#Dear god why are there so many variations

[welcometomymaddness]

Pokemon oc idea thing / challenge

Make a team based off of your memorable interactions with the Pokemon franchise — first exposure to the franchise, first shiny, favourite card pull, whatever!! — and then reverse engineer the trainer!

For me, the team is:

Swinub = possible first exposure to Pokémon via Lugia & Ho-Oh edition pokéball sweet container I bought on holiday which I still have on my shelf!! 

Seviper = possible first exposure to Pokémon via anime, remember Rocket’s Seviper the clearest

Noivern = first new Pokémon I heard about, bought Y specifically for it, never got one

Dragalge = first Pokémon I straight didn’t know existed. Learnt about it from a local shop selling figures and not recognising the Dragalge.

Shiny Nuzleaf / Shiftry = first shiny (from trade, I’ve never caught one)

Stufful = toys’r’us card & my favourite card I own. Stole it from behind the register.

So the trainer would be from Hoenn with a Seviper as their first mon then go to Johto on holiday and pick up a Swinub very soon after. A few years later a friend gifts them a shiny Nuzleaf the friend no longer wants. At some point they learn of Noiverns and decide “I want one”, so go to Kalos with the sole purpose of getting one. The lack of prior research means they’re utterly unprepared for lots of Kalos’ native pokémon, with the worst experience being the Skelp line. They end up catching one to save their skid and head home. Then promptly return when they remember their original reason for going. Then return with a Noibat. They get a job at Lilycove Dep. Store where they find a Stufful among the pokédolls and smuggle them out (Smuggul??), likely getting bones broken in the process.

[thebusytypewriter]

Hail the Lamb, Resilient and Eternal

Here it is, the starting point of the Tri-God AU timeline! Many thanks to Jonnie @jonquilandlace my beloved for helping me out :D

You can also find this on AO3 if that suits you better.

CW: blood, gore, major character death (not permanent)

“MEDICS!”

All hell broke loose at the cry, startling every creature within the grounds into action. The aforementioned medics scrambled from their idle activities to meet a wide-eyed rabbit at the camp entrance, where they kept their benevolent leader from collapsing by holding them upright as best as they could.

The Lamb of prophecy, who seemed indestructible to the common folk, stood half limp in their support. Crimson blood flowed down their face from somewhere atop their wooly head, dripping onto both an equally-red cloak and the vegetation below. One eye was bruised deeply to the point of being swollen shut, while the other stared at the ground, cloudy and unfocused.

Truely, it was a rare sight to behold for their flock, and many panicked animals dropped what they were doing to either assist or observe.

In the small hut of a kitchen remained one deer, silver in color, who watched the events unfold with worry. Kaliaphra wasn’t one to act in such situations, lest she be in the way of the people whose skills mattered there. That wasn’t to say she was unskilled, just that she’d never belonged to the area of healing.

Instead, she stared with horrified intrigue, a half-finished fish dish already forgotten on the counter behind her.

“My Lamb!” exclaimed the head medic, an elderly turtle by the name of Zelva. “My Lamb, what happened? Can you speak? Please, say something if you are conscious!”

Despite her distance, Kaliaphra could tell that The Lamb didn’t respond based on the increased numbers of furrowed brows. More hurried words were exchanged between Zelva and her students, and the largest among them took their leader into their arms to carry them toward the healing tent. The Lamb’s limbs dangled limply as they did so.

Whatever had happened in Anura, it wasn’t good.

“Kali, your tuna’s burning.”

She startled, whirling back around to pull her skillet off the fire. “Hells, Theo! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The brown buck that entered the kitchen—Theanno, her cousin who might as well have been her brother—simply smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “At least you’d be seeing Death. Aside from the, um, burning, how’s it coming in here?”

“Slow,” she sighed, pulling out a cloth to wrap the burnt fish. “I was already having a difficult time staying on task, and then The Lamb returned, and… did you get a better look at them? How bad is it?”

He leaned back against the countertop adjacent to her. “Couldn’t have seen more than you just now. That was… a lot of blood coming from them, though. I wonder if the healers can patch them up.”

“Well, even if they cannot, our leader will return to us shortly after, right? Death favors them. They bear his Crown.”

“Yeah, but…”

Kaliaphra turned sharply toward her cousin with wide eyes. “‘But’? Theo, you cannot question the nature of the Lamb.”

“I’m not,” he insisted. “I’m just worried. We’ve never seen them so hurt, right, so what happens if we lose them? Do we just… go back to where we were before?”

“We should not be thinking about this.”

“It’s a real problem, Kali! We couldn’t stay here; the Bishops—”

With a loud metallic thunk, Kaliaphra slammed the still-warm skillet on the counter next to him. She stared up at Theanno there, at his stunned expression, and hissed, “The Bishops, of two there are remaining, cannot touch this place. I am not worried about it, and you should not be, either. Imagine if an elder heard you; they would think that you are dissenting.”

Calmly, solemnly, Theo raised one hand and extended a finger to lightly boop her on the nose. “I’m not dissenting. We’re under the Lamb’s protection, I know. I’m just… thinking out loud. I’ve gotta get back to the crops. You should see if the healers need lunch. That way, you can keep an eye on our Lamb.”

The tonal shift of their conversation threw Kali off-balance. “What—you—”

“Okayloveyoubyeeee!” In a torrent of a wave and a head pat, Theanno slipped back out of the hut, leaving her alone again.

He throws existential dread on me then leaves, she grumbled to herself. Now I have to check in on the Lamb.

She grabbed a few covered bowls from the storage crate—only berries would be properly stored there—and layered them on a tray, careful to balance each even as she lifted the tray. It wasn’t an unpracticed movement, given how she’d taken to serving dinner to her family before, well, being separated from them. If anything, it was comfortingly familiar.

Kaliaphra slipped out of the kitchen hut and crossed the grounds toward the infirmary tent. Many of her fellow cultists were still floating around the entrance, their tasks remaining unfinished in their hands, but they didn’t seem to care. They stared at the infirmary in deep concern and only scattered when she gently told them to shoo.

With a deep breath, she prepared to announce her entrance, but a scream cut her off.

She shouldered her way inside to assist and was met with a rather… frightening scene.

The circle of healers had taken a large step back from the cot, each raising their hands in some semblance of placation. Upon the cot, most worryingly, squatted the Lamb. Their eyes were wide with fear, and they had somehow managed to grab hold of a small and pointy stick.

“Get back!” the Lamb shrieked, waving their acquired stick like a dagger. (Instinct, perhaps?) “I won’t go with you, do you understand? I refuse to be sacrificed just because of some… some dumb prophecy!”

Confounded murmurs filled the space.

“Prophecy?”

“Sacrifice?”

“Have they forgotten the years of this establishment?”

“My Lamb,” Zelva said, playing up her comforting tone, “we are not here to bring you to the Bishops. You escaped from them, and you have unified us all here under the Red Crown. Do you… not remember?”

They stared up at her with the most dumbfounded expression Kali had ever seen on them. “I don’t know what in the hells you’re talking about. I was… on my way to scavenge when a group of robed individuals—” The Lamb glanced suspiciously about the tent, which contained several people fitting that description— “bounded me in chains to take me away to the Bishops. I don’t follow the Red Crown; I don’t follow anyone!”

There was something of a faint collective gasp among the group (which made sense, since the Lamb was essentially speaking heresy without realizing it).

“Zelva,” Kali murmured, setting her tray of berry bowls on a table, “what… happened to them?”

The old turtle sighed and dragged a hand down her face. “From what I could see before they began threatening us with a stick, there are signs of severe head trauma possibly originating from their most recent trip through Anura. They most certainly defeated the Bishop Heket, but I imagine something hit them before they made their escape.”

“Meaning…?”

“Amnesia. At least partially. They appear to have forgotten events after their execution, including the founding of this camp.”

“And the Red Crown?”

“At the moment, Filip is placing the Crown within the Temple.”

“The sermons?”

“Canceled until further notice.”

“The Bishops?”

“Will never know.”

“But—”

“Kaliaphra.” Zelva grabbed her by the shoulders. “We will ensure that the Bishops will never know. If they find out, our little camp here is done for. We have nothing to defend us. Please, remain diligent in your duties, and if anyone asks, the Lamb is injured and recovering.”

Kali looked between her and their now-sedated leader, who appeared as a small lamb for once instead of the grand holy being the cult knew them to be.

Or thought them to be.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded. “If you or anyone here needs anything, let me know. Or let Theanno know.”

Zelva visibly relaxed, a tired smile finding its way onto her face. “Of course. Thank you, dear. We will get through this together, under Death’s grace.”

“Yes, ma’am. Praise the Lamb.”

Sleep was difficult to wrangle that night, and the next, and the next.

Kaliaphra stared at the roof of her tent as she silently begged to fall into the sweet abyss, but her thoughts granted her no such relief. She was too busy thinking about the events of the previous days, about Theanno’s words and Zelva’s worry and the Lamb’s evident amnesia.

“We’ve never seen them so hurt, right, so what happens if we lose them?”

“We will ensure that the Bishops will never know. If they find out, our little camp here is done for. We have nothing to defend us.”

Granted, it had hardly been half a week since the Lamb returned, but with how fast word spread about the camp, Kali was certain that all of the Lamb’s followers would know soon. If doubt grew among them, flowering into dissent, it would only be a matter of time before someone left and crawled back to the Bishops.

The Lamb was not improving.

Someone had to do something.

They needed help of divine levels, and she wondered, if nothing else, whether the Lamb’s sacred Red Crown would have some form of solution, even a temporary one. She’d seen its power in action before, when the Lamb took command over their fields during the Heket-inflicted famine. Surely it had something, like a barrier to put up around the grounds.

The only question was whether someone had to wear the Crown—or maybe even be skilled with it—for it to do something. Only one way to find out, she supposed.

Kaliaphra pushed herself up from her bedroll and cautiously poked her head outside, letting the tent flaps continue to obscure her some. She appeared to be lucky in that all lanterns around the residential area of the camp were out, save for the infirmary, which was still a large enough distance away that it wasn’t a threat.

She went through a mental checklist of members, trying to discern who did and didn’t have one of those moon pendants the Lamb had offered. The only one that came to mind was a medic, who was no doubt in the infirmary.

Assuming no one was guarding the Crown—and why would they, when anyone in the cult hardly separated it from its bearer in terms of fear and respect—she had a straight shot.

As swiftly as possible, Kali made a sprint for the temple. She dared not go slower, even if it meant a lesser likelihood of stepping on something loud, since it would be way more likely for someone to wake up for a snack or to use the outhouse. All she had to do was slip in through the semi-ajar door (which she mentally thanked Filip for, even if it was unintentional) and close it behind herself, which went off without a hitch.

A dim temple greeted her, the only light coming from the ever-lit candles on either side of the lectern. It was just enough to provide some visibility, even if both Kali and Theanno had great night vision to begin with, but more specifically on the Red Crown sitting upon the altar.

It was odd, seeing the Crown not on the Lamb’s head. While the Lamb, in their state, seemed much smaller than usual, the Crown without the Lamb felt larger than it should. More imposing, even. Its singular red eye remained wide open, and though its glow had dimmed significantly, she had the feeling it was anything but dormant as it stared through her.

She almost wanted to tell it to blink.

Nevertheless, Kali swallowed her unease and strode forward down the aisle just as she had been for something close to twenty years, which might as well have been two years with the enchanted pendants the Lamb had gifted her and Theo. It came second nature; little light needed to guide her.

Though she had never been afraid of the dark, her fur stood on end as she noticed the feeling of being watched. By the Crown? Perhaps, but… not quite.

With a bowed head, she stepped up to the altar. Her heart raced with the panic of I should not be here, I should not be the one standing at the altar, but she tried her best to shove it down. What she was doing was important and could possibly save the cult from being wiped out.

Kaliaphra lowered herself to kneel in front of the altar, bending until she was just under eye-level with the Red Crown and folding her hands neatly upon her lap. “I am… unsure if I should be addressing Death here, as I am simply looking at the Crown without its bearer, so I will plead with both god and tool.”

If the Crown could look expectant, it did.

“I fear for the safety of these people,” she began, letting her eyes fall shut. “I have only ever been afraid like this when the Lamb brought me here for the first time. I doubted then. Over time, I have grown to trust them with my life. But they have fallen. Not in death, but I am afraid this is worse. If it were death, The One Who Waits would surely revive them. Instead, they cannot be helped outside of medical attention, and even that is a waiting game.

“If the Bishops find this place, all will be executed for heresy. What shall be done? I would sacrifice anything to make this right. I would give my own life. What is my life in comparison to the many other lives being lived here? It is but a speck of dust.” Kali paused for a moment, cracking one eye open to check if the Crown was still paying attention. (What a silly thought, she mused. The Red Crown is not sentient.)

Its singular red eye stared back at her, unblinking and unmoving.

Somehow, that was more discouraging.

She sighed. “We were taught that The One Who Waits does not answer prayer directly. He speaks through his vessel in miracles, but they are the one to hear our pleas. What is left when the vessel forgets that they are a vessel? What is left when a fawn who loves her family has to leave them behind? Theanno… he is all I have of them here. I promised him that he would be safe in this place, under the Lamb.”

A growing desperation bubbled in her chest with each passing thought, and Kaliaphra found herself crawling forward to grasp the altar and stare into the Crown’s eye directly as her vision blurred. “Please, do you not understand how hopeless this is? I do not ask for much if you do not wish to give it, but the situation must be remedied! Tell me what I have to do! Help me!”

The plea rang out through the temple, bouncing off the walls again and again until it faded.

The Red Crown did nothing.

Bitterly, she had the passing thought that a no would’ve hurt less than this.

Kaliaphra pushed herself up to stand over the Crown upon the altar, wiping the few stray tears that had fallen. “…Foolish. I do not know why I thought Death would listen to one little follower, anyway. It was worth a—”

In a flash, a literal flash of red, the sacred artifact shifted forms.

No longer did she see the Red Crown as a crown, or at least not a full crown; the pointed tips of its top stretched and wrapped around and around each other to a point, leaving it in a vague lance shape in the span of milliseconds.

That is, she was only somewhat sure it came to a point. The end of the Crown was out of her view, even as she followed it from the altar closer to her and—

Through her chest.

Through her heart.

Out her back.

That was when she registered two things a second too late. One, the deafening squelch and crack of flesh and bone being driven through by, well, Crown. Two, the burning pain that felt more like a stream of red hot fire than a blade.

Kaliaphra screamed, agony tearing through her throat.

There was a fleeting thought that she just woke up the entire camp, but it was drowned by growing panic accompanied by the taste of iron in her mouth. Her throat was closing, but was it due to the blood, or was she in shock? Shit, she didn’t know enough about medicine to tell.

What she did know was that she was going to die.

She had asked to help her be rid of the situation.

Was this a sick joke?

Was it mercy?

To be put out of her misery?

Her hooves scraped weakly at the floor beneath her, the Crown’s sharp blade holding her just aloft with surprising strength—as if she weighed nothing to it. As she struggled to catch her breath, choking on it instead, a strangled bleat pulled itself from her in some desperate attempt to call for Theanno.

The Red Crown retracted then, its lance shape ripping from her chest and dropping her onto the wooden floor. Kaliaphra’s vision was flickering then, and a horrific numbness began to settle in. The floor grew wet beneath her, and she felt it pooling around her fingertips and ear as she lay discarded on her side.

What… did I do wrong?

A distant muffled bleat was the last thing she heard.

Then there was nothing.

When her eyes opened, Kaliaphra was blinded with white.

Given how dark the temple had just been, the change of brightness was undesirable. The sky above her was far too bright, and the ground beneath her was far too soft. Fluffy, almost.

Odd.

She turned her head to get a better look and was greeted not with a wooden floor, but with what appeared to be… clouds.

A discomfort upon her chest suddenly became apparent to her, both crushing and sharp, two different sensations. Images flashed through her memory. The eye, the blade, the blood.

The weighted sensation, she realized, was likely her stopped heart.

Kali moved to sit up, knocking something sitting on her chest onto her lap instead. When she looked down, she was greeted with the unblinking stare of the Red Crown.

“You,” she murmured, afraid of her voice carrying through the expanse. “What… did you do?”

There was no response, which had to be the most normal thing in the situation. It was still enough that one wouldn’t have known how it morphed to stab her only moments ago.

Kaliaphra huffed through her nose with growing annoyance. “Some help you are. Perhaps if I simply stay here and do not move, do not interact with anything, I will wake up from this nightmare. The Lamb will be fine, everyone will be safe, and everything will be as it should.”

“I know you’re there.”

A deep, rumbling voice reverberated around her, startling her and sending some of the clouds scattering. Kali looked up from her lap to fully survey her surroundings, and she took notice of a distant but massive figure bound in chains among the clouds. The image was familiar, one that the Lamb had explained vaguely to their flock from their times of indoctrination. Death had an incredibly recognizable appearance, all things considered.

She swallowed hard, a pit opening in her stomach.

The distance and the veil made it impossible for her to see his face, but she somehow knew that The One Who Waits was looking directly at her. “Come closer, little fawn,” the tall cat bishop purred. “In death, you will be of use to me.”

Kali looked back down at the Crown.

It looked back at her, and she’d almost expected it to give a meaningful glance toward said bishop. A go on gesture, in a sense. But it gave no such answer.

Once again, incredibly helpful.

She lifted the Crown from its place on her lap and pushed herself up, instinctively brushing off her tunic as if rising from the dirt instead. (It was silly, she acknowledged, but at least it could give her the appearance of being put together.)

Kaliaphra strode forward on shaking legs through the parting clouds. If she was to meet her god, she needed to be calm and collected, but her tight grip on the Crown did nothing to help.

As she grew closer, she noticed the two smaller cats kneeling on either side of the god. Their fur was a deep gray—not quite black—and their matching pairs of crimson eyes remained solely on her as she approached. The one on Death’s right donned black and red robes, while the one on his left had white robes. Both wore veils like their master, though theirs were slightly more transparent, hence why she could meet their intense stares.

She felt more like an intruder within their space. Her gaze snapped once again to the being in the middle, though she dared not look him in the eye, instead settling for the clouds at his feet.

The sound of her footsteps changed from soft pompfs of air to hooves on stone as she stepped onto a small circular platform painted with a pentagram, and she figured that was a good place to pause. Kali dipped low into a curtsey, one she had perfected during her time under the Bishop Shamura, but said nothing. The common rule within the Silk Cradle was do not speak unless spoken to.

Given how she was standing before Death, she didn’t feel like testing the limits with other gods.

“Polite little thing,” said The One Who Waits, finally. “What a refreshing change of pace. Stand, little fawn, and let me see you.”

Without a second thought, she complied, raising her gaze enough to find the bottom edge of his veil.

“How peculiar that you would enter my domain with my Crown in your hands. I entrusted that Crown to The Lamb. How is it, then, that you hold it, mere follower?”

Despite having little-to-no control over that exact situation, Kali stuttered, “I mean no disrespect by it, my lord! The Lamb is—”

He held up one skeletal hand to stop her. “I am well aware of what has befallen my vessel. It is… inconvenient, to say the least. Since The Lamb is neither dead nor dying, I can do nothing to assist. Truly a setback.” Jagged teeth became more visible as the corners of his mouth curled upward. “But no matter. You worry for the safety of your flock, do you not? That is why you volunteered your life.”

Kaliaphra bit her lip anxiously for a moment. She did offer her life to the Crown in panic, didn’t she? While she certainly didn’t expect to stand before The One Who Waits in order to fulfill that statement, there really were only so many ways such an offer would come to fruition. “What… What would you have me do, my lord? I am just a deserter who can only somewhat mince fish and cauliflower.”

“Ah… but you can brandish a knife, then?” The God of Death inclined his head in what she faintly recognized to be a patronizing manner. “While you may not believe it, that is more than The Lamb could say when they first appeared before me. Rejoice in your abilities, for they will save your hide in battle.”

“B-Battle, my lord?”

She swore she saw the cat at his right snicker from her question.

“Battle,” he repeated. “Despite the façade you put on, I know you are familiar with it. I have seen you cut down many an enemy during your time as a soldier trainee.”

Ah, damn it. “Oh, I, uh—“

“And yet you lie to my face.” The ever-present grin dropped abruptly. “Fear lingers in you despite your experience, Kaliaphra. I will be merciful just this once.”

Kali’s breath hitched as terror took its choking hold on her. He knew her name. He knew her by name. “Forgive me, please! I would have been upfront about it, but… it has been some time since I fought last.”

The One Who Waits waved a hand. “It has become instinct for you, nonetheless, one that you will utilize while you bear the Crown.”

It was like ice had been dumped over her. She dared to meet his gaze, finally. “…My lord?”

“A temporary vessel,” he clarified, his wide smile of sharp teeth returning. “You shall take on the duties of the Lamb until they can return once more. Tend to the flock. Venture forth on crusades. Spread faith and influence. Slay my traitorous siblings. That is for which you have volunteered your life.”

She stared up at him, up at the gleeful unblinking trio of red eyes behind a veil, and found no trace of humor. No ounce of empathy. The One Who Waits was placing her in the position of leader against her will. If she should decline…

One clawed hand, belonging to the white-robed cat in white on Death’s left, twitched as if he’d heard her thought.

Ah. She couldn’t.

To decline meant death. No doubt it would be an insult to the bishop himself. She had no other option.

“It will not be for an eternity,” The One Who Waits purred, “that much I can swear with the assumption that my vessel recovers. Should they not, your position will become a permanent one. Do we have an understanding, fawn?”

As much as she wanted to do otherwise, Kaliaphra lowered herself back into a deep curtsy. “Y…Yes, my lord. I will do everything in my power to serve you.”

“Good. Do not disappoint me. Unlike the Lamb, you are incredibly replaceable.”

The pentagram lit up beneath her feet, and her soul left the Below with a new weighing dread upon it.

Kaliaphra propped herself up with one arm and promptly vomited onto the floor next to the altar.

Her chest ached, not with the pain of the fatal wound but with anxiety and horror. She was faintly aware that she had, in fact, returned to the living world, but she was waiting for the pounding of her heart to cease before fully taking stock.

Was she dreaming? Surely, she had been dreaming. In her panic to do something about the Lamb’s situation, she had run into the temple and… hit her head. Passed out. That was the only logical option. Or, better yet, all of that was a dream, too; she’d eaten some wild mushrooms by mistake and had a wild dream as a result.

…Why did her head feel so heavy?

Something, some form of light, reflected off of the polished quartz altar, startling Kali. As she turned her head back to further investigate, the colored light reflected again—red. Once she sat still, the steady red glow remained… just above her head, if the silhouette was anything to go by. Was that…

She raised one hand up to grab it, but the crash of the temple doors startled her into dropping her hand and pushing herself onto her feet.

“Kaliaphra,” came the clipped voice of Zelva as she led what looked like the entire cult into the room. “What on earth is—Are you wearing the Red Crown?”

Her eyes ran over the assembling crowd, already trying to think of a way out of facing them yet. Was there one, though? Was it right to wait, if this was in fact really happening? Was there even a way for her to answer without looking like a fool? “Y…Yes, I am.”

The old turtle scoffed incredulously. “Stars above, no one should be touching it but the Lamb. And—is that… blood? Vomit? Child, are you drunk?”

“No!” she snapped back, the weight of the eyes on her immensely present. “I am not drunk. I… I have…” 

But she trailed off, uncertain how exactly to explain the situation. Kali’s eyes skimmed the assembled followers, searching desperately for reassurance, for familiarity, for her cousin’s eyes among colleagues, friends, acquaintances, accusers. 

In the doorway, familiar horns just barely fit in the doorway. 

She held her breath, a long moment, then began again. “I have spoken to The One Who Waits. It appears that he has placed me in the Lamb’s position until they recover. And I know that sounds insane, but…” She looked down at herself, reaching up to run her fingers over the tender flesh where her impalement wound had been. The skin there was still agitated and raw, like a fresh scar had just formed. “I died, I believe. That was the commotion you heard. If you will just—”

“A’right,” huffed Chifre, the rhinoceros in charge of behavior enforcement, as he stepped through the crowd toward her. “Take the Crown off, c’mon.”

Anxiety flipped to annoyance in just a moment, and she straightened her spine stubbornly. “I cannot. I now have a duty to uphold, it seems.”

“No, you don’t. Take it off, or I’ll take it myself. Playtime’s over, kid.”

“I am not a child!”

Her voice boomed through the space, and she would’ve taken notice of how it split apart if it weren’t for the flash of bright red, almost like lightning, that illuminated it all. The light seemed to startle the crowd more than her, as they all scrambled back several feet from the altar, eyes blown wide.

They… weren’t looking at her.

Kaliaphra turned, slowly, and looked up to the front wall of the temple.

Over the wood and stained glass, there resided a massive shadow, one of distinct silhouette, stretching across the pulpit floor to the wall and traveling up to touch the ceiling. The body, with its tall feline ears and glowing trio of eyes, was incredibly familiar to Kali herself. Its limbs, clearly defined as skeletal and crude, extended over the walls and arched across the temple floor. There, the claws of bone hovered around the place where the deer stood, as if claiming her—his plaything, perhaps.

Separate from the shadow, Kaliaphra was graced with the whisper of feeling bone brush her cheek. It was a distant mockery of sentiment, but it made her heart leap into her throat all the same.

“Stand tall, my vessel,” the voice of The One Who Waits purred into her ear. “They will learn to fear you in time.”

Then, with another flash of red light, it was all gone. Kali and the others were left standing in an empty temple, shellshocked at what had just occurred.

They stared at her, no longer annoyed, but hesitant. As if they didn’t know what to do.

Across the crowd, Kaliaphra’s gaze finally found her cousin’s, meeting eyes wide in something between awe and terror. He ran his gaze over her form, inspecting her, she thought, hesitating on the blood stain on her shirt, then the glowing crown, and then back to meet her eyes in turn, looking for something, the same safety they’d promised one another for years.

Then, finding it, whatever he was looking for, his expression calmed, pride replacing the fear as a grin stretched over his cheeks. He bent his knee, head still raised, unwilling to break her gaze, yet folding over nevertheless.

A bow, she realized. He is bowing. To… to me?

“My Fawn,” Theanno called.

The followers nearest to him looked back, murmurs rippling through them, noises and expressions flickering wildly between surprise and… uncertainty, perhaps, before looking back to the crown that now rested on her brow. 

Then, with the same subtle confidence, one follower after another bent at the knee, their gazes turning to the ground. 

“My Fawn.”

“My Fawn.”

“My Fawn!”

[not-a-space-alien]

Desperate Daybreak Chapter 3

In this chapter: Valen talks to vampire cops and meets a new ally.

Warning for this chapter: use of a homophobic/transphobic slur, misgendering throughout, police intimidation

MMSS masterpost

DD masterpost

On AO3

***

Valen wasn’t sure how many different ways there were to say “I didn’t kill my husband.”  He’d said practically every variation of it so far.

After the initial rounds of Who the hell is this? and Does Mrs. Kithrara have a brother? and Valen having to literally pull out his ID to prove he was in fact the recently widowed Valen Kithrara, the two officers sat him down in the foyer and refused to stop grilling him and asking him the same questions over and over again.  He was sure if Lex and Ari weren’t there, he would have broken down and simply confessed to the murder just to make it end.  He really wished he could hold one of their hands, but making sure they had their silver armor so none of the vampires around could touch them was much more important than that.

The two cops had obviously watched too many movies glamorizing solving complicated murder cases.  They had even designated themselves as good cop and bad cop, which was as patronizing as it was stupid.

The one who’d designated himself good cop tapped his pencil on his notepad.  “Look, we know you killed him, so why don’t you make this easier on all of us and just tell us how you did it.  This doesn’t have to be hard.”

Valen squirmed in the uncomfortable elaborate embroidery on the upholstery of the fancy chairs of the Kithrara estate’s sitting room.  “For the last time.  I wasn’t even on this side of the border.  I was hundreds of miles away.”

“You hired somebody, then,” bad cop insisted.  “If we pulled up your phone records, we wouldn’t find any suspicious calls to this side of the border?”

The idea that Valen could have hired a human to kill him, from one of the many, many vampire hunters he surrounded himself with, was so far from their minds that they just assumed Valen would have had to contact a remote vampire assassin to pull it off.  Humans were just so non-existent as a threat in their minds.  He almost wanted to point it out, if it wouldn’t have just opened another can of problems for him.  “I only cross the border to come buy supplies, and I barely ever call anybody over here.”

“So if we pull up the phone records, we won’t find anything suspicious?”

“No, I’m positive.”

“So you wouldn’t have a problem with it if we pulled up the phone records?”

“For God’s sake, pull up the phone records then, if you must!”

“Maybe we will.  It’d be easier if you just told us, though, you know.”

Valen struggled to hold back tears.  Don’t let yourself be humiliated in front of these men.  Not more than you already have.  “If I had anything to tell you, I would have.”

“Hey,” Ari butted in with a growl.  “Can we get this over with?”

One of the cops looked disdainfully at Ari.  “Mrs. Kithrara, can you keep your thrall quiet?”

Ari scowled.  Valen went to put his hand on Ari’s arm, then withdrew before he could burn himself on the silver.  “It’s all right, dear, just let me handle this.”

Lex leaned over to whisper comfortingly in his ear.  “You can do this.”

Despite finding massive comfort in the words, Valen looked up and was horrified to discover the two men were giving him a bemused expression, like they were watching a fully grown man be comforted by his mother, or perhaps a pet.

They thought he was pathetic, it was obvious they did.  He was on the verge of a breakdown just talking to them, and he seemed to need the comfort of a human.  He might as well have just pulled out a coloring book and crayons for how it changed their view of him.

But as much as he hated it, he knew that sometimes that could be to his advantage.

“I don’t even know how I would kill someone,” Valen said, finally letting the tears leak out.  “How could anyone even do such a thing?  It’s unthinkable!  To kill my husband?  Such violence… It feels like just yesterday I was right here beside him…”

The two cops softened, now that he was behaving how they expected.  Submissive.  Womanly.  Cowed.  Weak.  He hated it.  Oh, he hated it.  But it was working.  He dabbed at his eyes.  “I’m sorry for losing my composure… I’m just not mentally well, you know.”

“We know,” one cop said sympathetically.  “You poor girl.”

“I can only imagine you need some comfort,” the other said.  “I’ll give you my phone number for if you find yourself lonely now that he's gone.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ari muttered.

“Mrs. Kithara, is it really necessary to have both your thralls here?” He said it like it was gaudy and in poor taste.

Valen went red.  “Surely they aren’t being that disruptive.”

“No, no, I get it,” Ari said.  She tapped her knees and stood.  “I can’t keep my mouth shut, so I’ll wait outside.”

The two cops looked at her funny, like she was a dog walking itself by holding its own leash in its mouth.  “Uh-huh.”

“Do be careful,” Valen muttered, having nightmare visions of someone accosting Ari outside the door.  “Don’t move too far away.”

Ari waved him off casually and opened the door.

There was another vampire outside–way across the grand entryway, frazzled as though looking for something.  His head snapped towards Ari as soon as the door opened, and with the preternaturally fast clackclackclackclack of dress shoes on tiled floor, he was in front of Ari blocking the doorway immediately.

“There you are,” he said, and Oh, that’s Tessie’s voice, and Valen should have guessed by the subtle gold nail polish and the just barely noticeable discomfort at being in men’s dress clothing.  Valen wouldn’t have recognized it if he hadn’t seen the exact same thing in the mirror every time he put on women’s dress clothes. This was undoubtedly the Tessie he'd spoken to on the phone. “My client has the right to legal counsel!”

The two cops rolled their eyes and snickered.  “Sure.  So where were you?”

“I told you to come get me when Valen arrived at the estate, but apparently you can’t even be trusted to do that!”  Tessie stormed over and plunked into the chair beside Valen.  She was taller than him, although that was hardly a feat.  She had ashy, dark skin and eyes that were leaning more towards golden than red.  “I was looking for you because I had to hear that Valen was on site from one of the maids.”

“Sorry.  We couldn’t find you.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure you looked all over the grounds.  Convenient that it gave you a few minutes to terrorize my client without my being here.”  She dropped a manila folder of documents onto the table.  “Any questions for Valen will now be addressed to me, and Valen will consult with me about the answers before you get them.”

Relief swept through Valen.  Oh, Tessie was a superhero.  Finally, someone who could and would just stand between him and this whole situation.  “Thank you,” he said meekly.

“Now.”  Tessie threw one leg over the other.  “I understand neither you nor the Kithrara family want me or Valen here, but Valen has the legal right to this estate and he has the legal right to an attorney, so we’re–”

“She,” one of the cops broke in.

Tessie’s manicured fingers stopped on the documents she was shuffling.  “What?”

“She has the legal right to an attorney.”

“The man has facial hair and everything,” Tessie muttered.  “Heavens above.”  She cleared her throat and raised her voice again.  “Anyway, the legal right to an attorney, so unless Valen prefers a different legal consultant–”

“I don’t,” Valen broke in quietly.

“–Which she doesn’t, you have to talk to me if you want to question Valen about the circumstances of her husband’s death.”

The two cops scowled.  “Fine, though I don’t know why they let someone like you be a lawyer anyway.”

Tessie peeled her lip into a smile that looked more like an animal snarling.  “Have you explained the basic facts of the case to Valen yet?”

They both fidgeted.  “That’s not how we were–”

“Members of the nobility have the legal right to have the established facts of a case in which they are a suspect explained to them fully before being obligated to answer any questions about it.  Decree 1,489 section 3 clause 8.”

“But we were just gonna–”

Tessie whipped out a notebook and started jotting things down.  “Officer… Davis… refused… to… establish… case… facts…”

“All right, all right, sheesh.”

“Oh, I like this one.”  Ari shut the door and sat back down. 

Valen swept his hair out of his face and crossed his legs with renewed confidence.  “Yes, if there are case facts, by all means I would like to hear them.”

One of the cops sighed and took out his notepad, flipping it back to an older page.  The bastard had a stack of notes ready to go, but hadn’t told Valen about it until someone came and threatened him with legal action!  Valen was so outraged he almost forgot to pay attention. 

“On the morning of May 4th, at 3:30AM, an incident occurred with four males of the Kithrara family who were together on an outing–Xavier, Priscus, Mordecai, and Sebastian.  There were four witnesses:  Xavier’s coachman, Priscus’s limousine driver, and two passersby.  The Kithraras were exiting the grounds of a theater and returning to the private lot to get to their vehicles when an unknown assailant propelled a wooden stake through the chest of Mordecai Kithrara, followed immediately by a second through Xavier Kithrara.”

“The limousine driver ran off at this point,” the other cop broke in.  “As did the two passersby.  Cowards.  No loyalty to their betters at all.”

“The coachman hid in the carriage but reportedly heard multiple gunshots, which according to him incapacitated both Priscus and Sebastian.”

“He didn’t go out to check until several minutes had passed,” the other cop sneered.  “No loyalty at all.  Cowardice.”

Even the first cop was looking annoyed by the commentary at this point.  “Anyway.  By the time police were on the scene, Xavier, Mordecai, and Priscus were all dead from wooden projectiles.  Sebastian’s body hasn’t been recovered yet.”

“He’s dead?”

“He’s presumed dead, but no one knows where he is.”

“Goodness,” Valen said.  “I hope he’s all right.”

The cop who’d designated himself as bad cop slammed his hands down on the table, making Valen jump.  “I bet you do!” he accused.  “As if you didn’t orchestrate this!  The order of assassination is perfectly lined up in such a way that it would be clear Priscus would inherit Xavier’s estate in the moments before his own death!  Mordecai dying before Xavier eliminated him as an heir, and the gap between Xavier’s murder and Priscus’s murder ensured the estate would go to you.”

Oh, so that was why they were convinced he must be behind it.  Valen did have to admit it looked suspiciously convenient that he would end up benefiting so much from this extremely specific series of murders.  But…

“I had no idea Priscus bequeathed the estate to me in his will,” Valen protested.  “Even if I’d wanted to kill him, I had no way of knowing it would benefit me!  I hadn’t been in contact with him for months!  When was his will last updated?”

“That’s besides the point,” came the reply.  “It’s also convenient that Sebastian Kithrara, the only person in any position to contest your claim, is conveniently missing.”

“I would never hurt Sebastian!” Valen gasped.  “You can’t be serious!”

Tessie stood, her chair scooting back.  “These are some very serious accusations to make without any evidence, officers.  Do you have anything that will hold up in a court of law?  Need I remind you that the nobility are explicitly entitled to the assumption of innocence in the absence of evidence, as per Decree 981, section 106 clause 4.”

“Mrs. Kithrara married in, and they've been separated, so she hardly counts as nobility, right?”

“Priscus Kithrara explicitly declined to sign divorce paperwork on multiple occasions and stated he didn't wish for their union to be dissolved.  And women who marry into nobility are entitled to all the legal rights of a born noblewoman, as per Decree 367, section 33, clause-”

“You and your clauses,” said Cop #1.  “I’ll show you claws.”

Tessie sat back down and started writing.  “Officer… Davis… threatened… physical… assault… against… a practitioner… of nobility law…”

Cop #1 crossed his arms stormily.  “Whatever.  We’re not gonna get anything out of the missus while this yahoo is here.  I think we’re done here.”

“I think we are.”

“Well I thought we were, first!”

“Well I concur!”

“Well you’re probably a faggot anyway!”

“Officer… Davis… leveraged… crude… language…”

“Don’t think this is the end of this.  The investigation is ongoing.”

And with that, the two cops absconded out the main entryway.

Valen watched them go with some relief.  “Goodness,” he murmured.  He unclasped his hands to find that they were sweaty.

“I don’t know where you came from,” Ari said to Tessie, “but thank you for saving our asses.”

“This is Tessie,” Valen said.  “We spoke on the phone earlier.”

Lex’s eyebrows went up.  “Oh, you’re Tessie?  Valen was so excited to meet you.”

Valen blushed, trying not to look excited for anything.  It wasn’t proper.  “Mrs. Tessandrax, these are my associates, Alexis and Ariana.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!”  Tessie went to grab Lex’s hand, before Ari broke in:  “Bad idea, sorry.”

Tessie pulled back.  “Oh?  You–Oh, you armored plated them!  That’s so clever.”

“I know they aren’t entirely safe here,” Valen said.  “I would rather no vampires touch them without permission.”

Tessie clasped her hands together, as though trying to restrain herself from shaking their hands anyway and burning herself.  “Very clever.  Yes, it’s so good to meet you.  I haven’t gotten to meet many humans who were, er, cognizant.”

“Right,” Ari said.  “So, pardon me for bein’ rude, but to get right to the point:  Why are you helping Valen?  Why’d you call him here and bust in to beat those cops back?”

“Right!”  Tessie's hair bounced as she gave a little hop, then she seemed to settle down, mimicking Valen’s attempts to restrain his enthusiasm.  “I know an opportunity when I see one!  This whole affair with the Kithrara estate is going to take years to untangle, and you’re going to need a good lawyer to guide you through the process.  And one who, perhaps, can help you navigate this in a way that benefits humans, as well.”

“Really?” Lex said. 

“I’m sympathetic to the plight of humans, and I’ve heard Valen is, too.  If we play our cards right, we might be able to shut down the blood farms entirely.”

***

Taglist

@tomato-whump @dragonfireridge @taterswhump @whump-cravings

@scoundrelwithboba @pigeonwhumps @whumpsday @whumpy-writings @fuzzydarkpebble

@melodicnommer @thecyrulik @snake462 @gt-daboss @appelsiinilight

@star-rott @mottinthemainpot @corvidat @melancholy-in-the-morning @whumplr-reader

@honeycollectswhump @dragonqueenslayer6 @whumpycries @starfields08000

[is-this-plural]

on the plural chonny songs topic, hes got two original songs with some variation of the line "one will turn to two will turn to five"

"End the Dance." and "Devil's Tricks."

the second one is more especially plural all the way through but i think the first one precontextualizes the line

also Pit. is so so plural to me. you just gotta trust me but it matches the themes of both songs... and Devil's Song. has similar graphics to one major section of pit during the "one will turn to two will turn to five" line

obligatory mention of The Ballad of Dr Jekyll and The Mr Hide Jive for obvious reasons

laplaces angel is DEFINITELY PLURAL "one hundred trillion years all piled up in one brain" and just that whole verse

Not Perfect is so plural to us. on its own lyrically not necessarily but wearing different outfits n singing with voices for each section.

the forest for the trees for similar reasons tbh

tomcat disposables isnt necessarily plural but it feels like its about growing up after a particularly food insecure childhood, in a pretty plural way

honestly theres so many with one solo line that are so so plural in otherwise irrelevant songs

Thermodynamic Lawyer, Push, Mayday,

THE MOSS. i mean "well legend says that one and one is two and that one and two is three" which sort of ends up getting thematically reprised over into mucka blucka

we have even less reason for chonny's inferno i dont think theres a single line thats plural but to me its the. its the plural self acceptance and finding community. "an awfully diverse cast of critters resides down here in hell" you get it.

also also the latest project is based on the Ship of Theseus, and hes making a bunch of variations of the same song and theres nothing particular plural about it yet beyond just. the concept of the Ship of Theseus haha.

ok i think thats it

insert image I Can (imagine anything) Make ANY Chonny Jash Song Plural

It's moments like these that I'm glad I accidentally spoke this blog into existence.

End the Dance: your future self was too late to stop you but god damn it she's still going to try. If there aren't already animatics to this song, you know what to do.

Devil's Tricks: welp, she tried, it didn't work. Honestly, this one hits a little too close to home. I'll have to check out the full album

Pit: Even just the fact this is off the same album as the last two is already promising - why is the youtube upload's description "please do not call headspace"

Jekyll/Hyde Jive: oh come on how can I not?

Laplace's Angel: I almost put the original on the playlist when I first made it, and now I'm annoyed I didn't. Let's redefine reality together

Not Perfect: A flawed whole made of flawed parts? A life that never quite feels like it's entirely yours or always worth doing? Yeah, I see it

Forest for the Trees: This is the girl who's inviting me to run away with her in Laplace's Angel, mental health problems and all. Can't really call it a plural song though

Tomcat Disposables: this song just doesn't sound right to me in a major key, but you're right

Push/Mayday: Don't Die Wondering.

The Moss: Look, there's stretch, and then there's "the concept of math is a CCCC Covered in Discontent reference"

Chonny's Inferno: I see it. Dear anon, I see it

Ship of Theseus: "I did say I was working on one song." Track six wasn't out when you sent this ask, but I'd say it has the right vibes

(Total additions: 4)

[babyrdie]

what ship trope would stop you from reading/watching something?

Oh dear, there are so many.

Let's start with the definite NO!

Victim x abuser in a way that is made to sound sexy or a cute love story. If it's something with serious intentions, it's not a problem. It's not that I'm triggered by the idea, so I can still watch/read it as long as it's not glamorized because what irritates me is the approach, not the subject matter. I can't help but get grossed out, uncomfortable and irritated when there's glamorization because it feels like something too close to home is being made fun of (when I say "close to home", I'm not referring to myself. I'm fine. But not everyone in my life is/was and that is why because it's "close to home"). Also, note that it is victim x abuser, it doesn't apply when BOTH are toxic. I admit I'm more lenient when both are toxic.

Any variation of what is known as "shotacon", "lolicon" and I don't care if it's fiction or if the characters are actually both adults (I mean childish character or one that is purposely made to appear childish x adult character). I've already commented on this here when I mentioned Troilus, but it's close to home. And this time "close to home" means my own experiences. As for this one, I haven't had a chance to read/watch a serious approach to this type of situation yet to see if, when it's being taken seriously, I'm okay with consuming it.

And yeah, I know I don't need to justify disliking a trope with traumatic experiences, but if I don't do that someone can come and explain to me about how morality is different in fiction and reality and etc etc, when that is NOT my point.

Now, those who depend:

Infidelity. It's so fucking boring. It's different when there's a context, though (e.g. it's a historical setting, where marriages were arranged, but were still politically important, etc etc). I think I can also see an intriguing aspect to what has become popularly known as "emotional infidelity"…the characters don't have sex because they don't want to cross the lines, but they're SO clearly a couple and people notice, but the "couple" pretend they don't because, well, if they didn't have sex…

Love triangle. It's unbearable, mainly because it's always so obvious who the protagonist is going to end up with and the other character seems to be there just to waste my time for no reason. I say "it depends" because if it's done well enough to create real DOUBT, then it could work. If it ends in polyamory, too.

Polyamory, but it's clearly about one character and the other two hate each other. A basic example: there are these three characters dating, right? But two of them aren't dating each other, they're there for the third and in 90% of cases they can't stand each other. Sorry, I don't want to see a pissing contest.

When the narrative fails to convince you that it's love but wants it to be love because of narrative needs. In fact, you spend the entire story thinking that it's on purpose that they only seem to like each other to have sex, and then at the end the book/film tries to convince you that there was an unbreakable love between them. This is quite common nowadays and I hate it. Be honest, it's about them being horny. It's okay if it's about lust, don't make it seem like you've built a deep relationship and oh my god they will overcome everything because they love each other. You didn't even show why they love each other, whenever they aren't having sex they hate each other or are indifferent. I say "it depends" because sometimes I still purposely read this kind of thing because I find it so bad that it becomes entertainment.

VERY straight. For example…we have a very tall, muscular man whose personality is mysterious, but he is SO sexy…and oh, we have her, this petite woman who is SO interested in unraveling this mystery. And oh my god, he is actually vulnerable inside, but that's okay because he is the darkness, but she is the light and she will help him through it. In return she, who has self-confidence issues, will become more confident because of her man. He will remain inaccessible to everyone, but not to her…oh never to her! And her? She will belong to him, as no one has ever before truly loved him enough to give themselves to him. Like OH MY GOD I can't. I say "it depends" because if it's not the main focus, I imagine I can handle them on screen/page. Or if there are any secondary characters that interest me enough to go through this damn story for them.

And there are others, but enough examples. In general, I'm a multishipper and I find my ships to be quite flexible (I mean, just look at how I like Achilles with Deidamia, Iphigenia and Patroclus and none of those characters are really that similar) and sometimes unpopular (my ships with Monoma are like that), but I admit that in some cases I have a pattern. And anyway, I still consume romance without really shipping the couple (either because there's something else in the work that interests me or because I've already bought the book and don't want to waste the money).

[bitbybitwrites]

For the 2024 in review: 9, 19, 30 :)

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

These types of questions are so hard to answer because for me it's hard to pin point just one fic, so I'm going to cheat and pick more than one 😊

1.) This past year, it was so much fun writing Falling For You . . for you. 😉. Creating Tracy and Mateo are two favorite OCs of mine now and I've got a soft spot for them. The fic was enjoyable to write ( I love a good kid!fic) - I'm still loving how that dream sequence turned out - which I know is a fave of yours as well! The story kind of felt like a little rom-com to me, which gave me all the happy, warm fuzzy feels when everything turned out all right at the end. And you need that every now and then. ( psst . . I saw your suggestion about a little sequel on-shot and it did get me thinking - I might be able to work on a variation of that)

2.) Continuing If I Can Make Your Heart My Home ( Klaine WIP) as been such a pleasure. I'm eternally greatful that @datshitrandom is such a patient partner in crime. I've loved this story from the first ever brain storming session with her and on.

I look back and am exceedingly proud how this story is turning out (yes, I know folks two more chapters!. I'm working on it!). But it is to date the longest thing I've EVER written and I'm so proud of that. I actually checked and I've officially written enough to consider this a Klaine fan fiction novel! 😂😂😂😂. Folks seem to also actually like my long ramblings which is always flattering. And I've just loved everything that this story has become - all the Glee cameos . . all the twists, turns . . the angst ( god I love angst as a reader) . . the cliffhanger chapter endings ( which I know drive a lot of you crazy, sorry - but I'm a fan of those too). This is, I hope in its own way, a love letter to the characters and the show I've enjoyed so much.

3.) Now writing Puppy Love ( a RWRB/First Prince WIP) has been a joy because it is my first dip into the RWRB fandom . . (I've done a few one shots, but this is my first multichapter for those darling boys). I think it's going ok . . the characters are just so much fun to write for - and I THINK I've captured them correctly - I love all versions of them, from the book to the movie!

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue.

It is for another WIP ( I have so many, I know) but it makes me laugh:

This is from a RWRB/FirstPrince online auction fic which I call: how ardently i admire and love you.

Here Alex is at odds as to what to get Henry for his birthday - so he goes to their mutual friend, Pez, for advice.

Pez’ laughter rang out rich and warm.  “Alex, my dear Padawan, why are you stressing out about this?  You do know that you could just tie a bow around your . .” Pez coughed lightly, his eyes drifting downward as he smirked suggestively. Alex groaned.  “I know.  I know.  I was thinking something else would be better. . . I don't know . . something more spectacular.” “You are seriously underestimating how spectacular Haz finds your dick, my sweet strumpet.”

30. What would you like to write next year?

I have SOOOOO many WIP I want to get back to.

Sanctuary . . ( Klaine fic) for one I want to get back to as well as finishing up If I can Make Your Heart My Home and Puppy Love ( mentioned above).

I also have this prequel for my first ever Klaine fic that I wrote that I'm dying to get more work on.

I actually have 3 chapters of a Klainetober 2024 fic I had started in October but had to put aside . . it's called Blood, Sweat and Tears and I've got 3 chapters writen so far.

There are a couple of historical fics in my WIP bag for both Klaine and FirstPrince that I want to get too . .

So much writing to do . . so little time!

Thanks again for the ask, @mynonah!

To play, click here.

[rainesol]

OC fic :D!!

Decided to redo one of Apollyons vignettes into a short fic.

(If this post ends up vanishing and reappearing ignore it. Sometimes the fear consumes.)

Apollyon sighs and stretches his arms, cracking his joints after the ceremony. “Lilia, that took so much longer than it should have.” Looking up at his drained face, Lilia smiles.

“How perceptive of you to notice that, considering you appeared quite a time after everyone else.”

“Wh-“ Apollyon’s previously worn out features lit up with indignation. “I was only late because I had to do your jobs for you!-“ The tirade is halted by a raised hand, earning another frustrated sigh. Polly pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He sensibly removed himself from the situation, deciding to busy himself by putting the kettle on.

The sound of the water boiling masked the sound of the vice-housewarden creeping up behind him. “If you’re not too busy, Apollyon-“ Apollyon jolted upright, startled, gasping and choking slightly.

“Gods, Lilia, don’t you-“ He bit his tongue to stop himself from swearing. “What??” There wasn’t any sympathy visible under Lilia’s smug expression.

“If you’re not too busy-“ He continued, as if nothing had happened, “Would you mind checking if a certain few first years are settling in okay? I’m sure you would come across more relatable than I” Apollyon looked at him wide-eyed.

“Lilia.” He voiced, trying to be as respectful as possible. “Why am I-“ Another raised hand halts him, causing Apollyon to turn away, knuckles turning white from gripping the table.

“Oh, now. When have I ever asked anything inordinate of you?” It’s Lilia’s turn to be hushed now, as Polly shoots an irate look his way. Lilia smiles and closes his eyes. “In any case, somebody should go and speak to the poor dears. Who better than a kindly upperclassman?” He continues before Apollyon can protest. “-Closer in age, but still vastly more experienced in life?” Polly leans against the wall. His fingers work up to pinching the bridge of his nose again.

“Right. Right.” His vice-housewarden beams brightly.

“Perfect! Come with me.” He ushers him upstairs, leading to some very one-sided bickering. Apollyon's voice hushes as they stand outside the door. After one more pleading look, he reluctantly taps on the door, and enters the dorm. A student with blond hair and teary eyes jumps at the sight of him in the doorway.

Apollyon turns on his heels and grabs Lilia by the shoulders. “Lilia!” He hisses in desperate panic. “You didn’t say anything about anybody crying!”

“Apollyon, all you have to do is-“ He gets cut off by frantic noises, and Apollyon makes a ‘cut it out!’ motion.

“Ah-ta-ta-ta-ta- shh-sh-sh- Shush!!” Polly stands up straight, flustered.

“You have to go in now, you know. They’re expecting you.” Once again, Apollyon shoots him a nasty look. He shoos Lilia away, who does as he wishes with an innocent smile.

Polly re-enters the dorm room. The four students in there looked back up at him. By now, the blond boy in the corner had mercifully dried his eyes. “Sooo…” Apollyon claps his hands awkwardly and rocks on the balls of his feet. “This, uh… This your first time living away from home?” There weren't many responses further than some weak nods and a couple variations of ‘mhm’.

“…Right, yeah, obviously.” He briefly glances around the room. “So, uh, I’ll just… Cut straight to it. I can’t help with homesickness. Or much else.” He clears his throat and rocks back and forth again. “But, uh… I can help you… Settle in.” The dorm room is left in relative silence again. Stress immediately invades Apollyon's mind. ‘Oh gods, what now? What else can I say without looking like a complete idiot??’

One of the freshmen mutters something, but Apollyon doesn’t catch it. He makes another attempt at salvaging the situation. “Do you all have enough blankets..? ‘Cause these stone walls can get really cold at night…” Crickets again. “C’mon guys, you’re killing me here- Have you even learned each other's names yet?”

“Uh… Y-yeah.” One of the other students piped up, which Apollyon nods at.

“Alright, there's that, I guess… I’m Apollyon, uh, third year. I’ll be… Around.” The freshman closest to Apollyon bravely speaks up.

“That’s a very… Dark name.” Apollyon’s expression changes into a strained smile, and he responds through gritted teeth.

“Yeah I Know I Didn’t Choose It.” He immediately looks a little guilty when the student shrinks away. “Um. So you guys know where the kitchen is, right? And you all… Got your devices working right? I know the signal can be iffy here.” The dorm yet again was filled with phrases of general agreement and the conversation hit a wall. Apollyon felt a shiver of embarrassment, putting all of his focus into not visibly cringing. He suddenly became very interested in the ceiling.

“Hey, y’know if you guys get sick of each other, y’can do what I did and start a couple of fights and they’ll-“ He instantly stops speaking when the four boys' faces drop, and they stare at him in fear. “Sorry, bad joke, bad joke. Don’t- Don’t do that.” Polly wrings his hands anxiously. “…Look. It gets easier. You’ll all make your friends, and if this college isn’t the right choice for you, then that’s not the end of the world either. Hey, your classes can’t be any more painful than this, right?” All four of the boys nod, one giving a forced chuckle. “Wow, you lot are a tough crowd. See if they offer electives on small talk. For my sake. There’s a storage cupboard in the hall with a mop and broom ‘n all. …Have a good night.” Apollyon swiftly exits the room, breathing a sigh of relief.

When the door closes, the first years start to speak. “He seemed… pretty nice.” The blond boy tentatively starts.

“Yeah, yeah… A little off though, right?” The one in the near corner adds. “Not to be rude-“ The other three seemed to agree with his deduction, though.

“Right? Dude, my hair totally stood on end when he walked in. Argh, that wall is cold! I’m puttin’ on a long sleeved shirt.”

Back in the common room, Apollyon groans and shakes out his embarrassment. He snaps his fingers and points at Lilia to get his attention, who looks up with the same innocent smile. “Never again, y’hear me? I’m never doing that again.”

[hollow-dweller]

tst: what's a fandom trope and/or fic that you think was before it's time?

i've been turning this one over in my head a bit, because to me "before its time" implies that the trope died out and wasn't revived by nouveau fandom despite being extremely fitting for nouveau fandom, but i can't. really think of anything.

really what tropes do is evolve, not die. whether directly or in spirit, everything old is made new again, and anything prevalent in nouveau fandom has a precursor in ye olde fandom. the found family trope as manifested in fandom was arguably catapulted to prevalence by the 2012 era of Avengers fic, but certainly has clear roots in things like Gaang fic for ATLA fandom or Scooby fic for Buffy fandom, even if those fandoms were, like all fandoms then and now, dominated by shipping. another example would be creature fic, which might have specific subtypes that go in an out of vogue--a few years ago it was mermaid aus, before that it was wing fic, etc--but these are just cycles of specific variations on the broader trope. ABO, which is often thought of as a Modern Fandom Creation, has clear roots in earlier fandom tropes like (of course) werewolf and shifter fic, but also things like Guardian/Sentinel AUs and Directedverse.

Directedverse was the first thing i thought of when you sent me this, actually. fanlore has an overview, but essentially it is a version of a BDSM AU where instead of (or sometimes alongside) gender, societal roles and expectations, as well as sexuality, are oriented around innate or biological alignments with either Dominance or Submission. these fics engaged with gender and sexuality through this D/S framework, just like ABO does through the framework of "second genders", and did so in similarly complicated ways.

on one hand, many of the fics made genuine attempts to actively engage with and deconstruct societal power structures--after all, you can't write about a society literally organized around power exchange dynamics without. discussing power structures. on the other hand, many of these fics did so by imposing analogies to misogyny onto primarily white, male characters--exploring gender and sexism while centering men, the same way many ABO fics do in modern fandom. there was also an interesting kind of de-queering of what should be queer relationships, as we see with alpha-omega pairings. technically you have (usually) two men, But Really One Is A Woman Or Close Enough, so in-universe they are the equivalent to a heterosexual relationship. and of course, there is the added component of the way these fics, despite either overtly or incidentally engaging with power structures in society, erase and ignore the influence of race: both by focusing on white characters, and by deliberately simplifying oppression as being tied to One Thing--whatever the gender analogue is.

(and all that's not even getting into the parallel the very structure of the AU presumes between women as a gender class=submissive, and men as a gender class=dominant, and other assorted aspects of the troubling and unexamined ways these aus reveal their writers' implicit bias)

(ALSO not even getting into The Cissexism Of It All Dear God)

honestly i could go on and on (and on and on) about how and why AUs like this persist in fandom, and all the myriad ways they both engage with the topics they are trying to explore and reinforce them at the same time. i think it is so revealing that again and again, we do see these tropes come around in one form or another--a sometimes explicit, sometimes inadvertent attempt to engage with extremely complex notions of gender and sexuality and oppression, but with the veneer of distance and safety afforded by fiction and fantasy.

and all this while facilitating the creation of truly absurd amounts of porn. fandom and its multitudes.

[displayheartcode]

A, F for dear fellow traveler under the moon, H, J, and K!

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

You are to stand in the corner with Mia! (Also, you should totally buy her debut novel. I am not biased whatsoever.)

this love left a permanent mark because I wrote a multi-chaptered fic for the first time in literal years. No plot, only vibes and coming of age! aNow let us have a moment of silence for my poor therapist who had to hear me rant variations of: "I'VE DON'E THIS BEFORE SO WHY IS IT HARD NOW?" and "WHY AM I GIVING MYSELF UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS FOR A SILLY STORY THAT I'M WRITING IN MY SPARE TIME FOR FREE?"

F: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with dear fellow traveler under the moon?

Yes! The title comes from the sea wolf song!

H: How would you describe your writing style?

Shows clear signs of someone who never shut up in creative writing workshops when back in college. Erratic. Funny. Uneven. Likes to use the word glint too many times.

J. What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

Came Back Wrong, grumpy girl characters accepting love that she doesn't think she deserves, queer girls taking over the narrative, it's you and me in every universe, the dreamspace between life and death, anything can be a retelling of the ballad of tam lin if i try hard enough... Yeah. I am a deeply self-indulgent writer.

K:  Do you have a guilty pleasures in fic (reading or writing)?

God, I love messing around with gender. I can probably write whole essays on gender in fandom through the lens of internal misogyny - or let the subtitle do the talking: DO PEOPLE ACTUALLY DISLIKE THIS CHARACTER FOR HER PERSONALITY OR BECAUSE SHE'S A GIRL?

And sometimes you can't help but look at a cis male character performing masculinity, thinking, "They would make such a great butch lesbian."

fanfic writing meme

[sarenth]

Messaging is Important

If someone comes to you as a leftist asking "What is the plan?" and your response is to tell them "Go do your own research" or "I am not Google" or some variation on this, you have utterly fucking failed at messaging. A lot of folks are imminently aware Google is a poor way to do a lot of searching, and throwing another search engine at them is not helpful either. Exceptions to this exist, of course, because sealioning is a popular derailment tactic. However, I have seen too many would-be Leftists or Leftist-aligned folks get entirely turned off to the communities because they get harassed by folks on the Left for not having perfect verbiage, policy, research, reading lists, or a host of other seemingly unforgivable sins.

If you cannot at the least hand off a list or the responsibility of talking to the person at hand, you are failing at messaging and may be turning away potential allies. When folks come to me and ask me questions, I make it clear I have a Heathen reading list with a mix of media sources I have in a Google Doc ready to share that is immediately accessible. If I do not have the brain space or spoons to answer a bunch of questions if they have follow up, then I say so, share the link if they will take it, give them my email, and then put the ball in their court to contact me. Most of the time I get an email later on. Sometimes that is several weeks or even months on, but I will usually get an email.

Assuming malice on the part of everyone you meet, or insisting that folks who are asking what would otherwise be reasonable questions of being part of the opposition or just someone who is there to grind you down is what turns a lot of folks off to Leftist and Leftist-aligned spaces. If I have to police my language and my questions to the point that I, or anyone I would bring into a space has to walk on eggshells, that place is neither safe nor ultimately productive. If folks have to be at a certain level of purity or education or whatever criteria you have before you engage with them, that's a choice, but you should not put yourself out as a resource, then. If you do not have the patience for questions or questioning do not be a front-facing person.

I have encountered this exact kind of thing in the queer communities, and it is why I am as gun-shy about them as I am about many Leftist and Leftist-aligned spaces. Boundaries are one thing, sorely needed to keep a space safe. If folks cannot learn and grow in your space, there is no reason for me to recommend it. If there is no grace in your space for your fellow human beings there is little reason for me to be there or to recommend it, because sooner or later I, or someone else is going to fuck up. A lot of this is part of the basics of building community vs building a clique, and dear Gods do folks, including Pagans, Heathens, Leftists, and LGBTQIA+ folks need to really consider which they want to do.

[jacktorjoseph]

Set-Up: 🔅In the land of sunny El Paso, It is a beautiful 100 degree weather day and the studio is DEFINITELY feeling it. Fans are running on max, all the ice in the water coolers have melted, and no matter how many times the producer sticks his head into his mini fridge, there’s no sign of relief anywhere. I guess it’s the price you pay being the new show on the block! Repairs and renovations must be reserved only for the cash cows of the company, hence why being forced to shoot in a studio lot last updated in the 30’s was no surprise at all. No need to install A/C if the building can’t support it structurally, the finance department would say! Luckily for you though, being the lead of a children’s television program had some perks. One of the crew members was able to find a lone, oscillating fan to sit in front of your folding chair, but it didn’t do much except blow more hot air around. The production team promised official actor chairs with their names embroidered on the back once the Sunny Time Crew Show took off, but for now, you had to settle for the static clinging variation found at small events and birthday parties. You are reading through the latest episode’s script, noticing a few changes made last minute by the writing staff that made your brow lift. There were characters you’ve never briefed on before. The Sun and the Moon? How’d that work? Sure, they were early in the production process and have only aired the pilot so far, but you’d think you would’ve at least met the person by now. You hear a number of hurried footsteps echo off the vinyl flooring.🔆

*My heels clack loudly against floor as I scour the premises for any sign of life or people. I had already met so many dead ends that there was a part of me that refused to believe this studio is actually shooting anything at all. It didn’t help when the people I did run across didn’t even glance in my direction as they scurried off. Finally reaching an entrance much larger than any of the small offices I rushed by, I took it as a sign that I might be on track. A panicked look is plastered all over my features as I scan the area for anything that hints I’m going in the right direction.*

Oh god, I’m absolutely going to be late at this rate! I knew I should’ve came three hours early instead of two! Where in the world-

*That’s when I spot you flipping through your script in the distance. No one else was around and you didn’t seem like you were rushing to get anywhere, so maybe you’d help!*

OH! Excuse me! Sir!

*I lift an arm up, securing the black binder more tightly against my chest as I lightly jog over to you. My hand instinctively grabs my knee for support once I reach you. Taking a deep breath, I straighten myself up and tuck a long strand of dark brown hair behind my ear. My bangs cling to my forehead for dear life. With how old the building is, people would assume that I’m a ghost or someone who just walked off a princess set with how out of style my puffed sleeve dress is. The bow clipped behind my head becomes more crooked and a relieved smile graces my face*

Oh thank goodness you’re here! You’d not believe the day I was having! I swear I thought I had the plague or something with how much I got snubbed today.

*I let out a breathy laugh, my free hand emphasizing my emotions. I bring my arm back to meet the other along my binder and squeeze it tighter against my chest.*

I’m sorry for interrupting what you’re doing, but my agent set up a vocal audition for me for the…Sunny Time Crew Show? I think that’s what it’s called?

*My brows furrow in thought before I wave a hand dismissively.*

I don’t even know! My agent says it’s the beauty of last minute auditions, but not being able to study up makes me feel more anxious than anything! Anyways, I was hoping you’d know where they’d be at. I’m not really used to being on a film lot since musical theatre productions is more of my thing, but I didn’t think that they were THIS big. Memorizing directions is not my specialty as you can tell.

(OOC-Hi! I’m sorry this is so long, I just wanted to set up the scene! I love how you portray Joesph and I hope I can RP with you!)

-🧜🏻‍♀️

OOC// okay, to start this off, I legit was trying to think of shit all day for this, but got busy with work (ask my s/o they offered help when I saw the absolute NOVEL you had written /positive ) however, it's time for my brain to go back to 2012-2014 (my peak roleplay years)

Joseph looked over at you, his white tank-top both slightly see-through and stained from his own sweat, soon fanning himself with his script.

well, you came to...I guess the right place. Though, it feels more like hell right now. No damn clue why the idiots higher up decided the new show would get the worst building in the area.

He stands up and stretches a bit, if you looked over you'd notice his jeans sitting on his chair, the man in a pair of fitted shorts instead.

If I knew it'd be this hot I wouldn't have even bothered to come nicely dressed.

He offers his free hand to you, it obviously very sweaty.

I'm Joseph, I guess I'll be the main part in this children's show. But, I'll warn ya, some of these actors? Serían mejores para los espectáculos nocturnos, if you get my drift. (translation: they'd be better for the late night shows,)

He gives a very half-caring smile.

What position are you here for? So far, I know about....3, 2? other actors, and none of which have given anyone any hospitality other than the manager and director.

[all-seeing-ifer]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tysm to @spaghettisaurusrex for tagging me!!

1. How many works do you have on ao3? 18

2. What's your total ao3 word count? 83,346

3. What fandoms do you write for? At the moment it's mostly Angel, with a bit of the Oklahoma revival as well! What a combo.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? From number five to number one:

A Series of Statements Regarding Sunnydale, California (btvs and tma crossover that I wrote the first four chapters of and then stopped updating over three years ago. sorry everyone),

looking up for heaven (vaguely angsty little women fic that I wrote in an afternoon bc I was In My Feelings about jo and laurie, but is honestly pretty good),

Those I Love, It Rends (really really angsty little women fic that I wrote in more than an afternoon bc I was In My Feelings about jo and laurie, and is also honestly pretty good),

Coming Home (little women fic about jo and laurie reconciling that's still a personal fave of mine),

sincere and honest conversation (tma fic about jon coming out to the archive team that I wrote in like a day for aspec archives week and it..... guys it sucks. it sucks so bad. can people please stop leaving kudos on this one i'm so sick of getting emails about it oh my god. not even linking this one fuck that

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to!! I'm always super excited to get comments and also have chronic won't-shut-the-fuck-up disease so I'll usually leave some kind of response, even if I have no idea how to respond to positive feedback half the time lol

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? probably triptych? feels like cheating since it's really just a character study of the actual ending to ok19, but surprsingly enough I don't actually have that much written that ends angstily

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? oooo I'm gonna say Coming Home - I probably have written fluffier fic but I find that one very cathartic and think the ending to it is just generally really strong

8. Do you get hate on fics? ehhhh I've had a couple of annoying comments in the past but nothing I'd call hate lol

9. Do you write smut? nope, and I probably never will! I wrote like. one vaguely suggestive scene for give them all that they can drink bc I kind of had to for story reasons and jesus it felt like pulling teeth. I simply do not enjoy it. anyway if like a year from now I've written myself into a corner where I have to do that again feel free to laugh at me

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I mean I'm currently in the process of trying to finish my Oklahoma/Magnus Archives crossover fic so I think there's your answer. Actually funnily enough all the crossover fics I've written have been something crossing over with tma. What can I say, I just really love the tma lore and enjoy applying it to other things!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Again, not as far as I know!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope! Closest I've come is Miles helping me out with editing to be a king of a ruined world and us bouncing off each other with our ok19 fic thoughts in general

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? I'm with you on this one El - can't answer this question my ability to have an all time favourite is hindered by my brain jumping from interest to interest like some kind of fucked up flea. also I mostly write gen anyway so. eh.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? oh dear lord there's so many. Like every couple of weeks I contemplate going back to this wishverse au I wrote where buffy and angel survive the battle against the master and proceed to have a deeply fucked up relationship and ruin each others' lives. It was vaguely inspired by the silt verses and the wolf 359 minisode variations on a theme. It was kind of about aromanticism. It was mildly unhinged. And it will probably never be finished because I couldn't figure out a good direction to take it in. Pour one out.

16. What are your writing strengths? Imagery!! People always tell me my imagery is super vivid and memorable and you know what? They're right! I think I have a knack for coming up with imagery and metaphors and motifs and weaving them throughout my writing. Doesn't hurt that I edit my fics like they're academic essays so even if they're not interesting they at least always have strong throughlines

17. What are your writing weaknesses? hmmmm I feel like pacing is something I struggle with. Also while I think my imagery and metaphors are strong I also have a really hard time figuring out how like, subtle to make them? Like I just Do Not have an intuitive sense of what's too heavy-handed or what's too oblique, so I feel like it can end up leaning a bit on the obvious side. it's something I'm working on!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? It's not something I've ever really thought about, to be honest! Probably not something I'd do myself, but that's really just because I'd be likely to mess it up lol

19. First fandom you wrote for? Lost, which is truly something I can never live down. guys I really really like that one insanely underdeveloped ghost-talking guy

20. Favorite fic you've written? either give them all that they can drink or how ridiculous I was as a marionette. much as I clown on myself for writing not one but two ace cordy fics that were meant to be short and ended up being 9k, I can't act like I don't think they were both excellent. oh, and I'm also always very proud of what exists of to be a king of a ruined world, though I feel like I can't call it my favourite on the grounds that it's only like. a third done.

tagging @discocaptain @ramiroangel @beatriceeverytuesday and @jennycalendar

[flowerandthesongstress]

Before I cleaned up and locked the comments to the Fic that should not have 🐝en shared, I’d received five comments in the vein of ‘I ate/am planning to eat [the food-item extensively mentioned in this work]’. 

Out of the five people who penned those five comments, three jOkinGly complained to me that they disliked [food-item]. Out of those three, two also said that [food-item] was punishingly expensive: one said, 45 US dollars, the other said, 60 US dollars. In short, [many american moneyz]. 

Unprompted. Not one of them had endeavored to ask beforehand. I was really meek back then and not in the know yet, so I just shrugged it off and bleated some platitudes.

But it really bothered me. I remember. Right away. It really bothered me how not a single one of them wished to offer me their personal variation of an existential food metaphor, despite how good of an ice-breaker it would have been (You still can, though. Always). How not a single one of them was interested in the uuuh shall we say extra-diegetic context of this ‘exotic’ and ‘unusual’ [food-item].

They just rushed to CONSUME. As if consumption was a stand-in for respect. As if I was a saleswoman. As if my writing was a marketing pitch.

All of which unsettled me. A lot. A LOT lot. Like a city-walking tour marching over my grave lot.

The ‘funniest’ part is that the fic had some unsubtle—or so I always believe, because I'm a naive clown, I guess—anti-capitalist themes, and the HEA included everyone forming a commune on shrooms.

Anyway, at some point I grew too alarmed and also wary of this occurrence repeating, and could not hold back anymore, and attempted to explain to the fifth person—in a mildly exasperated manner—why exactly [food-item] was mentioned and praised in the fic, and how [food-item] is not, and isn’t supposed to be, tasty to the palate of an average person from the USA/UK, because the value of [food-item] lies in misguided nostalgia, not its actual flavor. 

My explanation was not entirely coherent, I guess. In my explanation, I was trying to convey that for a hungry child, who is caught up amidst brutal food shortages, has very little food to eat, and is downright starving on some days, ANY food that isn’t literal shit = good food, and ANY sweet food = the tastiest food ever, and that this impression stays for life, because unfortunately this is how trauma works, and then the child survives and even grows up — into Levi motherforking Ackerman into a fanfic-writing droll who has two skinny thumbs and turns that [food-item] into [beautiful magic] because she’s processing her trauma (and processing and processing and processing........) 

That explanation is still there, I believe, followed by an absolute bullseye of a comparison courtesy of a bestie; credit where EPIC credit is due.

Then I kärchered and locked the comments, moved that work to a different account, and went to see a man about a wall of bricks.

Over a year later, more specifically this week, I received an email from the sixth person i.e. someone who bought [food-item] for [many american moneyz], tried and hated [food-item], and wanted me to feel bad, because [food-item] was very expensive and was dubbed [superfood] now, and because I had the gall to uuuh 'promote' (kmp) this expensive [superfood] in my fanfic, you see, hence the american person felt like I’d duped them with my dear god WHY pRoMOtiOn. 

Okay, so. To kill myself summarize...

A person from the USA saw extensive mentions of a Thing in a psychedelic fanfic stuffed to bursting with odd imagery and foreign-culture references, rushed to find and buy that Thing, consumed the Thing, disliked the Thing, wanted to leave a dismissive comment about the Thing, saw that the comments were turned off because more triggers no thank you, found the contacts of the author, and sent an angry email the sole purpose of which was to inform the author of how not tasty this Thing was.

As one would do to/in an amazon review section.

Instead of maybe postponing the buying and consuming part, and talking to the Human behind the words normally, since the email is always there anyway. Like, hi what's up, read your stuff, so what can you tell me about this odd-ass [food-item], what's the deal with it.

Or uuuh. I dunno. Not. NOT doing. ANY of that commodity-fetishism-induced crap.

(a short break for snooty and whiny snobbery) 🧐 I w-honder. Shall we add ‘any regard for authorial intent’ to the pile of concepts capitalism murdered or is in the process of murdering, in addition to art, normal human communication, and communal creative spaces being used as communal creative spaces as opposed to social media, and so on? ... 🧐 No-no, I daresay this death can simply be grouped together with media literacy, there's no need for a separate body bag. (break over, because an angry anvil is about to land on me and I need to move t—)

So uhm. All clowning aside. Look... 😔 When I wail and cry about how fandoms are just empty consumption now (which is why I refuse to participate in fandoms ever again; I love my writing and I respect my effort and time — why would I want my art to be chow? but of course I still am sad about where we are now) and about dehumanization and commodification and objectification and all that jazz...ification, I don't just mean that crap *waves towards the gaping void where fandom etiquette, mindfulness, and equality used to be*. I also mean 👆 this example I just told you about.

Dear person with the email. First of all, what in the everliving fuck commodity fetishism. Look it up. Encarta it. Second: once you're done looking it up, read about it and stop. Please. Okay? Stop. For a minute. Or five. Do your best to stop mindlessly consuming. Seriously. How I could make my writing more Marxist, I have no idea, but. Please.

Please stop consuming for five. minutes. Press on the brakes.

Not even because your actions and your outlook have plunged innumerable people like me first into culture shock and then into a void of capitalist nihilism, but just because you would do well to remember that Consumption will never ever make you happy, and that you need to be Curious for Knowledge instead of just consuming — otherwise the world ends. Simple as that. I am begging you.

It’s not about [food-item]. It never was. It’s about dealing with childhood trauma.

[drekkavac-moving]

it  felt  like  after  everything ... anya  could  finally  breath  again.  bringing  everyone  back  had  managed  to  fix  what  remained  of  her  loneliness  once  she  actually  admitted  that  she  was  lonely.  that  she  still  wanted  wade , that  she  couldn't  live  without  him  much  as  she  might  try  and  fool  herself  and  the  rest  of  the  world.  and  of  course  it  was  when  she  came  to  that  realization  that  just  as  they  always  had  done ... they  kicked  ass  and  took  names.

and  now  her  family  was  back , wade  and  her  were  back  under  the  same  roof , and  in  their  own  house  no  less.  it  felt  like  things  were  finally  going  to  start  settling  down  for  them.  it  felt  like  they  were  getting  their  chance  at  happiness.  surely  the  universe  didn't  have  more  stored  up  to  throw  at  them  right?  surely  they  were  in  for  that  break.

no  such  luck  my  dear.  this  isn't  gilmore  girls.

the  world  hadn't  been  that  kind  to  her  thus  far.  why  would  it  start  now?  it  had  been  your  routine  hit  job.  get  in , get  out.  get  the  package , home  in  time  for  dinner.  which  was  meatloaf  if  she  remembered  correctly. 

"  right  you  are  baby!  "    one  thing  that  her  little  adventure  to  the  void , dealing  with  the  TVA , all  that ... had  managed  to  wake  anya  up  so  to  speak.  realizing  she  was  just  one  version , of  so  many  different  types  of  herself , was  just  the  tip  of  the  iceberg  for  her.  there  was  nothing  quite  like  realizing  you  were  nothing  more  than  some  story , that  had  countless  variations  to  make  you  simply  put ... stop  caring.  not  dying  also  helped  in  that  eye  opening  experience , but  none  the  less ... when  anya  and  wade  walked  out  of  that  shitshow  of  an  exes  to  lovers  rom  com , he'd  walk  out  with  a  partner  in  crime  of  sorts.  someone  else  in  on  the  joke.  it  wasn't  a  secret  anymore ... this  was  their  joke  now.

anya  paused  in  her  train  of  thought  to  put  three  bullets  in  the  head  of  the  pathetic  goon  that  she  had  pinned  down  by  stepping  one  foot  down  on  his  chest.  thank  god!  he  was  getting  annoying  with  all  his  flailing  through  their  flirting.    "  we  already  discussed  this  sweetie ... the  writer  said  no  speaking  lines.  "    she  casually  chided  the  dead  body  as  though  it  didn't  have  three  bullets  shot  into  it , and  looked  back  up  at  wade , about  to  continue  when  she  saw  the  dart.  her  eyes  widened , and  she  looked  in  the  direction  the  dart  had  come  from , only  to  see  the  shit  stain  making  a  run  for  it.    "  oh  no  you  fuckin  don't.  "    she  muttered  before  taking  off  after  wade  and  this  mysterious  attacker.

catching  the  rough  landing , she  winced  and  huffed  as  she  prepared  to  leap  after  them  to  the  other  building.  that  was  not  one  of  his  smoothest  landings  she  thought  to  herself  while  she  traversed  the  rooftops  of   the  buildings , seeing  that  wade  already  had  the  guy  and  he  wasn't  getting  away.  it  wasn't  the  first  time  someone  had  had  tried  something  so  fucking  stupid.  and  she  knew  it  wasn't  going  to  be  the  last.

the  agent  who  had  managed  to  shoot  wade  with  the  dart ... had  unfortunately  for  them , completed  his  mission.  from  this  moment  on , his  survival  wasn't  needed  in  the  eyes  of  his  superiors.  anya  was  familiar  with  the  way  his  organization  worked , what  with  him  being  HYDRA.  unfortunately , anya  hadn't  gotten  close  enough  yet  to  see  anything  that  might  suggest  to  her  where  he  might  be  from.

looking  from  anya  to  wade , the  man  simply  smirked  and  shook  his  head.    "  you  won't  need  answers  wade  wilson.  "    the  agent  audibly  snickered.  his  accent  obviously  german , raising  alarm  bells  in  her  head , and  twinge  she  kept  at  bay  for  the  sake  of  not  blowing  any  chance  at  information  they  might  be  able  to  get  from  him.  anya's  head  tilted  to  the  side.  an  incredulous  look  on  her  face  as  he  looked  back  to  wade.    "  you'll  be  dead  soon  enough.  "

starter for @oozeyboozey

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Wade Wilson took a DEEP AND SATISFIED BREATH as he brought the muzzles of his two gold-plated, 50-caliber Desert Eagle pistols...that he definitely acquired at the EARNEST BEHEST of their former owner, in his dying moments. The same moments where his POLITE COUNTERPART also surrendered the greatest dog known on the entire planet; MARY PUPPINS.

"Ahhhh...nothing beats the fresh smell of DEAD BADDIES in the morning, right MAMMA?" he mused in earnest as he looked over to ANYA BARNES. There was obviously a smile upon his features, that much was apparent just in his tone, even with his INFAMOUS MASK over his face.

The reason he was capable of being so BRIGHT-EYED AND BUSHY-TAILED was that everything THAT SHITHEAL, THANOS had done, had been UNDONE. The planet was once more populated to the capacity that it had been before the SNAP (or whatever stupid fucking name FEIGE had come up with). Sure, there were some issues that the various WORLD GOVERNMENTS were contending with, but Wade wasn't a World Leader. He wasn't even a Team Leader. What he WAS however, was PERFECTLY CONTENT.

He had a FAMILY again. And moreover, they were all KICKING ASS together again.

It was NICE AND REFRESHING to have HIS OWN timeline, along with the entire MULTIVERSE...back to the closest thing that Wade had ever found in his life to NORMAL. Really though, the knowledge that there were infinite timelines going on simultaneously at any given moment...it redefined NORMAL.

Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be given too much time to ADJUST to that new normal. In fact, he'd be lucky to SEE IT PROGRESS at all.

He'd HEARD the sound of the dart leaving the gun before he felt the SHARP AND PRECISE sting of a needle that had fired without enough force to PIERCE THROUGH his suit at the chest. Wade just barely flinched with a little oof!

Looking down at the needle, he tilted his head somewhat to the side in confusion and even slight ANNOYANCE.

"Hm...!" The Merc tapped the NOW EMPTY syringe on its side. "Owwie..." Still, he scoffed, reaching to grab the needle and simply pulling the whole thing out of his chest so that he could examine it. His eyes narrowed and he held the object close to his face.

"HEY!" Wade had managed to catch sight of the guy that had fired at him specifically, holding up one of his pistols and taking out one of the guy's kneecaps to STOP HIM.

"If you're gonna PUT A MYSTERIOUS FLUID INSIDE ME, at least TELL ME WHAT IT IS!" He paused a moment. "At least buy me DINNER first, fuckin' Christ..."

He seemed more than ready and willing to move on from the topic, the syringe still in his hand only for a second longer before he tossed it to the ground a bit carelessly. Not like it was going to KILL HIM, after all.

At least, that was what he assumed. Why wouldn't he? Wade had moved to hop across to the roof next door to the one that he and Anya had been on, and he made the landing...but his KNEES sure felt it. That's a little weird. He shook the thought away and continued over to the man that had fired the dart at him.

"Lucy, you got some SPLAININ' to do..."

[milkymoose]

Being an ENTP is like comparing all the possibilities between 5 cereal boxes with slightly different contents, from price point to mix-ability™ with the other cereals at home. Nailing it down to 2, extremely well thought out choices and not being able to pick just one, even if your eternal happiness and stomach depended on it.

[mjlol52]

oooooooooo you can akumatize sentimonsters i didnt know that this is Crazy