avatrice but they're both furniture tables.....
At first Ava just thinks it's just a really good day, the sun is shining at the right angle through the window that warms 3/4s of her. Her broad oak surface preens at the attention. She's always loved the way the window casts light. The slopes and curves hypnotize her.
There's something that calls to her, (the story, the mystery, the mistakes, the process,) that she loves. The arch, Ava pores over, there's a story brimming beneath the smooth glass. It vibrates at a frequency Ava can't get out of her mind. It sings to her and sometimes it drives her insane.
She wants to answer the call, to sing back but Ava is brown oak wood. She was made from the splinters of a great tree she can no longer taste. The memory lingers like a tender bruise, the taste of something greater, something familiar, but now all she can taste is herself.
She tastes like a forest fire, smokey and raw. It sits inside of her lungs smoldering, burning her up. And Ava has never known how to stop heaving.
Ava's favorite game is finding love in plain sight. She can't calm the forest fire but it's easy to pretend she isn't on fire when passion curls inside her.
She looks for lingering touches, worn away divots, the absence of dust. There's always more to it, a reason, a why, an answer that Ava seeks. (One that she doesn't want to know but seeks.)
It's been years but Ava can still feel her. She stands on 4 legs just like her but there is purpose in the way she holds space. She holds it like a museum (whereas Ava fills her lungs with as much air as she can hold).
The question itches at Ava, it paws at her chest and she's always loved to scratch. She can't find it at first, the love, the absence, the dust, the divot, it's hard. For once in her life Ava just sees a table.
And it eats at Ava, she permeates Ava’s brain like a fine layer of dust. No matter how much Ava wipes off, the dust still settles. Ava can't escape her, they've never held a conversation (but Ava has held the air in her lungs longer in hopes she could taste something different).
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(She radiates devotion, and what is devotion if not something akin to love Ava thinks.)
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We've sort of turned into the undertale fandom at it's peak
Not in a bad way, but with our characters and plot
Underverse was completely different from Undertale plot-wise
I wouldn't call it a deterioration (not that you did), more of an evolution through time, like how pictures of Earth look different in 2012 or 2020
It's so fun to watch fandoms grow, they're like little ecosystems
- cat anon :3
SORRY this ask came in MONTHS ago while i was having some kind of meltdown but looking back on it, all i'm reminded of is just the State of the undertale fandom circa 2016-17 with underverse & the daycare shit & sugarmelon & uhhh glitchtale & all the incest & oh my fucking god
look i'm all for people having fun, i really am & i never would want to ruin that for people. i don't even resent the undertale fandom for going to the insane degree it did beyond the more scarring shit you'd just get hit with
i'm All for fandoms growing,
however, if i ever see modern day TSP even step remotely in that direction past the " narrators for everything " & selfcest, i'm going to open a twitch account, start streaming, eat myself like an ouroboros & make you people watch
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also continuing the theme of being insane about narratives who is going to write about lewis being the antithesis to "everyone is a ferrari fan, even if they say they’re not, they are ferrari fans." sth sth everyone bleeds red but the red beast has no hold over someone with a heart of chrome (insane to me he's been in the sport seventeen years and still the only engine he's ever known is mercedes)
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