#A fair field full of folk

[queerographies]

[Un bel campo pieno di gente][Maureen Duffy]

In queste poesie Maureen Duffy lotta contro l’erosione della cultura e dei diritti d’autore nel suo atto di creazione poetica, assumendoli allo stesso tempo come soggetto poetico.

In queste poesie Maureen Duffy lotta contro l’erosione della cultura e dei diritti d’autore nel suo atto di creazione poetica, assumendoli allo stesso tempo come soggetto poetico. Onora il passato, impegna il presente e offre possibilità per il futuro. Edizione bilingue, testo a fronte inglese. In these poems Maureen Duffy puts up a fight against the erosion of culture and authors’ rights in her…

[yukipri]

Some thoughts on Cara

So some of you may have heard about Cara, the new platform that a lot of artists are trying out. It's been around for a while, but there's been a recent huge surge of new users, myself among them. Thought I'd type up a lil thing on my initial thoughts.

First, what is Cara?

From their About Cara page:

Cara is a social media and portfolio platform for artists. With the widespread use of generative AI, we decided to build a place that filters out generative AI images so that people who want to find authentic creatives and artwork can do so easily. Many platforms currently accept AI art when it’s not ethical, while others have promised “no AI forever” policies without consideration for the scenario where adoption of such technologies may happen at the workplace in the coming years. The future of creative industries requires nuanced understanding and support to help artists and companies connect and work together. We want to bridge the gap and build a platform that we would enjoy using as creatives ourselves. Our stance on AI: ・We do not agree with generative AI tools in their current unethical form, and we won’t host AI-generated portfolios unless the rampant ethical and data privacy issues around datasets are resolved via regulation. ・In the event that legislation is passed to clearly protect artists, we believe that AI-generated content should always be clearly labeled, because the public should always be able to search for human-made art and media easily.

Should note that Cara is independently funded, and is made by a core group of artists and engineers and is even collaborating with the Glaze project. It's very much a platform by artists, for artists!

Should also mention that in being a platform for artists, it's more a gallery first, with social media functionalities on the side. The info below will hopefully explain how that works.

Next, my actual initial thoughts using it, and things that set it apart from other platforms I've used:

1) When you post, you can choose to check the portfolio option, or to NOT check it. This is fantastic because it means I can have just my art organized in my gallery, but I can still post random stuff like photos of my cats and it won't clutter things. You can also just ramble/text post and it won't affect the gallery view!

2) You can adjust your crop preview for your images. Such a simple thing, yet so darn nice.

3) When you check that "Add to portfolio," you get a bunch of additional optional fields: Title, Field/Medium, Project Type, Category Tags, and Software Used. It's nice that you can put all this info into organized fields that don't take up text space.

4) Speaking of text, 5000 character limit is niiiiice. If you want to talk, you can.

5) Two separate feeds, a "For You" algorithmic one, and "Following." The "Following" actually appears to be full chronological timeline of just folks you follow (like Tumblr). Amazing.

6) Now usually, "For You" being set to home/default kinda pisses me off because generally I like curating my own experience, but not here, for this handy reason: if you tap the gear symbol, you can ADJUST your algorithm feed!

So you can choose what you see still!!! AMAZING. And, again, you still have your Following timeline too.

7) To repeat the stuff at the top of this post, its creation and intent as a place by artists, for artists. Hopefully you can also see from the points above that it's been designed with artists in mind.

8) No GenAI images!!!! There's a pop up that says it's not allowed, and apparently there's some sort of detector thing too. Not sure how reliable the latter is, but so far, it's just been a breath of fresh air, being able to scroll and see human art art and art!

To be clear, Cara's not perfect and is currently pretty laggy, and you can get errors while posting (so far, I've had more success on desktop than the mobile app), but that's understandable, given the small team. They'll need time to scale. For me though, it's a fair tradeoff for a platform that actually cares about artists.

Currently it also doesn't allow NSFW, not sure if that'll change given app store rules.

As mentioned above, they're independently funded, which means the team is currently paying for Cara itself. They have a kofi set up for folks who want to chip in, but it's optional. Here's the link to the tweet from one of the founders:

And a reminder that no matter that the platform itself isn't selling our data to GenAI, it can still be scraped by third parties. Protect your work with Glaze and Nightshade!

Anyway, I'm still figuring stuff out and have only been on Cara a few days, but I feel hopeful, and I think they're off to a good start.

I hope this post has been informative!

Lastly, here's my own Cara if you want to come say hi! Not sure at all if I'll be active on there, but if you're an artist like me who is keeping an eye out for hopefully nice communities, check it out!

[thebubblesareevil]

Strap in Folks it’s time to learn some shit!

As HR manager at my job I have to look at A LOT of applications because we are primarily a seasonal job. We have busy seasons and slow seasons.

IM SO DONE WITH PEOPLE NOT KNOWING HOW TO ADVERTISE THEIRSELF!!!

Allow me to clarify.

If you take a break between jobs or couldn’t find a job

-did you do baby sitting?

-yard work for family members?

You didn’t have a gap!

Make a note of work history as landscaping or childcare!

Gaps in your employment never look good unless you also state you were in school!

If your previous job sucked and you only stayed there for about a week

- you never worked there

Don’t put on there that you only worked a week or lie about how long you worked there!

-I am absolutely allowed to call previous jobs and not only confirm you worked there and ask how long

-first assumption will always be that you were fired (sucks but it’s true). I don’t have any backstory so I won’t assume the job was at fault.

Resumes!

-Your resume should NEVER be tailored to the job you are applying for.

-this is supposed to be a basic outline of what you have done and what you can do

- I hate the autogenerated resumes from indeed because I have to go down a giant list that tells me you know how to use Microsoft 20 times in a different font.

- if you use indeed please submit an actual resume.

ASK SOMEONE TO READ OVER YOUR RESUME BEFORE SUBMITTING IT!!!!!

It never looks good if you misspell cashier or drink…repeatedly.

-keep it short! Unless you are going into a technical field that needs to know a full list of you certifications and the programs you can use, you want to keep it to 1 page. I need a summary, not a life story

SCHOOL IS NOT WORK EXPERIENCE! Do not put on there that you have 4yrs xp as a student!!!

Speaking of life stories

-do not leverage your kids for a job. If you tell me you have kids and it affects your availability that’s one thing. If you tell me you really need this job because you have kids, now you are using your kids to get a job and that’s not kosher.

Availability!

Do not lie about your availability!!!!

We ask for that for a reason! If you tell me you have open availability and you get hired, I will schedule you based on that availability. If you then tell me you are only available between the hours of 4pm-9pm….you aren’t getting scheduled and will be terminated.

-cannot and will not cater to your availability and schedule everyone else to accommodate your availability. That’s not fair to me or for coworkers.

Interviews!!!

-talk for the love of god, talk! If it’s a group interview, we want to see how involved you are. If it’s one on one, I want to learn about you!

-dress for success! even the most casual of jobs do not want you to show up in a tank top and shorts. You are here for a job not for a party 😭

Okay I think that’s all I need to rant about. There may be more when we hire again and the torture begins again.

[aristotels]

It all happened in some faraway land of village folks In the rugged Balkan Range : A group of schoolkids all died a martyr’s death on a single day. They had all been born in the same year, Their schooldays had all been spent in the same way, They had all been taken out together to enjoy the same festivities, Even vaccinated against the same illnesses ; And they all died on the same day. It all happened in some faraway land of village folks In the rugged Balkan Range : A group of schoolkids all died a martyr’s death on a single day. And just fifty-five minutes before the moment of their death This little group had been sitting on their classroom benches. And they were trying to solve the same difficult problems : “What distance can a traveller go, on foot, …”, and so on. Their minds were full Of the same arithmetic, And in their exercise books in their school bags You would find an absurd jumble of teacher’s grades From “Good” to “Fair” to “Poor”. A handful of the same dreams and the same secrets, Love for the nation, and love for all mankind, They clutched tightly deep down in their pockets. And it had seemed to everyone that they would be running, racing, competing For a long while yet, for a very long while ahead, Running, racing beneath the deep blue dome of the sky, Till they could solve EVERY problem, all the problems in this world ! It all happened in some faraway land of village folks In the rugged Balkan Range : A group of schoolkids all died a hero’s death on the same day. Whole rows of schoolkids Held each other’s hands And from their final classroom hour They walked peacefully to the killing-fields As if death were nothing. Whole rows of friends unto death, They all ascended to their eternal abode At the same time.

Desanka Maksimović, Krvava bajka

The Kragujevac massacre was the mass murder of between 2,778 and 2,794 mostly Serb men and boys in Kragujevac[a] by German soldiers on 21 October 1941. It occurred in the German-occupied territory of Serbia during World War II, and came as a reprisal for insurgent attacks in the Gornji Milanovac district that resulted in the deaths of ten German soldiers and the wounding of 26 others. The number of hostages to be shot was calculated as a ratio of 100 hostages executed for every German soldier killed and 50 hostages executed for every German soldier wounded.

[scotianostra]

On 11th November 1918 an armistice came into force ending fighting in the First World War.

Hey! Jock, are ye glad ye ‘listed?

O Jock, but ye’re far frae hame!

What d’ye think o’ the fields o’ Flanders?

Jockey lad, are ye glad ye came?

Wet rigs we wrought in the land o’ Lennox,

When Hielan’ hills were smeared wi’ snaw;

Deer we chased through the seepin’ heather,

But the glaur o’ Flanders dings them a’!

This is no’ Fair o’ Balloch,

Sunday claes and a penny reel;

It’s no’ for dancin’ at a bridal

Willie Lawrie’s bagpipes squeal.

Men are to kill in the morn’s mornin’;

Here we’re back to your daddy’s trade;

Naething for’t but to cock the bonnet,

Buckle on graith and kiss the maid.

The Cornal’s yonder deid in tartan,

Sinclair’s sheuched in Neuve Eglise;

Slipped awa wi’ the sodger’s fever,

Kinder than ony auld man’s disease.

Scotland! Scotland! little we’re due ye’,

Poor employ and skim-milk board.

But youth’s a cream that maun be paid for,

We got it reamin’, so here’s the sword!

Come awa’, Jock, and cock your bonnet,

Swing your kilt as best ye can;

Auld Dumbarton’s Drums are dirlin’,

Come awa’, Jock, and kill your man!

Far’s the cry to Leven Water

Where your fore-folks went to war,

They would swap wi’ us to-morrow,

Even in the Flanders glaur!

Neil Munro.

I salute all the lives lost during the war but I cant see why the fighting had to continue after the Armistice had been agreed.....

The armistice was agreed at 5.10am on 11th November to come into effect at 11am. The news was conveyed around Europe within the hour. The original armistice was for a period of 36 days, after which it had to be renewed. This was done four times before the Treaty of Versailles was signed. The only problem is that the war did not completely stop at 11am on 11th November.

The Entente had already agreed armistices with Bulgaria on 29th September, the Ottomans on 30th October, and the Austro-Hungarian Government on 3rd November. Germany was the last of the Central Powers to sue for peace. The Armistice with Germany was agreed to come into effect at 11am to allow time for the news to reach combatants. However, fighting continued in several places during and after that time, including on the Western Front.

General John Pershing, Commander of the American Expeditionary Force, did not approve of the armistice. Consequently he gave no instructions to his commanders to suspend any new offensive action during the remaining hours until 11am. This gave individual commanders latitude to determine their actions in the last few hours and in some quarters there was fierce fighting up to 11am which was difficult to stop.

On 11th November alone there were nearly 11,000 casualties, dead, missing and injured, exceeding those on D-Day in 1944. Over 3,500 of these were American. Pershing had to face a Congressional hearing to explain why there were so many deaths when the hour of the armistice was known in advance, it was totally avoidable, over 11,000 families lost their fathers, their uncles, their sons and their nephews, needlessly.

An armistice is a ceasefire, not an official end to war.

Demobilisation of British, colonial and imperial troops did not finish until 1920, considerably longer than servicemen had anticipated. Although fighting continued elsewhere, the armistice between Germany and the Allies was the first step to ending World War I. The global reaction was one of mixed emotions: relief, celebration, disbelief and a profound sense of loss.

During the First World War 140,000 Scots are killed, among these figures, which vary somewhat, from to 500 to 1000, were the Bagpipers, sent “over the top” to lead the Scottish troops into battle.

Nicknamed Die Damen aus der Hölle (Ladies from Hell) by German soldiers for their distinctive tartan kilts and unparalleled bravery, the pipers from the “Black Watch”—the 3rd Battalion, Royal Regiment of Scotland—garnered a fearsome reputation on the battlefields of World War I.

Standing in full view of German soldiers, often at times armed with only their bagpipes, pipers were the first “over the top”, acting as a clarion call for troops to keep moving. The sound of the bagpipes would spread terror among the German troops—when one “Lady from Hell” fell, miraculously another piper would seemingly arise out of the trenches to take his place...............

By the time the second world war came pipers were not ordered to lead the men into battle, well except on the orders of Simon Fraser, 15th Lord Lovat whose personal piper Bill Millin, commonly known as Piper Bill who, when he questioned Lovat after being told to pipe the the men into battle on the beaches of Normandy was told, Ah, but that's the English War Office. You and I are both Scottish, and that doesn't apply"

Flowers have always held symbolism in many cultures around the world. One such flower is the red poppy, almost synonymous with Remembrance Day, observed in Canada. Poppies have become the flower of Remembrance Day for several reasons, with a significant connection to the famous war poem "In Flanders Fields" by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae.

The poem "In Flanders Fields" describes the poppies that grewamid the graves of soldiers who died during World War I in Flanders, a region in Belgium. The poem's vivid imagery and poignant verses made poppies a symbol of remembrance for those who had lost their lives in conflict.

Flanders, where many battles of World War I took place, saw extensive destruction and loss of life. Despite the devastation, the red poppies continued to grow in the churned-up soil, a symbol of resilience and renewal. The contrast between the poppies and the war-torn landscape made them a powerful symbol of remembrance.

In 1921, the Royal British Legion adopted the red poppy as a symbol for their annual Poppy Appeal, which raises funds to support veterans and their families. The tradition of wearing a red poppy to remember the fallen and support those in need became more widespread.

The practice of wearing red poppies on Remembrance Day has been adopted by many countries around the world as a way to honor and remember those who have sacrificed their lives in wars and conflicts.

The last pic here is ex-Private H.E. Day of the 15th Hussars who lost a leg during the war selling wooden crosses)

[evolutionsvoid]

After a long day of preparing the fields, working the mines or fighting in a war that seemingly has no end, nothing sounds better than a good meal! All that labor really gets the appetite going, and hot food on a full table would be a blessed sight to any soul! And now with a war going on and supply lines disrupted, food has become more important than ever before! So lets see what's on the menu:

1. Hair Bulbs - Collected from hair fields or hair farms, pulled straight from the ground! These fleshy pods are at the end of harvested strands, and removal of them is necessary to use the keratin stalk. These bulbs are oily and meaty, often roasted either whole or in slices. They can also be squeezed for sebum oil, which can be used for cooking, lubrication or protective coatings.

2. Chitin Flour - A staple in baking, this substance is made from the pulverized exoskeletons of arthropods. As long as the shells contain chitin, any insect will do. Most of the time, chitin flour is made from all the leftover pieces of a hunted arthropod, as a way to use every piece of a kill. The flour you find in most villages is made up of an assortment of different species all ground up and mixed together. The finer stuff you find in high end bakeries are made from one species only and from specific parts, as food snobs claim that combining multiple sources into one muddles the flavor and makes poor quality flour. To be fair, using one species tends to preserve their exoskeleton color in the powder, while mixing usually results in the same drab brown.

3. Kumis - The star of any bar or tavern, kumis is an alcohol made from milk. A popular drink for any, its flavor is dependent on its source, as kumis can be made from any creature that lactates. While milk from beasts is often the common and cheaper option, many say that human breast milk makes the finest kumis. The demand and love for both milk and kumis is what led to the creation of milk maids, those who have trained their bodies to make copious amounts of the stuff. Popular bars typically have known milk maids under their employ, and pride themselves on having the pure stuff. In some cities with a vibrant nightlife, there are famous milk maids in some establishments whose product is widely sought after by fans and kumis connoisseurs, as they specially monitor their diet and lifestyle to produce their iconic flavor.

4. Louse Egg Kebab - A common food in villages that are near hair fields. The eggs of the Field Louse is harvested by taking the whole strand, as the secretions used to glue them to the keratin is too obnoxious to deal with. While trimming the hair can release the eggs, most folk go the simple route of stiffening the strand and then cooking it over a fire. The eggs are then eaten straight off the stalk, and the rest is discarded. A favorite for travelers passing through hair fields.

5. Eye Stalk - A fleshy growth that produces eye-like fruit. These are either eaten as is, or cooked into eye jelly. Belief is that they help improve eyesight, though some folk dismiss that due to their lack of Tears. Since Tears are an unofficial humor of the eye organa, folk would imagine that anything truly eye affecting would be tied to the chilling fluid. Regardless, the fruit is still pretty tasty, and the jelly is a popular spread for breads.

6. Clot Cakes - A baked treat that is made from copious amounts of clotted blood. Typically made by mixing clots and chitin flour, it is a dense loaf with a sharp flavor. Its heaviness and ability to survive travel well makes it a good ration for those on the move. "Clot Cake" is also a derogatory term for the Crour.

7. Bile Salt - Made from specially dried Yellow Bile, this substance of cleansing and purification can also be used for cooking. Its addition to a dish adds a pleasant pop and burn. It is a favored seasoning for travelers and nomads, as it serves as both a flavor enhancer and disinfectant for wounds. If used on an animal bite, you are sure to get the common quip of: "oh, did they complain to the chef?"

8. Black Crust Oven - A crude cooking technique that involves molding thick Black Bile clay around a piece of meat. This giant wad is then cooked directly in a fire, where the clay hardens and the flesh is roasted. When done, the solid chunk is fished out and cracked open. The meat inside is infused with Black Bile as well as a thin dark crust. Is said to give it a nice earthy flavor. A meal for the busy man, it can be chucked into the fire and left to cook as they work elsewhere. And then when you get back, a hot meal is waiting for you!

9. Termites - A food either collected from the wild or harvested from termite farms, these are the go-to whenever one needs a boost of Black Bile in their system. The majority eaten are workers and soldiers, as their dry roasted bodies are either enjoyed as is for a snack or sprinkled onto a dish for crunch. Queens are a rare treat, as harvesting them deals a hefty blow to a colony. When a Queen is served as a dish, it is a meal to be shared and for showing off. Their flesh is said to boost mental capacity, and it is an iconic dish at scholarly banquets.

10. Chewing Fat - Strips of fat taken from a beast that are often considered too poor for eating. Rather than cooking them into tallow, one may take these thin layers and chew on them. While by no means a meal or even a substantial snack, it is an enjoyed sensation of gnawing on these chewy strips. They can be dusted or infused with different flavors, and are a fun treat for kids. In war times, this enjoyable gimmick has taken a more grim purpose. Due to issues with food supply, hunger is rampant in the war torn regions, and these strips of fat taken from the rare kill are used to help curb these pains. It is believed chewing helps fool the body into thinking it is eating, and the act of doing so makes the stomach growl less.

11. Clot Shot - A drink made of fermented venom and a dose of blood that has congealed into a clot. The venom and crimson patty are downed in one go. A favored shot for warriors and hardened folk, who feel that the burning venom and meaty burst of Blood helps invigorate them and get them into the fighting spirit. Some folk cut up the inside of their mouth so that the fermented venom can seep inside, allowing the effect to be even stronger. Be warned, as getting too much of a dose can knock you out cold, which is the opposite of what you want when going into battle.

12. Finger Fungus - An edible fungus found growing in damp dark places, often crevices or buried under leaf litter. Their growths give the impressions of hands reaching up, and horror stories tell of ones that can drag you down into the earth. However, they are just a simple fungus that is used in a variety of dishes, with folk normally cutting off the fingers and leaving the rest so it can regrow.

13. Scab Crackers - A thin crisp baked food that is made from pulverized flesh and fluids that has been dried. These crackers have very low nutritional value, as they are often made from the worst quality supplies. However, they can last a very long time and they help fill the stomach, thus they have become infamous rations for many travelers and soldiers. Though they get the job done, these crackers are always met with groans whenever they are the sole star on the day's menu.

14. Oliphant Gizzard - A prized cut from hunted oliphants, these organs are how they grind up solid food that they have inhaled. This tough piece of meat requires lots of marinating and cooking to help breakdown its chewy nature. Despite the amount of work needed to prepare it, it is considered a delicacy. Eating it is said to help with memory, with some famed dishes claimed to allow one to remember snippets of a past life. As one always knows: Oliphants never forget.

15. Madman's Tongue - The fleshy appendage taken off of an Arimakki Hara, the reason why anyone would want it is a mystery. Arimakki flesh is tainted with Feverish Sweat and considered inedible. However, there is a way to "cook" it so that consuming it doesn't destroy your body. Due to the intense sickly heat their form produces, Arimakki meat must be "cooked with cold," immersing it in a pot of chilled icy water. This tongue has been freeze cooked with Tears and skewered. Eating it causes intense hallucinations that can last for hours. Some claim it is the gateway drug to joining the Arimakki, as eating too many of them can make you start thinking like them. For obvious reasons, consuming Arimakki flesh is strictly forbidden by the Church.

16. Blood Meal - A simple powder made from dried Blood, used as a spice or added into meals to help with one's Blood levels. Where this crimson dust really shines is for vampires, who find it vital for a Blood fix on the go. Pouring this into water is their version of a quick crude meal, and it is far easier to carry around than the humor. If you ever see anyone eating this powder as is by the handful, then you know they got a Blood problem.

17. Gourd Maggot - A larval bug that buries itself in the soil and absorbs nutrients from its surroundings. Targets more fleshy regions, where it can get more meatier soil. Pulling them out is incredibly difficult due to their swollen bodies and backward facing barbs. Most folk dig them out so that they can be cooked up and eaten, but some people with something to prove insist on yanking them out by hand. Typically done to show off, as there is literally nothing to gain by this outside of letting others see your strength. And often it winds up with people seeing you fail, as they are, indeed, very hard to remove by hand.

18. Clogged Popper - An appetizer made from a sheet of skin that has been stuffed with meat, veggies and fat then bundled. Cooked up til they are bloated and sizzling, then popped into the mouth for a wonderful flavor explosion. Very juicy, have a nice burst to them and the varieties are endless. Some like to categorize them by the use of white meat or dark meat.

19. Vein Eel - A boneless creature that slithers through ancient veins and underground fluids. Fished up to be cooked and enjoyed. What fluid it has been immersed in recently affects the flavor and quality, thus folk get picky on where they are harvested. Be wary of its bite though, as it has sharp teeth and an incredible grip.

20. Phallus Clam - A bivalve that is frequently harvested, deshelled and eaten. Due to bivalves being associated with Milk and their appearance similar to genitalia, species like these are said to be aphrodisiacs and help with fertility. For males, the size of the clam is said to determine its potency, with the notion of bigger is better. Thus, they have been over harvested by eager lovers and local populations are pretty much wiped out. What remains are more aggressive and dangerous species, making the collection of these popular dishes far more difficult.

21. Leaky Spleen Mushroom - A dripping fungus famed for its spleen-like appearance and secretions. This black liquid is compared to Black Bile, and is said to share similar properties. This inky goo is collected and used as a cooking ingredient or spread, while the fungus itself is a fine substitution for offal. Mushrooms like this are why Black Bile is often associated with fungi, even more so with the fact that termites enjoy fungus as well.

22. Adipose Fin - A large blobby fish known for its gelatinous meat, as it is equated to fat. With the other name of "fatfish," they are harvested for "sea tallow," or to be processed into flammable fuels. Due to the fatty nature of their flesh and the fact that they are bottom feeders, eating them as is is not typical. Children get a whole lot of fun from poking and slapping this wobbly fish before it is prepared. Best step in before they start throwing it at each other.

23. Brain Curry - A popular dish, served with any kind of brain, be it beast or even man. Claimed to be a soothing dish, particularly for those with restless or aching minds. Human brain curry is incredibly rare and often frowned upon, but the rich and superstitious believe this to be the most potent of them all. Some folk have even targeted high up Philosophers to get their incredible brains for a forbidden meal.

24. Ambrosia - Referred to as “Food of the Gods,” it is a rare holy food made with Ichor. Due to the toxic strength of the Godly Fluid, it is used in small, carefully measured amounts. Consuming it is said to cleanse the body of all sins and aid in restoring balance in the body’s humors. Those who eat it feel a rush of strength and energy, making one feel like a god. However the process to make it is incredibly complicated and the amount of Ichor used is extremely precise. Too little makes its effects nonexistent, but too much can outright kill the consumer. Saved only for high ranking members of the church or for wealthy “donors.” Rumor claims that the highest members of the church eat nothing but Ambrosia, which would explain their long lives.

25. Stuffed Snails - A dish for any fellow looking to replenish their Phlegm levels, snails are considered the food for wise men. Seasoned and stuffed, then served with a fine buttery sauce, you would have to search far and wide to find someone who doesn't enjoy this meal! Usually made with smaller species of snail, as they are easier to raise in larger numbers. Bigger specimens make for quite the feast, but this dining experience often does away with the etiquette and fine utensils that comes with regular stuffed snails. Some folk get too enamored with the delicious bounty before them and practically crawl into the shell itself to devour its contents.

26. Jellyfish Noodles - The tentacles of a jellyfish harvested and cut into fine noodles, a popular dish for users of Yellow Bile. Though they possess a slight burn, the noodles themselves lack a strong flavor, and thus make them good in a variety of dishes. Some folk skip the noodle step of jellyfish prep and stuff their bell with meats and seasonings. Fans of jellyfish dishes demand a stronger burn, as they develop a tolerance over time. One should be wary of what species is used in their meal, as some recipes make for a dish that could scar if you are not ready for its bite.

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I know this kind of stuff isn't what folk are really interested in, and it isn't that exciting of a piece, but I thought it was fun to think of food and what people would eat in this world. It's also a part of me trying to express the fact that people live in this place, and outside of the war and horrors, this is still a world that has a civilization and folk living their lives.

[uncleasad]

top ten favorite hosie fics of all time, go

What a fun Ask! 🙏 Also, are you trying to kill me?! 😂

A few weeks ago, TheDarkestHour13 introduced the concept of Hope and Rafael keeping a list of “Landon’s Top 10 deaths” in Such Is Our Fate. I commented that that particular chapter (for reasons other than the deaths list) was a Top 10 chapter of the fic, though I also noted I didn’t have an actual list of my Top 10 chapters—there were approximately 120 chapters at that point. I also thought, in a related manner, that I didn’t have a “Top 10” list of Hosie fics…and perhaps that should have been my cue to start thinking about such a thing 😂

As of late June 2024 CE, there are nearly 2600 fics in the AO3 Hosie tag and I’ve been reading since the latter part of 2019…so I’ve probably read ½ to ⅔ of them…

I came up with 7 fics right away, but as I started to make links and such, I realized that 5 of those were incomplete (ongoing, but mostly either rarely updated or, practically speaking, abandoned); I don’t know what it says about me that my “top ten favorite hosie fics of all time” is full of fics that may never be finished.

But in terms of recommendations for reading, I know lots of folks will not want to start reading a work that hasn’t been updated in years and has a high likelihood of never being finished, no matter how amazing it is (or how much someone else liked it). And even for ones that are currently ongoing, it’s possible (though unlikely) that the author could do something crazy to make me hate the fic later on. So I thought I’d spin off all those works that were incomplete into a separate list and come up with 10 favorite finished fics…I could mamage that, right? As I started trying to do that…nope, that’s not done, either; that’s been abandoned 😳 oh, what about that fic? wow, how did I forget that one?! (Like I said, are you trying to kill me?! 😂)

So…to save my life (and to stop spending hours upon hours on this), the end result is about 30 fics all-told, completed and incomplete. (I further subdivided the incomplete fics into those that are updated at least once every few months and those that…aren’t 😢) They’re ordered roughly by time, with the earlier/older fics towards the tops of the lists and the more recent ones (mostly) towards the ends of the lists. Two of the fics on the “Completed” list had promised an epilogue that has never appeared, but you can read the entire story arc, so I think it’s fair to label them as complete.

So without further ado…

Completed:

it's a date (the only problem is it's fake) by avengerskye / @avengerskye

Coffee on Monday, Flowers on Friday by Redezzy

The Missing Piece by intribridsname 

slept next to her but I dreamt of you all summer long by hackingxbiochemist

what you got (cause I want it all) by ToriWritesStories / @toriwritesstories

summer lovin' had me a blast (wait, no, that's just the leaf-blower) by AdeleDazeem

Our Last Life by taengoo1 / @taengooxlove

I'll Never Give Up Hope by O_M_Jee

HM+JS by tellingtouch

Invisible String by luthorbae

Then why's it feel so good? by callipoicepole (Killing Eve AU)

This Is Your Home by Shadowmama55 / @shadowhuntermama

Shivers (A Lifetime of crimes, but the worst was loving you.) by ch8rlie

The Stages of Grief by endgamesonly

'tis the damn season. by wandererghost (complete, though promised epilogue still outstanding)

Lizzie Saltzman, Matchmaker by TheNutcase (complete, though promised epilogue still outstanding)

In-Progress – still updating regularly or at least every few months:

Such Is Our Fate by TheDarkestHour13 / @persevereforahappyending (updated every Friday)

The Power Field by Joho_meh

4 Years, 6 Months, 8 Days by Limon_Skittles

To Know My Heart The Best (You’d Have To Cut It Out My Chest) by mambaregz

Incomplete – rarely updated, on hiatus, or orphaned:

Dive bar on the east side by Bluejay720 (7 chapters to go)

summer rush by sabrinasfadingmoon / @sabrinasfadingmoon (incomplete)

im not gonna let you go so easily by allweseeislight (1 chapter to go 🤞)

'tis the damn season by blckmaqic, LizMikaelson (1 chapter to go 🤞)

Redemption by MysticSlurp (Red Dead Redemption AU, incomplete)

Sad Bedroom Eyes by EvilPenguinRika / @evilpenguinrika (on hiatus)

Hell Hath No Fury by ElegiesEulogizeMe (Ringer AU, 6 chapters to go)

the stages of waking by dandelionlighters / @dandelionlighters (incomplete)

let’s watch it all burn down together by iris_on_the_moon (zombie apocalypse; orphaned)

A number of the authors are no longer active in writing Hosie fics (not surprising in 2024, considering), but many of them (including the authors of the incomplete works I like) have substantial catalogs, so if you read and enjoy one of these, be sure check that author’s list of other works (and of course leave kudos and comments! 🙏)

—

If anyone would like to see other fics I’ve enjoyed, there’s the fic recommendation tag here on my tumblr that captures a few from the last couple of years, and I also have a few AO3 collections of specific themes/subjects:

Hosie Zombie Apocalypse (HosieZombieApocalypse)

Hosie Summertime Vibes (SummeryHosie)

Hosie Season 2 “What If?” (Hosie_Season_2_What_If)

(I really need to start one for post-S4 fics, because there are a lot of great ones and I’m starting to forget them already.)

Sorry I couldn’t get it down to 10, @tribridsireline 😂 But I hope everyone reading finds something new and exciting to read!

[blue--ingenue]

Slytherin Traits

Note: This is just my interpretation of Slytherin traits. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn't 💚

“Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends” - Work smart, not hard. Colleges and publishers deem textbook piracy “immoral” and “unfair” to other students who pay full price for books. But when higher education prices are inflated by privileged administrators, this power imbalance nullifies such comments. It also reminds me of a quote I saw spray-painted on a wall: 

“If paying is not owning, then pirating isn’t stealing.” I wouldn’t go out and steal a physical textbook, but no real money is lost if I replicate a few hundred pixels on a screen so that I can finish my education

Additionally, choosing to play “fair” in a system designed to exert control over people with less privilege and power will not benefit you. The same people setting arbitrary standards for “fairness” can often be the same ones benefiting from those rules.

Continuing on with being cunning, bending the rules here and there can help you level the playing field. Blanket statements and generalized restrictions don’t affect everyone equally. For example, exams that rely on hard memorization, and testing environments that punish students for fidgeting are ableist and severely limit the types of students who will be able to succeed in school/university. 

In my case, my class was allowed to bring a single note sheet to our final exam. I have trouble memorizing formulae/processes, but can solve nuclear reactor physics if the formulae are in front of me. Although the professor advised against writing out full examples, I bought an ultra-thin writing ink pen and crammed all the exampled I needed. I passed.

Ambition, defined as “a strong desire to do or achieve something, typically requiring determination and hard work.” Ambition is very subjective. One Slytherin’s ambition may be to graduate at the top of their class and become an expert in their field. Another’s ambition might be to set healthy boundaries for themselves to prioritize their mental health. Someone else’s goal might just be to get out of bed that day. The only person who can decide the importance of your goal is yourself.

Everyone has different abilities, desires, material resources, and life experience. No matter the goal, ambition is essential for completion, and success in any measure deserves celebration.

Speaking of accomplishments, pride can be a well-deserved reward for achieving your goals. You more than deserve to celebrate your successes. Taking pride in your achievements can help build self-confidence. Feeling capable, accomplished, and proud of yourself can be empowering.

In my experience, it’s a lot easier to underestimate yourself than it is to oversell your accomplishments. If you’re someone who tends to downplay your abilities/accomplishments, there’s a chance that you’re selling yourself short. Take pride in yourself. You’ve earned it.

Slytherins also understand how it feels to be Othered, negatively stereotyped, or feared. As a queer POC and one of only ten women in my major (bearing in mind that my university's graduating class size is 10,000 people per year), I know what it feels like to be singled out. I was also the only Asian student in my high school class, and the only family of color for a 1-mile radius in my hometown. 

People tend to see you through their own narrow-minded lenses and stereotypes. This isn't a reflection of you, but merely a projection of their own prejudice and ignorance. No matter your reason for feeling Othered, know that their comments and limited perceptions are merely their own self-reflections.

[basilone]

I want to hear your thoughts on fandom and the recent influx of the term content creation!

Well, anon, you are in luck! (Or not, depending on your definition of luck. 😉) I just so happen to have many Thoughts & Opinions™ about this. I will get wordy, this will get lengthy, and I will be social and put most of my thoughts under a readmore cut.

I personally try to avoid the terms ‘content’ and ‘content creation’ when talking about fandom works and a fandom’s creative pursuits nowadays. Occasionally, sure, it happens that it slips out anyway – it’s a term we’re all really used to using! – but I want to be as mindful about its use as possible. This is a personal decision on my account and I won’t get uppity about other people’s use of these terms, though.

But, Killy, you might say... why would you avoid using these terms? For me, here’s why:

Content is not synonymous with art;

Content creation indicates something different than art creation;

Fandom should not be subject to consumerism;

Fandom is about connection.

If all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die.

Yeah. I know. Melodramatic much? I’m on my fainting couch here, folks. 😂 But let’s dig in, shall we?

You know, maybe it’s just the archivist in me that balks at the term ‘content’. Content is a data entry field in the archival system we use at my real-life job: literally speaking, this data entry field is where we put a brief summary of the document attached to that specific archival file. It contains information that tells you the key takeaways of what the document is about, but it will not contain the full text of the document itself. Content is one of the points of access for our archival search: I know what I’m looking for, so I put a few keywords into our search and it pulls up the relevant file. But what do I need, really need, in my line of work? It’s the document itself, not the data entry field. The document tells me the whole story that I need to be able to truly do my job well. The content-field is a cliffnotes edition of that story.

It’s the same way with the art we create in fandom. I’m gonna take myself as an example here, because I create a fair bit! (Shocking, I know. Local Tumblr cryptid sighting, more at 11. 😎) I spend hours writing fic. I spend hours sorting through screencaps before screeching at Photoshop for a lengthy amount of time. I spend days pouring over quotes, books, documents, photographs, tutorials, and other things that will help me create something cool. I apply color theory, art framing/perspective, narrative focus, and many other theories and techniques to my writing and my giffing. If I were to put my finished work or any of my WIPs in that same archive system, it would be the document within the archival file. The tags I use on my posts? Those are markers similar to the content-field. They tell you who my gifset depicts and from which show it is. They tell you which OC of mine my fic is about. My work contains these things I tagged.

But my creative work is not content itself.

Content is marketable, easy access, blurb-y stuff. Content is something you absorb within one minute flat. Content is the highlight reel. It’s what fills a page, something you’ll scroll past in a heartbeat, something that barely stands out in a long long long list of stuff. Content is what you consume on a lazy Sunday afternoon without ever being forced to read lengthy pieces, take in the details of what you see, pause mid-scroll to ponder the meaning of life, whatever else have you. Create content and you create a flash in the pan, a quick laugh maybe, before it fizzles back out again. Create content and it’s here today and gone tomorrow without anyone mourning its absence for too long.

Art should last longer than that, don’t you think? 😉

So when I see people put a fic request in an askbox and it’s phrased like “Speirs x spy!reader fluff” and that very same request makes its way into about ten more askboxes before the fandom starts comparing asks? I might be inclined to classify us all as slot machines. Put an ask in and out rolls a fic. Who cares which slot machine it came from? As long as you’ve got your painstakingly crafted fics that you consume the same way you do actual content, right? We, its writers, are just lucky if we get a pat of acknowledgement on our little slot machine head for our troubles, aren’t we?

When I see an overly detailed summary of what sounds like a full-fledged fic in an askbox and the demand is “write this for me”, I recoil from the screen and go “child, who the hell birthed you, were you raised in a barn?” out loud. If you can tell a story in the space of an askbox, consider asking for help to let that story – a story you own, a story that is more yours that it could ever be mine – grow into what it has the potential to be.

When I see fics and gifsets and other creations get likes but not reblogs, I mutter something about the state of fandom economy these days. We exist in a little fandom bubble. Our bubble can’t expand or blow from place to place without a little help from our friends. And you’re my friends, right? I know the follow-button says follow, guys, believe me, I’m not that far gone, but for me ‘follow’ means ‘friend’. 💚 You’re my buddy now. Suck it up. We’ll share a can of peaches. 🍑

When I see fics and other creations get reblogged without tags or comments attached, I die a little on the inside. I feel like a little Victorian orphan child going “please, reblogger, a little penny of thought for its creator, if it pleases?”. I feel like commentless and/or tagless reblogging is giving me nothing, nothing at all, about who you are.

And I want to get to know you! I want to know who’s in my notes. I want to know who’s scrambling through my MotA gifsets like a fat little raccoon inhaling its third helping of a box of jelly-filled donuts. I want to know who is adopting which character and why. I want to know that it’s your birthday, or that you had a bad day and needed a pick-me-up, or that you are locked in an Ikea at three in the morning reading my blog by the bright lights of countless Solhetta bulbs. I want to know that you love my OC Darlene but that you ain’t sure what the hell my OC Lottie’s got to do with anything. I want to know what tickles you – a turn of phrase I used, a color in a gifset, a little detail I captured that made me go !!!!!! on the inside while I was creating too – and I want to know what moves you.

What reaches into the soil of your being and nourishes you enough to blossom into whichever lovely self you can grow to be? What is precious to you? What comforts you in the dark nights of your soul, when all light feels like it’s faded out? What do you love, truly love? What feeling and thought and idea and love love LOVE do you consume – truly consume, head to tail, no takebacks – and what are you consumed by in turn?

Let me connect with you. Let me know the little internet scraps of you that tell me you’re a DeMarco girlie, or that you’re here for Hoosier only, or that you’re as feral and batty about Speirs as I am, or that you actually really can’t stand the one dude everyone else raves about. Let me know that you like angsty quotes on gifsets – feel free to yell at me for making you schedule an impromptu therapy session – or let me know you saw what I did in my fic there and you’ll be demanding compensation from me while you lie down and wail about it. Let me know you’re very into those lovely blues on a gifset (I know, SO good, right??) or that you are side-eyeing me because that close-up of your fave turned you into a little puddle.

Let me know what moves you, because I created these things with love. I created them because they moved me, too. I created them because I have a story to tell, somehow. I created them because the whole world is a string of stories and I want to pass the heart of them on to you. I created them not because I want to jump on a hypetrain that races past all the episodes and all the alternate universes and all the stories without stopping, but because I want to soak up the sun and point at something and tell you “look, isn’t this beautiful?”. I created them not because I am looking for a quick fix or a distraction or an escape, but because I want to give you something that nourishes you as it has nourished me.

That’s so much more than that quick flash in the pan, yeah? That’s so much more than what content could ever hope to be. That’s something that lasts beyond the clicks and gives you an ever-expanding horizon that leaves you wondering just what in the world is next.

Let me repeat point five: if all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die. Because content doesn’t sustain you. Connection does. And connection? That happens with meaningful interaction. That happens when you stop getting followers and start getting friends. That happens when you treat all forms of art as something unique that can be precious to someone, rather than something to like today and forget about tomorrow.

Can I do a lil mic drop? Yeah. I think I’m gonna. Just this once. 🎤

[occasionally-good-ideas]

Amity Park

It’s been three years since the portal opened in amity, and since then the people have changed. ‘Liminal’ is what most people call it ‘death touched’ has also been thrown around. It made the people, the kids mostly, different, faster, stronger, higher endurance, almost silent, sensitive hearing.

to them it was normal, and besides! being able to run full speed for long distances was useful when your town was constantly under attack, and extra strength and agility is great for games!

Ever since the town got yoinked into the ghost zone amity’s had its own electricity and plumbing systems, the world outside the town doesn’t hear from the folks inside, and the people inside just don’t need to talk to outsiders, what would they even talk about anyway?? School? They don’t have ghosts, or the same standards! The weather?? ‘Hey did you feel that ecto-storm last night? I couldn’t sleep till it died down at 4!!’ Nope, definitely not the weather.

But this isolation forged a close community in the town, they were all in this together and they all knew it. Working parents, little kids and rebellious teens, when it came down to it they all had each others backs

The teens ecpetionaly bonded through CHAOS!! Pranks and sceems targeted at each other and the mayor, games of Extreme Tag (which was like a mix of tag, parkour, and the occasional gun) were the norm for the youth of amity park.

Shouting and laughter followed them as the kids ran up walls, across rooftops and through the streets and alleys of amity. For normal kids they would tire themselves out in three hours TOPS, but this is Amity, and the kids here are anything but normal. A single game could go from sunrise to sunset without even a water break, ‘if you’re thirsty get water. Just don’t get caught’ and who would back down from a challenge like that??

One summer they decided to do their own version of the hunger games, half in the woods on the outskirts of town and all through the streets, it was all fair game.

They built their own bases, going home was forfeiting, from holes in the ground to multi story lairs of wood and rubble. Food was foraged or stolen, if you got caught? Youre out, if you got tagged with paint (or otherwise incapacitated) you’re out. trust at your own risk. it goes till the last man standing.

Friendships were made and broken, old enemies became trusted allies, teens found love in the heart of battle and even more found the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of seeing your enemy fall and emerging victorious in the face of all odds.

It went on for a straight month before the parents had to band together to bring their kids home.

The Games were over, but no one forgot them, the high of adrenaline and Victory was one they could chase, and in the case of the towns sports coaches, one they could profit from.

The Amity Park Ravens became infamous for their endurance, their strength and speed, but mostly, their bloodlust, they were ruthless. Word of them spread through schools like a legend, the unbeatable, almost inhuman nature of them.

Outside of games they were always easy going and good sports about the competition, but on the field? Where Outsiders had to face off against dozens of amity parkers dead set on victory?

They were only whispered of with one name.

The Unkindness 

TLDR- amity park kids take competition WAY too seriously and they end up scaring the shit out of the whole public school sports program 

They also did a diy hunger games and I WILL read anything anyone makes about that bit (please tag me)

[samantha-and-nellie]

i finally read “the lilac tunnel: my journey with samantha” (shoutout to @cannon-memely for letting me know that i should actually take the time to check it out!) and i have Thoughts. full reactions from reading it under the cut

to preface this (since there is going to be a tiny bit of snark and general silliness), i did overall have a good time reading this book! i have some qualms with the storylines they chose to put in there, but i do think that the journey books are one of the smarter moves they made during the beforever era. i remember really loving the “you choose” history books as a kid, and i think the interactive component is appealing and generally a great way to keep children engaged. i could absolutely ramble on more about historical fiction for children, but let’s just jump into my (semi-chaotic) thoughts about “the lilac tunnel.”

first of all, FASCINATING that samantha apparently has a swing at grandmary’s house, since i’m pretty sure that it’s never mentioned in the original books. do we think it was lydia and gard’s, or do we think gard (or even hawkins) put it up for sam?

samantha’s got ORPHAN SYNDROME and she’s got it bad

okay. this is probably my main gripe with this book, but having this book set pre-nellie (and thereby having on option to essentially be nellie but under grandmary’s employment???) is bizarre af

on the flip side, the fact that nellie isn’t around really highlights how lonely samantha is, and i think we all know that I’m SOOOO normal when it comes to themes of grief and loneliness in samantha’s stories

WHY TF DOES EDDIE HAVE SUCH A LARGE ROLE IN THIS STORY. DEAR GOD PUT HIM BACK WHERE HE CAME FROM

elsa??? having a prominent role in a samantha story??? what sorcery is this???

yeah, super duper excited to have it reinforced that samantha is ready to accuse servants of stealing so long as they aren’t the servants that she likes

i think we’ve all had nightmares in which eddie ryland appears

samantha having an understanding of the fact that she’s transgressing by being friendly with a servant girl when this book is set prior to her relationship with nellie makes me wonder how much child workers she has tried to befriend /hj

saint louis fair mention for the movie girlies:)

i wonder if the description of grandmary’s outfit on page 30 is meant to be a reference to this dan andreason illustration of her?

the magic lantern show is really cute:) (might be thinking about writing fanfic of this but with nellie…)

samantha being shorter than the protagonist of this story after being the tall one with nellie is honestly pretty funny. smol bean samantha

awwwww gard and cornelia

HEY HEY HEY 

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

BEFOREVER I’M ABOUT TO THROW HANDS

anyways, apparently we need to re-traumatize samantha with near-drownings at every chance we get:) this is not messed up at all:)

guess we better pretend like that never freaking happened

… okay the locket origin story is pretty cute

this book has such insane emotional whiplash. what do you MEAN one piney point storyline is about nearly drowning and the other is about a moonlight swim with cornelia?!?

someone should really draw fanart of samantha wearing the protagonist’s capris (big bow and all)

tbh, kinda confused by the bike plot line in this story, cause didn’t they incorporate the bicycle short story into the main beforever books?

new career path dropped for samantha, folks! (medical field)

mmm the fear about illness is getting a little too relatable here

i love how much dress up there is in this book:) literally would’ve rocked my world as a child

not the ENTIRE RYLAND CLAN coming over for dinner. a formal dinner with eddie actually sounds so horrific

… guess that’s the note we’re ending on for me. thanks for reading my rambles, and feel free to let me know if there’s other journey books i should check out in the future!

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "The Belle Dame Emma"

This short MC fic was my @cssns21 entry, and I tried my hand at a fae version of Emma and a knight version of Killian with it. It took a fair amount of inspiration from the classic Keats poem "La Belle Dame sans Merci", the lines at beginning and end of the chapters are from the poem, as well as from my desire to explore the Dark Swan idea from a different angle, with more of Emma's fighting back against those tendencies as we saw at first. At any rate, as I am going back through my @cssns contributions, I was excited to find this one next. I hope you will enjoy this if you didn't see it back then, and even if you did, maybe you will enjoy it again...

Summary: Legend has it that the fae woman in the meadow will ensnare any who dare enter her domain, but the knight who chances a meeting can tell there is more to the story than superstition and gossip has allowed. The path to the truth and redemption may be fraught with dangers - to the both of them - but is it not the sworn duty of a true knight to help any who may be in need?

**Thanks a million once more to @caught-in-the-filter who made the gorgeous cover art for this fic! I absolutely love it! **

{Also available on AO3, if that is your preference}

by: @snowbellewells

Part One

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful - a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

Some folks say that she was always malevolent. Born to beguile and lure the unworthy to their doom. The fae, after all, were not to be trifled with, and those who dared do so learned their lesson at high cost.

The whispers around the fog-wisped edges of her meadow haunt, the word spoken as warning with anxious glances over the shoulder, was that her beauty was matched only by her fury. That she was possessed with a thirst to punish those who would be lured by her fair form and bewitching song. Those who were wise came to skirt wide around those fallow fields in that sparsely populated corner of the kingdom, for it was said that even those of stoutest resolve and pure intentions found this powerful nymph - be it by her face alone or some magic she wielded to draw them into her web - nigh impossible to resist.

Some retellings of her legend had her thrown from the sparkling court of the fair folk for her cruel and deviant nature. Others claimed she possessed more power and magic than any single faery had before her, and it had simply been too much - bending her better nature into madness. Still other storytellers would paint her more as a tragic sacrifice. The Fae Folk must have one who punished those unworthy of their own kind, as well as the humans who got too close to discovering their kingdom’s gates or who would dare to upset the fragile balance of peace between the two species - who might dare to think themselves equal to, and attempt to win the heart of, a faery. She was simply the one chosen to mete out these judgements. A Guardian and a Gatekeeper, as it were.

And though there is often a grain of truth to any rumor, very rarely do such stories paint their characters as they truly are. Not in full. And the ballad of awe and fear told of the beautiful, but deadly, lady Emma - La Belle Dame Sans Merci - was just such a tale. The whispers bore fragments of reality, but could not explain it all. Though she was not blameless, she was not completely lost. Perhaps there only needed to be some small spark of light, some reason for her to look within for any shred of mercy she might still possess.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The wind rushed across his forehead, lifting the strands of his dark hair from his heated skin pleasantly and ruffling his steed’s mane before dancing on to bend the grasses along the quiet roadside and tug at the leaves on nearby trees. It was a pleasant morning to be about, though the way seemed strangely untraveled since his turn-off at the last crossroad. Killian Jones, knight-at-arms, found he didn’t truly mind the peacefulness and lack of fellow travelers, enjoying the sounds of breeze and birdsong and mulling his own thoughts. Though adventure, daring battle, and quests of honor made his blood pound with vigor, causing excitement to tingle in his nerve endings and a sense of fulfillment in being where he was needed and doing what he must flooded his being, he could admit if only to himself on this placid afternoon, that he sometimes still wondered if there was more.

He certainly did not wish to change his profession. He would never be happy as a blacksmith, farmer, or tradesman; anything so mundane, necessary as those roles were, would never satisfy him for long. And yet, he had begun to feel the weight of many battles, the lives he had held in his hands, and the blood he could sometimes still see behind closed eyelids, had begun to haunt him. If there was always another fight, another enemy to vanquish, more violence and death and Darkness, were they making any difference? Was a glimmer of the light they fought for shining through, or were they merely treading water, waiting to be subsumed?

It was what had brought him to this quiet roadside meadow alone, rather than back on the high road with his fellows, moving on to the next castle and the next foe they needed to vanquish. He had called out that he would rejoin them further down the road; it was not unusual for one of them to split off on some personal venture from time to time. It was a life of constant movement, never truly being at ease or settling anywhere, and yet it made sense that sometimes one would need to pause, linger, and think for a moment where it was still and inviting enough to do so.

Killian knew he had traveled in this corner of the kingdom before - though it had been some time back. He did not remember the way this road had curved and twined, becoming narrowed and more removed from the larger surroundings as it followed a trickling brook along its way. The sounds of the village some miles back now, of other travelers whom he had not seen for some time, even the rustling of leaves and grasses and the twittering of the birds seemed to fade. A stillness encircled him such as he had never experienced before. It might have been unnerving if he had not been seeking quiet and peace to think, answers for the questions that troubled him. His mount danced fitfully on occasion, tossing his shaggy black head as if ill at ease, but Killian found he was too entranced, too breathlessly curious to turn back now. Plus, Shadow was a spirited animal and his fitfulness did not truly alarm his rider. There was a reason only Killian seemed able to handle him. 

The brooke, and the path following it, both turned again sharply, and Killian ducked to ride under the low-hanging branch of a tree, and when he sat back up in his saddle once more, the sight around that bend brought him up short. The creek came to a stop at last, running into a still pond, dark and motionless, and on the far side of the pond was some sort of cave, its mouth wide open as if beckoning those brave enough to explore. Flowers grew strewn through tall grasses, and all of it was waving soundlessly in the breeze like a beckoning sea.

Again, Killian found he was almost mystified by his own impulse to dismount and come closer. To seek out every secret corner of this meadow hideaway. He knew well enough not to venture into dark and unknown caves and underground passages, and yet the pull was nigh irresistible. He stood in wonderment, taking it all in as he stroked Shadow’s nose, soothing the restless gelding.

“What is it, lad?” Killian murmured to his horse, scratching behind its ears and trying to keep a firm grip on the reins as the creature continued to shuffle and toss its head.

Suddenly, the knight sensed he and his steed were no longer alone, a strong scent of apple blossoms and sweet honey stirred on the breeze and a chill ran over his skin, making the small hairs on his arms stand on end.

A dulcet, hypnotic voice spoke on the horse’s other side, a delicate feminine hand stroking over the animal’s nose caused Shadow to calm instantly. “Perhaps,” it offered subtly, “he knows something you do not.”

Killian had never known Shadow to gentle for anyone else; the creature rarely grew that still even for him, and the chill which had run through him a moment before now shivered down his spine. “And what might that be?” he questioned stoutly, not allowing any of his trepidation to show in his tone. “And who are you and what might you know of it?”

A form so fair, so ethereally bright and beautiful that he knew immediately she must be more than human, stepped into view from the other side of his horse. Long, glowing golden hair hung to her waist, twined with buttercups and bluebells, her feet were bare and gracefully shaped, her eyes a verdant green he wanted to fall into like a thick carpet of clover and grass, and the slight tilt of her voluptuously shaped pale pink lips somehow seemed to hint she already knew she had entranced him. The lady who had materialized there in the meadow at his side was breathtaking; her smile serene and inviting, her voice low and melodic, drawing him to lean in closer to hear what she would say next.

“Do you not hear strange tales of this place, warning travelers to be on their guard?” she tilted her head slightly, studying him as if bemused.

“I am a knight of the Realm, milady,” he replied, “Sworn to go where others may fear to tread, to protect the helpless and vanquish dangers wherever they might be. Seldom am I in one place long enough to hear all the local legends and superstitions, but even so, I would not let such talk turn me from my duty.”

That pale, lovely face continued to meet his own gaze head-on, not doubting, but merely watching as if weighing his response and gauging the sincerity of his words. Humming lightly to herself, she stepped away from him and Shadow, turning towards the pond’s smooth surface, almost as if taking for granted that he would follow.

Killian found to his chagrin that he had blindly followed two strides in her wake before realizing he had done so. Glancing back over her shoulder with arched brow and genuine question in her tone she asked, “Your duty brought you here then?”

Dipping his chin slightly toward the metal armor that covered his chest, Killian offered her a slight show of respect. He was not sure just where he had wandered, if he was trespassing on some royal land and this was some trick to ensnare him in wrongdoing, if he had wandered into some sort of enchanted space and she was a siren risen from the depths, or perhaps she was their next evil wizard or monster to fight, taking on a disguise of fair form to spy upon them and learn their weaknesses. As much as he felt a pull toward her and wanted to stay there speaking with her, there was at the same time a warring sense of unease in his being. The day was wearing on, he had yet to make arrangements for the night, and he had given his word to find his fellows once more as well.

“That I do not yet know,” he finally replied. “I broke off from a larger company at the last bend in the road. This meadow was so peaceful and inviting, and I suppose curiosity led me further as much as anything.”

For a time neither spoke, and Killian noticed for the first time that all other sounds had ceased as well. The rustling of the leaves and grasses, the birdsong and the plash of the brook into the larger pool were all muted; every bit of their surroundings gone strangely still. He knew it impossible, but for a moment it seemed as if he were frozen in a still life, unmoving, unblinking, like a statue carved in stone.

The beautiful vision stared into the water silently, so long and so deeply he wondered if she had forgotten his presence. Killian did not know whether to address her further or to turn and go, nor was he certain that his feet would move to turn from her if he did attempt to leave.

As eerily still as all was around him, he felt more concern in that instant that he had upset her, troubled or disturbed her somehow with his presence or his answers to her questions. Urging Shadow forward, he came to stand beside the mysterious lady once more, reaching out a hand meant to soothe or comfort.

But before he could make contact she whirled to meet him, her face a mask of pained struggle, her eyes wide and alarmed and so much darker than the jeweled green they had been before. Her voice was harsher, rough as she screeched for him to stand back, to get away from there. He didn’t understand the transformation, but he could see she was nearly vibrating with tension, trembling as if some force wanted to burst from her and she could scarcely hold it back. What had been a gentle breeze now howled about them, and the still pond was whipped into choppy waves. Killian stumbled back, dumbstruck, uncertain what was happening.

The idyllic beauty of his surroundings and the pleasant stranger before him had been changed instantaneously. None of the calm tranquility or gentle smiles which had lured him further in lingered now, and the enthralling vision before him now radiated tension and warning, her voice still rasping as if dragged over glass, saying that he must flee, she could only hold back so long.

Nearly as confused as he was alarmed or frightened, Killian shook his head, anxious to clear it of the doubt swirling through - had he imagined everything before? Or was he imagining things now? The anguish on that fair brow was enough to send him away for the moment, the pale maiden well on her way to enchanting him looked stretched to her limits, beseeching him to leave while he was still able. The chilvalrous knight he was fought against leaving such a one in pain or distress, but he also knew that he did not understand the situation, did not know all that was needed to act wisely.

And so, reluctantly, he swung up into Shadow’s saddle, his steed at least feeling no qualms about leaving. The beast tossed his head and wheeled to gallop off at the first mere prodding, hide quivering as he carried his rider back the way they had come in haste.

Killian, for his part, felt compelled to look back. For a moment, he could still see her form, curling in on herself slightly as she seemed to double over, and growing ever smaller in his view. The whole vista seemed to waver, partially obscured by a rising haze, until he could not have pointed out exactly where it had been.

Soon after, Shadow had carried them back to the main road, and Killian urged him to turn back onto it, to once more find his fellows, quite possibly in the next small village. Yet, though he appeared safely back on course, Killian could not forget what he had seen and heard… haunted by the face of the troubled maiden.

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~

The faery, Emma, sagged in relief as the knight finally rode from view. She was breathlessly grateful for the mist which rose up from the surface of the pool, and the very air itself, now heavy and charged and hiding her from view, where before it had been so fresh and light with Spring. No wonder the man had been drawn to the small oasis. With the flowers and cool breeze and sparkling waters, her hidden grotto was made to be inviting, dangerously appealing. As was she herself - in form and face - or so she had been told when the curse was placed upon her.

Sinking to her knees in the tall grass, the thin blades and the faces of the daisies both brushed her skin if trying to offer comfort, Emma panted rapidly in effort to regain her breath. She had managed to hold it back, the dark power which had been twined with the natural light fae magic inside her. Her song, once capable of brightening skies, coaxing plants to blossom, and raising spirits that were broken or bowed, now would ensnare and entwine those same lost souls who might cross her path, draining them and never allowing them to leave.

One solitary tear slipped down her cheek as her breathing calmed and she contemplated the change wrought upon her being against her will. It kept her even from her own kind; loved ones who might ease the hurt and loneliness. For she did not know for certain if they were immune to the strange siren call she had been infected with, and she could not bear to risk such folly. It was horrifying enough to have almost trapped and harmed the handsome stranger who had stumbled upon her hideaway, but she would not surve being the death of one she loved.

Sadly, Emma finally managed to stand again, making her way slowly back to the mouth of the cavern where she spent so much of her time hidden away from the trees and flowers, the sunshine and fair breezes and springtime that she loved for fear of her curse withering it all and destroying others who wandered near, appreciating the same beauty of which she had once been the caretaker. Folly it had been to venture out today, and yet she had been unable to help herself, needing to see and smell and touch the bounty she had been denied. Then it had seemed the knight had just appeared.

Those eyes… a new sort of pang in her heart twinged at the reflection. They had been so blue, searching and deep, as pristine and sparkling as the waters before her and seeking to understand as if he sensed her pain. What an idea! Emma shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the frail hope. That could lead nowhere but disaster for the both of them. A proud, strong young life cut down for no reason if he did return. She was not sure exactly how her powers would snare him in thrall, drain him of life, only that the dark and twisted caster had proclaimed it would be so. She had managed to hold the welling of destructive energy she could feel rising within herself until the man had gone. And normally she managed to stay hidden well enough, removed from all others, that she did not chance unleashing it.

What had drawn her to this one? Caused her to show herself? Why had it almost seemed as if the knight could sense something was wrong? She did not know, and it troubled her, but there was no one to ask for advice. Quite possibly no answers to be had at all. She knew no other faery who had been punished in such a manner.

Turning to slink back into her cavern, Emma’s shoulders slumped. She certainly couldn’t risk being seen again this day; her strength was far too diminished to fight the poison surging to escape if any other hapless being discovered her. Such a horrible, unending punishment, for an unknowing, well-intended mistake, her spirit railed fruitlessly once again. How could she have known that bestowing her innocent heart in love would bring her here?

I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose

@jrob64 @apiratewhopines @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@donteattheappleshook @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

@spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop

@xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic @kday426 @superchocovian @jonesfandomfanatic

@motherkatereloyshipper @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @lfh1226-linda @linda8084

@winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare

@belovedcreation @ultraluckycatnd @drowned-dreamer @ineffablecolors @goforlaunchcee

[sincerely-sofie]

Do any of the future trio members have jobs? If not what jobs would they like working?

Dusknoir is the only one with an actual "job-job" where he leaves the house most days to accomplish tasks assigned to him by an employer. He works alongside Sheriff Magnezone and the magnemite deputies, and is usually entrusted with going after especially difficult outlaws. When there aren't any outlaws to apprehend and he's not occupied by some kind of disaster or other emergency, he goes on patrols around Fair Fields. As much as he fulfills the stereotype of your friendly neighborhood police officer, he's also kind of a problem-solving handyman. People can go to him for directions to different areas, help finding other people to do specific tasks for them / job openings (he knows a lot of folks around town and is basically a walking networking database), and all sorts of other things.

Grovyle isn't able to work a standard job— his old injuries finally culminated into chronic pain after that final fight with Primal Dialga left him extra battered, and there are days where he can barely survive sunbathing in the yard to help manage how bad everything hurts. He's the type of person who can't bear the thought of not pulling his own weight, despite how ridiculous the notion is and how frequently Dusknoir and Celebi both remind him of this, so he uses his skill in woodworking to make things that can be sold during events in town.

Celebi sees her existence as a full-time job, as she helps monitor the timeline for temporal distortions and is always on the clock doing so, but that's not really something you get a paycheck for. She's not interested in mortal occupations because she sees them as boring and drab, and is very baffled by why anyone would move past a bartering system of exchange in favor of physical currency. If she actually gave it a chance, I could see her really enjoying being the groundskeeper or landscaper for a botanical garden! She'd see it as a passion project more than she sees it as work, and she'd spend hours every day dreaming up ways to make the plants even more spectacular with every passing season.

After Bud becomes a member of the Future Trio household, she eventually grows up to become a caretaker at a nursing home-style facility :>

[lets-try-some-writing]

Whims of the Fae Chapter 2

The fae always have little schemes to set in motion. Megatron is no exception. However even he couldn’t predict the outcome of Orion’s plan. Evidently the Head Archivist had not seen fit to make it clear that their attempt to make a puppet Prime to get in and work with the Council involved parenthood. 

This was not part of the plan. But there wasn’t exactly much to do about it now.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The prototype melting in the prepared pool of energon wasn’t exactly… a comforting sight. Still, Megatron had seen worse in the pits. Mecha being disemboweled was infinitely worse than watching Optronix slowly turn into a strange glowing white goo. Still, he wasn’t exactly the most patient when it came to these sorts of things. They needed a puppet to carry the Matrix, and they needed that puppet as soon as possible. Megatron wasn’t familiar with enchanting or the finer details of being fae born, not after having been raised in the pits by prototypes. Despite that, he was fairly certain that turning their potential puppet into goo wasn’t the right way to go about converting the puppet into one of their Court.

“Orion, what did you mean when you called him our ‘little sprite’?” He questioned as the goo in the pool began to clump up, wires and other strange things resembling bones forming amidst the mess. It was somewhat disturbing to watch if he was honest.

“Why I thought I made myself rather clear. He is now of our line, the heir of our domain, and the ones from which we hail.” Orion smiled his regular eerie smile, his denta sharp as blades and on full display in that wicked manner Megatron took vorns to fully come to terms with. His Conjunx grinned, a gleeful undertone to his field as he hurried about collecting items Megatron personally found strange. 

“My love, watch the pool and do alert me the moment it begins to pulse.” Orion merrily went about his business, vanishing deep into the sea of shelves and leaving Megatron to watch the pool. He grimaced as he watched wires and cables begin to slither within, connecting to mass in the center of the pool which was rapidly developing. He could make out a vague shape within, something almost akin to a sparkling in size. 

His spark flared in momentary concern as the wires connected to the developing frame within the pool, but he dismissed those growing fears easily. Surely this was all part of the process. The prototype would finish his reconstruction and emerge ready to be taught the ways of the fae. Just like Megatron, he would struggle. But under their dutiful care, he would flourish and be the perfect puppet. Already Optronix had shown strength of character, and for that reason alone, Megatron allowed himself a faint smile.

He was going to be a fantastic ally once he adjusted to the horrors of the realm of the fae. Megatron would stand with him all the way, offering comfort and guidance for a mech brought into the fold. 

The pleasant image of companionship with a fellow low caste mech had Megatron smiling wider and left his thoughts to drift toward plans for the future. He could already see the future ahead of him. Optronix would learn the ways of the fae and grow into a warrior Megatron could count on. Perhaps even one cycle they could even be friends in the manner of prototypes rather than the transactional ways of the fair folk. It was a pleasant thought to consider.

He almost didn’t notice as the wires and cables grew larger, pulsing and transferring energon from the pool into the body growing within a strange translucent sac. But any and all wistful musing faded entirely when the entire thing began to thrum, the wires pulsing and the walls of the sac threatening to tear. 

Was this part of the process? Surely this couldn’t be right. The frame within the sac wasn’t nearly large enough to match a grown mech. Something must have gone horribly wrong.

“ORION!” He called out vocally and across their bond, urging his Conjunx to return as swiftly as possible as light began to filter into the strange pod, swirling around the tiny frame within and seemingly imbuing it. Then, within a nanoklik, Orion was beside him.

“Calm yourself, beloved. All is well. The sprite is doing just fine. We need only give him his birthright.” Orion’s servo lingered on his shoulder as Megatron stood at the edge of the pool, looking between the sac and his Conjunx in confusion. Perhaps there was a part of the process yet to be completed, a finalization of sorts that would give Optronix the boost he needed to complete his transformation. Yes, that had to be it. Megatron trusted Orion far more than he trusted his own judgment when it came to these things. 

“What must we do?” He questioned cautiously as the sac continued to pulse. Orion’s field shifted momentarily, a sign that he was calling upon his gifts for power. He tried not to look too closely as Orion’s smile grew beyond the confines of his face and his vistage changed, his frame growing until it began a mess of wires, pixels, and optics. He did all he could to keep his optics on the sac as Orion stepped into the now very shallow pool and hovered above the tiny frame growing there.

“Awaken sprite.”

Orion’s voice rang out clearly in the Archives, his vocalizer still producing clear and symphonic words despite the state of his frame. In response, the sac pulsed again, a crack running along its surface. Orion then called out to Megatron silently, his intention clear as one of many optics settled on him. Megatron swiftly complied and joined him in the pool.

“I, Orion Pax, creation of Codexa and student of Alpha Trion, accept this sprite into my line as my heir. My gifts are his to obtain and my power his to harvest from.”

Orion reached out to the pod, one of his many limbs resting upon its surface and his wires wrapping around it in a fond manner. The being within spasmed, small and hazy limbs flailing as Optronix endured a wave of what Megatron could only assume was Orion’s influence. Blue light almost as bright as fresh energon flowed from Orion’s wires and digits, trickling down to the pod and turning a deep abyssal black as it reached the developing being within. Optronix almost appeared to be in pain based on how his small frame twitched in time with the black creeping along him.

“Speak Megatronus. Accept him as your own.”

Orion’s voice broke Megatron from his thoughts, and he quickly met his beloved’s gaze. A dozen optics glanced at him and then to the pod, a silent order. Megatron hesitated, confusion running rampant in his mind as he struggled to figure out what he was even supposed to be doing.

“Quickly beloved. The time draws near. He does not have much left to accept.” 

It was a warning Megatron did not understand, but one he took to spark without hesitation. He ran through what Orion had said as he approached the pod, and adjusting a few words, Megatron repeated it and laid a servo on the pod.

“I, Megatronus of Kaon, sprite of the mines and Champion of the pits, accept this sprite into my line as my heir. My gifts are his to obtain and my power his to harvest from.”

Megatron waited for a nanoklik, feeling nothing had happened despite having uttered the words. However, just as he prepared to pull away, instinct tore at his rational mind and took control. Without his direct consent, his influence spread throughout his frame, forcing him to grow larger, more intimidating. Runes and glyphs of power came into being all around him and his Conjunx as his influence joined the black that crawled along Optronix’s frame. Red turned to white and fought against the creeping gloom that was his Conjunx’s influence.

Again, Optronix spasmed, his frame shifting within the goo that held him. The black of Orion’s influence held sway over most of Optronix’s form, but Megatron’s influence was still prominent. The instincts that guided him told him that this meant he had been successful. In what, he had no idea.

“Perfect. He is ready.” Orion pulled away, his frame returning to its normal state after a series of unsettling clicks and a hiss of static. Megatron followed his Conjunx’s lead, his instincts settling into the back of his processor where they belonged. He was not given time to contemplate what in the name of the thirteen had come over him before Orion’s monstrous grin grew to a disproportionate size, and he stabbed his servo directly into the pod. 

Megatron could feel his expression shift into one of absolute horror as Orion reached in, groped around in the goo, and then grabbed one of Optronix’s still underdeveloped limbs to rip him free. Wires and cables snapped in a spray of energon and the sac collapsed in on itself with little fanfare. Distantly, Megatron was grateful this whole affair had occurred within the energon pool, otherwise he would be left to clean up the mess for likely the next few deca-cycles.

“There you are, little sprite!” Orion practically cooed as he held the… thing up by its leg. Megatron took a step back as he observed the creature and promptly came to the conclusion that whatever it was, it was no longer Optronix the dock worker. 

“Oh dear, you poor thing. You must be chilled.” Orion hurriedly moved toward the table a few feet away. Megatron for his part couldn’t tear his optics off the creature as he followed on instinct. As it was laid on the table, he felt the urge to purge.

The thing had the general shape of a sparkling. It had what looked like some sort of helm, a torso, legs, and two arms. But that was where any familiarity ended on a biological scale. The thing, whatever it was, looked horribly malformed. Its limbs were too long, and it had an extra arm for no apparent reason. Holes ran along its helm, giving a clear view of where its processor fired, exposed and delicate. Transformation seams crawled along its face, meeting around the two largest holes where Megatron assumed optics were.

Spines grew along its arms and back in no particular pattern or size, each varying and differing from one another in formation. Its internal components were all but exposed, guarded only by structures akin to calipers that held everything in place. Megatron could see its tanks and various other organs pulsing and squirming enough to make him sick. He wouldn’t have believed the thing was even Cybertronian if not for the spark chamber that was clear to see, flaring openly as the source of life that it guarded glowed powerfully within.

“Orion, what in the pits is this thing?” Megatron questioned in disbelief as the thing squirmed, its small clawed servos grasping at nothing. The thing must have been blind for the most part. It had optics, small pinpricks within the dual voids that served as its optical sockets. However those small optics flickered, only coming online in swift bursts. What a strange and disgusting creature. This couldn’t have been right.

“This is our sprite. He is still very young yet, and he will take time to develop, but he is ours. Already he has accepted a great deal of our influence. I believe he may have even inherited your shoulders!” Megatron was sure he was making quite the expression as he struggled to hold back a gag. The thing didn’t look anything like either of them in Megatron’s opinion, but he wasn’t given the chance to get much of a word in before Orion was rubbing the little monster down with a soft towel.

“That thing… its-” Megatron began before a digit was pressed against his derma, stopping him from speaking. How Orion moved so quickly was beyond him, but Megatron remained silent as Orion pulled back slowly with an expression that practically embodied the concept of a warning.

“It is bad luck to speak poorly of a sprite my love. It weakens them, shifting them into something darker that must be destroyed.” Orion reached out to the thing, the sprite, Megatron reminded himself. The sprite flailed but did not fight back, or perhaps was unable to do so as Orion wrapped its torso in an embroidered blanket, leaving only its back still exposed. That much Megatron could endure looking at without wanting to throw the sprite out the nearest window.

“You mean it could become a demon?” Megatron found himself questioning as Orion propped the sprite up on a pillow. The little thing was laid out flat on its stomach, its helm and most of its upper body resting on the pillow. It didn’t so much as murmur as its optics flickered on and offline. 

“Do not speak in such a manner around him. You will harm his development. But to answer your question, yes. All young sprites can become demons if they are not tended to properly, especially those turned as he was.” A soft clang echoed in the space as Orion picked up a needle-like tool Megatron was unfamiliar with. The Archfae made a contemplative click and traced his digits over the sprite’s back, most likely coming up with something terrifying based on what Megatron knew of his Conjunx. 

“I give you the wings of the wood. May they carry you to safety and the wind favor you in your journeys.”

The Archivist’s words came in a whisper that was uttered like a prayer. As he spoke, his digits moved with delicateness Megatron usually found were reserved for when Orion handled him. The needle dug into the sprite’s back, prompting the thing to squirm up until Orion began to sing a soft song, his influence wrapping around the little creature lovingly. If it weren’t for how hideous the thing was, Megatron would have found the scene lovely.

Before long, Orion had etched a strange swirling design onto the sprite’s back. It was vaguely in the shape of insect wings and covered in all sorts of runes and symbols Megatron did not recognize, but as soon as it was done, the lines began to glow. The whole etching pulsed with the sprite’s spark, flaring softly in the relative gloom of the archive. The sprite squirmed again, and Orion was quick to collect the little thing and wrap it, him, up properly. 

“Do we give him his name now?” Megatron found himself questioning as Orion began to walk through the archives, leaving Megatron to follow behind him. Orion made a sound that bordered on an outraged huff before he gave Megatron that look, the one he reserved for when Megatron was missing something most fae found obvious.

“Of course not! He’s a sprite! Giving him his full name now would kill him! No, no, he will be given a placeholder name until he is old enough to bear the burden.” Orion cradled the sprite as if the little creature would turn into smoke in his arms if he so much as loosed his hold. Megatron shrank in on himself internally, but otherwise said nothing as he followed his Conjunx down the ever shifting halls of the Archives. 

Eventually, they made their way down one hall Megatron knew well. It was one of the few that rarely changed, and it led directly to his and Orion’s room. Megatron had long ago come to the conclusion that Orion had pulled some strings to keep this part of the archives stables just so that Megatron wouldn't get lost. He did that a lot when they were first Conjunxed.

“Here we are!” Orion sounded so very proud when he finally stopped in front of a door that had absolutely not been there a cycle ago. Megatron wasn’t given much time to gawk before Orion pushed the door open and stepped in. The room beyond was strange even to Megatron. Plants he didn’t recognize covered almost every single surface and the walls were covered from top to bottom in various articles and images, more than a few of which seemed to be of Optronix. 

Strange vines grew along the walls, pulsing with lights and draping down in places to wrap around objects in the general shape of shelves. Roots grew along the floor, smooth and yet undeniably there. They shifted as Orion walked in, moving away to give him an easier path to tread. Long branches hung from the center of the room above what looked like a hollowed out stump of some ancient and malevolent plant. The branches grew odd looking fruits, some in blue and purple, others in red and white. All in different shapes.

Megatron was immediately met with hissing the moment his pedes touched the ground.

“Hush now! He is the sprite’s Sire!” Orion flicked one of the plants closest to him and it visibly shrank back a degree. The whole room thrummed with life. There was no natural light, but the ceiling glittered like stars as the flowers growing from the vines bloomed all at once, as if sensing Orion’s presence. 

“There we are my dear. I do believe you need a temporary name, don’t you?” Orion leaned down, placing the sprite into the vicious looking cradle. The stump shifted as Orion laid the sprite down. The sharp upper edges smoothed and curved inward, creating a partial cover over the top of where the sprite lay. Orion gazed down lovingly at the little monster, his smile so content that it no longer held any of his usual cunning.

Megatron may have despised looking at the sprite, but if it made Orion this happy-

He was willing to put up with it.

“What shall we call him for now my love?” Orion asked as he reached into the cradle with a single digit. Megatron approached and watched as Orion prodded at the sprite until it instinctively held onto his digit. The little thing’s clawed servos were tiny, so small in fact that he could barely get a grip on Orion’s digit at all. 

So very small… it couldn’t have been healthy. Even normal sparklings were far larger upon their creation. For this one to be at its current size, it indicated potential problems later. However, he wanted to have faith in Orion’s judgment. This was all going according to plan, it had to be. 

“He is rather small. So why not call him the Little One for now?” Megatron suggested as the sprite shifted, revealing more of its exposed innards than Megatron would have liked. Orion tisked as Megatron held back a gag, but before either could say more, a new voice spoke up. 

“I second that name. It will help him avoid prying optics until he is strong enough to stand a chance against the lower fae.” Megatron startled as Ravage of all mechs sauntered out of the shadows as if he hadn’t just been absent a moment prior. Orion hummed in agreement, oblivious or perhaps uncaring of Megatron’s momentary distress.

“I agree. It is a good name for him.” Orion’s smile widened again, all but splitting his face in two as he rested his arms on the edge of the cradle, his helm placed on his forearms as if nothing were wrong with the situation by any other standard.

“Our little one…” Orion hummed, and it was a soothing sound that eased all of Megatron’s concerns. If Orion wasn’t worried, Megatron had no need to concern himself. 

“I trust you will tend to him when I cannot?” Orion raised an optical ridge over in Ravage’s direction. The symbiote merely huffed and nodded.

“Of course. Soundwave wouldn’t let me return in one piece if I failed you, Grand Archfae.” Ravage bowed as much as a mech of his station was able. Orion merely maintained his grin before he took Megatron’s servo in his own. Those wide and oh so cunning optics were all but glued to him as Orion spoke again.

“Ravage shall tend to the little one for a while. But I suspect it has been a startling cycle for you my love. Come rest with me in berth and soothe your anxious spark.” Megatron didn’t have much time to reply before the plants hissed and Orion all but dragged him out. 

He had become a Sire in less than a cycle and as it was, he didn’t want to think about that or anything it implied, not when Orion was offering a pleasant evening.

[lopsicle]

Writing is hard when your so full of tired sleepy

I got creative with the prompt and I’m not sure if this qualifies as a chase but oh well, I really like this one anyway

Flyer Derby

Tickletober Day 6: Chase

Fandom: The Owl House

Characters: Lee! Hunter, Ler! Emerald Entrails

Summary: Willow makes a bet with Hunter to see if he could beat the rest of his team. Shenanigans and hijinks ensue. (I love those words :3)

Warnings: Tickle Fic, light restraints at the end, not proofread.

——

It was becoming increasingly rare that the Emerald Entrails would have the chance to ever practice or play together, which was surprising. Their teammate, Hunter was literally living in the school now but most of them seemed nervous, like they were in the calm before the storm. The Day of Unity hung over them all, their worries about it only becoming worse as Hunter revealed it’s true nature to the rest of Hexside.

That was exactly why it was so important for them to just let loose even if it was just for a little while. Just one evening where everything would be okay, so they could actually experience the calm they’d been so desperate to receive.

This game would be a little different then all their other causal matches of Flyer Derby however. Willow had made a bet with Hunter, the reason unknown to him, maybe she just wanted to see how good of a player he was or just wanted to see him get tickled silly. The idea was Hunter would play against all four of his teammates, the catch being they were only allowed to touch him by tickling him so it was a little more fair, or unfair depending on how you view it.

Hunter, terribly flustered by the idea since he knew his own sensitivity, still accepted for whatever reason. Maybe he wanted to get tickled by Willow, or maybe he just wanted to show up his team in anyway he could. He was probably just too flustered to reject the idea entirely, barely able to word his agreement to her.

And now here he was, standing on the opposite side of the lengthy, trap filled pitch to all his friends, seeming pretty eager to wreck the poor blonde. Anticipation was threatening to plunge deep into his heart as he readied himself, not able to shake that light nervous feeling that buzzed in his mind. The Grimwalker had a tight grip on his staff, his cardinal Palisman sat motionless at the end. It was a bit reassuring to know at least one of his friends was on his side for this game.

‘Don’t you lot have a plan for this?’ Viney asked, leaning back on Puddles as she stroked the Griffin’s neck. ‘That guy is..well was the Golden Guard, do you really think we can just swoop it and steal a victory from him?’ She fretted, but wasn’t met with much worry.

‘Well, maybe we wouldn’t win against any other Golden Guard, but our one happens to be real ticklish, there’s no way he’ll be able to resist this!’ Willow smiled at Viney, placing a hand on her shoulder casually.

‘Oh, and go for his ribs, that’s a killer spot!’ Gus said loudly, making sure Hunter heard, making his cheeks already to a dark shade of red. He squeaked a little under his breath, already thrown off guard and just anticipated would what happen next. Flyer Derby was nerve wracking enough but mixing it with something as silly as tickling…he was just glad he didn’t have an audience, something he’d been fairly insistent on since he wasn’t fond of being tickled out in the open.

Gus then cast an illusion of himself, to act as a makeshift announcer to the centre of the field as the two teams stepped forward closer to the centre of the pitch.

‘The rules for this one are a little switched up to how we usually do it, folks,’ Gus’ illusion smiled widely, keeping his hands behind his back. ‘Hunter will be trying to steal our teams flags, and if he manages that, he wins the bet! Our team, the better team, can only interact with him by tickling him until he surrenders, which is when Willow will win the bet.’

‘If,’ Hunter said, ‘If Willow wins!’ He smirked, trying to alleviate some of his tension by getting competitive.

‘Good luck with that, blondie!’ Skara shouted from across the field, not wanting the opposing team to get the last word in. Hunter just made a ‘hmp’ sound, readying his staff to his side, while his eyes narrowed on the prizes in front of him. Four flags dangling on his friend’s staffs, all he had to do was grab them quickly and he’d be spared from the merciless tickling he was sure to be forced through in this game. I mean, he could handle that, right?

‘Three,’ Hunter hopped on his staff.

‘Two,’ He watched the other side do the same.

‘One!’ In a split second, all four of his friends had managed to split up in other directions, with Gus summoning a cloud of smoke just to make it even harder for him to keep track on who was who. Hunter gritted his teeth a little, feeling a little better now that the game had actually started, but still had the ever looming threat of tickling hanging over him.

The boy quickly took up in the air, his eyes were first set on Skara who seemed like the easiest to take out. Hunter quickly found himself following behind d the bard student, gaining on her at high speed. The girl squeaked as she realised she was a target, sourly regretting trying to get in the last word now.

Hunter waited until just the right moment, keeping all his focus on the flag in front of him, before blipping through the air with the help of his Palisman, grabbing Skara’s flag before she could even process what happened. Once she did though, she immediately plunged towards Hunter, not to regain her stolen item, no, she decided to be petty and tickle him for the Hell of it.

Skara’s nails scratched down from the back of Hunter’s knees down to his calves, making the poor blonde squeal as he kept his legs as still as possible, not wanting to let go of his staff. He sped up, just causing her nails to trail further down his leg, ending up at the top of his left boot which she managed to pry out, letting it fall to the ground.

Hunter huffed as he managed to get away, looking a little flustered now that he was more exposed but at least he was far away enough from Skara now. All he had to do was find the others and-

‘Gotcha!’ Viney yelled triumphantly, wrapping one arm around Hunter’s waist securely. The boy fell back on his staff a bit, having to lean against Viney’s side for support; a parasitic way of pinning someone.

‘Viney, no fair!’ Hunter whined, still trying to wriggle about in her grip but he was quickly shut up by a couple fingers scribbling against his tummy.

‘Oh hush, Hunter, we both know your loving this, you wouldn’t of agreed otherwise!’ The brunette smirked, snaking her hand around his back to squeeze at his sides, forcing him to crash into her even more.

‘N-nahahahaah, I dihihihhidn’t!!’ Hunter tried to protest but it was hard to take him seriously through all his cackling and the fact that his face was just getting redder and redder. Getting teased really threw Hunter off his game, it was like he couldn’t fit clearly when being tickled.

‘Coochie coochie coo, gigglebug!’

Unluckily for him, Viney caught onto this pretty quickly. The babyish teasing was almost too much for Hunter to bear as he felt his ears start to heaten from all the teasing. He curled his arms to his sides and wriggled about in her grip as much as he could but he just couldn’t get away from her.

‘Eheheheheheheh!’

Gasping, Hunter reached out to his Palisman, Flapjack, and let him return to his normal form, causing his staff to disintegrate right from under him. Hunter swiftly grabbed Viney’s flag as he began free falling, sticking his tongue out at her as Flapjack flew right back down to him, turning back into a staff as Hunter caught him.

‘Ha! I had no idea that would work!’ He smiled, repositioning himself on his staff as he quickly got back into flying around, not wanting Skara or Viney to catch up to him.

Now came the part he was dreading the most. Willow and Gus. Gus’ illusions could cause a real problem for him, he had to be checking just to make sure the flags he had caught so far were real and he was sure the boy was planning something. And Willow…was Willow. The boy had a crush on her for crying out loud, he’d shut down if she even got the chance to tickle him.

Luckily he wouldn’t have to find her, as Willow would find him first.

‘Oh, Hunter! Behind you!’ The girl sang, causing Hunter’s blush to immediately return as he shot around, though he saw Willow just standing there. Standing on her staff.

‘You should be more careful with your illusions, Gus.’ Hunter pointed out casually, immediately darting for ‘Willow’, feeling more confident now that he knew it was just a disguise. But, as he drew near, he failed to realise how well his friend’s mirages has developed as he had not only created an illusion of Willow to throw Hunter off but was concealed just a couple feet to the left of it. And when Hunter drew near, he pounced on him.

The boy jumped from his own staff to Hunter’s, letting his chameleon Palisman nestle up on his shoulders. With a crash landing, he immediately clung onto Hunter, a little scared he would fall.

‘Oh, come on, you totally stole my- mahahahahave!’ Hunter barked with laughter as his friend began squeezing his hips, making him yelp and jump all about. He did consider doing his staff disappearing trick that he used with Viney, but he didn’t want to hurt Gus, probably something the boy planned by jumping onto his staff. The only thing Hunter could really do was sit there and take it.

‘Come on man, just give in, you know you can’t beat me and Willow!’ Gus cooed from behind him, finally beginning to prod at those sensitive ribs of his, making Hunter Damm near shriek and madly thrash about on his staff.

‘EEEK!! WAIHAHAAHT, NAHAHAHA GUHAHAHAHAAHS!!’ Hunter nearly screamed in laughter, barely able to keep a hold of his staff. Gus gripped onto him a little tighter, not wanting either of them to get tipped off. Gus would keep at it, scribbling and scraping at Hunter’s ribs with no mercy and just when the blonde thought things couldn’t get worse, it did.

‘Your really doing a number on him, aren’t you, Gus?’ Willow giggled, flying down next to the sight of the two boys. She casually reached over and took back Hunter’s stolen flags.

‘NAHAHAHA FAIHAHAHAR!!’ Hunter bellowed with laughter, leaning hunched over on his staff to try and get his ribs away from his friend. In return, Willow wriggled her nails against the back of his neck, making him arch right back upwards.

‘Poor boy, I almost forgot you were THIS ticklish,’ Willow chuckled, prodding along one set of his ribs while Gus scratched at the other. Hunter, who had just lost all his progress and was now having his worst spot tagged team by two skilled lers, caved in almost immediately.

‘I SUHAHAHAHRRENDER!!’

With that, Gus hopped back on his own staff while Willow gently helped Hunter back down to the ground, it being a bit hard for the tickled out boy to fly.

‘You know, you handled all that really well! I mean, you managed to best two of our team members and looked good doing it! I’m proud of what you did today, Hunter!’

She smiled at him as the boy blushed more, his smile practically beaming.

‘T-thsnk you, Captain, that, uh, means a lot!’ Hunter cooed as he hopped off his staff, Willow next to him as the rest of the Emerald Entrails stood around them.

Though almost immediately as Hunter stood on the ground, two vines wrapped around his wrists and pulled them behind his back, beneath his shoulder blades. A couple more gently pulled him down onto his knees, all while Willow smirked at his confusion.

‘Don’t tell me you forgot our bet? I’m pretty sure we agreed that if you lost, I get to tickle you for ten minutes!’

Hunter’s whole face went beet red as Willow kneeled down across from him, his eyes wide with anticipation.

‘CAHAHAHPTAIN, NAHAHAHAHAHA!!’

—-

I am so shleepy

[lovejosephquinn]

Hey, can you please do a Joe x Reader where he takes the reader on a date to a funfair, it's their first date so full of fluff and cuteness as well as Joe kissing the reader for the first time ❤️

I saw this last night and immediately put it on my agenda to write today because the concept is so fluffing CUTE. Well done YOU.

Thank you for requesting angel x

Warnings: nothing but sweetness and fluff from our charming boy

Word Count: 1.6k

Last First Kiss.

First dates regularly embody that of an over expensive meal or a cliche trip to the movies, it wasn't every day you were asked on a date to the annually held Christmas Fun Fair, or so you'd heard.

You and Joe had been exchanging messages, had hours upon hours of phone calls over the last week, you'd gotten to know each other so well and by night 6 as you rambled on about something that'd happened at work that day, he interrupted you. "I should take you out love."

"What, like a date?"

"Yes, like a date Y/N."

You'd have been lying if you said that you weren't internally screaming when the words uttered out of his mouth, hearing clearly what he'd said in the first place; the surprise of the moment making you need complete assurance.

Joe had been looking for things to do when he all of a sudden remembered that it was something he used to do every year with his best friend when he was a teen. You'd teased him by sarcastically placing that he'd been with Wesley and that he was possibly implying that you all you two were going to be was just friends.

"If that's all you got from that conversation, then you'd better rethink our mutual feelings for one another, beautiful."

Your cheeks were hot, he was right. Your feelings had grown without even meeting one another, you'd never have believed that kind of emotion to be possible without physically being around someone, but it had come clear to you that Joe had changed so many of your opinions over the last seven days.

You met at the funfair that weekend, nervous and over excited for the evening that had been arranged. The moment you met Joe wasn't awkward in any way whatsoever, you threw your arms around one another like you were old friends, like people that just hadn't seen each other in a while, but I guess that's what speaking to someone everyday does to you, you felt like you'd known him forever and were immediately comfortable in his presence.

"Finally." Joe stated.

You giggled as you wandered around the entrance of the fairground, bright lights shone above the both of you, stalls were filled with little trinkets, food and drink, various rides and Christmas classics blasted over opposites sides of the field, mixed with sounds of squeals and laughter from the happy folk that mingled around you.

"Finally?"

"Finally, you're here with me." Joe put his arm around your shoulder confidently and you dared yourself to place your arm around his waist, first date? What first date. It felt like it was your hundredth. Being around him came so naturally and he was just as easy to get along with in person as you'd hoped. Joe got you both the most overpriced Hot Chocolates and you couldn't help but fall into fits of laughter when he'd got whipped cream on the end of his nose.

"What's funny?" He smirked. You pointed at your nose, your other hand claiming your chest as you calmed yourself down from the hysterics, his eyes went inwards and then looked up to the sky in realising what you were laughing at, rubbing it away.

"It's okay, you still look good."

"Oh come on stop it."

"There he is, Joseph Quinn the Humbled, as ever."

"Ah, you know me beautiful." The first time he'd called you beautiful in person, it sent your heart practically raging out of your chest.

You walked along the stalls, joking about some of the tacky things you caught sight of. Stopping and pointing, trying to get one up on another eventually making it a game in finding the worst things you possibly could. Stopping in his tracks at one stall he pointed to a shelf.

"You'd look so sexy in this Y/N."

Joe pulled a furry leopard print bucket hat down; you instantly yanked it from his hands and placed it on your head. Putting one hand on your hip and striking a pose. "I feel sexy with it on, not gonna lie." You took it off, clutching it in your hands when Joe found the most vulgar rainbow version of it and placed it a top of his head, crushing his untamed curls. He mirrored your stance and did the most awful pout.

Sarcastically you blurted out, "oh my god, if I wasn't attracted to you before, I am now."

What happened next? Joe bought the god damn repulsive bucket hats.

Taking them back from the stall owner after paying him, you walked out in front of him, you couldn't believe he'd just done that, as you turned back to face him, Joe bowed his head dramatically and handed you the object "For you."

You decided to curtsy back to him, "thank you, handsome."

You bet you wore them for the rest of the night.

Next to the stalls was a beautifully old-fashioned carousel and your eyes lit up the moment you saw it. "Joe, look, can we?"

He hesitated for a second at the sight of the spinning ride. "As long as I get the big stallion, got to maintain my manhood you know." You giggled as you took his hand and dragged him over to the gate, you watched it as it ended the previous go, it made your eyes dizzier the more you observed. Showing full determination, you paid for this one and Joe's bottom lip stuck out when he realised you had. "Ladies don't pay on the first date, love."

"This lady does." you argued politely.

As you took your places on the carousel side by side, you pulled your phone out to take a snapshot the memory in making. Joe leaned over to a pull a toothy grin beside you, and in turn you copied his action.

The ride seemed to go on forever, but the funniest part was watching Joe begin to melodramatically heave at the constant moving in circles. When it ended, he wobbled off down the steps to the exit, giving you a look of I'm not doing that again in a hurry.

"I'm guessing you're not a fan of the carousel?"

"I'm a fan of you though so I put my big boy pants on and got through it."

You thanked him with a tight hug as if he'd carried out the sweetest gesture in the world, you don't really know where that came from, but his reciprocation in the embrace was certainly welcoming; and you were so glad you did it.

The one thing Joe had held out for since the idea of this date was brought up over the phone and then had continued to rave about the whole evening was going on the Ferris wheel together at the other end of the field, making that the last point of call. Fake snow was blasted from a cannon in the middle of it which made the entire Christmas vibe that was already in front of you, much more magical.

He practically skipped over to it once it got closer; your arm linked through his which pulled you along as he sped up. Sitting in the seat and the safety barrier being pulled down, you began to move along, chatting amongst yourselves whilst pointing out various parts of the fairground from above. You finally got to the very top, the ride halted, and you were suddenly mesmerized by the sights, the faded view of lit up buildings overlooking a part of London which looked so beautiful in the darkness. Joe put his arm around you, edging you closer to him, you rested your head straight to his shoulder and you couldn't help the smile that escaped you.

"Now you see why I was rambling on about this?"

You lifted your head to look at Joe, a particular twinkle sparked in both of your eyes, the warmth of him radiating onto you and you would have never guessed that within the next 10 seconds, his face was inches away from yours.

"It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

The space between you gone and your lips met, it was almost inconceivable that this was happening right now. The pleasing views around you, the starry night above you and the seemingly perfect man next to you now passionately and slowly caressing your lips. How was this real life?

The kiss broke as the Ferris wheel jolted you backwards, pulling your heads back, the biggest grins attached to your faces. Tonight, truly couldn't have gone better.

"That was smooth, Joe."

His eyes grew wide, and mouth gaped slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart."

"Luring me up here to kiss me."

"You didn't like it?" The ride stopped a quarter of the way back down to let others off.

"Hmm, maybe do it again and I'll decide."

He brought his hand out of his coat pocket, a more serious look on his face as he turned slightly to the side to face you, gently putting his hand along your jawline and cupping your cheek, bringing his lips onto yours once more, the way they felt against yours was sending your stomach into fits of butterflies.

Breaking the kiss deliberately this time, brushing his soft lips against yours, then pressing your foreheads against one another, you brought his hand down with yours to intertwine your fingers together.

"I must confess, I liked it a little too much."

"I like you a little too much." He brought your hand to his mouth and placed a sloppy kiss onto it, oh Joe has such a way with words.

"I wish this night didn't have to end." You admitted.

"Well, I was going to ask you to come for a drink with me when we're done here because I'm not quite ready to leave your side yet either, will you?"

"Certainly will, and then when we've done there, maybe you could come back to my flat because I don't think I'll be prepared to say goodnight."

"I couldn't have said it better myself."