#Mostly because these snippets already have victims

[bruggle]

OKAY

Robotics revolution and its consequences + Elpizio is terrible rant!

Let's go!

Now, to preface all of this, this is mainly focusing on MMX and MMZ. Classic Era is... I mean... Wily is basically a SatAM villain. He doesn't REALLY try super hard to hurt anyone. He just wants people to respect him and to beat Dr. Light once and for all. (Until he goes senile and decides to make the Maverick Virus...)

And then ZX is... well, it's a kind of a final nail in the coffin because technically speaking, humans ARE extinct by then. Replaced with humanoids who have been ship of Theseus'd to contend better with reploids.

So this is mainly focusing on MMX/Z and the constant genocide of human beings.

Because yeah.

Each Maverick War is an attempt at genocide (except MAYBE MMX7 because that one seems centralized to one place.) But I think the fandom as a whole forgets that we literally only see one small snippet of the Maverick Wars. There is an entire warfront going on, and we only follow X, Zero, (and later Axl) through their efforts on the front lines. There are countless other places being attacked. Countless other infected Mavericks trying to get at humans (because yes. The primary target of the Maverick/Sigma virus is humans. Other reploids are either collateral or seen as traitors.)

And let's not forget that Mavericks existed before Zero was found. That's why Sigma and his team found him in the first place. It wasn't anywhere near the scale we see AFTER the virus is released, sure, but like...

Guys.

Even they aren't really victims.

Yes, humans are reluctant to give reploids rights. But can you really blame them? You're talking about sentient beings made of metal. Between them and bones, the bones are ALWAYS going to break first. And humans LITERALLY can't do anything to defend themselves against a reploid.

It bullets worked, I don't think Rock would have needed a buster.

So that's a subtle world building nod that says "humans literally have 0 defenses against reploids." Because all busters in the first handful of games are quite literally attached to reploids. We don't get detached weaponry (outside of swords and whatnot. But why would you want to get close to a being who is capable and willing to break your bones like toothpicks?) until X7 with Axl's pistols. But even then, there's probably a good chance that wasn't allowed for commercial use. I mean... peace between wars is already fuzzy.

You don't want to be adding in angry humans finally able to do something to the bunch.

So there really is a forced reliance ON reploids just to protect humanity from the virus and deter uninfected Mavs from doing whatever they want.

If I see kid walking past me, 9/10 times, it would be a lot easier for me to grab them than it would be for them to fight me off.

The onus is on me not to take advantage of that fact.

That's WHY Mavericks are so terrifying to humans.

And when half an entire race collectively decides, "Alright, we're gonna try to kill all the humans again for the fifth time," yeah. I can see why they're reluctant to really entertain the notion of rights.

Is that the right way of going about it?

No.

But I can see where that can be terrifying.

(And yes, the virus in of itself is a massive tragedy.

Not all the reploids involved completely were like that before infection.

But that doesn't change the outcome, does it?)

And speaking of fifth time-

I think the fandom ALSO glosses over Eurasia's fall.

Mostly because canon does too.

But let me make this clear: we're told in X6 that ALL of humanity is FORCED to hide underground because of how bad Eurasia's crash impacted the Earth. That is quite literally an extinction level event. Already, probably 90% of ALL animal life is extinct by that point.

And already a vast majority of humans are dead; either from the impact itself, or the ramifications afterwards.

Because I really don't think there were a bunch of underground bunkers to start off with.

Why would you? You'd be a sitting duck there during a Mav attack. There are plenty of digging reploids and mechanaloids who are probably better at it than any digging equipment humans can operate. And the resources necessary to build something that COULD withstand a Mav attack were probably too lucrative to justify.

So you're looking at caves as your best bet.

Now, that isn't a pretty number either.

Mammoth Cave is the BIGGEST cave system in the world. Their website claims they have an average of 600,000 people visiting per day, with 400,000 in the caves at any one time. (There are a bunch of things to do aboveground there after all.)

So you're looking at MAYBE 2,000,000 people being able to shelter there safely if you pack them together like sardines until better shelter can be made.

And then the biggest single cave in the world?

Hang Son Doong.

People claim 40 747 Boeing airplanes can fit in there. Which is roughly around 231 feet long and 195 feel wide.

Which equals ~7,540 people.

So that's only another ~300,000 people able to take shelter there.

So you're probably only looking at 500,000,000 people saved from the getgo of Eurasia's falling.

That is the population of the Earth during the 1600s.

Eurasia is literally an extinction level event guys.

And I'm sorry. But reploids really aren't as devastated by mass losses of life as humans are. For a reploid, you're probably looking at MOST 1 year to build them (probably less though let's be honest) and then maybe another 2 years for their ai to be fully competent.

Humans take a minimum of 18 years to grow.

And then maybe 25 to safely reproduce.

One of these things is not like the other.

So yeah, the 90% of reploids lost in the Elf Wars is bad.

But the 60% lost is yet another extinction event for the human race. (And granted, that one is caused primarily by another human. Heck you Weil.)

But people act like reploids were most affected because their number is bigger.

And it is!

But they were probably already outnumbering humans 3 to 1! And again, they "reproduce" much quicker!

Humans probably went from ~1,000,000,000 (if we're being exceptionally generous) back down to 400,000,000! Less than what we're guessing survived the Eurasia crash!

It's no wonder X is done with his people.

And it's not like humans did nothing, too!

They tried saying "okay fine have the Earth we'll live on the moon. "

Only for Lumine to decide "haha nah :) Genocide :)"

Mavericks are not poor uwu babies.

They're literally harming a species that is facing extinction.

We call those poachers.

And nobody like poachers.

(And granted yes. This is only really applicable after Eurasia's fall, but still. If it's before X5, then it's harmful antisocial behavior. Because again, if you have the ability to kill something that literally cannot defend itself against you, then you're disordered at best. Malicious at worst.

Torturing kittens because they can't fight back is messed up.

Reploids attacking humans because they can't fight back should be equally messed up.)

Which leads to Elpizio (and arguably Craft) and why he's yet another genocidal Maverick.

No, he isn't infected with the virus.

I do firmly believe that the Mother Elf did her job before she was corrupted by Weil.

The virus IS gone.

But again, Mavericks existed before Zero was found. I like to call these Mavericks "Old-School Mavericks."

They're the types like Vile (Vava) and Elpizio. Reploids who CHOOSE to hate humanity to the point of harming them.

Because Elpizio literally states he wants to kill all humans (who yes, are still probably technically an endangered species. Only 100 years have passed between the Elf Wars and MMZ. That's only ~4 generations. And not everyone is having kids. No wonder Ciel is a GMO. There's probably a bunch of cancers and other shiz going on in the environment that may very well be killing off kids preventing them from reaching 18-25 years.)

Now let's take a step back, yeah?

Why do I think people need to stop saying Elpizio was right about Neo Arcadia? And what exactly am I referring too?

Well, Ciel wants to solve the energy crisis because she believes that will help stop the persecution of reploids.

And honestly?

I think SHE'S right.

And Elpizio is just projecting.

But people claim he's right because Ciel DOES solve the energy crisis, yet we've got two more games. So what gives?

Well let's look at the actual situation at hand, yeah?

Neo Arcadia wouldn't listen after Elpizio's stunt because OPE

Look at that

He has just attacked the one place humans can thrive.

Ciel living out in the wastes is an OUTLIER. NOT THE NORM.

Like I said, she is a genetically modified organism (terrible way of putting it, but you know) She is literally engineered to be more resilient to cancer, hunger, lack of sleep, etc.

Not all humans can survive in her place.

Area Zero IS quite literally the only other place outside of Neo Arcadia they have a chance.

So yeah.

It's no wonder the Guardians are panicking and refusing to listen to reason.

Elpizio has literally proven himself a threat, and they know he's a part of the Resistance.

Who Zero is also a part of.

For all they know, Zero agrees with Elpizio!

And is just lying to them about it to get further in!

They don't fully trust him!

But that said, I don't actually think they're entirely unreasonable.

If they WERE, as Elpizio claims they are, I don't think Harpuia would have returned Zero the Resistance at the start of Z2.

I think Harpuia was already contemplating the idea that everything he knew was wrong.

But that's a bitter pill to swallow, hence why he keeps fighting them.

But, had Elpizio NOT been a part of the equation, I do think Neo Arcadia would have eventually listened.

Because Harpuia has already proven they're not ENTIRELY all "death evil kill".

Now back to Elpizio and HIS psychology.

We know he read Weil's project. How he wanted to control ALL reploids as mindless slaves.

And because the Elf Wars happened, he knows Weil was successful. And probably knows that the governments at the time AGREED to give Weil Zero's body. It is understandable why he's mad at humans.

But that was also 100 years ago.

And governments aren't necessarily always their people, are they?

Tyrants do exist. ((And yes if you try making this a political thing, you're also getting blocked.))

Copy X is the tyrant in Elpizio's time. He's the one encouraging humans to treat reploids poorly.

Yet who does Elpizio blame?

Humans.

And quite frankly, I hate it when people act like Elpizio cared about Ciel.

He talks down to her CONSTANTLY.

Not even just because she's young.

Like...

The language he uses to talk to her is INSULTING.

I don't think he even remotely likes her.

He only tolerates her because one, the energy crisis DOES effect him. He would like another source of energy, please.

Two, she literally handed him something he craves, power. He at least understands not to trade scorpions for generosity.

Three, he knows the bulk of the Resistance is attached to her. She named many of them, after all! In a world where they're not even bothered with THAT. If he left her to die in the ditch somewhere, nobody would follow him.

He only lets her stay because to cast her out would make him look bad.

He IS a manipulator.

Genuinely.

That's literally all he's done with the Resistance since day one.

He's a lousy leader.

Ciel wasn't losing that many troops when she was in charge in Z1.

Yet we KNOW the Resistance was suffering heavily under Elpizio's leadership.

He doesn't care about anyone other than himself. He have illusions of grandeur and just...

Can't see anything else.

And also let's talk about why Ciel couldn't get Neo Arcadia to back off AFTER Elpizio's death.

Elpizio literally released the Dark Elf.

You know.

The thing that literally started the Elf Wars.

Yeah, I wouldn't want to work with the group who employed him either. For all the Guardians knew, the CIEL system would have made things worse.

Ciel was smart enough to recognize that and was giving them space.

UNTIL OOPS CRAZY OLD MAN WITH A CHIP ON HIS SHOULDER AGAINST BOTH HUMANS AND REPLOIDS COMES BACK AND TAKES CONTROL.

AND HE WILL ACCEPT NOTHING EXCEPT COMPLETE SURENDER OR DESTRUCTION.

HM.

SURE WONDER WHY THE CIEL SYSTEM DIDNT STOP THAT FROM HAPPENING.

And Weil only came back because OOP.

ELPIZIO RELEASED THE DARK ELF.

HOW CRAZY IS THAT.

Had Weil never showed up, I'm sure things WOULD have eventually calmed down.

Because again, Harpuia is not completely unreasonable.

Narcissistic?

Self righteous?

Absolutely.

But that doesn't make someone unreasonable.

Elpizio holding onto his anger, however, was.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Sentenses sunday

I've made some pregress in my post 8x15 mpreg fic so here's a good long scene bc I need some love:

P.s. Not Eddie friendly. Buck pretty much understands that he was attacked in his house and blamed for nothing. Domestic violence implied. Don't agree with me, don't read, please: (p.s. Eddie might have redemption in the future, but not in this snippet)

Oh yes Buck thinks he's having miscarriage , but no, happy ending in a fic

Buck can’t sleep. Eddie’s words and actions are still on his mind. He’s scared to even breathe and he wishes to toss and turn in his bed, in his house. But he’s scared. About how much Eddie would push him if he started crying now. He’s afraid it’s not gonna be just pushing this time. And he can’t risk Eddie’s anger strike the wrong part of him.

The cramp in his stomach goes unbearable. It's a new reaction. He knows his body. And it’s not his normal stress reaction.

But nothing about his life is normal now. Maybe grief just found a new way to torture his body.

Buck feels the need to pee. Carefully moving so as not to step on the wrong place of the floor, Buck comes to the bathroom. He doesn't even take his sweat all the way when he sees these wet drops.

Red drops. Blood drops.

Hyperventilating he gets outside, hiding in his truck, calling 911. Josh’s voice sounds like a real lifeline.

Buck starts with an address and important information, “I’m p-pregnant and having slight cramps and some dots of b-blood in my boxers.”

“Ambulance already on the way, sir. Can you tell me your name and how far you are?” Josh sounds kind and professional.

“Evan Buckley, 8 weeks.”

Silence. Then less professional and more ‘I know the victim’ voice comes through, “Buck?” 

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Ok, stay on the line with me, paramedics are just 2 minutes away from you.”

“Yeah,” Buck nods, feeling the tears appear. “I see the lights.”

“In my truck yeah. I…” Buck wants to say ‘I wasn’t feeling safe in my house’, but what he says is, “Thought I might drive myself first, but then decided not to risk.”

“You’re outside?”

He can understand now how Maddie was so easily lying for decades. Lying to herself mostly, of course.   

Turns out Buckley’s are damn good liars when they try to be as good as possible so people could at least tolerate them. Even if it’s people you could try and kill yourself to saving them. 

The knock on the window gets him back to reality. To reality where he loses his baby. Because his best friend made him feel unsafe. Because the man he saw as his ride to die says he’s the selfiest prick to exist. Because he can’t trust Eddie Diaz near him or his precious bun in the oven.

Lena helps him out of the car. “Let’s go make sure you and the baby are fine.”

np tagging @quintessenceofdust88 @hippolotamus @lovetommyactually @devirnis @powersuitup @bangpop91writing @tommyscurls @bewilderedbuckley @jamieroyjamieroy @robinminustherichard @tommysbignaturals @saintbobbynash @unhingedangstaddict @agentpeggycartering @aringofsalt @lavenderleahy @laundryandtaxesworld @mustlovelou @loulou-land @exhaustedpirate @racerchix21 @zeraparker @evansbuck-ley @desert--moonchild @cliophilyra @typicalopposite @pilot-kinard @pirrusstuff @midsummersmorn @hyperfocusthusly @leashybebes @setmeatopthepyre @gayjaytodd @frogsinflannel

[skyrim-forever]

WIP WEDNESDAY

It's Wednesday again, let's see them wips <3 I was tagged by @ladytanithia for a wip whenever yesterday, thank you friend!

Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @lucien-lachance @umbracirrus @changelingsandothernonsense

@bougainvillea-and-saltwater @pocket-vvardvark @firefly-factory @hircines-hunter @captain-of-silvenar

I'd like to give a special shoutout to @lillxart who got me thinking more about the fun little emotion that is jealousy and I decided I wanted to tackle it more in-depth than I have before. Also was missing writing from Ondolemar's pov and he's at his best denying his feelings so here's a snippet from before they have confessed <3 Under the cut because somewhat suggestive, mostly angst:

So caught up in his own mental groveling, what she says next is nearly missed. “I would love to know if you find anything interesting about them, I’ll confess I don't know much about the Dwemer. More familiar with the Ayelids, my father had an interest."

“Perfectly understandable, the Dwemer never went as far south as Cyrodiil.” The young wizard pauses before continuing. “I’ve already got some theories, perhaps we could continue this conversation over dinner? If you’d be interested, of course.”

It comes out of him quickly, words staunch and firm, the authoritarian tone hopefully covers up his desperation. It was unlike him to speak without thinking, let whatever fall from his mouth. Careful, calculated, that is how he was taught to speak. More thought should be put into deciding what to reveal than the physical exertion of saying it. Despite all that training, or perhaps in spite of it, the accusation comes out. 

“You.” The single word is so cutting, far more than it needs to be. The anger in voice should not be directed at her, nor Aicantar who knows not of his crime. It should claim its victim in himself  and it would have, if he had not been struck mad at the thought of her having dinner with someone else. A younger Altmer who was doing what his own younger self set out to do, a scholar; a mer who could be with her, unbound by the confines of oaths and duty. “You have been interfering with official business of the Altmeri Dominion and I am taking you for questioning.” 

Unlike his anger, misplaced and sporadic, hers is properly accessed as she glares at him, burring holes through his very being. Ondolemar knew nothing of dragons. The beasts they say she fought bore little concern on his mind. However, as he guides them back to his quarters, few words said to his guards to explain her presence, he wonders how much truth there is in the tales of their wrath. How much truth is found in the title Dragonborn? Was she like a dragon, could her wrath consume him? 

It’s more unnerving as she is silent on their way, nothing but that agonizing stare to confirm she’s there. Slowly, he shuts the door behind them. Enjoying a few seconds of her company without facing the consequences of what has occurred. 

“What was that?” Every word is a brutal strike and every answer he can give is more pathetic than the next. Though this is no time to be blaise, he does so anyway. An attempt can’t hurt. 

“You were late.” He passes her the goblet poured early, a peace offering, as insignificant as it is. It is rejected. 

“I didn’t realize being late for you to fuck me was a crime, delaying your pleasure counted as interfering with official business.” He deserves the mocking tone as she echoes his words. 

“Given what you have told me I thought you may have been held up by the City Guards. Now I see it was something else.”

“That doesn’t explain what you said. Now the next time I speak with Aicantar I’ll have to fabricate some story because you seem to think your position means you can demand anything you want, at any time.” Her words hit him heavily, settling in his stomach like a thick sludge where sustenance should be. Did she really think that all he was concerned about? Of course she did, he had worked very hard to not let slip any of the borderline romantic thoughts he harboured. Fearful of even thinking of them sober, speaking them aloud would be far too real. 

But she is angry with him and despite their very opposing sides, Ondolemar doesn’t want Theodora angry at him. Their identities as enemies was much better suited for their private activities. Where they still mattered, his position and rank never leaving his mind, but no one to see how he used them to please her. Collecting the right works, he speaks. 

“In the moment I was taken aback when he asked you to dinner and forgot myself.” Her rage quells slightly, what rage leaves is replaced with hurt, her words are layered with pain. 

“Am I not allowed to be asked to dinner?”

“Of course.”

“Then why did you order me away?” He expected her to ask if he was jealous. All the clues point in that direction, it would be easier on him to confirm her conclusion than draw his own. Fearful if he say it he would go even further and inform her that the lack of freedom and autonomy got to him at times. That it did hurt to hear someone else was interested in her and she would not need to hide with him. Taken aback again, this time by her pain and sincerity, he can’t bring himself to tell the truth. 

“I do not know.” It’s a suffocating silence. Distracting himself momentarily, he puts down the rejected peace offering, mentally praying that they will get to share a drink tonight. If she can forgive him for his stupid and barbaric behaviour as well as the fact he cannot provide her an explanation, unable to admit some things to himself. 

“If I saw you with another woman, asking her to dinner or kissing her or even fucking her, I wouldn’t say anything. It’s not my place to.”

There was he wants say. An fruitless endeavour but one nonetheless.

[bibookdemon]

Feeling a burnout approaching, gonna get some self-care going and then back to it!

The Hanahaki isn't gonna write itself!!!!

I'm just over 1000 words from my goal

At which point I will have met

Drum rolllllll pleaseeeee

30k!

[In-depth of the structure + spoilers below]

Original expected word count: 2-3,000

Current word count: 28,725

Expected word count: 50-75,000

Scenes I've already completed:

-LQG gay panic (idiot)

-LQG initial infection (Hanahaki)

-Symptoms showing up

-Various scenes going more in-depth with his symptoms

-Stages 1-2 complete, currently on Stage 3 of Hanahaki disease

-The big reveal that he has to die to save SQQ and future victims (he doesn't have to die tho...he just refuses to inflict this shit on the person he loves the most)

Scenes I have to initiate before timeskips:

-LQG not wanting SQQ anywhere near him to protect him (he doesn't want SQQ to find out about the Hanahaki and his crush because well, it's complicated. I'll attach some snippets below.)

-SQQ's pov of having LQG blow up at him and tell him they were never actually friends (or whatever lie he comes up with to hurt SQQ enough that he leaves and never comes back to visit)

Between time-skips:

-Stage four will initiate at least two days worth of in-depth description with timeskips in between and random blurbs here and there about how LQG is feeling

-Stage five will initiate a constant excruciating pain that he will remain coherent for the course of one day, after which he will become incoherent and a timeskip will be conducted

-Stage six will mostly be timeskipped with random blurbs in between, up to the point where LQG leaves for the woods to die

Timeskips will stop at this point because everything will happen very quickly over the next several scenes

-Switch to SQQ pov and have him go to the woods after somehow dragging the info out of the healer

-Near-death scene

-SQQ saving LQG (LQG pov)

-SQQ saving LQG (SQQ pov) + confession scene

-Switch back to LQG, initiate the confession scene

Extras:

-Glimpse into domestic life together(?)

-Visit to SQH to see if he wrote a cure for Hanahaki

-Proposal(?) (Would be absolutely adorable, potentially look into more Hanahaki aspects? - Marriage not included, I am NOT writing that shit)

-Potential papapa scene as A) separate chapter B) separate fic (most likely will not be included)

Snippy snips below!!!!

⚠️Snippets may contain graphic descriptions of pain, blood, vomiting, etc.⚠️

Italics scene: A dream caused by the Hanahaki

Editing this bastard is gonna be absolute hell LMAO

Also, I will break this up into chapters which will be posted weekly or twice-weekly (depending on how long each chapter is.)

In between each chapter I will work on my smaller projects + depending on how bad my burnout is after this (it's gonna be BADDDD) I will begin work on another large project.

Then again, hopefully I have a job by then so I might have less time to work on another large project XD

[srirax619]

Tell me about your planet

Hey, y'all, how goes? This is a snippet from my AU (still unnamed) were both Pines brothers fall into the portal. I was watching nature videos and got inspired. This is a very short chapter, from around the 3rd quarter of the story. Shouldn't give spoilers, I don't think. Let me know what you think.

“Tell me about your planet… I have never been anywhere but here. What is it like? Is it beautiful? Is it a wasteland?” Mila asked the brothers, her cigarette-like herbal paper wrap dangling from her respiration flaps. 

This was the first time in many years that anyone had asked about their home. Those familiar with Earth usually were not from their dimension, didn’t think too much of it. Those unfamiliar had heard stories of the idiocy of its inhabitants with regard to things like nuclear war and environmental damage. It wasn’t the only planet that was the victim of greed, but it was really all people knew about their home, usually. 

Ford could tell this was a question borne of genuine curiosity and was struggling with how to respond, debating where to start. 

Before he could, Stanley said, “My brother here, he’s got a compulsion to know. To understand. To learn everything possible. I used to joke, when we were children, that he would make his head pop if he wasn’t careful. On our planet, just like others, one of the highest accolades one can get for their intellect, is to get a PhD, to become a doctor. You can become a doctor of many subjects. In general, it takes most people around a decade– that means ten years– to accomplish one PhD. My brother has 12 PhDs.”

Stanley took a drag from his not-cigarette. He smiled at the young native. “With all of that intellect, all of that collected knowledge, my brother has not BEEN to every place on our planet. He hasn’t seen the dunes of the Sahara, a massive desert on the opposite side of the planet than where we lived. He hasn’t ever witnessed a continent made almost completely of frozen water. There are places with rocks that are pillars, yet hexagonal. There are oceans and lakes and rivers that range in color from black to blue to red. There are creatures on our planet that haven’t even yet been discovered by scientists, like my brother. People that spend their ENTIRE lives in the pursuit of discovery, and never complete their work. There are indeed wastelands, but even they have their own beauty. The majority of our world is green and lush, where there is land, and wide and blue, where there is ocean. The majority of the planet is ocean. People, mostly, live on land. There are places where they have birds– they are a form of avian, like your Makachu– that walk as tall as a humanoid. There are creatures that weigh as much as your house and yet only eat the tiniest microbes. There are hives of insects that have a form of agriculture where they harvest greens to feed to small fungal colonies in order to later eat those fungal colonies. Some places have trees so big that we tunnel into the trees, just to drive automobiles through, and the trees still thrive! There are whales, like your fish but massive, and they breathe air instead of water, so big that you could walk through their organs while standing up. There are bioluminescent krill that make the shore of the ocean glow at night. There is a place where lightning strikes over 1000 times in 365 days– that’s how long our year is on our planet. It’s dangerous, so dangerous that even accidentally breathing water into your nose, even if you manage not to drown, can leave amoebas in your brain and kill you. And yet, there seems to be a plant or an herb for almost every ailment that you can get. I have seen people survive venoms because a doctor had already synthesized an anti-venom by using the original venom. There’s a type of fish that, with a single drop of its venom, can kill an animal the size of your house. And none of that is the amazing achievements of human engineering, some of which are awe-inspiring… some of which are terrible. Human’s, Mila, are the most dangerous creatures on our planet. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of our pollution or nuclear wars….” Stanley cleared his throat and sat straighter. “For as dangerous as each thing can be, it is without a doubt the most beautiful place I have ever seen, and we’ve been traveling the multiverse for 7 years now.” Stan finally turned to the other two and smiled, genuinely, and with a fond expression. He sighed deeply and looked up at the gray sunset before them. 

Both Ford and Mila looked at Stanley in awe. 

“I couldn’t tell you about our planet if I spent a lifetime on it. But I can tell you that I think about it every single day.” 

Mila chittered affectionately. “It sounds pretty amazing. I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Ford responded automatically, still staring into nothingness.

“What is an ocean?” she asked innocently. Both brothers laughed. She bristled a bit. “What?” 

Ford turned fully toward the young native. “All this sand, the beautiful dunes that surround us?” 

“Yes?”

“Imagine that the sand was all water. Water so deep that it went for kilometers down, so deep that the pressure from the weight of it all would crush you, the further down you went. Imagine that it was so massive, so deep, that the largest creature on your planet could not just call it home, but have so much room to move that for hundreds of thousands of years, that creature was thought to be a myth, for how few of your people had seen it. Imagine water so deep that the equipment you had to attempt to just find out how deep it went would not survive the journey.” Mila’s eye stalks glowed, her species equivalent to whistling. 

“Sounds terrifying.” 

Stan chuckled. “The sailors– that would be people who use vehicles to traverse the ocean– call the ocean and its chaos a cruel mistress. It’s a phrase that implies that she, the ocean, is both a giver and taker of life.”

“On our planet, every life’s evolutionary cycle began in the ocean,” Ford added. “In fact, most life on earth is STILL in the ocean. When life on our planet began, the entire place was covered in water. Imagine that– a place with no land anywhere.” 

Mila snuffed out her herbal stick and stood from her perch. “I would love to hear more about your Earth. It sounds like children’s stories.” She chittered affectionately and turned to walk away. “Hopefully I see you two again. I’ll be back here tomorrow, same time if you’re still around.” 

Once she was out of earshot, Ford turned to Stan and smiled fondly. He switched back to English. “That was the most beautiful description of anything I think I have ever heard from you!” 

Stan smiled, bowing his head. “S’ true. I think ‘bout home every day. Don’t get many chances to talk about it.”

“How do you know so much about the geography of home?” Ford teased. “Awfully nerdy of you.”

Stan scoffed. “I can pick up a BOOK, Sixer.” He waved off his brother. “Used to …well, the library was always free, and if it was cold… ya know. ‘Course they would frown upon loiterin’, so…” Stan cleared his throat. “Truth is, the reason I decided to take a buddy up on a few jobs in South America was… The travel books, them pictures. Moses, Ford… the beauty on those pages… Black and white or not, it was entrancing. It was the real treasure I went for.... And it couldn’t be taken from me.” 

“Every time,” Ford said.

“Huh?”

“Every time I think I know all there is to know about you, I am proven so very wrong.” 

Stan smirked. “Maybe one day you will.” 

“Well it looks like you’ll get a chance to talk about it with Mila, at least. She seems like a kind person.”

“Kid’s got a good heart, or…ya know, whatever drives her species' blood circulation.” The scanner on Stan’s wrist began to give a familiar hum. “Damn… Looks like I won’t get that chance. New rift incoming about one klick from here, let’s get there as quick as we can.” The brothers stood and shuffled quickly in the direction the scanner indicated. 

[lycankeyy]

treat yourself

Apparently "waiting until I get the brotherly fluff itch" meant two total minutes. Surprise back at it again with the slice-of-life snippets HDKWHDJ also I didn't really proofread this because I fucking hate . Proofreading so all typos are made out of hubris /silly

BFs in this one-shot: boyf (fc!bf, mine), ys (yourself/silly billy, @ochrearia); beef (wyd!bf, @gemharvest) offhandedly mentioned

-

There comes a point in the winter season, somewhere right between Thanksgiving and the typical gift-giving season, where a person who's been having a rough time up until that point decides fuck it. This was a mentality that had gotten Boyf through most of his life, to be fair, but it was hitting especially hard now, going into next year. He looked at all the time he'd spent struggling to get out of bed or working himself into the ground or worrying people and decided it was high time to throw his hands up and declare what the fuck ever. I'm gonna treat myself. Who cares.

This is, of course, an infinitely more appealing philosophy, regardless of how it might manifest, with a fellow victim to drag into the torment nexus of holiday cheer with you. And honestly, there was no one who quite fit the bill like Yourself.

Boyf had been relying on him a lot as of late. Emotional support, mostly, though there had been a couple times in there where his older brother had seen him in, well, less than prime physical condition, possibly of his own hubris. But anyway, it was hard to do that for so long without feeling a bit guilty. He supposed that went for anyone, but YS hit hard in particular.

It was not a secret whatsoever that YS was an extremely miserable person, just on a day-to-day basis. If you opened a DSM-V to the diagnostic criteria for major depression, you'd find a picture of YS as figure a. The guy had enough going on on his own without Boyf giving him a heart attack once every two weeks and all the support he sometimes-wordlessly-but-sometimes-very-openly asked for. YS never asked for any sort of reward or anything, honestly he seemed like he might implode if he even considered the idea, but that wasn't about to stop one Boyfriend Quire. Because he wanted to get silly with it. And nobody was quite deserving of Ambiguous Silly like Mr. Silly Billy himself.

And what do you know, it just so happened that his partners were going to be out of the house for a few hours today. Perfect excuse to invite him over instead of nonchalantly dragging a fuckton of random shit to an alternate reality to satiate his innane urges.

He didn't even stop to consider the fact that Yourself was, on average, a little bit awkward about visiting Boyf's world. He had some weird guilt complex or whatever that Boyf didn't like to humor enough to even acknowledge half the time. He just wanted him here. For his weird mental zoomies.

And so a plan was set in motion. It usually took a little bit for YS to get back to him when he invited him over - even if he wanted to, Boyf could easily understand the lack of inertia that kept him in bed for a good while after he read the message - so Boyf was already taking action before he even arrived. It had been a hot minute since he'd made this recipe, actually, and he barely remembered the circumstances, just that he still had it saved. And now seemed like a perfect time to drag it out and dust it off.

He didn't exactly have all the garnishes on hand, but he didn't bake enough to use the other ingredients for other stuff, so he still had a bunch laying around. Easily enough to serve two people. Maybe make some more, if it turned out that good.

So by the time YS finally told him he was ready to come over, the concoction in his pot was already about halfway done. He quickly went to retrieve his big brother from the mirror, with a degree of excitement said brother immediately picked up on.

"Oh, no. You have that look Beef gets," he complained without any actual disapproval behind his tone. Continuing in a completely flat voice, without a hint of even a rhetorical question to it, he said, "what are you going to do to me."

It's self-care day, Boyf informed him eagerly with the sort of extreme confidence of someone declaring a national holiday.

YS quirked an eyebrow at him. It was obvious from the look in his eye that he probably hadn't slept and was only half-comprehending what was even going on. "O... kay," he said, confusion muffled by the tiredness. "What does that have to do with me?"

Boyf didn't even respond to that one. Simply grabbed YS' wrist and dragged him to the kitchen - to be fair, he wasn't really supposed to stop stirring the chocolate milk.

Still trying desperately to piece together what the goal of bringing him here was, YS lazily looked over his shoulder to see what exactly he was walking in on. Mostly the smattering of ingredients on the counter and the pot Boyf was once again looming over. "You're melting chocolate chips," he observed.

Into milk, Boyf supplemented, which to be fair, did add a little context, though it far from explained anything.

YS blinked slowly, standing back a bit as the kitchen timer let out its shrill sound and Boyf moved to adding the rest of his hoard - cocoa powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, a little vanilla extract... "... you invited me over for cocoa?"

For self-care day, he restated. Maybe this was a bit of a weird sticking point, but to be fair, YS was one of those people who wouldn't know how to accept a present if it was something he literally asked you for.

"Right," he said, confusion not alleviated even slightly, though now it was manifesting as some form of fond bewilderment. "Well, thanks, I guess. I'll be, uh, on the couch. If you need me."

With a hum of acknowledgment, Boyf didn't even take his eyes off his pot as YS slunk off to make himself (figuratively) small somewhere in the other room. It wasn't like he'd been expecting him to match his energy this far into winter, after all.

Luckily, there was very little to this other than a couple more minutes stirring, pouring the contents into some mugs, adding some whipped cream and serving. Like he'd expected, YS was curled up on his couch, visibly cold and looking like an animal that had been woken in the middle of hibernation.

His face lit up a little bit though as he was handed his cup, cradling it in his hands like it was precious to him. "Thanks," he mumbled.

With no further comment, Boyf picked up his remote, turned on the TV and collapsed next to YS - something the man woke up just a little bit to lightly scold him for - they were both holding cups full of steaming hot milk, man - but ultimately relaxed when Boyf nuzzled up against him like a needy cat.

The older man huffed, and his eyes smiled more than his face did. "So your plan was just to use me as a sentient pillow. I see how it is."

YS peered into the mug with mild skepticism, though it had nothing to do with the potential taste. "Isn't it too hot to drink, still? It was just boiling."

For the millionth time, Boyf reiterated his motivations - self-care day, to which YS rolled his eyes playfully. Is it good?

At that, Boyf gave his own a brief scrutizing look, before taking a sip with zero hesitation, flinching a little as it burned his tongue. Yeah, he thought to him. Not as bad as cocoa from a coffee shop would though.

YS looked like he wasn't sure if he should laugh or be mildly horrified. "That's not. How you test that," he said, trying desperately to keep his voice even. Boyf looked up at him with completely clueless eyes, though, and shortly, YS' expression softened. Then got a little more devious. "You know what, fuck it."

His reaction to burning his tongue was slightly stronger than Boyf's, which either of them could have expected. Temperature difference and all. Still, BFs were BFs.

Good? Boyf reiterated as YS awkwardly scrubbed at his mouth like that would make the sensation in his lips go away.

After taking a moment to regain his composure, YS sighed, nodded, and after disregarding the urge to make a mildly snarky comment about how it was hard to taste anything when his tongue was on fire, he just nodded. "Yeah, it's nice. It's really nice."

Good. Boyf said, thoroughly pleased with himself. He leaned back against his guardian angel, pressing himself into his shoulder, cradling his hot chocolate in his hands. Taking a deep breath in his contentment, he sighed out, "bee love you."

YS blinked down at him, long fingers curling around the relatively small cup he'd been offered. He still couldn't really grasp what the whole deal here was, and a part of him told him there had to be more to this than was being let on, but even then, it wasn't like he could just let that comment go unanswered. He smiled softly.

"Love you too, little man."

[astroaeroace]

For the WIP thing:

I need to know more about Heaven is Not Fit to House a Love Like You and I!!!! I’m already so obsessed with it from the section you posted a while ago, I love those two idiots

Eyyyy!!! I'm glad you like it! I love these idiots too, even if I choose to show it by making them suffer horribly. Anyway!

Heaven is Not Fit to House a Love Like You and I. Ah, what to say about that most beloved and most complicated of my WIPs.

Heaven is Not Fit to House a Love Like You and I is my take on Detective AU Maxim's backstory. Particularly, I've taken what we're told about Watson's past in the opening chapter of A Study in Scarlet -- that he was an army doctor in Afghanistan during the Second Anglo-Afgan War, that he was wounded at the Battle of Maiwand, and that during his recovery he contracted and nearly died from typhoid fever -- and applied those to Maxim. I have also taken inspiration from some of the larger body of work that is the fandom's creations for this AU -- fanfic, art, meta, etc -- and made him Irish Catholic.

The resulting fic is a series of vignettes intercutting between Maxim's present -- lying in a hospital bed with a bullet wound in his shoulder and a virulent case of typhoid fever -- and various moments in his past. The flashbacks are mostly focused on his relationship with Alexander and how that relationship, alongside the broader experience of war, changes Maxim's faith. And ultimately, how Alexander's death breaks it. There are a few other thematic ideas that have come up during the process of writing -- the complicated nature of being both a victim and perpetrator of colonialism, the dehumanizing effects of war, the difference (if any) between human and divine -- but largely it's about the arc of Maxim losing his faith because of the war and his relationship to Alexander.

My goal is to have it posted this summer, maybe around the end of July. Depends on how quick I can write and how much editing I think it needs. This story, more than anything else I've written, feels like the pure essence of my art, like it's something only I could make because it's so influenced by my perspectives that removing me from it would render it structurally unsound. So I want to get it right. I'll probably write up something after it's posted where I dig more into the craft of it and some of the writing decisions I made along the way and what I was trying to do -- a director's cut but for a fic, essentially. But that will be a little while.

In the meantime, have another snippet!

Alexander takes his hand back, setting about reloading his rifle. Deft, practiced motions. Steady despite the chaos. His gaze flicks to Maxim, his hands still flitting over his gun.

"You were supposed to have evacuated already." His voice is clear, firm, almost calm. "What happened?"

"The retreat moved —" He winces as he checks his work, prodding at the bandages hard enough to send a jolt of pain up his jaw. "The retreat moved too quickly. There wasn't enough time. Too many patients. Not enough ambulances."

"Are you the only one left? Your patients and orderlies —"

"That cart of was the last of them."

"Good." Alexander checks his gun one last time then peers out over the top of their cover. Braces his arms on the stone. Fires. "Of course, that's —"

"We need to move," Maxim interjects, hands flying as he packs back up his medical bag.

"You need to get out of here."

His gaze snaps to Alexander. Takes in the firm set of his jaw, the narrow focus of his eyes, the steadiness of his hands. Determined. Unshakable. Solid as stone.

"You're not coming with me."

It's not a question. He knows Alexander too well. Once he's planned a course, he won't be swayed from it.

Alexander ducks back behind their scant cover, reloading his rifle again. Flashes Maxim a smile — God, that smile. It's not fair how easily that smile shakes him, how it strips away all his budding anger and leaves him only with the ache of his affection.

"Someone has to give you covering fire," he says lightly. Like it's a joke known only to the two of them. Like he's not discussing his own impending martyrdom.

"And it has to be you." A question, but also a statement. The answer already known.

"Everything's gone to hell, but it's still my responsibility. These men are still under my command. I can't leave them behind."

Maxim studies him for a moment. Not a long moment. He can hear the battle still raging around them. So little time left. But he drinks in every piece of him — the sharp lines of his face, the sheltering breadth of his shoulders, the steadiness of his hands — and commits it to memory.

"And I suppose asking you not to leave me alone in this world will do nothing to turn you from this course."

[clarabowmp3]

I am not particularly on that anons side but I have to agree that Joe has no right to call what Travis does on his gfs tour as 'tacky and distasteful'.

To me, that is low and makes him look bitter and pathetic which is what a certain segment of the Swift fandom disliked about him. His comments were embarrassing, I'm sorry.

Joe was already excluded from the narrative and as you rightfully point out: the focus shifted to Matty so who cares what Taylor or Travis do? And its certainly none of his business. Besides, she's a global popstar putting on a show. Also, if he really thought he had privacy in a public changing room, he's much dumber than I thought.

I mean can we not give the man a break? Must he do his utmost best to keep conversations he has in public secret? Let’s say he was overheard while chatting with a friend at a cafe. Or maybe on a bus. Or maybe at a theatre. Would you say that it’s his fault for not whispering? Maybe he should learn sign language or Morse code. Because even then what if someone hears him whispering, or someone knows sign language etc etc like at which point do we say that he has taken sufficient precautions to ensure privacy? Can we not let him live his life fairly normally 😭😭😭

And I’m sorry but I rlly don’t like your last statement, it sounds a lot like victim-blaming. I think it would be too far-fetched to suggest that he wanted to be overheard on purpose (I’m sure he’s well aware this would not help his case), so why are you blaming him from something that was out of his control? It could also be that he has had similar conversations in similar settings that didn’t get overheard, or no one cared about it, so he probably wasn’t expecting this. Think about if it was taylor instead of him. Would ppl be calling her dumb or would they be clamouring about how privacy is dead etc?

I agree that a public changing room isn’t the most private place, but I feel like a lot of us overhear snippets of other people’s conversations over the day and we just forget about it. Granted, Joe isn’t just a random guy on the street so I get why there’s more interest in what he said but he still did nothing wrong.

my main point is anyone can do anything. literally. Even joe alwyn. For example (this is a topic for another day) taylor swift can release as many ttpd variants whenever she wants. She can rip matty to shreds across a 31-song album. Even before ttpd she wrote whatever she wanted about her exes. And that’s fine (mostly)!

Even if it wasn’t joes business (which it is as a recent ex), taylor/swifties have pretty much made it everyone’s business by how much they keep playing up and encouraging the public spectacle that their relationship has become. Think of it this way - some ppl find their displays adorable, some find it repulsive. Are you going to tell them to back off and that it’s not their business? Why is it the whole world’s business except Joe alwyn (are we putting him in timeout or smth 😭😭)? Taylor can do whatever she wants with Travis, Joe is allowed to feel however he wants about it. Taylor is also allowed to feel however she wants about Joe’s next partner etc.

Like I said in another ask, even though public attention has shifted to Matty, Joe is still a guy getting over a 6-year long relationship + the hate that has been piled on him by swifties + whatever hurt he must have felt from ttpd (if he did listen to it). I don’t think it’s fair to dictate up to which point and to which extent he can feel emotionally occupied with taylor.

Is he not allowed to talk about what he’s going through with a friend? In that same conversation he (allegedly) said “it’s been tough” which I don’t think makes sense if he was being bitter about Taylor. Bitter people want to seem like they have the upper hand and that they’re unaffected, so why would he say smth as vulnerable as that? please explain the leap from joes comments to him being bitter.

[dustdotorg]

here:🌈🥕✍️👾🦷🪩

(from this ask meme)

🌈 What research do you plan on doing for your writing?

i usually do too much research to the point where it doesn't even matter to the plot and it's for literally just like one line of dialogue or something similarly inane that could be replaced with something else. (see: me looking up what dental healthcare looked like in colonial times for one semi-funny line thought by rio. like she doesn't even say it out loud to agatha or anything. it's just there, in her head. am i stupid.)

that said, i don't actually PLAN to do this amount of research, it just happens to me. i'm a victim here, please show the appropriate amount of pity for this terminal condition known as "caring way too much about tiny little details no one else even thinks about". thank you.

🥕 What's one area of your writing that you think needs the most amount of improvement?

word repetition is something that i really need to try and get rid of. it's gotten better i think but it still keeps happening and of course i only really notice it once it's been up for a while on ao3 and i re-read it while checking something else... terrible.

✍️ Which stat matters most to you (if at all!): subscriptions, kudos/favorites, comments, bookmarks, word count, or hits?

honestly, i don't really care about stats all that much anymore. i used to care a bit more about that when i started ten years ago but now? nah.

i mean, i'm happy about kudos, comments, bookmarks etc etc don't get me wrong, but i write mostly for myself and my friends at this point and i'm completely fine with that. i don't need to do "well" in the stats game to feel good about my writing because at the end of the day that's just not why* i'm writing to begin with.

*i write with anger and spite in my heart to fix what canon messed up. usually. hacks being a notable exception from that tbh. i just liked writing these two freaks interacting with each other :D

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

ideally, i could be constantly writing a steady NORMAL amount of words each day and then edit it in a timely fashion. instead, i sometimes sit down and write like 5k in one go in a few hours and other times i can't even string three words together.

then again, never break a working system and this "bad" writing habit has served me well so far so. eh?

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

HELLO LIKE YOU DONT KNOW THAT ALREADY

rio pov fic: the last section of part 4/first section of part 5 where the long awaited doom finally happens. i both want to write it and dread it. i don't want to mess it up...

and i cannot share a snippet from it because what little i have written i am not happy with yet and also it gives the entire game away that i've been setting up so far :D

🪩 Do you have any "good" writing habits you want to cultivate?

writing down an outline and keeping detailed notes for more my ideas and set ups have served me very well this year so i will be definitely stick to that.

one thing that needs improvement is maybe my note keeping system - handwritten notes in a better order maybe :D

THANK YOU <3

[duskyvision]

m. l. rio - if we were villains

Hi, it's been a while! I've been itching to write a book review because it's been over a year now, and sometimes I just have to scream about books in other places than on Discord (I still scream about books on Discord, but shh).

So why not just write a book review about a book that I did not enjoy? Haha, what a funny thing nobody has ever done before! I sure wonder what this funny guy is going to say about this book he didn't enjoy.

Anyway, this is going to be pretty long, and I'm gonna bitch about a bunch of stuff in here. Will contain spoilers.

Content warnings:

substance abuse (alcohol, drugs)

cheating

suicide

This book was my first venture into the dark academia genre/aesthetic, something I'd seen a bunch of stolen Tiktoks about on my Pinterest feed, but never paid too much attention to, mostly because I don't really care about stories centered on students. Maybe that should have been my first warning sign.

Initially, I wanted to read The Secret History by Donna Tartt because that's apparently what's seen as the dark academia staple, but I decided to stick to this because it was the only book I'd found an audiobook of on Scribd, and audiobooks are more digestible. Read a bit of the blurb and thought, "okay, sounds like it could be interesting".

Man was I wrong.

Reading the blurb, I already knew I'd have to handle pretty pretentious characters, because there's nothing more pretentious than a group of more or less wealthy white theater kids obsessed with Shakespeare (except for rich white business majors and law majors, put one of each category in a locked room and they'd maul each other within 0.5 seconds like wild beasts trying to one-up the other), but holy shit, it was worse than I'd anticipated.

The writing makes everyone and especially Oliver (the narrator) sound insufferable to the point where I wished they could simply shut up. Unfortunately, this book has slug-like pacing and bitches who love to talk on top of chapters that are padded with lines copied verbatim from Shakespeare plays because admittedly you need a very high IQ to understand the nuances and intricacies of Shakespeare plays and how it influences the characters.

And while we're still on writing: while in theory, the script-like snippets are a fun nod to how plays are formatted, it simply doesn't work in audiobook format. Really grating to hear things like "James: Cock" "Me: So true bestie" when my patience was already wearing thin the more I listened to it.

Yet, the writing wasn't the most infuriating aspect of this book to me. I think what infuriates me the most about If We Were Villains is that, ultimately, the entire book tries so hard to be deep and emotional regarding its plot and its characters when said plot is predictably boring and the characters have the depth of a single sheet of paper.

So let's talk about the plot! By the halfway point in the first part of the book, it was made obvious who would die between the main characters, but comically so. The moment Richard started acting up, I felt like the author slapped a huge sign on his head like "Watch out! He's either the bad guy or... THE VICTIM! OMG!" because there was no way Mrs Rio could come back from turning Richard into a goofy Sunday morning kids cartoon villain. And as soon as Richard died, I also predicted the twist itself, because it was so goddamn obvious it felt like it was screamed into my ears.

Now, I usually don't mind if a plotline is predictable. Actually, I enjoy it! It makes me feel smart to predict things and figure out what's happening, and it usually keeps me engaged rather than plot twists that are pulled out of the author's ass! The problem with this book, though, is that I wasn't engaged in the characters to begin with, so following them going through their problems after Richard's death just made me feel a total sense of apathy followed by "so... when are we getting to more plot?"

It focuses too much on trying to give emotional depth to characters whom, in my opinion, severely lack it to begin with. The main characters aren't interesting to me, they're just puppets with names on them at this point. They can really just be summed up into archetypes that are barely explored in a way that feels compelling:

Oliver: The average joe. Oh, look at him, he's so average and surrounded by people who are so much more interesting than him (this is a lie)!

James: The guy. I'm struggling to find anything interesting about him, besides the fact that he's Oliver's best friend and roommate. You can tell he's important because he's Oliver's roommate. I think a loaf of white bread would be more memorable as a character than him.

Richard: Probably the most interesting character in the cast, ironically, solely because he's a fish out of the water. By that, I mean that he's just a jock in the middle of theater kids. Besides that, he's laughable at best: the author tries so hard to make him devoid of anything sympathetic in the moments leading up to his death that it nullifies any emotional investment you could have in any of the characters.

Meredith: The hot girl but like not in an objectified way, in a gaslight gatekeep girlboss way (this is a lie). Richard's girlfriend. Can't catch a break because everyone and their mom objectifies and slut shames her. She usually breasts boobily, not in written script but in spirit due to how her role in the story is pretty much "piece of meat".

Alexander: The weed-smoking gay literature major stereotype, except in a special way because he objectifies Meredith too, for some reason. Diversity win! Gay man is also gross towards women!

Filippa, Wren and Colin: Filippa and Wren exist for the sole purpose of not turning this cast into a complete sausage fest (& Knuckles Meredith). Filippa is the good friend who covers everyone, and Wren is the fragile frail uwu girl. Colin exists solely to be Alexander's boyfriend.

What a totally charming cast of characters who are oh so full of depth, and completely developed throughout this book. There's also a detective guy, but I completely forgot his name because the book spent too much time on this group of pretentious theater kids whining about their interpersonal relationships.

Man, just talking about how much this book bored me is becoming a pain in the ass, so I'll just summarize what I thought about the book here:

Pretentious, flowery writing with sluggish and often jarring pacing

Characters who are equally pretentious and whose high airs desperately try to hide the innate nothing burger-ness of their existence

Extremely predictable plot that's handed to the reader on a platter by the first part, making the reading experience that much more boring when you have 0 affinity nor sympathy for any of the cast members

Final rating: 1/5 (2.29/10 on CAWPILE). I should have dropped this book when I predicted the entire plot instead of being stubborn.

[renardtrickster]

MLs like to purposefully misread or distort the message of 1984 and Animal Farm because they're big mad that Orwell didn't think Stalin was the Leftist Messiah. But there's another, very pernicious bit of misreading often thrown around when George Orwell gets brought up. And in this case, I actually don't know if it's intentionally malicious lying, or actually low reading comprehension. And it's this bit from George Orwell's 1940 review of Mein Kampf.

I should like to put it on record that I have never been able to dislike Hitler. Ever since he came to power - till them, like nearly everyone, I had been deceived into thinking that he did not matter - I have reflected that I would certainly kill him if I could get within reach of him, but that I could feel no personal animosity. The fact is that there is something deeply appealing about him. One feels it again when one sees his photographs - and I recommend especially the photograph at the beginning of Hurst and Blackett's edition, which shows Hitler in his early Brownshirt days. It is a pathetic, dog-like face, the face of a man suffering under intolerable wrongs. In a rather more manly way it reproduces the expression of innumerable pictures of Christ crucified, and there is little doubt that that is how Hitler sees himself. The initial, personal cause of his grievance against the universe can only be guessed at; but at any rate the grievance is here. He is the martyr, the victim, Prometheus chained to the rock, the self-sacrificing hero who fights single-handedly against impossible odds. If he were killing a mouse he would know how to make it seem like a dragon. One feels, as with Napoleon, that he is fighting against destiny, that he can't win, and yet that he somehow deserves to. The attraction of such a pose is of course enormous; half the films that one sees turn upon some such theme.

The claim here is that this is a pro-Hitler except. And keep in mind, this is an excerpt. People post this one snippet like it isn't part of a larger essay, so we're already doing a bit of clipping here. But I feel kind of nuts, reading this and being asked "is this a positive statement towards Hitler". And I feel like it's insulting for me to explain why it isn't, like I'm degrading your intelligence by pretending that it needs to be explained. But for the sake of full understanding and clarity...

The core of what Orwell is saying is that Hitler had a particular style when it came to his speeches, and how he presented himself when it came to the public. He opens by saying that if he was given the chance, he would personally kill Hitler (which already throws the "Orwell is pro-Hitler" claim into doubt), but that if one were to look at Hitler, in the way Hitler made himself out to be, one would see a victim taking on impossible odds. Mein Kampf is not only infamously poorly written, it's also mostly him bitching and moaning about how he's the most oppressed man in existence. The book is literally called "My Struggle", with Hitler detailing everything bad that ever happened to him, and then ascribing these hardships as not just life being a bitch, but the fault of someone or something else. Once Hitler began taking power, he carried on with that style of rhetoric. Weimar Germany is the most oppressed land in all of Europe, and its people don't deserve it, but everyone keeps shitting on them hard, and so we need to fight and organize against that something. The rhetoric of Nazi Germany was 50% "ubermenschen righteously and sexily destroy the deformed untermenschen", but the other 50% was about their being uniquely aggrieved and deserving of better. This is the core of one of the hallmarks of ur-fascism, "the enemy is both strong and weak". This is also what Orwell means when he says Hitler could kill a mouse and make it seem like a dragon. The Holocaust was an extermination of millions of Jews (and gays and others), but the rhetoric leading up the Holocaust was one of self-victimization. The International Jewish Conspiracy has been treating us so poorly, and been trying to wipe us out, and this is our striking back. Industrial slaughter of innocent men, women, and children was couched in the imagery of throwing off an impossible, world-controlling council.

To draw a comparison to modern-day US politics, would it not be inaccurate to say that Trump hits the same hallmarks? Trump likes to frame himself as the strongman "one day dictator" who will single-handedly fix everything wrong in this country. But in truth, he spends just as much time, if not more, talking about how oppressed he is. The Deep State gummed up his machine and stopped him from doing MAGA, and the Democrats weaponized the justice system against him by convicting him of all those felonies, and the Jan 6 committee was a kangaroo court meant to unfairly make him into a monster, and they tried to politically assassinate me, and wah wah wah bitch bitch cry cry moan moan. In fact, I would argue that the self-victimization argument has been one of his more effective ones. If a Republican wanted to convince me that the Democrats never do anything right, I can point at the few things they did do well, and he now has to pretend that they didn't happen (which they did). Meanwhile if a Republican wanted to convince me that the Democrats have unfairly harangued Donny Boy and he deserves a W, he's placing the burden of proof on me to disprove a negative, to say "he isn't the most oppressed boy, he actually deserved everything that happened to him, and more. in fact I don't think the Jan 6 commission went far enough, I think he should be rotting in a hole right now". Which is a much harder sell, and one which furthers the Republican self-victimization/impression that Democrats are all wannabe tyrants who want to make steak illegal or something.

So if I said "Donald Trump's most convincing argument is how unfairly the world has treated him", and you accused me of unironically thinking that's true, hopefully you understand why you are wrong and stupid. And hopefully you now understand what George Orwell means when he describes Hitler as a martyr or a hero fighting against impossible odds. He isn't describing an objective reality, he describes the reality Hitler sold to justify the Nazi Regime.

[angeldcgs]

every man required a very specific sort of charm in order to fully win them over, and mac didn't need very long to assess exactly what approach was needed. some were a little more hard to read than others, but rabbit wore his heart on his sleeve, so unassumingly sweet that he couldn't play it cool if he tried. he was already mesmerized, but now that she'd given just a snippet of her life story, he was emotionally endeared, and for a guy like him, that would be enough to keep him hooked indefinitely. being seen as a victim was something she tried to avoid at all costs, because she wasn't, really. just because she hadn't been born into the best family, that didn't mean she was merely at the mercy of the cruel universe. she was the one in control, but she didn't doubt that rabbit was too blinded by his attraction to see her for what she was, and that worked for her at the moment. "s'ok," she repeated the same dismissive sentiment, though this time there was a twinge of genuine sadness in her voice. "can't really miss what ya' don't know, huh?" at least she hadn't grown to love and depend on her, only to have her taken away too soon, like rabbit had with his mother. it would've been nice to grow up with some sort of adult woman to look to as a role model, just to know how she was meant to act, what was normal and what wasn't, but she'd eventually managed to figure things out herself. if anything, growing up around mostly only men made it that much easier for her to read them, and growing up with the men in her specific family made her tough, both physically and mentally. rabbit was so soft, she could only imagine he must've had someone in his life, or maybe multiple someones, who provided him with a safe space where he didn't need to harden his heart to survive. as he spoke, she only devoted half her attention to listening, the rest of her brain distracted by soaking in all that she could about the town, trying to memorize its terrain. "huh..." she nodded slowly like she was soaking in the information, but really she was biting her tongue trying to keep from telling him his life sounded pathetic and miserable. if that was all she had to look forward to here, she might as well just kill them both tonight and get it over with. finally he offered something that piqued her interest, and she turned back to devote her full attention his way with a grin stretched across her features, beginning to toy with his hair again. "well, shucks... you tryna' take me home already, bunny?" she couldn't help but giggle at his innocently phrased offer. "guess ya' did already buy me a meal 'n everythin'... gotta repay ya' somehow." with her gaze zeroed in on him, she watched to see how her teasing would effect him, already entertained just by getting him flustered. "i don't mind mess. 'm not all that clean, myself. might be a lil bit dirty, even..."

if there was one surefire way to get into rabbit's good books, a tragic backstory had to be it. he was too sensitive and could see himself within each little sob story he'd ever been told, his intelligence might not have been the highest but he could empathise like few others could in their bitter town. mac could have told him something significantly less sad and he would've still had a similar reaction but with her confession about the loss of her mother, he felt himself getting teary-eyed, recalling how the loss of his own had made him feel. "i'm sorry." he repeated, for what else was there to say? he didn't know if it was worse or not for mac to not know what had happened to her mother, at least he had been able to somewhat move on from his own mother's passing but if he hadn't known what happened to her, he was certain he would never sleep again. eager to lighten the mood, rabbit racked his brain for ways he could entertain mac, a place where he could take her that wouldn't be so mind numbingly boring like the rest of the town insisted on being. things were moving so fast that his mind simply couldn't keep up, the promise of being alone with mac- properly alone, was scary. not because he didn't want to be alone with her, he couldn't think of anything that he could've wanted more in that moment but he was scared of how he'd act. people got frustrated with him easily, they blamed him for things he hadn't realised were even his fault, he didn't want to cause mac more unnecessary stress when she'd already had such a hard day. as he drove them through the town, dull buildings and dying grass from the heat boxing them in, rabbit viewed his home from an outsiders perspective and saw how boring it all was. "i'm sorry, i-i don't really go many places. work'n home, really. and the store, but the store ain't been open for a few days, the man who owns it has been pretty ill. dunnno what they'll do if he don't come back." rabbit explained, repeatedly turning to look at mac as he did so. it was the polite thing to do, his mama had taught him that. to make eye contact with someone as you spoke to them was a sign that you were engaged in the conversation, he wanted mac to know that he was fully invested in her even when he should've been focusing on the road. "we could- maybe you'd like to see my home? it's not that big but it used to fit a bunch of us and i- there's plenty places to sit and talk and whatever you wanna do, really." the suggestive nature to his proposal was entirely lost on rabbit. there was nothing but purity in his suggestion, he wouldn't have dared be so bold with a woman, especially one he'd only just met. in his mind, after everything, mac must've been tired, it would be nice for her to be somewhere she could relax without watchful eyes- excluding his own. "it's a little messy right now, don't really have many visitors over'n stuff but if you don't mind that then..."

[morningstargirl666]

Sneak Peak

Sneak snippet for chapter 27 of TBBW, and I say snippet, but really its a couple of pages - though that isn’t much in the grand scheme of things (yes, it’s turning into another long chapter and I refuse to split this one up, so like, we’ll see how long this one gets).

Sam didn’t notice the change, not at first. The nagging feeling at the back of his mind that something was off.

It started at Caroline’s house, when he decided to make those damn burgers he never got to eat. After the day he’d had, he’d just assumed the craving to eat some good, greasy food was the wolf not so subtly telling him it needed its daily dose of protein. Just scratching an itch for his next fix, if you will. He hadn’t considered he was actually hungry. Like, vampire bloodlust ripper-style hungry. When he pulled over on the way back to the mansion after leaving Caroline’s, just because he saw someone walking down the street, and then proceeded to pounce on them the second he got out the car like some kid of feral cat-

Well, now Sam was considering it.

It didn’t matter that he’d already drunk an entire blood bag on Liz Forbes’ couch with her daughter not two hours earlier. It didn’t matter that he just drained some innocent bystander dry in the middle of the fucking street-

The hunger didn’t go away.

Keira found him in the Mikaelson’s kitchen later, dripping head to toe in blood because he’d killed two more people on the way back, before raiding the Mikaelson’s entire blood store in the fridge, draining that dry too. And it was only then, when his body was still shaking with bloodlust, and the fear in Keira’s eyes matched his own, did Sam finally admit to himself something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Now, Sam wasn’t a ripper. He hadn’t been concerned about the bloodlust part of becoming a hybrid, mostly because Klaus hadn’t been, and Sam trusted Klaus. He’d given him the Vampire 101 with the same annoying sharp-edged bluntness that somehow - Sam had no idea how, Klaus was paradox at the best of times - bordered on gentle, teaching him to feed and most importantly stop feeding, regardless of how bad the hunger got. Sam, having reigned in his temperamental wolf side for most his life, took to the lessons like a fish to water, and when Kiera arrived, she’d given him her own tips which he’d taken to heart, and just like that, the bloodlust part that came with being half-vampire never arose as a problem. So much so, that Sam started wondering what all the fuss was about, even aloud, which often ended with Klaus muttering under his breath about how easy kids had it these days.

(“Surely it was hard for you to fight off the hunger the first time-”

“Well, yeah but-”

“Exactly. Now imagine doing that without someone explaining in your ear what to expect, or how to control it. And then add in the factor you’ve been fighting the bloodlust for weeks, not even aware it is bloodlust, and your control has finally snapped, and maybe, you might be close to what it felt like for me when I tore into my first victim’s neck.”)

Sam had just thought Klaus was jealous that he was better than him at something. Now though, Sam saw it for the warning it was: the greatest illusion is the idea of control. You can’t control bloodlust. You can learn to live with it, learn to fight it, and some are better at fighting it than others - side-eyeing you Stefan Salvatore - but you can never permanently control it. That would be like trying to wrestle a saddle onto a dragon and expecting it not to burn you to a crisp the minute you get close.

So, seeing his hands dripping in blood and still feeling the urge to lick every drop of his skin was certainly a rude awakening.

He’d barely gotten himself together before the Mikaelsons arrived. Kiera had more or less thrown him into the shower, and he’d listened to her talk on the phone through the tiled walls as lines of red water dripped down his face into the drain below, trying to focus on her voice instead of the dozen or so human heartbeats belonging to the people the Mikaelson’s employed. By the time he got out and pulled himself into a fresh set of clothes, her witch, Delilah, was waiting for him, standing right next to Kiera in their bedroom, grey hair twisted into an elegant hairstyle and arms littered with bangles, warm brown eyes kind.

She’d asked for symptoms. Kiera had answered, the hunger building in Sam’s throat stopping him from doing so himself. He spent a good few minutes entranced by the pumping artery in the poor witch’s neck, and it was only when she snapped his fingers in his face, repeating her question and asking if Kiera had left anything out, that he finally tried to concentrate enough to formulate an answer.

Because there was something else, now that he thought about it. The left-side of his chest hurt too, right over his heart, like a pressure was building and Sam couldn’t release it.

Delilah had nodded, brow furrowed, and then quickly began to run some diagnostic spells. Kiera hadn’t questioned what she was doing - the two had known each other for about two and half centuries, and with it came a loyalty that was nigh on unshakable.

(Kiera was Delilah’s daughter’s godmother, and her granddaughter’s godmother, so really, it was a family business at this point)

When Delilah had finally finished all her spells, an answer not immediately on her tongue, Kiera had spoken up, prompting her.

“What is it?”

Delilah had paused, for the first time since Sam had met her, seeming unsure.

“It is…strange.” She had begun. “Physically, there is nothing wrong with you. You are not on the brink of dessication, nor are you recovering from it, and your undead heart is fine, if beating at a slightly higher rate than your vampire counterparts-”

“And magically?” Keira had jumped to ask, familiar with how these things worked by now.

“The pain, the bloodlust… you can feel it, but I cannot sense it, which leaves me to conclude either it is something mentally crippling or…” She had stopped, staring down at him where he sat on the bed, a consideration in her eye, before it snapped into realisation. “...Or it is not his own. An echo, almost.”

As soon as the words had left her mouth, Sam understood. The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Sam may not be dessicating right this second, but they knew someone who was. Or already had.

Klaus.

Sam was starving because Klaus was starving. Magically starved to the point of desiccation. And Sam’s chest hurt, experiencing the symptoms of more or less a heart attack, because Klaus’ heart had stopped.

The realisation had been sickening. Sam had nearly thrown up the entire contents of stomach right then and there. But after the horror and nausea, then came the rage. A fury so hot and all-consuming, that if Delilah’s attempt to dull the pack bond between him and Klaus hadn’t succeeded - therefore dulling his second-hand sympathy bloodlust - he would have punched a hole through Elijah’s face the minute he suggested making a deal with Elena and her merry band of idiots.

As it stood now, Sam wasn’t ruling out punching Elijah in the face just yet.

Can anyone take a wild guess how this chapter is going to end? Lmao

[fictionadventurer]

AU asks, for all eleven of the AUs you mentioned in your tags (including the Blackberry Bushes one because why not!), mix and match for whichever one you like: 2, 5, 9, 10, 11, 13, 17, 18, 20, 21, 24

2. Summarize this au in 5 sentences.

Psmith Star Wars AU: Mike Jackson is a cadet at an Outer Rim Imperial Academy whose dreams of flying an X-Wing for the Empire shatter when he learns of the Empire's atrocities. When his brother defects to the Rebellion, Mike and some of his fellow cadets decide to leave the Academy and join the rebel cause. The boys are nearly captured during their escape attempt, but they're saved by Mike's eccentric roommate, Psmith, who turns out to be a former Jedi youngling who's been hiding from the Empire. After they make their escape, Mike and his fellow cadets have to decide whether they can trust this sly, arrogant boy with these unnatural powers, and they need to find a way to find and help the Rebellion.

5. What is something you kept the same?

Lord Peter Wimsey Telepath AU: I've kept the setting and situations as close to the originals as possible. It's still 1930s England. Harriet's still accused of murdering her lover. Lord Peter's still an aristocrat. The only difference is that various superpowers are a known and accepted part of society, and Peter's ability to literally know Harriet's thoughts adds a whole new and more difficult dimension to the power imbalance between them.

9. Is there a scene you wish you could've included, but couldn't? Why?

Sherlock Holmes Pushing Daisies Crossover AU: I wish I could have figured out what the actual mystery was for the first snippet I wrote for this AU. Unfortunately, my mystery-writing skills don't extend that far.

10. Is there a character you wish you could've included, but couldn't? Why?

Queen's Thief AU of Psmith: It would be really fun to have Queen's Thief versions of Billy Windsor and Bat Jarvis, but I can't think of a great way to fit them into the story that I've outlined--as I've laid it out, Psmith takes Attolia's throne mostly through his cunning and convenient connections.

11. Is there any relationship that's different in this au than in the source material?

Supergirl "Kara raised by the Kents" AU: Since Kara's actually raised by the Kents in this AU, she's got a much deeper and more complicated relationship with them. Her relationship with Martha is rocky, because she sees Martha as competition for her role as Kal's primary caretaker. Taking care of Kal is the only purpose Kara has left in life, and it takes a lot for her to let other people into that relationship.

13. Write a lil snippet set in this verse.

From Powers and Prejudice:

"Lizzie, Jane's on TV!" Lydia shouted. Lizzie rushed into the living room, where her sisters were gathered around the set. Headlines blared BREAKING NEWS beneath live footage of a supervillain attack downtown. The Blur was already on the scene, speeding innocent victims away from danger. The Archer--outside of Pemberley--was even lending a hand. And among them in pink spandex was unmistakably-- "Jane?" Lizzie shouted. "What's she doing there?" Mom was so excited that sparks crackled around her hair. "She did so well the other night that I couldn't let the Blur fight this one alone. It was my duty to send Jane to help." Lizzie was horrified. That had been a skirmish, easily dealt with. This was turning into a battle. One of the criminals had some type of fire manipulation ability, and flames filled most of the screen. To see Jane among that-- "Are you nuts?" Lizzie shouted. "She could die out there!" Lydia rolled her eyes. "What are you so worried about? It's not like she can get hurt." Not externally. Jane's skin was invulnerable, and there was nothing that could overpower her strength. But her respiratory system was as delicate as anyone's, and there was a lot of smoke out there. Jane acquitted herself well, but eventually, Lizzie's fears were realized. Just as the last of the criminals was neutralized, Jane collapsed to the pavement. The Blur, in bright blue, was at her side in an instant. He checked over Jane and gathered her into his arms, a look of panic on his masked face. In less than a second, they disappeared from the scene. While her mother and sisters exclaimed over the scene--did you see the way he looked at her?--Lizzie headed toward the door. Mom asked, "Lizzie, where are you going?" "I don't know if you noticed, but your daughter is injured. I'm going to help her. "She's in the care of one of Netherfield's Defenders! She's perfectly safe." "I'll believe that when I see it." Kitty, fretful, said, "The Blur's so fast. They're miles away by now. Hidden away in his secret headquarters." Lizzie shrugged. "Then I'll find his secret headquarters." Ignoring their protests, she went out the door.

17. What important events have you 'translated' from canon to make sense into this au, if any?

Milo Murphy's Law Star Wars AU: Murphy's Law makes a lot of sense as an out-of-control connection to the Force. And I've turned Diogee into a droid (DO-G) because there don't seem to be many dogs in Star Wars.

18. Is there any theme or motif in this au that isn't in the original work?

Politically-realistic Princess Diaries 2 AU: There's a much stronger exploration of the theme of duty vs. love, because we have multiple characters who have dealt with this conflict. There's also a thread exploring religion, because Mia's priest uncle is a prominent character.

20. Share THREE headcanons! But about different characters.

American Hallmark Royal Romances:

The princess of California was a candidate for an arranged marriage with the crown prince of Maine until a Spunky Commoner came along and stole his heart. She was actually rather hurt by this, until it sparked her own romance story.

The Spunky Commoner met the crown prince of Maine while working on some artistic endeavor for his family. She was rather baffled by this whole royalty thing, until her relationship with the prince provided some cultural background.

Sam, the crown prince of Texas, is a bit ashamed of his nation and especially the over-the-top Texas-ness of his father. He's an excellent code-switcher, and has a bit of trouble straddling the cultural expectations of Texas and the outside world.

21. What makes you most excited about this fic?

Lord Peter Wimsey Star Wars AU: What's there not to get excited about? The Scarlet-Pimpernel-ness of Peter as a double agent within the Empire! The drama of Peter dealing with Force-visions of the future. Force-sensitive Dowager Duchess. Peter having Thrawn as both an art-and-culture buddy and an increasingly-suspicious-of-him nemesis. He's just such a fun character to throw into the structure of this universe.

24. Ramble about something you haven't gotten to talk about yet.

Blackberry Bushes Superhero AU: It says to ramble, so I'll ramble. First off, I feel guilty even claiming this an an AU, since this was really your idea and I just added some stuff to it. But it's such a fun concept and it comes to mind as an AU quite a bit because there are so many fun ways this story warps the typical superhero plots. The Superman character marries a former villain who has good reason to fear him and be suspicious of his fellow heroes. The former supervillain dictatorship is undergoing reform, and it's a legitimate thing, and we get to see the politics of that and see the ruler's children growing up in this system. Delclis' father used to be one of the great heroes, but his memory is tarnished because of the collateral damage his extreme powers caused, and now Declis has to deal with getting the same powers. Antavia's plotline of walking away from the throne become her walking away from her superpowers and inadvertently leading to the creation of her best friend's most dangerous nemeses. They're stories you couldn't come up with under the usual superhero tropes, but combining it with this very different type of story creates new and interesting angles that wouldn't ordinarily come to mind, and that's so fun.

[lily-orchard-gossip-blog]

Hey there are new snippets of tsr, mostly of Leia apologizing before Aliana, and my god, I know we’ve discussed it a hundred time already but it’s so disgusting I can’t NOT discuss this So Leia was saying that Aliana’s behavior is only a facade and she’s actually just a poor scared baby… who’s almost 30. Like yeah early trauma can make a significant damage on one's personality but Aliana is not a damn child anymore (let alone that it generally looks like an infantilization). Later she glorified Aliana by calling her kind, caring and generous (a person who shot lightning at her and forced to work with her flotilla of sith, people because of who Leia lost her planet, family and friends), and “admitted” that she was abusing her… Jesus Christ I don’t even… Didn’t Lily say that any victim have a right to be angry at those who abused them, so doesn’t Leia deserve to be angry at any sith that point? Aliana literally shots lightning at her, why is her trauma provides excuses for physical assault, but Leia doesn’t have that luxury? She lived through a lot worse because of people Aliana now tries to white-wash! The worst thing Leia ever did to her was saying that it’s good that her mom died and hoping that Rey would leave/kill her? But surprise! Aliana’s mom was a slaver, a horrible person, but that's OK because later Aliana cried a bit! Even better, they don't touch that subject at all, and probably wont, they forgot about all conflicts and disagreements and Aliana gladly accepted her apology playing a role of "caring" girl as if she didn't almost killed Leia because of own hissy pit. Anyway I can keep going but want to know your opinion.

Someone pointed out that Lily has a weird habit of having everyone refer to Aliana as being younger than she is, and treating her as a child who did no wrong and is right to be angry.

But Aliana isn't a kid. She's an adult. And in any other setting, Aliana would face a lot more consequences for her actions. But that can't happen because it gets in the way of the victim narrative.

From what I've gathered, this same issue happens in Lily's WOW fic as well. Where Anevay is just a poor little victim who can do no wrong, because she's a victim.

It's honestly icky.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Chronauseam, a Waste of Time

The ticking of innumerable clocks fills the shadowed halls like the murmur of a distant, phantom rain. The sound lodges itself in the spaces between your thoughts, making your mind sickishly slow, unable to notice the presence of the things that silently stalk you. 

Adventure Hooks: 

To commemorate the hundredth year of its reign, the ruling dynasty has commissioned a grand clock from one of the realms most prestigious artificers, who has unveiled their creation at the stroke of midnight during the new-years festival, crowning the face of the capital’s palace district. Less than a week later and people are already starting to notice that something is wrong, as freighting and prophetic dreams reported by those who dwell within the area, progressing rampantly in those who linger too close to the clock into waking delusions. When interrogated, the Artificer reports that his designs were based largely off mechanisms he’d recovered on an expedition to an ancient ruin some years ago. Clearly another journey must be organized to determine the nature of these mechanisms, because even though the mechanism has been stopped and partially dismantled, the people of the palace district can still hear the churn of its gears. 

Talking shop with a master thief reveals her possession of a pair of “spider-leather” slippers, capable of muffling her every footstep as well as delivering kicks that can temporarily silence a caster. SHe reports that the footwear were devilishly difficult to aquire, requiring her to aid a hunter who worked out of a certan remote valley, and hunted the monsters spiders within. 

 A long departed friend, foe, or family member appears before one of the partymembers in a panic, somehow alive but with thought scattered and desperate to get out their message. Snippets of lore are revealed, but they are cut short when their body begins to turn to dust. “FIND THE CHRONASEUM” they demand, before falling apart in the hero’s arms. 

Setup: Though none know exactly who created Chronauseam, it’s obvious that this edifice of artifice was the product of a sick mind made feverish with worry, obsessed with potential doomsdays that they did not live to see. 

Built into a deep mountain valley, the exterior of this site is marked by a massive construction of brasslike metal that was once suspended between the surrounding cliffs. Having crashed to the ground in ages past, it now makes a perplexing monument that only hints at this dungeon’s original purpose. The interior is much the same: dark vaults dominated by mechanisms of unknown purpose that seem to have grown from the walls like fungal growths, most unknowable in function but a few obviously meant to portent or warn of dangers that have long since passed. It is the ravings of a street corner oracle made into architecture, and much like the thoughts that fuel such ravings: they are mostly full of spiders. 

The creatures that occupy the Chronauseam are known as the “Harvestmen” for their resemblance to the tiny long legged arthropods , and for the unsettling movements they share. These aberrations appear to be little more than senseless hunters that nest within the clocklike dungeon, and spread out into the surrounding cliffs and valleys in search of prey. In addition to their spiderlike climbing abilities, the Harvestmen possess a unique magical quirk in that they are supernaturally silent, quieting not only their own many footfalls, but the sound of any object they happen to be in contact with. This adaptation allows them to scrabble up rockfaces without making a noise, and makes their sudden ambushes all the more alarming as victims are unable to scream for help.