they're such outliers and the locals are so outraged by them that they end up in the international news cycle. Worrying about that is a bit like worrying about your plane crashing: yes, it is a possibility. But such a slim one that you're not exactly concerned about it. Don't waste your life and your opportunities to see the world on things that will almost certainly never happen to you.

8. "What are countries you would never go to as a trans person?"

Active warzones, areas controlled by terrorist groups, radioactive waste dumps, north korea, and places that consider genital inspections routine or are enacting holocaust measures on the minorities i am. So the same places the average cishet tourist wouldn't go to either.

9. "What concern countries have you traveled to or even lived before while trans or actively on HRT and haven't had incidents in while following this advice?"

Sri Lanka, the UAE, Oman, Qatar, Palestine, Nepal, Thailand, Azerbaijan, Turkey, Mexico, and Kazakhstan. Someone ask me about my experience in the Istanbul international airport if you want the seinfeldian story of my 2021 connection to Abu Dhabi that still never had my transness nor my HRT brought up by anybody

10. "Should I be concerned about the locals after I get passed my port of entry?"

In my experience, that depends on your answer to question 1. I've very rarely encountered anything negative from locals if I follow that, I'm viewed as a tourist minding my own business who might ask for directions more than anything else.

11. "What are some concern countries you plan to visit in the future?"

China, Egypt, Bahrain, i wanna take my partner to Sri Lanka and the UAE, Tibet, and Vietnam.

12. "Do you ever get nervous?"

Sometimes. It's natural. But when I do, I just remind myself that I've been through this a thousand times and I've never had a problem yet, so today won't be the day I do. And I remember that I also work in an airport so on a human level, I know the customs officers just want to stamp my passport and let me go because there's a line behind me and they want to take a smoke break.

13. "I'm still scared :(("

That's understandable! It's something you've never done before and all you ever hear from anybody online is how dangerous it is and how they'd never go there because they think they'll get carted off and executed on sight. Try traveling to some trans-friendly countries first so you can see how customs interactions work and get a feel for things to build your confidence and ability to see it as just another thing you gotta do to travel to a different country. Mild annoyance is much easier to deal with than fear.

General advice:

-dont post or interact with anything online that would tell the government you're trans if you're in a surveillance state country. It's very unlikely that something will happen but you should still be careful

-don't announce it to others or tell anybody or dress in a way that would out you.

Just in general, don't be overly scared or anxious but still be alert. You can be relaxed without being stupid.

@sleepyandbi specifically said they'd like to read this :))

As a trans third culture kid it infuriates me how many western trans people view traveling as some saw trap where other countries residents are just waiting to jail and kill them upon landing. Like seriously, don't listen to reddit of all places if youre actually considering overseas travel, they'll have you convinced that just flying over the mideast will get your plane shot down

[aromantisk-fagforening]

hey in the post where you gave website ideas you said to send an ask for coding related ones you had if anyone wanted them. Those sound really interesting for me if you have time to send some?

I don't know if they're gonna be new to you, but I do have a couple!

So there's the most famous one probably: stackoverflow - solves problems. If there's something specific you don't know how to do or you get a weird error message.

I think also it's useful to keep in mind that most, or possibly all, libraries you import from will have documentation or a reference page. Just search it up for each API/library name. Those sites can be fairly useful. If nothing else, you might end up with a more specific question.

And then there's Mozilla webdocs: https://developer.mozilla.org/en-US/docs/Web (in the references tab). Some people don't like this one, I've used it a lot

If you want to be taught stuff properly, without knowing what questions to ask at all, w3schools is probably the way to go. They have more languages than I can be bothered to type out, but for example HTML, python and C++. This is free just like all the previous btw.

scrimba also exists, I haven't really used it, but it is based on interactive videos I believe. It costs money depending on you. They have a free plan and two paid ones.

And for finding APIs: rapidapi.com has quite a lot. Some cost money, some are free. Usually you can use something for a bit for free and later it costs money. Spotify also has an API which I think is free, that's what all those spotify statistics websites use (obscurifymusic, spotistats, spotifytools, etc).

Then onto more specifically HTML/CSS related websites: google fonts (free fonts). flexboxfroggy (learn flexbox CSS), pixabay (royalty free images), color.review (check if your color contrast is good enough), wireframing (layouts and stuff, not coding).

And importantly: w3 dot org! There's a lot of info there about accessibility, including guidelines. Take note of this page: web accessibility evaluation tools (websites).

I don't remember what these are, I just found them in my bookmarks: webdesignerwall.com, css zen garden, css-tricks, smashingmagazine.com, kevinpowell.co, rfc-editor.org, coolors.org, caniuse.com .

digital safety frameworks: ISO/IEC 27002:2013 , The 18 CIS Critical Security Controls, NCSC CAF guidance, Cybersecurity Framework | NIST, SP 800-53 – NIST Risk Management Framework | CSRC, Information Security Manual (ISM) | Cyber.gov.au, Federal Office for Information Security (Germany), COBIT | Control Objectives for Information Technologies | ISACA, OWASP Foundation , ITIL | IT Service Management | Axelos 

and digital safety laws (obiously check your own countries laws (at least a summary)): General Data Protection Regulation - GDPR, The Directive on security of network and information systems - NIS Directive, EU Cybersecurity Act, Sarbanes-Oxley Act of 2002, Cloud Act Resources 

with the laws and frameworks they're most useful if you're not sure, realistically you can't read all of that. But yeah. if you're in the EU or EEA (or expect users from there) you should definetly make sure you understand the basics of the GDPR if you're collecting any data from users that aren't yourself.

This was longer than I expected. This isn't even all that's out there. You might find some stuff on alternativeto.com, articles and web searches too. And also a couple more websites on my neocities, mostly accessibility stuff, not sure if there's anything that's not covered here there though.

[for anyone finding this through tags: I am a queer guy who uses neopronouns and interacting is showing support and appriciation for my queer identity, not just the post.]