#dear lord so many tags

[ninjagirlstar5]

I got an art request :3

can we have TCO, TDL, TSC, and Victim doing a karaoke night in pretty pink dresses? (Victim, TDL, and TCO lost a bet with TSC)

Nothing like bonding with your fellow creations!

[arbane235]

#due to the Great Data Decay academics write viciously argumentative articles on which episodes aired in what order#at conferences professors have known to engage in physically violent altercations whilst debating the air date number of household viewers#90% of the couch gags have been lost and there is a billion dollar trade in counterfeit “lost copies”#serious note: i'll be honest i always assumed it was english imperialism that made shakespeare so inescapable in the 19th/20th cent#like his writing should have become obscure at the same level of his contemporaries#but british imperialists needed an ENGLISH LANGUAGE (and BRITISH) writer to venerate#and shakespeare wrote so many damn things that there was a humongous body of work just sitting there waiting to be culturally exploited...#i know it didn't happen like this but i imagine a English Parliament House Committee Member For The Education Of The Masses or something#cartoonishly stumbling over a dusty cobwebbed crate labelled the Complete Works of Shakespeare#and going 'Eureka! this shall make excellent propoganda for fabricating a national identity in a time of great social unrest.#it will be a cornerstone of our elitist educational institutions for centuries to come! long live our decaying empire!'#'what good fortune that this used to be accessible and entertaining to mainstream illiterate audience members...#..but now we can strip that away and make it a difficult & alienating foundation of a Classical Education! just like the latin language :)'+ year old media (which is older than their entire lived experience fyi)

#anyway maybe there's no such thing as the 'greatest writer of x language' in ANY language?#maybe there are just different styles and yes levels of expertise and skill but also a high degree of subjectivity#and variance in the way that we as individuals and members of different cultures/time periods experience any work of media#and that's okay! and should be acknowledged!!! and allow us to give ourselves permission to broaden our horizons#and explore the stories of marginalized/underappreciated creators#instead of worshiping the List of Top 10 Best (aka Most Famous) Whatevers Of All Time/A Certain Time Period#anyways things are famous for a reason and that reason has little to do with innate “value”#and much more to do with how it plays into the interests of powerful institutions motivated to influence our shared cultural narratives#so i'm not saying 'stop teaching shakespeare'. but like...maybe classrooms should stop using it as busy work that (by accident or designs)#happens to alienate a large number of students who could otherwise be engaging critically with works that feel more relevant to their world#(by merit of not being 4 centuries old or lacking necessary historical context or requiring untaught translation skills)#and yeah...MAYBE our educational institutions could spend less time/money on shakespeare critical analysis and more on...#...any of thousands of underfunded areas of literary research i literally (pun!) don't know where to begin#oh and p.s. the modern publishing world is in shambles and it would be neat if schoolwork could include modern works?#beautiful complicated socially relevant works of literature are published every year. it's not just the 'classics' that have value#and actually modern publications are probably an easier way for students to learn the basics. since lesson plans don't have to include the#important historical/cultural context many teens need for 20

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[cowardlybean]

woe, doodles be upon ye

[chasedeys]

i've decided to lump all my shippy rpf au/non au thoughts together so. some nsfw btw, some non bengals, and like several ships you'd maybe have to brace yourselves for idk.

(also feel free to ask abt/share your thoughts on these or even other ships hehe maybe i'll get inspired! there's like 15 ships here goodness)

joemarr:

avatar au - airbender jamarr, firebender joe i knowwww some of you would think its the opposite but no i am finitely correct. the way jamarr would be bouncing around leaping around that man is an airbender!! not of the acolyte variety though 😭 while the deadset focused single mindedness of joe is for sure giving firebender hiding his scalding inner feelings. highly talented jamarr running away from the air temple in a very its-not-a-phase-nobody-understands-me-esque way and joe never getting the due diligence over his abilities in the fire academy so post graduation he's training hard under some obscure master (coach o lol) and getting outrageously good at his bending from sheer petty stubbornness and need to prove himself. they team up for that avatar korra organized bending fight thing i can’t recall and kick ass. and make out etc etc.

time travel au - old and greying married joemarr heaved with fresh out of the oven just won a natty joemarr. jamarrs tearful face clutching his ball staring in shock at ja’marrs unimpressed face clutching a margarita bowl in the middle of his and joes fucking kitchen. baby joes on top of the kitchen island bc somebody high up fucked up the calculations. older joes in the back trying to water their honestly dying plants. comfortable in their skin older joemarr reminiscing their years together tangled on a love couch while ten feet apart in the L shaped couch baby joe and jamarr red in the face just would not look in each other's direction like at all. jamarrs still clutching his ball. they’re still wearing their gear. joe would not stop staring at their gigantic ass framed wedding photo on top of the fire place. the emotional rollercoaster of being faced with the reality of possibly not playing together again steamrolled by the slap of imagery of them being married. being in one team. being a team. being more than what they thought they were together. and that time travel is real joes nerdy ass quantum mechanics enjoyer would be pissing himself in excitement probably. some crazy 'im gay for my qb/wr?' dilemma.

joemarr endgame with jjmarr fuckbuddies fwb extraordinaire :) except jamarrs very obviously to everyone but joe in love with joe, but he’s a slut (affectionate) so him and justin fall into bed very easily. one morning joe randomly dropping by jjs apartment greeted by justin making coffee etc he’s sitting in the kitchen island and jamarr walks out of justins room in just boxers yawning scratching at his belly with marks all over his body very obviously having gotten laid (pressing his hands against his eyes so he doesn’t see joe he just smells coffee and asks aloud if he can suck justins dick as a treat this morning lmao). cue horrific faces all around! cue misunderstandings! angst! why would you two hide this from me me! feelings realizations! tee having to suffer through joes breakdowns!! justin being exasperated through it all as joe be his stupidly loyal self congratulates him for his and jamarrs thing before cutting the man off by saying he’s in love with his coach fuck of jb fr. joe avoids jamarr for a hot minute before suddenly getting pushier and handsier with jamarr and that somehow leads to a cinematic fight and subsequent Great Big Confession in the middle of nowhere in a field of orange and purple flowers and green grass and hiding peeking woodland creatures and rain falling down heavy on them when they’re yelling only for it to suddenly clear and a rainbow to shoot right above them when they kiss end scene. cut scene to them sitting on a couch knees touching very bravely telling an unimpressed tee how they got together as tee shits on them for getting the flu of all things.

others (bengals/bengals or /nonbengals):

23 rookies poly - suchhh interesting dynamic between them alllll. drunken night of celebration of their touchdowns calling each other little tiny baby leading to chase getting spitroasted. waking up horrifically sticky and spent the next morning but charlie just goes right for the kill and climbs on top of yoshi for round four. social admins favorite targets yoshi and charlie being scrutinized heavily by the admins the next day wondering if they should be on that days segment 😭✋ (they really shouldn’t)

tee/justin - that one vikings vs bengals game where justin points/pokes at tee saying that his insane tuddy was crazy. that he was crazy for that one (it was. he was. tees sooooo). help me. help meeeee. (justin jamarr competency kink do you feel me) I’m thinking sonnets and ballads here guys they just talked and complimented each other for 1 (one) minute but I’m hearing wedding bells. no but okay so they just casually like each others posts and reply emojis to each others stories and start dming cute shit like hey heard u like this guys music or hey whyd u make a face like that in this one ad lol or hbd bro keep grinding or joe and jamarr said this insane shit abt u is it true or hey u in la right lets link up etc etc finally having each others numbers and texting near 24/7. joe and jamarr get suspicious when justin knows exactly what they’re talking abt tee when they have their random catch up sessions with him before it clicks like hm. theyd be good for each other huh. justin erratic yet pin straight demeanor vs tees calming affectionate accepting nature huh. both their outrageous babygirlism. huh. the two promptly get down to business (setting them up) but like all their efforts are literally already done by those two. making and faking cancelling plans only to find out they carpooled together and were planning on spending the night together anyway etc etc.

joemartee oughhuhguhhuhhh secret established relationship joemarr being disgustingly in love but nobody knows they just think they’re like that or like oblivious and bets running around if they’re actually together/getting together/Very Good Friends etc while tees Going Through It falling for joe that one year first (on no he's a hot jock nerd) and getting close with his paramour the next year (oh no he's a hot semi-stereotypical jock) and they're both just oh so sweet and just genuinely going through the wringer with these insane feelings and joemarr oblivious asses oohing and aahing and blushing over tee higgins crying as i picture this i lvoe them your honor. it ends with them holding hands together in the middle of their home field on top of the tiger print b logo (which they all were in college. tigers that is. in college. where they faced each other for a natty. crazy).

tee/tb - both too pretty not to be obsessed with each other tbh. the angst aspect of ducking out of the bengals is there lol but what i want is tb pure class of dining and wining tee higgins like he deserves!! except he’s also a freak so tees constantly getting hit with random sensual touches and the dirtiest innuendos he’s ever heard of in his 20+ years of living.

joe/evan - the afc smoooocchhh being all that evan could think about 😭 joe being absolutely enamored by evans competency and confidence (that guys crazy he’s like looks like we're going to the afc championship or smtg i forgot but joes smile talking abt him is burned into my gyri) while on the other hand evans in his head thinking joes with jamarr and like am i really going to go for a man clearly in with his college bf only to be bamboozled by jamarr barging into his hotel room one night and yapping abt joes adoration for him and how all his 'why doesn't he like me' woes annoy the ever living shit out of him so he drags evan to joes room and locking them in together (how he does it nobody knows)

bayou trio poly - THSI SI SOOOO. there’s actually so many thoughts abt them but i cannot for the life of me even begin to word them out. joe being very obsessed with his receivers is like the entire precursor to this if I’m being honest because this man just would not shut up about jj and jamarr like that one interview about olympics flag football and his first thought is he’s playing with his guys shutttt your faceee. but just him relentlessly pursuing his guys and them fucking with him right back and with each other is so <33

trey/ja’marr - this bitch/bitch pairing has me by the throatttt trey being outright fucking wooing the shit out of jamarr but also unable to keep his smartass comments to himself and jamarr getting his feathers absolutely ruffled but the wooing he’s actually kind of oblivious to is working so well 😭 trey making an effort to be interested with jamarrs likes interests and hobbies, semi perfect gentleman because again he can’t help himself he has to be a smartass, one scene in my mind i can’t let go of is of trey dragging jamarrs plate of chilli he was handed off by someone unknowing for himself and giving his own plate filled with jamarrs favorites to him and that shit flusters jamarr bad but trey just has to make fun of him for his anti chilli agenda. he complains to tee and joe they each have to hold his hands very gently to tell him that that giant man is trying to wife you up and the world rearranges itself in jamarrs head so the next day he flirts disgustingly shamelessly outrageously with trey who’s flustered as all hell when jamarr actually just puts his entire hands all over his belly and waist. tee and joe 20 feet away from jamarr shamelessly feeling his man up with hands over their faces because oh my god jamarr be normal would you.

mims/erick - i don’t actually know them that well but their one instagram interaction, the fact they’re both rookies, and their beauty compels me so.

keon coleman/ja'marr i know this makes ZERO SENSE but let me tell you something x3 😭😭😭 the fact that jamarr stingy ass follows him on insta??? from like a single training (?) session??? this notoriously unwilling to just follow anyones ig followed keon from when is probably the first ever interaction they had together????? adorable. both from nola!! keon being such a sweet emotionally and intellectually intelligent sweetheart people on tiktok calling him dumb just from the way he talks (sincerely and honestly, yall nasty people wouldn't get it) get behind me 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚. no do you get me jamarr getting lowkey obsessed with keons cute ass funny ass 6'4 ass goofy chill ass self and keon slightly starry eyed at jamarr guahagauahuh hear me outttttt (this is literally all i have in me to say sorry)

others (non bengals)

micah/cj - i keep getting these twos interviews and events together in tiktok its crazy micah says the most delusional shit and cj has to stop himself from cussing him out in disbelief its sooo funny. getting ‘casually fucking’ from vibes alone, the sexy way they debated on an imaginary cj offense vs micah defense play in micahs podcast (?) was also very compelling lol. like cj definitely fucked this man from annoyance of his bullshit but also of his brain and also bc he's hot okay.

cj/bryce - watching glimpses of their high school (?) lore and now the black magic shit going on….insane….the angst…..have they met up or talked at all this season. what would they say to each other. the tender angsty horny aspect of it all. haunts me i won’t lie.

bryce/andy - the panthers qb disasterland angst aside, bryce went after that old man like crazyyyy. the ethics of fucking a much younger man youre mentoring whos looking up to you for guidance and going through a very vulnerable moment in his life while you're also weighed down by a franchise calling for blood is so. soooo.

fred/brock - lowkey into the 49ers but their situation rn is. very dire. i wish them the best truly. heal quick and completely. but freds suchhh a gorgeous man and all his mic'ed up moments are adorable and brocks lore of being the absolute last pick and outperforming the other qbs drafted before him just stokes the fire in me and theyre just so. the slight curdle knowing youre the last pick the sudden responsibility shoved into your hands the star player backing you up relentlessly. learning each others ways during training camps and on the road trips gradually realizing theyve talked more about anything and everything that theyve ever talked to anyone before, brock freaking the fuck out while fred gets incredibly down with everything etc etc

koc/jj - constantly getting the vibes of ‘he fuckeddd that old mannn’ when i see gifs of those two with jj just being 🥰😘💞🎀💓🌸💖💝🩰🌷 aughguhgh outrageous levels of besotted he’s WORKING he’s GETTING HIS MAN he’s FLIRTING hes using EVERY weapon in his disposal (competency, beauty, babygirlism, etc) you have to respect that shit. stupid fic idea that won’t leave my head is of them getting into a scandal caught by paparazzi romantic ass dinner holding hands and ending the night clubbing close but they really aren’t anything at that time but ahaha you get where I’m going with this right FAKE DATING!!! except this isn’t really feasible bc lets be real a coach dating his player = fired. period. or the player traded to a different team which. WHICH. but theyre both like invaluable to the vikings so they just go ok fake dating have at it (that makes zero sense but whatever). anyway super fun idea can’t lie justin upping his cutesy lovey schtick and koc quietly dying from it. joe legit reaches out like 'ur not being coerced or anything right' while jamarrs like 'get that silver dickkkk' (hes like 39 but whatever) etc etc.

stosh - i can’t say it. i just can’t 😭😭 the point is stef is definitely vicious as all hell and josh is rightfully protecting himself and post week 5 game they fucked one last time racing against time before joshs flight back to ny and there were tears bitten back words and just like a final goodbye for both of them. for good. forever. or is it. (it is.) (they still think of the other.) (josh sees the ghost of him in every corner of his stadium. in every stool in his kitchen. in every tightened smile around him when he says he's practicing throwing to a receiver.) (stef feels the ghost of his touch every time he throws a ball perfectly to a fan in the stands. when cj tells him to snap his wrist correctly when he jokingly plays the quarterback. thinking of faking not being able to throw just to feel his touch in a crowd of people.) also stef saw that is it in ad meme and has a visceral reaction he barely stops himself from tweeting heinous shit about joshs dick game

okay so brace yourselves:

lamar/ja’marr - LMAOOOO don’t come for me but jamarrs competency kink. the shit he said about playing lamar in madden. lamar being witness to the sexy as all hell 82 yard td and 70 yard td annoyance against his team and being driven to do SOMETHING about it. guys see my vision. see beyond team sports for a minute and seeee myyy visionnnn. but yeah that’s the thing that compels me abt them lol

pat/ja’marr - HEAR ME OUTTTTTT the sheer distaste jamarr has against the chiefs is sooo ???? them randomly meeting each other one day and ja’marr instantly has his hackles up -> pat responding right at jamarrs vibes and annoying ass heckling the shit out of jamarr (his intentions were playful. jamarr does not see it that way) -> ja’marr fight mode activated -> straight up making out and fucking dirty in the backrooms -> never speaking of it again. the narratives!! that’s basically it

joe/pat - lowkey compelling 😔🤚 just imagining absolutely disgustedly affronted ja'marr in the back as joe and pat do a shy blushy demure 4 feet for jesus between them vanilla ass flirting light hearted 'haha i beat you' jabs 'good game bro pal buddy' dance is so 😭😭😭 jamarr spritzing water at pat pushing joe away behind him 'really. right in front of my salad. get the fuck away i swear.' joe trying to advocate for his feelings while jamarr shoots them down saying thats the most toxic shit hes ever heard (its not even remotely toxic hes just saying shit) somehow getting roped to helping set them up and he burns (slight insane thoughts of him and pacheco working together and then ehehe etc bc of that one time pacheco gassed up the crowd to the background of jamarr Going Through It and like. pachecos fucking gorgeous yall look at him. pacheco needling at jamarr like ‘u in love w joe or smtg’ asking semi seriously bc jamarrs like super funny and cute and absolutely incapable of being chill about his team wow and jamarrs dying everybody quit asking if hes in love with his qb he swears esp this gorgeous ass annoying prick)

joemarrpat. no i will not elaborate. (dirty hate fucking. jamarr right in the middle btw shut upppppp)

ok bye

[ace-geographer]

Questies!

Today I offer you: even more Willow characters as textposts

Tomorrow: who knows?

Part 2/?

[questforgalas]

At first I was surprised that people were able to latch onto and make a whole ship out of Riyo just simply touching Echo on the shoulder with literally no romantic energy behind it, but then I remembered TCW fandom made one of the most popular ships, Foxiyo, based off of literally nothing. Literally the two characters never ever interacted on screen, but here they are, a clone wars power couple

Anyone who questions the power of fandom is a fool

[mdr-reikas]

100% agreed on the whole way naruto shippers clearly do not actually care about or like madara and sasuke. for example fucking sasusaku shippers clearly do not notice or care about how sasuke is miserable fighting for some village that ruined his life and that no one knows the truth about the uchiha massacre they just see him as some strong skinny twink bishie boi who is only nice to their precious self insert sakura they see him as a thing for sakura. don't even get me started on fucking tobirama x madara or the toxic tobirama stans in general, i have seen horrific shit of madara being violently raped by tobirama on ao3 as a punishment of his crime for "being an uchiha who hasn't been humbled". the sad thing is that i have seen crossover romance shipping fanfic that actually respects both madara and sasuke as characters (making sure they ain't OOC or stripped of their nuance/personality) and they have more chemistry with characters from different anime/manga series. both madara and sasuke deserve better from this damn fandom than just being hashirama and naruto's cute little waifus who constantly get kidnapped like Princess Peach and get pregnant with uchiha babies like a fucking Uchiha baby factory.

So real!!! I think one of the reasons why this happens sometimes is because a lot of naruto fans/shippers are very pro konoha, so anything that Madara or Sasuke do is instantly a crime against humanity to them, so in order to make their ship work they have to take their morals and issues away from Madara and Sasuke, so they "aren't evil" anymore.

Also, that last part about t*birama/madara is so true. I mean, aside the fact that Madara would never be able to forgive him for killing Izuna, Tobirama also just had zero respect for him as a person. Tobirama felt no empathy for the Uchiha, and to pretend that he would set that aside for Madara is just insane to me. It's fine as a crack ship or if you write it to be intentionally toxic (which can be fun sometimes), but just taking away all the nuance these two characters have to make them fuck??? why?? Like, with hsmd I atleast understand where people are coming from, childhood friends trope and all, but what is the appeal of tobimada? No one who actually likes Madara would be able to ship tobimada, and no one who actually likes Sasuke would be able to ship sasusaku.

Madara and Sasuke definitely deserved sooo much better, they deserved loving people who actually respected them and their dreams (and no hsrm did not respect mdr's dreams while he was still in the village let's not play pretend).

[momento-di-fratellanza]

'I was briefly a runway model.' Yeah, no doubt. This mf is gorgeous.

[randomminty]

Hbubhhuhub. Rais ea suillen

[soyvira]

wauh brain rot

close ups below

shes so faint dear lord

[ninjagirlstar5]

can I request… chodarking/chocolate orange….

Damn, Chosen, how come you get TWO partners? (reference)(light-hearted)

[moonlit-dreamers]

Can you rate all TSAMS characters?

oh dear lord- i can certainly try tho i get the feeling i'll forget some lol

in order of favorite to least favorite

sun - 10/10 - hes perfect, nothing can change my mind. hes heavily traumatized and incredibly anxious. hes the perfect specimen for whump AND hurt/comfort. im also just Heavily biased

ruin - 9/10 - yall cant fight me on this hes one of my favorites. hes a tragic, morally gray villain that did what he thought he had to. hes a sad pathetic wet cat of a man who i bet all my money on (a whopping 500 bucks) that he doesnt even know who he is as a person

eclipse - 9/10 - him being below ruin on the list means nothing bc theyre equal in my heart. again, tragic wet cat of a man whos too damn tired to deal with this shit any more. i also relate to him in ways that probably arent healthy <3

solar flare - 8/10 - BRING MY BOY BACK HE DID NOTHING ‼️

dazzle - 8/10 - sweet baby girl she can do no wrong

jack - 7/10 - he can do many things wrong but nothing could make me hate him forever <3

molten - 7/10 - he baby. he sweet. he dont know the world and thats okay. maybe i just like it when murder machines turn into pacifists and just want to have fun.

dark sun - 7/10 - he fascinates me. i want to put him in a lil test tube and study him under a microscope. i need to ask so many questions, most of them being some form of "what is wrong with you"

computer/spaniard - 7/10 - we dont talk about the previous 2 computers we dont care about them (i dont hate them im just biased <3) i only care about SPANIARD. i miss my boy why did they have to kill him he couldve been so good. sun needs his husband back/silly

old moon - 6/10 - he is... certainly a specimen. i keep bouncing between "i hate him i want to rip his head off" and "im wrapping him in a blanket so tight he cant breathe". before he died he was an absolute prick and the fandom ruined him for me bc everyone fell for his manipulation and blamed sun for shit moon did and bc i was so biased towards sun it was difficult for me to not hate him. after he came back hes more fun (and tolerable) due to him actually improving but i wish he had more set-backs bc like. to him he'd been dead for like. a week. he should be struggling more <3

earth - 6/10 - cant quite pinpoint it but i Do feel like she could be done better as a character. she... doesnt really change that much? idk how to describe it. maybe i just find her boring lol

solar - 6/10 - yes i am putting him this far down on the list bc i feel like he couldve been done SO much better. he has so little flavor it hurts. what are his struggles? what is his goal? what does he even do outside of sun n moon?? and dont even get me STARTED on how little his past is brought up in a meaningful manner, let alone be something that effects him. you could say "oh hes gotten better" yeah but we saw none of it so like?? fbkdsgnjkds i'll need to rant about his character another day smh my head

killcode - 6/10 - it was fun while it lasted or something like that. he was interesting and i Do wish they had just.. left him alive? not bc he would be "useful" or wutever but just bc like. wut if he wants to come back randomly? like he wouldve just been a fun side character

nexus/new moon - 5/10 - listen. i dont wanna put him down here. but his current arc fucked him over. he was so fun and whimsical before! he was just a silly lil guy trying to navigate the world around him and desperately trying to fill a role he couldve never filled. his current arc couldve been SO much better. but its not as emotionally charged as it could be. like. they just completely threw away his original motive! and now he doesnt care?? not even the slightest??? booooo tomato tomato tomato throwing tomatoes/ref

lunar - 5/10 - again, you can fight me, but current lunar just isnt it for me. lunar before he died? hell yeah. he was such a lil shit that only cared about stuff if it benefited him. he didnt care that he was hurting moon with his movements, he just switched sides bc moon actually paid attention to him. him and bm couldve been SUCH a good duo too OTL

bloodmoon - 5/10 - honestly i liked v1 bm more than v2. idk man. something about their energy was so different and it lured me in. v2 kinda just felt.. boring. no critiques on his character, just not for me *shrug*

gemini - 5/10 - i dunno. just boring to me

monty - 4/10 - yet another moment of "no direct hate on the character just uninteresting to me" with monty. theyre just. boring. also another moment of "i liked them before [insert event]" with the event being before earth.

the creator - 4/10 - just. meh? he could be better as a villain but hes like. been here for so long that i wonder if he really does much of anything? idk man. im losing steam atp dnf,jsdgndkj

this might be all of them..? i dunno. probably missed a bunch (and yes im aware i shoved in some laes characters shush). im gonna leave out eaps characters so this doesnt get longer and so i dont go on a hate rant about puppet/j

[thebusytypewriter]

Hail the Lamb, Resilient and Eternal

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

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

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

“MEDICS!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kali, your tuna’s burning.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but…”

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

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

“We should not be thinking about this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confounded murmurs filled the space.

“Prophecy?”

“Sacrifice?”

“Have they forgotten the years of this establishment?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Meaning…?”

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

“And the Red Crown?”

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

“The sermons?”

“Canceled until further notice.”

“The Bishops?”

“Will never know.”

“But—”

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

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

Or thought them to be.

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

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

“Yes, ma’am. Praise the Lamb.”

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

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

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

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

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

The Lamb was not improving.

Someone had to do something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She almost wanted to tell it to blink.

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

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

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

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

If the Crown could look expectant, it did.

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

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

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

Somehow, that was more discouraging.

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

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

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

The Red Crown did nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

Through her chest.

Through her heart.

Out her back.

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

Kaliaphra screamed, agony tearing through her throat.

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

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

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

Was this a sick joke?

Was it mercy?

To be put out of her misery?

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

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

What… did I do wrong?

A distant muffled bleat was the last thing she heard.

Then there was nothing.

When her eyes opened, Kaliaphra was blinded with white.

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

Odd.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know you’re there.”

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

She swallowed hard, a pit opening in her stomach.

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

Kali looked back down at the Crown.

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

Once again, incredibly helpful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“B-Battle, my lord?”

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

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

Ah, damn it. “Oh, I, uh—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. She couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…Why did her head feel so heavy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not a child!”

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

They… weren’t looking at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My Fawn,” Theanno called.

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

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

“My Fawn.”

“My Fawn.”

“My Fawn!”

[alien-girl-21]

Quick question

What are y'alls favorite bojere, bokris, and/or jance moments?? It's for science*

(*making a ppt presentation about them for ppt night with my irls and subjecting them to the rituals(tm))

[daz4i]

big fan of the current trend i see on ao3 where ppl tag fics with "x has a vagina" rather than "trans x". this guy was assigned male at birth (or... creation...? with the character i see this most often with) no one could see what he has down there so they just went off by vibes like "uuuuhh yeah fuck it that's a guy". love that

[thecomet-and-themeteor]

Tryna figure out how I wanna draw these goobers. Some are more accurate to their actors than others, lol.

@thetisming I figured you might like this aljfkal