#i will fistfight every deity if i have to

[f1-birb]

birb buddy i need some of your positive and optimism today. my happiness is too closely tied to these results and im 😔😔😔 after that session 😩

hi hi hiiiii Amanda

ok ok ok so I'm currently on holiday but can confirm I did not let the hot tub drown me despite my earlier threats to the moots

I didn't watch quali because I was outside in the middle of a valley with NO signal but the second I got it was when my dad showed me who was out in Q1 so I Get It 🙃

I have posted this because Lando is soooooo so so so cute, maybe even The Cutest™️

and I am remembering we like DRS overtakes, they are our friends, and they've made one of the DRS zones longer, also that Lando fought back through from a similar position (he was put in 😤) in Mexico last year and he has such a fire in him to fight for every point

also judging from the practice sessions, I have a feeling that Baku this year may be even just a little more chaos than last year.. we can only hope and pray that for all the shit Lando's had over the weekend so far it will leave him alone for tomorrow

on a non-sport related note, here is the view from our cabin (well just across the path from the cabin)

and despite the forecast saying grey all day we got some gorgeous sunshine from about 1 til 6 - I also bought 4 more books that I do not need but brain said yessss buy themmmm

I am also in the mood to write little happy things so if you have something you wanna see hmu 🫶

[ryin-silverfish]

Keisei Suikoden: Genderbent Water Margins

This is probably Part 2 of the "Obscure Vernacular Novels Spotlight" series. Dunno if there's gonna be a Part 3, because most obscure novels stay obscure for a reason. Which is often formulaic boredom. And I'm only picking out the fun ones.

(Also, my main interest is still Ming-Qing vernacular novels, but since I'm doing a final project about Keisei Suikoden for this semester's class, I may as well use the post as Draft 0.)

...

"Is this the Edo Japan equivalent of FGO making historical figures and deities into anime girls?" I thought, when I first came across a Chinese summary of the novel several years ago. 

Then I learned that the author, Kyokutei Bakin, has indeed appeared in FGO as an anime girl. 

As the title suggests, this fan novel of Water Margins has made all the male 108 heroes into heroines, and the female characters into guys...but the changes go further.

Specifically, Bakin has localized the entire setting, rewriting the storyline so that it took place in Kamakura Japan instead. (Hey, it's even contemporary to Northern Song!) Kinda like how Konami's first Suikoden game put the 108 heroes into a medieval fantasy setting.

Which means: 

All the 108 characters got their unique Japanese names, sometimes sharing one or two characters with their original inspirations but not always. 

Daoist characters became Shinto priestesses, yamabushi, and onmyoji. 

Beef dishes that appeared in the original novel were replaced with poultry and fish because Edo Japan had a ban on livestock meat.

The Genpei War and other rebellions in its aftermath were featured in the backstory of a bunch of female bandits, who belonged to defeated clans, and many of the 108 heroines were associated with the Minamoto Clan. 

Almost every character got genderbent. Which means the damsels in distress from the original novel become bishonen in distress, female bandits would kidnap men and force them into marriages, etc.

The rough outline of the story goes like this: an arrogant female official, while trying to find the famous priestess Murokai (fem! Heavenly Master Zhang) in the Kumano mountains to dispel a plague, released the 108 vengeful ghosts of unmarried courtesans mentioned in the Manyoshu anthology, who reincarnated into our 108 heroines.

After a timeskip, in the capital, the Shirabyoshi dancer Kamegiku (fem! Gao Qiu) has gained the favor of Emperor Go-Toba, both of whom were real historical figures.

During his reign, women skilled in various martial arts were selected to train in the Female Warrior Training School, and after offending Kamegiku, one of the head trainers, Ayaosa (fem! Wang Jin) was forced to flee with her aging mother.

During their escape, she encountered the spunky tomboy daughter of a village chief, Fusenryu Komorode ("Komorode the Diving Dragon", fem! Shi Jin), and taught her the eighteen martial arts after defeating her in a duel...

We then got to Otatsu of Hanagara (fem! Lu Zhishen), my favorite of the genderbent characters——A plump, dark-skinned lady with a fierce temper and love for sake, able to effortlessly move a 45 kg mortar around.

She became a fugitive after she killed the mean usurer widow and salted fish vendor, Kaina, with a single punch, to save the male courtesan Yasanosuke and his mom.

Then she was made a Buddhist nun and took on the name Myotatsu, but got expelled from her first temple for acting exactly like the original Lu Zhishen: getting drunk and eating meat, fistfighting a Jizo statue outside the temple gate and bringing the entire small shrine down, and beating up the nuns who tried to stop her.

"I'm adept at explaining the nature of cause and effect: Fuck Around and Find Out." ——Myotatsu, right before rescuing the village head's pretty son from a forced marriage to the local bandit queen 

The novel does have a main plot: while Kamegiku was playing the temptress in Kyoto, Hojo Masako ruled as the "Nun Shogun" in Kamakura, and had essentially usurped the Minamoto Clan by placing her son, Yoriie, under house arrest and later assassinating him.

Thus, instead of robbing Cai Jing's birthday present, the 108 heroines were kidnapping Princess Sanze, the youngest daughter of Yoriie, to protect her from the Hojo regents and restore Minamoto control.

Sadly, we don't know how the plot concludes.

Bakin had gone blind in his old age, relying entirely on his daughter-in-law to transcribe his oral accounts, and since he was focused on finishing his most famous epic novel, Chronicle of the Eight Dogs Heroes (Nanso satomi hakken-den), Keisei Suikoden had taken a backstage and is never finished.

Some highlights:

-Sakurado of Torano-o (fem! Lin Chong) got fucked over because Kamegiku wanted to take her husband for herself. Her husband, Nansei, is a pretty twink monk and one of her disciples. He's timid, delicate, and has no interest in women, but loved Sakurado platonically and was in turn supported by her, who never looked down on him.

-Fushishiba (fem! Chai Jin), a.k.a. Oritaki no Sho, is descended from a member of the Taira Clan who owed a debt to Yoritomo, and was granted various honors and titles after the war.

-fem! Chao Gai's name is Kocho, which translates literally to "Little Butterfly". It might be a pun, since Chao and Cho sound kinda similar. And yes, she did lift an entire stone pagoda and carry it to her village to protect the villagers from the local yokai.

-Fittingly enough, "Sasuno Miko Medogi" (fem! Gongsun Sheng) is an onmyoji of the Abe lineage, who can manipulate Shikigami to summon winds and clouds.

-Oohako (fem! Song Jiang) murdering male! Yan Poxi is...surprisingly cathartic, not gonna lie. For context, Yan Po was not genderbent, but she abused Oohako's generosity to try to set her up with her son, a Joruri actor named Gidakichi, in an attempt to leech off her money.

-And while she's unwittingly offering patronage to their performances out of social obligation, Gidakichi was having an affair with her assistant, Adako (fem! Zhang Wenyuan), and being a stain on her reputation.

-After a very awkward and uncomfortable night at their house and Gidakichi being a creep to her, she accidentally left a pouch containing Kocho's letter of gratitude (because she alerted them to an incoming arrest) in their bedroom.

-Gidakichi found the letter and tried to use it to blackmail her into not only approving his marriage to Adako and covering the full expense, but also giving him the 300 gold mentioned in Kocho's letter (a gift she rejected).

-At which point she finally had enough and stabbed the guy to death. As you can see, the plot beats are mostly the same, but I like it better than the original.

-Why? Because 1) Yan Po's intent to leech off their patron is made a lot more obvious, and 2) instead of Yan Poxi (understandably) having no intention of sleeping with Song Jiang due to his cold neglect, and Song Jiang getting pissed at her for that?

-The dynamic is reversed. Gidakichi had no love for Oohako, and the feeling was mutual. Yet when she was pressured into spending the night in the same room by his mom, she was the one who kept a polite distance while he tried to force himself on her.

-Takeyo (fem! Wusong) is said to be 6 ft tall, with a dignified appearance that resembled the famous Tomoe Gozen from the Tale of Heike. Before she met Oohako, though, she was also short-tempered and prone to violence.

-Because Japan doesn't have tigers, the tiger Takeyo killed was a tiger cub gifted to the local lord by emissaries from Joseon Korea, which had escaped captivity upon reaching adulthood.

-Just like Wu Song, she avenged her sister, Butayo's murder at the hands of Kiresuke (male! Pan Jinlian) the abusive freeloader husband and his mistress, Okei of Seimonya (fem! Ximen Qin).

-Not gonna lie, the original Pan Jinlian and her Plum in the Golden Vase incarnation are both fascinatingly terrible people. But, just like Gidakichi, Kiresuke managed to outdone her through sheer creep factor during his failed attempt at seducing Takeyo and pinning the blame on her.

-Bakin generally tried to tune down the gore and cannibalism in Water Margins, as well as the slaughter of innocents and random passersby. Even Rikiju (fem! Li Kui) is slighty less of a indiscriminate murderhobo, and the targets of her killing spree were limited to samurai guards.

-That said, they still killed the corrupt official Ikken (Huang Wenbing)'s entire family by setting fire to his mansion, and preserved his head in a jar of sake after Rikiju killed him.

-Instead of receiving the three divine scrolls from the Mystic Lady of the Nine Heavens, Oohako received a single scroll from Benzaiten.

-Because of the aforementioned lack of tigers in Japan, Rikiju killed 4 giant "mountain dogs", a.k.a. Japanese wolves with unusual stripe patterns on their fur, after they devoured her elderly mom.

Final Thoughts

I'm not a fan of most genderbent AUs because oftentimes, it doesn't add anything meaningful to the original premise, or alter the character personality too much to the point of losing all resemblance to their counterpart.

Keisei Suikoden, however, is a pre-modern example of a genderbent adaptation done well.

The heroines are as badass, colorful, and violent as their male counterparts, the entire premise has been localized in a manner that's both funny and interesting, and the rewrite + deletion of certain story beats have actually removed many elements of Water Margins that do not sit well with a modern audience.

Also, I'll totally play a Keisei Suikoden RPG game, if the heroine designs stay true to the novel and they aren't all made into pretty anime girls. 

A two -volume English translation can be found on Amazon, together with the Chronicle of the Eight Dog Heroes. There's also a free digital scan of the original Japanese print by the Harvard-Yenching Library.

[tarnera-blog]

Writing has many phases.

There is the Honeymoon phase, where you are walking along minding your own business, and the idea for a story hits you like a bolt from the blue, and you think, "Ah! What a delightful concept for a short story. This won't take much time to write at all!"

(this phase rarely lasts long.)

There is the Spite phase, where you have decided that no one else's opinion matters, you are writing this story for yourself and people are lucky you even want to share it at all, but it is getting written come hell or high water, and if you have to fistfight every single one of the gods along the way, so be it, at least that will make this Wednesday interesting.

There is the phase where you sit at your desk, cackling over how you are a writing DEITY and your readers will adore and worship you. There is also the phase where you sit in your bed under a blanket eating junk food in the dark, seriously considering never writing another word and also wondering if you can somehow just destroy everything you ever published anywhere. These phases often happen on the same day, at differing intensities, in no particular order, sometimes in rapid succession.

There are phases where ideas and words flow like water bursting from a dam and it's all you can do to write them down before they vanish out of your reach. There are phases where you must sift through the dross to find hidden gems that will reveal the world you're trying to describe in the glints of light reflecting off their surfaces.

There's the phase where you want to write anything but your story (case in point). There's the phase where you want to write nothing but your story. These often happen simultaneously.

Sometimes you say, "I don't know what I'm doing!", either before or after you exclaim, "Aha! I have it!"

Writing a story is a process of going through these phases again and again, hoping that the end result is worth all the pain and effort.

Anyway, I'm currently in this phase:

[iwasgivenabasket]

Going thru my notepad and found three dreams I had on the same night

-000-

I had a dream that Lucifer and God were finally going to duke it out for Earth. No armies, no trumpets. A one-on-one fistfight in an arena in the skies.

I had run up to Lucifer as he walked up Jacob's Staircase to the arena. "What are you going to do if you win?"

He seemed tired. "Kid, please go back down."

There was an announcer voice from below. The words are garbled.

I hesitate for a moment, but muster up the courage and catch up with Lucifer again. "Will this fight be You versus Him, or is it purely two moralities going head to head? Because if it's good versus bad or whatever, then won't this fight continue forever?"

"You should really go back down, kid." Lucifer sounds vexed, but his tone is surprisingly gentle.

I decide to take advantage of the softness I hear from him. "Are you not allowed to talk about it? I'm sorry, I don't want to get you in trouble."

At last, he stops his march up the stairs and turns to look at me.

His fur is coarse and matted with sweat and old wounds that never healed. He's dressed in a white tank top and white workout shorts. His fur is so black, however, it makes it look like the clothes are warping and twisting on the edges. The only regal thing about his physical appearance are his beautiful horns. The gnarled charcoal keratin twists feverishly as it stretches their reach into the sky.

His eyes are blood red. Or are they bloodshot?

I realize I cannot look into His eyes. I am painfully aware of my mortality as I cast my gaze down to my feet in reverence.

"Look... just go down and spend some time with your loved ones, okay?"

I keep my head down as my eyes well up with tears. I lower into a full body bow, and I hear Him continue walking up the stairs.

All we know is that if God wins, things go back to normal. If Lucifer wins, things will change. We don't know what will change, as He refuses to comment.

I stand up, shaking from nearly having my mind shredded into pieces by looking at the mortal vessel of Lucifer. I don't have the strength to look up at His back. Instead, I turn my gaze to the side.

I'm leaning against the cold marble railing of Jacob's Staircase. I'm above the clouds, but I can see the house I came from. My little farm and the river beside it.

My heart aches. Not with fear, but loneliness. I suddenly ache for the touch of another person. My brush with a deity left me drained, and I begin to slowly stumble back home.

-000-

Had another dream, though it was more like a short vignette. I saw a bottle of nail polish at a gas station. It was very very light baby pink, and a pretty big bottle - the length of my hand, not including the glossy black angular twist top. There was gold font on the bottle:

"love is so 2013"

-000-

One last dream. I was in the hospital because my car had gotten t-boned. My entire left leg had been amputated, my left arm was shattered, and my neck and ribs had been broken. I was in a medically-induced coma, but I could hear everything around me.

Lots of people came to see me while I was lying there. They confessed things to me, comforted me, wept for me.

It was a kind of waking dream, too. I kept opening my eyes every now and then and looking towards the ceiling. Even in those moments of semi-consciousness I could still hear the machines whirring that were keeping me alive. I could still feel someone's hand gripping mine or gently brushing away my hair.

There were no meaningful quotes that I can remember. No epiphany I had in the dream. I was just helpless, lying there. Listening.

01/07/2023

[often-obsessed]

Yandere!cyrus x gn!reader

Chapter 7

Cyrus stared at the unusual scene before him. Evidence of a pokemon battle littered the ground. Scratch marks disturbed the dirt and ice clumps clung to grass. In the center his weavile fainted, covered in slashes.

It must have been an surprise attack. But how? He won, his perfect world was in the making, the only other person was under his thumb. He had destroyed their pokemon long ago.

It didn't make any logical sense.

But the illogical, the uncontrollable was before him.

He returned his weavile.

A small twinge pulled at his stomach.

Where were you?

He looked at the disturbed dirt once more. Yes he could see it, shoe prints in the ground. A struggle. No blood anywhere. Of course you wouldn't give up easily.

He thought back on all the times you had defied him. Jumping off one of the many islands, only to find out there was no gravity. Throwing a fit everytime he entered a room. Trying to fistfight his pokemon.

...

He sighed, another hunt it was. Your tenacity was admirable, in small doses. The vast scenery seemed to dwarf him.

But soon another familiar twinge snuck it's way into his chest. The cursed feeling, he had no name for it, but it was unwelcome. He needed to find you.

Hopefully in one piece.

And alive.

He called palkia to him, the behemoth stared at him, the product of his victory.

"Palkia find our runaway."

Palkia looked around, eyes glowing brighter than usual, walking with soft footsteps that shouldn't be possible for the behemoth.

The deity circled the scene before them.

Cyrus frowned, palkia should have honed in on you location by now.

The twinge became a twist.

"Palkia find our runaway."

Palkia once again paced around seemingly a bit more frustrated.

Was palkia unable to find you, or were you...

No there must be another explanation.

Palkia froze before honing on an empty spot in front of them.

A bright light blinded him for a split second leaving behind a sharply dressed man.

The man's persian rubbed against his legs. Most likely responsible for weavile's fainting.

But how was this man here?

Had he only destroyed half of the universe?

He had won, what variable had he forgot?

"Hello there, you must be Cyrus. I've been trying to find you for a while. I ran into your companion first-"

Cyrus' eyes sharpened.

"Don't worry, they're unharmed just resting at the moment."

The man walked closer to him, his head slightly tilted up.

As of a weak display could scare him.

"Quite the place you have for yourself, still in the first stages? Not too bad."

Cyrus stared the man down.

"How are you here."

He had half a mind to use one of his legendaries to vaporize this man. But if this man managed to escape the reset, he must have a powerful pokemon in his possession. Powerful enough to hide his runaway from palkia's sight.

The man chuckled, he sauntered around, seemingly not giving him the time of day.

His persian watching Cyrus' every move as it rubbed against its trainer's leg.

"Straight to the point hmm? I like that. My name is Giovanni, leader of team rainbow rocket. As for how and why I'm here, I would prefer to talk in a more comfortable environment."

The man pulled out a pokeball releasing the pokemon that was most likely responsible for him being here.

Yes he had vaguely heard of this mysterious pokemon. In his search for a new world, rumors had come from kanto about a powerful rogue pokemon. He didn't think it was powerful enough to evade the reset. A mistake he would not make again.

"I would like to invite you to my world for a proper discussion, your friend is already there."

"I will admit you have my interest, I will consider your offer. As long as my ward is unharmed."

Giovanni smiled

"Then we have no problem."

Cyrus retrieved palkia nodding to Giovanni.

In a flash they were transported to a new room.

The huge multicolored "R" was the first thing Cyrus noticed.

Cyrus caught movement in the corner of his eye, turning his head to watch as two presumably team rocket grunts approached. They saluted their leader, unhidden admiration in their eyes.

A familiarity as he recalled his own grunts and commanders giving him the same look.

"Giovanni sir welcome back. No bad news to report."

"Good. Be prepared to have a new room put up for my friend Cyrus. And bring our newest guest here as soon as possible."

"I have not agreed to stay Giovanni."

Giovanni smirked

"Well once you hear my proposal I'm sure you'll stay. There are many new discoveries surrounding pokemon. Have you heard of mega evolution, z-crystals? I have other leaders of organizations here already,  and with these new found powers, I have no doubt we'll all make a formidable team."

Other leaders. Of different organizations.

Cyrus inwardly sighed, he couldn't leave now, not with the threat of other powerful leaders.

If Giovanni could easily enter his new domain he could only imagine what these so called others could do.

No, he would have to stay, if only to observe. Just until he could find weak points and just until he had you back in his sights.

Most likely you were ecstatic about seeing other people besides him.

He would give you this small solace until he dragged you back to where you belonged.

"We'll see. I still haven't seen my ward."

"They're fine. Though I wonder if they'll come willingly. What do you think?"

"Whether they come willing or not does not concern me."

"I see."

The doors opened and lo and behold you entered, flanked by two guards. The twinge disappeared, soothing into nothing as you came closer. He ignored the look of horror in your eyes.

You were here and you were okay.

Giovanni pointed his hand in his ward's direction.

"Here they are unharmed as I said."

"Hmm."

The team rocket leader set his sights on you.

"I'm glad you could finally join us, Cyrus and I were betting if you would have to be dragged here."

Cyrus stared at you, no bruises from what he could see. His shoulders relaxed a bit.

You were stunned quiet, he could only imagine the thoughts racing in your head.

"Well look who crawled out of my personal hell. Who's life are you here to ruin now?"

There was the sass.

This was going to be a long conversation.

[ravel-puzzlewell]

okay speaking about strip clubs, how is that most of the dancers are always asari and all other species think they are sexy, but act weirded out by humans despite humans looking 97% identical to asari? 

i mean we know how, bioware wanted to have a race of space babes with mind sex gimmick, but they are cowards and thought that if said babes don’t look as boringly human as possible, the players wouldn’t want to fuck them. but in-universe, how is that relationships with asari are completely normal for all other species, but Garrus had to watch an educational porno to figure out what to do with Shepard. counting how many turians are in the clubs staring at asari asses for hours on end, he should know what to do with an ass and a boob.

the only explanation is that asari use their mind magic shit to brainwash every other races into thinking they look like them. and not just like them, but as hot babes them, while in actuality they look completely different. asari anatomy doesn’t really matter for sex, because sex with asari is just them matrix-projecting hot vids directly into their partner’s brain while physically all that happens is they probe you with tentacles for DNA material

but Ravel, some of you might ask, what about times when you look at the pictures of asari and there’s no asari in the room to brainwash you? smart question, to answer this we need to remember H.P. Lovecraft. You know how in “Shadow over Innsmouth” he had like a society of fish people who worshipped sea god and would brainwash humans into sleeping with them and as a result another fish person is born? That’s asari, babes. Lovecraft caught the wavelengths, but bc he was a fucked up dude, he freaked out. 

You know what mega powerful deity that sleeps in the ocean but manages to fuck up ppl’s minds Lovecraft wrote about? Cthulhu. My thesis is that asari’s Goddess is real and it’s Cthulhu, and she lives in the ocean on their home planet passively rewriting every other races’ perceptions on the background to keep up their facade. 

also, bioware, hire me to spice up ur stale ass remake, asari planet was boring in me3, I don’t even remember what happened here, but I DO remember what happened on Tuchanka. So we will have a mission where Cthulhu raises up from the ocean to fistfight the Reaper, rough concept art presented below. 

[swishswooosh]

I'm (re)watching Winx season 2 at painfully slow pace and I think it will be hit and miss

Like whenever I rewatched this series I've always skipped S2 and I think I remember why now

I'm halfway through and the overarching plot is barely scratched. Comparing to S3 for example which fit a lot in the first half

I LOVED pixie rescue mission, with princess Amentia on the side

On that note Layla is the MVP of the season, probably

And I do love pixies ok, they are created to be cute and tiny

Avalon is so-not-obviously the inside bad guy and Bloom is so not easily hooked

Darkar is a stupid villain, a waste of space and of my time. A deity, source of all evil and darkness, set in motion every other conflict in the series probably but does nothing to own up to that

Trix are regressed to servants, which would be fine if this guy they are serving actually went berserk and had everyone trembling instead of sitting evily all the time

So many little plots revolve around relationships, didn't care much then, struggling to sit through now

No seriously. Sky is jealous of a teacher (?), responds to girlfriend's excited reminiscence about her family tree with "oh yeah what about me" (???), gets mad because she didn't answer her phone in class (?????) But all is good because Icy kwords him technically and Bloom brings him back to life because she can just....do that now apparently

Tecna is apparently angry how not everyone is good at everything and how her romantic interest is very good at tech stuff (which they like...bonded over) and not at fistfights wat

Flora has a crush, doodles in her notebook and stuff. I have a feeling that will be her main role for a while

I'll have to endure until dark Bloom shows up i guess

[tommyinnit-fic-recs]

sbi adopting tommy? (not necessarily literally)

I have many, many fics for you, anon!

Here you go:

The Case of the Fire Inside by  trying_to_spell_both_our_names_at_once [Rated T, 198798 words, incomplete, last updated January 2022]

In the long list of rules that Dream gave him, there were four that stuck out as the most important. Four rules that he could never break.

Stick close to the island when swimming. Always be back before seven. Never complain or hesitate to give Dream his pelt. And never, ever interact with humans.

Tommy didn’t break any of those rules often, and if he did it was a one time thing, a mistake. But this wasn’t a mistake. This was a very deliberate, very stupid move on his part and Dream would kill him if he knew what Tommy was doing. Fifteen years Tommy had lived here, and never once had he intentionally broken one of Dream’s rules. Until now.

He swims closer to the three humans.

.

Tommy’s a selkie living isolated on an island with Dream as his caretaker. Wilbur, Techno, and Phil are the new lighthouse keepers next door. Surely there’s no way for this to go wrong.

One Day I Met God (Turns Out, He’s an Idiot) by Sunshine_3 [Not Rated, 33856 words, complete]

Every year, the Tournament of the Gods is held to determine who is worthy to gain the favor of the universe’s deities.

This year, Tommy is determined to win, to be the youngest person ever to claim a victory.

Not because he wants to be blessed or anything. He just thinks it’s funny.

——–

An AU in which Tommy Innit is just a mortal vibin’ and doing his thing and the rest of SBI are gods who have claimed him as their favorite.

Starchild by Dragonire [Series, Rated T, 41,897 words, incomplete, last updated November 2021]

The aliens haven’t experimented on him. They’re scared of him and Tommy is glad for it.

Almost all.

The Demon, green-silver-mercury; tall, muscled with golden horns is the only one that isn’t, although he isn’t an active fan of his noise. He doesn’t flinch whenever Tommy screams at him through the glass, when he pounds his fist or charges the door with a ducked shoulder and a brace for bruises, but neither does he appreciate it for long. He, at least, is the only one so far to threaten Tommy.

It had only been a raised hand—the glass between them protecting Tommy from the violence and protecting the alien from his retaliation—but it was a threat, nonetheless. Unacted upon, because in all the weeks Tommy has been in his possession, he hasn’t made a move to come into his enclosure cell and do anything against him.

But that’s just the point. It’s been, weeks? A month? Nearly two?

Tommy knows that the aliens’ patience is going to eventually run out at some point and he’s not keen to find out what will happen next.

He’s expecting violence. He’s expecting pain, he’s expecting blood, he’s expecting….

He’s not expecting this.

Or: Humans will pack bond with anything.

Kick Off by Badnews [Rated T, 17817 words, complete]

Tommy is fucking sick of this, he is hungry and thirsty and just got in several fistfights with the fucking wildest creatures of his imagination. Imagine those boring ‘would you rather questions’ except it’s between a mutant hawk, a seven foot malformed pig, and a shark zombie.

And he basically lost 2 out of 3 times.

—

SBI is Aliens living in space and conveniently, all knowledge about humans is what they are like after they are already dead and their tissues are decomposing so… they don’t have much of an idea of what to do with an alive one.

Double-Dealing by WritingBlockMyHated [Rated T, 51513 words, complete]

Tommy was a good pilot, he had to be. He was one of Dream’s best and took immense pride in it. Decimating fleets and helping Dream’s army push further than ever before. He owes the man his life, Dream was his brother, he saved and raised him and Tommy would give him the world. That’s what he had decided.

Tommy was a fighter. He had been one ever since Dream had taken him in and he would be one until it killed him.

Being captured by the resistance puts a small setback on his plans, that’s all.

—-

or: Tommy fights for Dream right until he’s captured by the SBI. They help him heal.

TommyInnit’s Guide on: How to Deliver Pizza (and find family in the process) by kenziellouise [Not Rated, 36121 words, incomplete, last updated December 2021]

“One large cheese, one large meat lover and one large vegorama, for, uh, es-bee-eye” Tommy reads in a monotone voice, from the receipt, as he holds the pizzas out to the hero in front of him.

“Who are you, and how did you find us?” The Blade deadpans, sword still up to Tommy’s throat.

“Pizza Hut. Someone ordered pizza.”

OR-

TommyInnit gets a job in a city run by heroes. He just wants to deliver pizza, but he really needs a break.

To Establish Connection by SilverWing15 [Rated G, 28032 words, incomplete, last updated September 2021]

“What does that mean – tame?” “It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. “It means to establish ties.

To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…. /// “Hey!” The prince barks, whirling on him. Tommy lets his hood fall as he bolts away. He stops and spins, like he’s just heard the shout, his ears perked. His heart flutters. The royals hate hybrids and being robbed by one will make the prince furious. So angry that he won’t realize that Tommy is just bait.

OR: Royalty Adoption AU hell yeah

[jq37]

The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 1

There Is Strength in Sweetness 

Much like the years, the seasons of D20 start coming and they don’t stop coming. Fantasy High: Sophomore Year is barely in the record books and we’re already jumping into our new season--the Game of Thrones/Candyland mashup: A Crown of Candy!

If y’all have been with me since Sophomore Year then you know that I did very in depth recaps of every episode with a very specific format but I’m gonna try something new for this season.

The format might change a little between episodes as I figure out what works best so bear with me but the plan is to do more highlights and opinions than a blow by blow. But, like, we’ll see what happens.

So, anyway, saddle up your Meep and let’s visit Candia--one of the six kingdoms of the land of Calorum (aka: a fridge. We see you Brennan, it’s a fridge). Twenty years ago, the Ravening Wars wreaked havoc but they’re currently in a time of peace which (mostly) everybody is psyched about.

Meet the Family

This is not a new observation but, while most seasons of Fantasy High focus on found family, this season is all about family-family, specifically, the royal family of Candia and their associates. 

We’re first introduced to Murph’s character--Sir Theobald Gumbar (Level 3 Eldritch Knight)--who is the a huge, golden-armored, gummy bear, leader of the Tartguard, protector of the royal family, and the logical endpoint of Murph’s lawful good predilections. Sir Theo is, of course, on time with bells on for the big Saint’s Day/Coming of Age birthday party for the twin princesses of House Rocks. Unfortunately, he’s clearly never seen The Little Mermaid because when the heralds announce the princesses, they don’t show up. Frustrated, he goes to try and find them.

The first place he checks is with Zac’s character, Chancellor Lapin Cadbury (Level 3 Celestial Warlock). He is (in no particular order) the royal tutor, a chocolate bunny, an official of the main state sanctioned church of Calorum (the Bulbian Church), and a pompous ass. Oh, one more thing? He and Theobald can’t stand each other. There is nothing funnier than two very proper grown men who hate each other's guts. Sir Theo shows up to his classroom where the princesses are having a lesson--or at least they’re supposed to be. Further inspection shows that they’ve just left two straw dummies in their place. Classic.

So, we pan out to the city to meet my favorite characters so far (I absolutely play favorites but I also disclose when I’m doing it so I think I’m in the clear) the twin princesses/chaos gremlins--Jet and Ruby Rocks (both level 1 Rogues) played by Emily and Siobhan. Theo may not have seen The Little Mermaid but the twins have def seen Aladdin, because their number one pastime seems to be escaping the palace to roam the city--hilariously illustrated when they chuck a gem into a peasant's bag and his reaction is a super nonplussed, “Guess the princesses escaped again.” They’re got the Disney Princess-itis really bad because both of them feel stifled by palace life and want more--specifically, Jet wants to be a warrior and resents having been born in peacetime (especially since she’s slightly older and in line for the throne) and Ruby wants to run off and join the circus as an acrobat. They are total twin BFFs to the point that their Thieves Cant has been reskinned to Twinspeak which is a detail I love so much (and that will become unspeakably tragic if something happens to one of them Brennan). 

Jet gets a letter from her secret crush Thad, an Avocado from Fructera (these are the sentences I am being forced to write this season folks) and schemes with Ruby about how they can get to Comida (the capital city) to meet him--possibly by sweet talking Theobald which is easy because he’s so thirsty for respect. Sure enough, Theobald and Lapin soon find them, following their path of destruction and the princesses are brought back to the castle.

Back at the castle, we’re introduced to Lou’s character--King Amethar Rocks (Level 3 Storm Herald Barbarian)--who is having a somber moment, surrounded by the statues of his four older sisters who died in the Ravening Wars, leading his reluctant taking of the throne. He’s interrupted by Lord Calroy (his right hand guy and a full ass talking slice of cake because Brennan is trying to break me this season but I refuse to give him the satisfaction) who lets him know that his daughters have escaped and his delighted reaction immediately lets us know which side of the family they take after.

Finally (at least wrt PCs), we meet Ally’s character--Liam Wilhelmina of House Jawbreaker (Level 2 Ranger) who is a political prisoner/ward of House Rocks and a soft, outdoorsy, mountain kid who is perpetually followed around by his pet pig--Peppermint Preston whose death will absolutely force to me to Google “Best Denny’s Parking Lots for Fistfights.” He misses his dad but not his dick brothers because Ally isn’t allowed to have a fully happy family in any season. Liam is from the disgraced House Jawbreaker and his brothers seem to expect him to try and off the King while he’s in their orbit. While he’s in the woods, looking for seeds (as one does) he finds and accidentally breaks an important looking teacup, which we’ll get back to.

The other important character we meet this episode is an NPC--Queen Caramelinda, mother of the princesses, wife of Amethar, and keeper of 100% of the impulse control of House Rocks. She’s the main disciplinarian to Jet and Ruby, the clear decision-maker in the kingdom, and the only literate one out of her and her husband. She also seems to be the only character that respects Lapin’s authority. 

An Inciting Incident

So, with all our characters assembled, all that’s left is the plot hook which Caramelinda provides in the form of a personal letter from Emperor Gustavo--the head honcho of the entire realm and his old friend--to Amethar. He’s not doing well health-wise and he needs to name an heir that’s not related to him at a big tourney that he’s personally inviting Amethar to. Amethar is a little slow on the uptake but Caramelinda eventually connects to dots for him that it seems very likely that Gustavo is going to name him emperor.

Amethar is not vibing with that information at all but Caramelinda basically holds him by the ear until he reluctantly agrees to go--though he insists that Ruby and Jet also come along to keep him company. Caramelinda only agrees on the condition that Lapin goes with. She also invites Liam (who is caught off guard but game) and Sir Theo is basically going by default. Caramelinda is staying home to hold down the fort but the talking slice of cake is going because Brennan hates me and doesn’t want me to be happy. 

The traveling party is chosen, the twins have been gifted with sick, inherited weapons from their aunts: Flickorice--the Twizzing Blade (Jet) and Sourscratch--the Puckering Bow (Ruby). It’s almost time to be off, but there’s still one last thing to get to before we leave the twins’ party. 

Lapin, feeling the pull of something broken (told you we’d get back to it) subtly makes his way outside, but is followed by Jet and Liam. Now, if you remember, I said earlier that Lapin is an official of the Bulbian church. Which is why it’s so surprising for Jet and Liam to see him talking to the Sugarplum Fairy, a deity of the Sweetening Path--a non-sanctioned more animistic religion that really only has sway in Candia. He fixes the teacup and then she appears, telling him that he’ll need to be wary once he leaves her sphere of influence and that boldness will be required in the days to come. Lapin, who seems to be having this conversation very begrudgingly, asks if she’s asking him to do anything in an official capacity and she smiles and says that she’s not asking for her third wish(!). Then what does she want? She wants him to know that there is great risk in what he is doing, but not acting is the greater risk. The coming challenges will be great, but he must protect the royal family or all is lost. She wouldn't have used her second wish to bring him to them if that weren’t the case. They hustle back and spill this to Ruby, obvs.

Anyway, onward! The next day, the caravan is set up and--with a warning about a sugar free chocolate warlock (ominous, as sugar free chocolate always is) they’re on their way to meet their escort out of Candia. Ruby decides to do her acrobat thing and is hanging out on top of the carriage instead of inside it as she and Jet “subtly” (read:not at all) bring up the Sugarplum Fairy to Lapin to see if he cracks.

Suddenly, the caravan stops. There’s a tree felled in the path, which really only means one thing in this kind of story. 

Ambush.

Ruby, outside of the carriage and unprotected, takes 16 points of damage and is fully down with a failed death save due to some unknown effect. The carriage is riddled with arrows. 

Everyone rolls for initiative and that takes us into a new (sure to be recurring) segment I’m calling:

Things I’m Concerned About

I’m concerned about Jet and Ruby (and not just because I’ve been worried about Ruby for a while due to things the cast has said and because she fully *died* this episode). They have their genres so wrong. They think they’re Disney movie protagonists but they’re in Game of Thrones and they don’t know it. Being Wrong Genre Savvy is a BAD position to find yourself in. Carriage surfing shenanigans don’t fly in a world that wants you dead.

OK, Carameinda. I’m inclined to be pro-Caramelinda. Like, she’s the hardass but she needs to be because Amethar isn’t helping run the kingdom. If this was a different story, she wouldn’t give me any pause but I read Macbeth and feel some light Lady Macbeth vibes. Gonna be keeping an eye on her.  

Calroy and Sir Toby (didn’t mention him, he’s a slightly lower ranked Gummi Bear guard and friends with Theo). In a story like this, I’m looking for the possible betrayals before I get blindsided and the only people who can really betray you are people who are supposedly loyal to you. Calroy had a little aside with Amethar about how he shouldn’t be the Emperor if he doesn’t want to be--which isn’t wrong but is also something someone angling to keep him off the throne for other reasons would say--and Sir Toby decided to stay behind to help hold down the fort--again, either an innocuous decision, or angling to be left alone and to his own devices. 

Whatever is going on with the Sugarplum Fairy and Lapin? Do not care for that one bit. I understand that a Warlock pact is mechanically very similar to a Paladin oath and a Celestial Warlock pact is even moreso but guess what? Still don’t trust it. I know Ruby’s Arcana check said that she’s generally a chill spirit but I still don’t trust it. And getting Wishes from your follower? Weird and suspicious. What’s your game, lady?

Emperor Gustavo apparently has a daughter who is barred by law from taking the throne when he dies. That sounds like a very strong motive for *something* at some point down the line. 

I’m a little concerned Jet is being catfished by this Avocado. First of all, not a sentence I thought I’d ever write. Second of all, I’m probably just being paranoid. But that feels like a great way to get a princess alone for kidnapping or shanking or something. 

Update: Brennan did an AMA and, regarding the previous bullet point he said, and I quote, “You are right to be concerned!” so now I’m concerned about that too! Fun!

I’m concerned about the mechanics of how a slice of cake person works. Slice implies a full cake. Where is the rest of the cake Brennan? Where is it? And, like, Brennan said on the post-show stream that we’re making the “what do they eat?” question weirder than it actually is because we’re made of some of the stuff we eat but hey Brennan? If I could pick a flesh toned and textured apple off a tree? That would be weird, OK? And I’m sorry for everyone else who had to picture that but it had to be said since Brennan is insisting on walking us down this garden path.

I’m concerned about whatever the hell is happening with Liam. Disgraced dad, mom is a shaman of the local fringe religion (Sweetening Path, like Lapin), and his brothers want him to shank the king or something? No way this ends in smiles for everyone. 

Brennan said Pyramid of Food so I’m concerned about fruit rollup mummies. 

OK but more than anything, I’m concerned about the death rules of this game. Death in D&D is cheap but, in a campaign like this, it can’t be. I’m not super well versed in GoT but it’s my understanding that resurrection in that series is possible but rare. Brennan said he specifically didn’t let Ally stock certain healing spells and that’s very telling about how things are gonna be handled. I guess we’ll see in the upcoming battle episode how that works but my general thought is, I hope everyone made interesting backup characters.  

Five More Things

So, my thoughts on the new characters. I love Ruby and Jet with my entire heart. Watching Emily and Siobhan roleplay sisters and enable each other and hype each other up is so fun--or it would be if I wasn’t low key bracing to lose one of them sooner rather than later. Zac playing against type and Murph playing to type are both fantastic. I want nothing more than for Theobald and Lapin to continue sniping at each other. I hope that’s the first PvP fight of D20. Amethar is a lot of fun but clearly in over his head and I’m interested to see where he’s pushed. Liam is literally just vibing. Hope he doesn’t have to commit regicide!     

God, the House Rocks PCs are such a disaster family. I love it. The moment when Calroy comes in and is like, “The princesses have escaped,” and Amethar breaks into a grin and is like, “Dude, that’s so dope!” I was like OH, so it’s *all* of them, huh. But, honestly, this should have been on the “Things I’m Concerned About” list because come on. They’ve not all gonna make it. And then we’re gonna have to watch the remaining family members react to that? Oh no. 

Love Ruby’s bow. I have a player in my game who also has a magic bow that produces energy arrows because, truly, who has the time to deal with the logistics of how many arrows you had left after last fight? Magic arrows. Boom, done. Next. 

Getting bagged on by your Patron for not having a spell when she’s the one who gives you your spells is so funny. Also, Mending isn’t a Warlock spell which makes it even funnier. 

**I’ve given myself a 3k word limit on all of these to try to put some boundaries on myself but, Lol, prize to the first who guesses closest to the first episode I break that rule.**

[dlkardenal]

It’s a kind of magic - Looking at the history of magical practices

Hey there, traveler!

That’s right, it’s Dar here with today’s cadaver on the dissecting table: magic. Given that magic isn’t technically one trope but a broad term used to define many things mostly in fiction genres it won’t be a single post but a short series about the topic. Let’s start with the basics: what do we mean by this short word, where did it come from and what’s the big deal? This episode is more of a ‘fun facts from the history of magic’, but I think they are interesting enough to inspire some readers. So have fun!

Magic is roughly saying a supernatural method to affect beings or forces that we can’t manipulate with mundane methods. From witches’ brew to voodoo dolls, chants and sacrifices, magic can appear in many forms but the main gist is the same: the user does something symbolic and commands a force to alter reality in some way. Some may think magic was born with J.R.Tolkien, but as you can guess from the introduction, it is a tale as old as time.

The more ancient civilizations accepted magic as a fact, a tool against certain dire events. Ancient Mesopotamia, for example, had a jurisdiction system in place as it was believed that nearly every person could cast magic, and thus cursing someone and protecting oneself from such a curse was no more extreme than getting into a fistfight. There was the offender, the evil magician who cast the curse and the defendant, who used magic in self-defense. This wasn’t as spectacular as one would think, it mostly consisted of imprisoning magic energies, unwillingly committed sins or the essence of some illnesses into objects, and then burning them to cleanse the magical power, be it ill or beneficial from this world.

In Egypt, there was a personified apparition of magic called heka, and they thought magic was a tool given to men by the creator to ward against certain events. Their use of magical energies came from the understanding that humans shared the divine nature of gods, they could create things and effects with words. Yupp, like Skyrim, only more desert-vibe. Do you know the pictograms and hieroglyphs inside pyramids? Those are words of magical nature, tailored to provide the dead royal with the means to survive in the afterlife. Fun fact, they were written inside the pyramids to keep them secret from the commoners, as it was a prerogative of the pharaoh to be guided by such spells.

But not all was rosy. The modern term ‘magic’ has a Greek origin and comes from the time of the Greek-Persian wars. The greeks learned this word from the Persians who followed a different religion then the polises, so the term ‘magos’ (meaning mage or magician) quickly gained a derogative connotation and referred to the alien, heathen religions of the Persians. This however quickly diluted and spread into the Hellenic masses and quickly became synonymous with charlatan and quack. This was the time magic and religion became inseparable for quite a long time after, the former being an improper, insulting form of the latter.

That derogative meaning continued into early and later Christianity. Theologists described magic as the opposition to miracles, supernatural phenomena created by God’s power (basically the same concept with a different source). This was further strengthened by the fact that the Celtic and german tribal religions (the so-called heathens) still thought of magic as a method to control the natural world and more importantly to commune with the divine. During the Middle Ages as Christianity spread magic was always an opposing force and almost solely present in druidic and supposedly in Jewish and Islamic religions. This is an important fact because these cultures became the foundations for the modern representation of magic, including the witches, the future tellers, the alchemists, and astrologists.

An interesting thing happened when Europe went to conquer the world. Our brave ancestors brought their beliefs and conventions with them, and that meant the way they thought about magic. They were quick to stamp every foreign religion, be it African, indigenous American, or Asian as magic, and tried to replace it with some good-old Christianity. That resulted in some quite fascinating things. For example, the Portuguese word feitiço means spell or incantation, but when they applied this to some West-African religious practices, the concept of fetish was born. Another example (my favorite) is the Haitian and Louisiana voudou, the mixture of some African beliefs and strong Christian pressure by the French. This created a religion worshipping Bondye (from French Bon Dieu, meaning „good God”) and the loa, the lesser deities or spirits connecting mortals to Bondye. Due to the forced but unwilling shift in faith, there are some really interesting anomalies, like the correlation of the death loa Maman Brijit and St. Brigitte of Ireland. Just to give an example why is this my favorite mythology, voudin rituals include the summoning of a specific loa into a „Mount”, a practitioner who lets the loa inhabit his or her body for a while. Then, you have to buy the loa’s attention with gifts. In other religions, this would be animal sacrifices or burning food, but not here. The loa are not so old-timey. Some of them need a good cigar, others desire pink champagne, while Baron Samedi, for example, the tophat wearing king of death likes his followers to host a funeral for his Mount so he can magically spring to life and laugh.

However as modern age approached like a steaming, oil-smelling mechanical monster, some magic turned out to be very real and very mundane and people had a new name for it – science. The line between technology, actual magic, and quack machinations became blurred and people were uncertain what to believe anymore. This uncertainty gave way to the witch hunts where basically anything unexplainable was marked as magic and thus diabolical. This public uproar raged on for quite some time in short and long periods all over the globe before the whole thing turned into skepticism.

The Modern Age brought with it a philosophy of intellect’s absolute dominance over every other virtue. An intelligent man didn’t believe in dubious practices, an intelligent lady never turned to clearly fraud future-tellers and mediums. This, however, went an interesting way. As it was no longer punishable by being burned alive but only shunned and ill-advised, it sparked a certain curiosity in people. Young girls bored out of their minds found an interesting mystery in these charlatans, and with that magic was reborn. During the Victorian era seances multiplied, secret magical organizations grew like mushrooms after the rain and the whole romantic (and terrifying) way we think about magic came into existence.

I think I’ll stop here for today. Next week we’ll move onto the mages, the practitioners and adepts of magic and take a look at how their real-world counterparts evolved during the ages. Did you find it interesting? Do you know more facts about historical magic practices? Which age and culture is your favorite to draw inspiration from to create a unique magic system? Let your voice be heard in comments or reblogs!

Cheers,

Dar

[wedge-hitch]

i got into polytheism originally because i wanted a connection to my ancestors, and wanted to worship the gods they worshipped.

except now my practice involves practices and deities from 5 different pantheons (welsh, irish, gaulish, roman, norse), a couple of catholic saints, and occasional acknowledgement of the abrahamic god in various aspects because my ancestors worshipped all of them.

ancestor-based deity worship ought to resemble the delicate balancing act one does at a massive family reunion where everyone comes from vastly different geographical and cultural backgrounds and ur are trying desperately not to start a fistfight by saying something wrong. gods forbid if you serve ur uncle allfather (and who the FUCK knows if he’s related to your mom or your dad or neither or both simultaneously. also, nobody seems to know whether he is the same person as your other uncle, the eccentric entrepreneur, or your other-other uncle, the trained assassin) a drink in the same fashion as you’d serve your aunt (who is somehow both a witch and a devout catholic, a terrifying force of nature and the first person you go to in a crisis), because you’ll make both of them mad and uncle allfather’ll slash ur tires and his maybe-brother maybe-alter-ego might poison ur cat just to back him up. and they all communicate in really passive-aggressive obtuse ways so ur never sure exactly who is asking what of u and every time u try to narrow it down to “one pantheon” like everyone says (but nobody ever says “u can only work with ur moms’ or ur dads’ family, never mix them”) they all get offended and maybe kind of sad and ur one twink uncle starts sending u lil snakes (but u can’t tell if it’s a gift or a threat) while ur terrifying goth stepmom drops dead animals everywhere you go (simultaneously a gift AND a threat) and the giant socialist himbo farmer who’s been at all ur reunions since forever (but you have no clue how you’re related to him???) starts sending you frankly tragic texts saying he hopes ur doing well and maybe we should meet up for coffee sometime?

basically what i’m saying is, no, there’s no such thing as a pure practice, but if you’re open to whatever you have to be prepared for whatever.

[freedomartspress]

Three Poems — Tongo Eisen Martin

Kick Drum Only

All street life to a certain extent starts fair

Sometimes with a spiritual memory even

Predawn soul-clap/ your father dying even

Maybe I’ve pushed the city too far

My sensitivities to landfill districting and minstrel whistles/

White supremacist graffiti on westbound rail guards 

-all overcome and reauthored

The garbage is growing voices

Condensed Marxism 

modal gangsterism for a warrior-depressive

Underpass in my pocket

because I am a deity

or decent bid on the Panther name 

revolutionary violence that chose its own protagonists 

or muted stage of genius

A merciful Marxism        

Disquieted home life 

Or metaphor for relaxing next to a person 

Who is relaxing next to a gun

I stare at my father for a few seconds 

Then return to my upbringing

Return to the souls of Ohio Black folks

Revolution is damn near pagan at this point

You know what the clown wants? The respect of the ant. 

Wants a pen cap full of bullets

Wants to see their ancestors in broad daylight

I am not tired of these rooms; just tired of the world that give them a relativity 

My only change of clothes prosecuted

The government has finally learned how to write poems

shoot-outs that briefly align…

that make up a parable

white bodies are paid well, I posit

do white men actually even have leaders?

all white people are white men

white men will only ever be metaphors

all I do is practice, Lord

A rat pictures a river

Can almost taste the racial divide

Can almost roll a family member’s head into a city hall legislative chamber

Knows who in this good book will fly

I have decided not to talk out of anger ever again, Lord

Met my wife at the same time I met new audience members for our pain

We passed each other cigarettes and watched cops win

A city gone uniquely linear

Harlem of the West due a true universe 

 “I will always remember you in fancy clothes,” my wife said 

so here I sit… twisting in silk ideation

  My rifle made of tar

My targets made of an honest language

This San Francisco poetry is how God knows that it is me whining 

Writing among the lesser-respected wolves

Lesser-observed militarization

Dixie-less prison bookkeeping/I mean the California gray-coats are coming 

lynch mob gossip and bourgeois debt collection

I mean, it’s tempting to change professions mid-poem

in a Chicago briefing, a white sergeant saying, “blank slate for all of us after this Black organizer is dead.”

standard academics toasting two-buck wine at the tank parade

bay of nothing, Lord

  nuclear cobblestones, gunline athleticism  

and the last of the inherited asthma

children given white dolls to play with and fear

facial expressions borrowed from rich people’s shoe strings

I can hear hate

And teach hate

And call tools by people names

And name people dead to themselves

no one getting naturalized except federal agents soon 

carving the equator into throats soon

I’m sorry to make you relive all of this, Lord

pre-dawn monarchy 

friends putting up politician posters then snorting the remainder of the paste

minstrel scripts shoveled into the walls by their elders

my children sharpening quarters on the city’s edge

For these audiences

I project myself into a ghost like state

For these gangsters, I do the same

every now and then, we take a nervous look east

Sleep becomes Christ

Sleep starts growing a racial identity

do you ever spiral, Lord?

has the gang-age betrayed us?

be patient with my poems, Lord

So much pain

there is a point to crime… 

There has to be if race traitors come with it

 Lord, is that my revolver in your hand?

Better presidents than these have yawned at cages

Have called us holy slaves

Filled the school libraries with cop documentaries

Baby, I don’t have money for food

I have no present moment at all

/

I Do Not Know the Spelling of Money

I go to the railroad tracks

And follow them to the station of my enemies

A cobalt-toothed man pitches pennies at my mugshot negative

All over the united states, there are

Toddlers in the rock

I see why everyone out here got in the big cosmic basket

And why blood agreements mean a lot

And why I get shot back at

I understand the psycho-spiritual refusal to write white history or take the glass freeway

White skin tattooed on my right forearm 

Ricochet sewage near where I collapsed 

into a rat-infested manhood

My new existence as living graffiti 

In the kitchen with

a lot of gun cylinders to hack up

House of God in part

No cops in part

My body brings down the Christmas 

The new bullets pray over blankets made from old bullets

Pray over the 28th hour’s next beauty mark

Extrajudicial confederate statue restoration 

the waist band before the next protest poster 

By the way,

Time is not an illusion, your honor

I will return in a few whirlwinds

I will save your desk for last

You are witty, your honor

You’re moving money again, your honor

It is only raining one thing: non-white cops

And prison guard shadows 

Reminding me of

Spoiled milk floating on an oil spill

A neighborhood making a lot of fuss over its demise

A new lake for a Black Panther Party

Malcom X’s ballroom jacket slung over my son’s shoulders

Pharmacy doors mid-slide

         The figment of village

                     a noon noose to a new white preacher

Wiretaps in the discount kitchen tile

-All in an abstract painting of a president

Bought slavers some time, didn’t it?

The tantric screeches of military bolts and Election-Tuesday cars

A cold-blooded study in leg irons

Leg irons in tornado shelters

Leg irons inside your body

  Proof that some white people have actually fondled nooses

That sundown couples 

made their vows of love over   

opaque peach plastic

and bolt action audiences     

Man, the Medgar Evers-second is definitely my favorite law of science

Fondled news clippings and primitive Methodists 

My arm changes imperialisms 

Simple policing vs. Structural frenzies

Elementary school script vs. Even whiter white spectrums

Artless bleeding and

the challenge of watching civilians think

     “terrible rituals they have around the corner. They let their elders beg for public mercy…beg for settler polity”

“I am going to go ahead and sharpen these kids’ heads into arrows myself and see how much gravy spills out of family crests.”

Modern fans of war

    What with their t-shirt poems

    And t-shirt guilt

And me, having on the cheapest pair of shoes on the bus, 

I have no choice but to read the city walls for signs of my life

                                                                                     /

The Chicago Prairie Fire

First, I must apologize to the souls of the house

I am wearing the cheek bones of the mask only

Pill bottle, my name is yours

Name tagged on the side of a factory of wrists

Teeth of the mask now

Back of the head of the mask now 

        New phase of anti-anthropomorphism fending for real faces

Stuck with one of those cultures that believes I chose this family

I am not creative

Just the silliest of the revolutionaries

My blood drying on 

   my only jacket

just as God got playful

the police state’s psychic middlemen

Evangelizing for the creation of an un-masses 

An un-Medgar

Blood of a lamb less racialized

or awesome prison sentence

Good God

Elder-abuse hired for the low

dog eat genius

Right angle made between a point

On a Louisiana plantation

And 5-year old’s rubber ball 

3 feet high and falling

like a deportee plane 

to complete my interpretation 

(of garden variety genocide) 

I am small talk

about loving your enemies

A little more realistically

About paper tigers 

And also gold…

I need my left hand back 

I broke my neck on the piano keys

Found paradise in a fistfight

Maybe I should check into the Cuba line

Watching the universe’s last metronomes

some call Black Jacobins

Just wait…

These religions will start resigning in a decade or two

Some colorfully 

Some transactional-ly

In a cotton gothic society

Class betrayal gone glassless/ I mean ironically/ my window started fogging over too 

Wondering which Haiti will get me through this winter

Which poem houses souls

Which socialist breakthroughs

Breakthroughs like ten steps back

Then finally stillness

Stillness

Then stillness among families

a John Brown biography takes a bow

I’m up next to introduce Prosser to Monk

I remember childhood

Remember the word “Childhood” being a beginning 

Scribbling on an amazing grace 

I rented this body from some circumference of slavery

Remember being kicked out of the Midwest

Strange fruit theater

Lithium and circuses

Likeminded stomachs 

The ruling class blessing their blank checks with levy foam…

                            with opioid tea 

Sentient dollar bills yelling to each other pocket to pocket

Cello stands in the precinct for accompanying counterrevolutionaries 

My mother raised me with a simple pain

A poet loses his mind, you know, like the room has weather

Or first-girlfriend gravity

Police-knock gravity 

Mind-game gravity

Or revolution languishing behind 

The sugar in my good friend’s mind

“The difference between me and you

Is that the madness

Wants me forever”

A pair of apartments

Defining both my family

And political composure

Books behind my back

Bail money paved into the streets

Playing:

Euphoria

Euphoria

Cliché

Bracing for the medicine’s recoil

Sharing a dirty deli sandwich with my friends

Black Jacobins

Underground topography

Or grandmother’s hands

Psychology of the mask now

Teeth of the mask again

—

Originally from San Francisco, Tongo Eisen-Martin is a movement worker and educator who has organized against mass incarceration and extra-judicial killing of Black people throughout the United States. His latest curriculum on extrajudicial killing of Black people, We Charge Genocide Again, has been used as an educational and organizing tool throughout the country. His book of poems, Someone’s Dead Already was nominated for a California Book Award.

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Waking Up in Vegas--Ch. 10

Chapter 10: Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Dean, Evening, 6:45 PM

           Luckily, I had a decent enough outfit. On the way back to the hotel from my—our—new house, I’d gotten it into my head that I needed to take my new wife out on a real date. Dinner and drinking with half the roster and a coffee that ended in a fistfight wasn’t exactly the most romantic or best way to start a life together. I’d promised something nice, but not fancy. After all, I’d been living out of a suitcase for the better part of a week. There wasn’t much in there that was still clean.

           I made sure that my shirt was ironed and that the one jacket I had was clean. Nerves made me nitpick every piece of my reflection. I was determined to make this a night to remember for Mera.

           Ten minutes before I was supposed to pick her up at her room, I stood in front of the full-length mirror. Dark tailored slacks and a white collared shirt. Hair turned into something that looked presentable.

           On a whim, I put on some cologne before I headed out the door to pick up my bride.

Mera, Evening, 6:45 PM

           The thought of spending an evening alone with Dean was exhilarating. I’d seen him dressed up at major events before, but this was something different. This time, there was no quiet longing, no watching and wishing. Whenever I saw him that night, it would be as mine. My date and my husband.

           I took special care with my makeup and hair. I carefully chose my clothes from what I had left in my suitcase. As the time for him to pick me up drew closer, I felt my pulse rise. It was like being a teenager again—although I refused to think about who had stirred those feelings originally.

           A spritz of perfume and a final glance in the mirror, and I was ready.

 Dean, Evening, 7:00 PM

           I knocked on the door, ignoring the fact that my palms were starting to sweat. My heart hammered in my chest, anticipation flooding into my veins as my brain tried to conjure up the path the night might take. I took a deep breath and tugged on my shirt cuffs.

           When the door swung open, I felt my soul leave my body. It was more than just the sight of her. It was the scent of her, the heat of her skin, the pure glory of her presence. Each time I came near her, I was reminded anew that she was breathtakingly beautiful and that she held my heart in the palm of her hands.

           Her hair fell down her back in soft curls. Silver lined her eyes, made the shades of gold and copper flash in her irises. Her lips were pink and coral, something about them looking like petals coated in morning dew. She wore a dark grey dress that seemed to hug every curve from collarbone to knees, where black leggings took over and ended at a pair of grey flats. The white linen jacket made her look…

           “Stunning,” I murmured, unable to look away from her. Everything about her screamed class and beauty and perfection. Tried to remind me that I wasn’t anywhere near her league.

           Mera tucked hair behind her ear as she pulled the door closed. Heat burned in my limbs as she reached out and smoothed down the collar of my shirt and worked the top button free. She grinned.

           “I’ve never seen you completely buttoned up if you didn’t have to wear a tie, Dean,” she said teasingly. “Don’t change that on my account.”

           I slipped my hand into hers, threading our fingers together. “If I’d had a tie, I’d be wearing one. Even if I hate the damn things.”

           She laughed. It was like lightning and sweet summer nights and that feeling of an open road and no restrictions. I could get drunk on it. Hell, I think I could have survived on nothing but that.

           “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice a little breathy.

           I fought down the urge to turn around, take her right back to her room, and worship between her thighs for the rest of the night. She deserved everything wonderful in the world, and I would do my best to give it to her.

           “It’s a surprise,” I replied, drawing her hand up to my lips. “I just hope you like Italian.”

 Mera, Evening, 7:25 PM

           I watched the desert go by as Dean drove out from the Strip. The sky was growing dark, deep blue velvet spreading over the horizon with pinpricks of stars shining through. Brief moments from the night before flashed through my mind—standing beneath the stars in Dean’s arms, the wind blowing through my hair.

           “When we have some time to ourselves, I’m going to bring you out to Red Rock during the day. It’s one of the most beautiful places on the planet.” He glanced over at me, a half smile on his face. “How do you feel about hiking?”

           I grinned. “I’ve never been.”

           He gave me a shocked expression then laughed. “I’ll have to fix that, then. We’ll have to get you all decked out.”

           “I’d like that.” I reached over to brush my fingers through his hair. My heart skipped a beat when he leaned against my hand. He was truly mine. It was both wonderful and terrifying to have someone who so completely owned my entire heart and soul.

 Dean, Evening, 8:30 PM

           Soft music filtered through the speakers as we ate. She laughed at my jokes, even when they weren’t that funny. She talked me into splitting a plate of chicken parmesan when she finished her primavera and found herself still hungry. We drank a bottle of wine and talked about what might come next.

           The staff had cleared away an area of tables and chairs for a makeshift dance floor. Couples were starting to gather and sway slowly to the music, and I caught sight of Mera watching them with longing. Her face was wistful, something soft and sad in her eyes.

           Not for the first time, I wondered the truth of how thoroughly Seth had broken her heart. He had been my friend for years, but it seemed there were certain things it was time for him to answer for.

           Pushing the thought away, I stood and rounded the table toward her. She looked up at me with hope filling her amber eyes.

           “Dance with me?” I tried desperately to keep the nervousness from my voice. I held out my hand, waiting.

           She smiled like the blazing midday sun as she stood to join me. Her fingers settled against my palm. I closed my hand around them, thumb stroking her knuckles gently. I lead the way toward the dance floor with her hovering closely at my side.

           I gathered her into my arms—one hand resting on her waist, the other holding her hand over my heart. She slipped an arm around my neck and beamed at me as we swayed clumsily.

           “I’m not very good at this,” I mumbled, too embarrassed to look at her. It was one more reminder that she was far too good for me, that I was playing at being a prince when all I really could claim was to be the pauper.

           Mera brushed her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. Her touch sent liquid heat burning through my blood. “I think you’re doing wonderfully.”

           Her words filled me with pride at being hers. I was overwhelmed again with the desperate need to make her happy, to give her each and everything that she could ever desire in life. She was the whole of my desire now—years of loving her from afar come to light, the full driving force of my life, the deity to whom I pledged my everlasting soul. Perfection was her smile, the sound of her voice, the feel of her in my arms and the scent of her skin. There was nothing more that I could want in life if I had her by my side.

           “I love you, Dean,” she whispered, eyes meeting mine. “No matter how we got here, I’m happy we did.”

           I pressed my lips to her forehead, letting the kiss linger. I breathed in the scent of her—a mix of black cherry and something else. The feral thing in my chest purred with contentment. Everything about her tamed and roused that beast within me all at once. It was a power she had over me, a power that I would give her gladly with the last breath in my body.

           “Stay with me,” I murmured, voice rough and deep. “Let me make you happy.”

           She smiled. It was a glorious thing. Like looking into a supernova. When she rose up onto her toes and kissed me, I couldn’t help but groan in response. I wrapped my arms around her, lifted her from her feet, kissed her with as much fervor as I dared with a hundred eyes all around.

           “Take me back to the hotel, Dean,” she breathed against my ear.

           How on earth could I say no?

 Mera, Evening, 8:45 PM

           I couldn’t believe my own courage. Dean had given me such a wonderful night, and he looked so wonderful. He was more than I could ever have asked for, more than I had ever dreamed I would have in a man at my side. I loved him so completely that it burned in every cell of my body.

           In that moment, more than anything, I wanted to show him how thoroughly I loved him. How truly happy he made me simply by existing, by breathing the same air, by brushing his fingers against my skin and smiling at me with his dimples and cornflower eyes.

           He was my husband, no matter how new. He was mine, and I was his.

Tag List

@bethany99stuff-blog @houndsofjxstice @xbutterflius-effectusx

[smokedcapybara]

I somehow ended up rambling to someone on a discord server about some of my oldest characters and I realized just how much they affected how I write

not like my writing voice or anything like that but how I treat tropes and my sorta go-to bases for characters and how I do relationships and interactions and stuff like that

and I realized that despite the huge impact they’ve had on me and how much I love them I don’t talk about them very often, especially on here

so I’m gonna dedicate the rest of this post to going through every one of those early roleplays and the characters that came from them and how they’ve affected my writing

First - The Shadow Warriors

the first ever roleplay that I got create the story for - and I went straight for trope subversion without even knowing what that was

I took every stereotype for evil characters I could think of and made that the good guys and made the literal knights in shining armor the not technically evil but misinformed and working for Bad empirialistic governments ‘bad guys’

essentially the story was that there was a small village in the one inhabitable part of a mountain range and all these surrounding empires wanted the village to be part of them so they could say the whole range was theirs but the villagers refused so the empires started sending in soldiers

but the village was defended from the attempts at force by a black dragon that had made his home in the mountains

so the empires started sending more troops

and he fought them all off

and eventually the empires all stopped trying

but all the battles left the dragon much weaker than before and he could barely hunt for himself

so the village sent up some of their youth, to hunt for him or be eaten by him(though they hoped for the former), and he chose a few of the youth to stay with him, hunt for him and be trained by him, and sent the rest back down

and it became a tradition, every year the village would send all the youth of a certain age up the dragon’s mountain, he’d select some to stay and the rest would return, and then those that stayed would be trained and would help hunt

and when the first group reached adulthood he selected some of them to help him train the younger ones and sent the rest back down to use what he had taught them to defend the village

among the things he taught was the ability to turn into shadowy smoke to avoid injury and all who he taught wore black to match his black scales, so the villagers began calling them the Shadow Warriors

and then after a short time the empires started sending knights on quests to slay him and the task of defending him and his students was taken up by the Shadow Warriors

so the roleplay started with all our characters being sent up the mountain for the selection(or, all but two who were introduced later as members of the next year’s batch)

my first two were

a dark skinned girl with an analytical mind and a loyalty to rules, a woman of science and alchemy, named Alexir(pronounced like elixir)

and a soft spoken enigma, pale as snow, with his own strict morals, and a talent for illusions, he had no name but his fellow students started calling him Pale Boy because everyone from the village was at least tan, later he earned the moniker Illusion for his absolute mastery of his own senses and everyone else’s

my character who came later with his twin brother was originally named Rainbow but I’ve since changed it to the Norse word for rainbow, which is Regnbogi, the son of a pirate he was a shamelessly flamboyant jokester with gorgeous rainbow hair(I was not creative with names) and a missing eye from a childhood accident

and then of course there was the dragon himself

Svartr

of course his original name was much less Norse and much more obvious

Shade

the shadow dragon

even more shamelessly flamboyant than Regnbogi

he had a ‘human form’ that was pale skinned with red eyes and long black hair and a black goatee

he talked and walked and draped himself over furniture like your classic ‘flamboyant villain’ character

he’s a huge flirt

and he’s incredibly selfless and benevolent

also he gets what I call ‘The Adventurer’s Itch’, the inability to remain stagnant for any significant length of time, every couple hundred years he has to go on an adventure(this infuriates the rest of the Dragon Prince Council[which I created many years after the Shadow Warriors] cause it causes him to be late to many council meetings and even miss some altogether)

obviously, Shadow Warriors affected my tendency to subvert tropes, not because I think it’ll make the story somehow Better or because I’m Making a Statement or for Plot Twist or anything, I just Really Enjoy how it makes me think

it also gave me the base characters of 1.flamboyant man(usually a flirt but not always), 2.intellectual woman, 3.soft-spoken man

and my tendency to gravitate anyone with those bases to people with the other bases

Second - The Pantheon

the second ever roleplay I got to create the story for

and once again I decided to go big or go home

I said ‘lets take every religion on earth and make a world where none of them are true, and actual deities grow up as just normal humans until they Discover their deity-ness. now let’s take a bunch of kids in a street gang and have them suddenly find out that they’re all deities’

and so I have my two street gang girls

Rebecca, the wiry, excitable, blonde knife fighter who turns out to be a goddess of winds

and Laea, the powerhouse of the gang, who can take on a whole other gang on her own, a fistfighter, and younger sister of one of the city police, whose love of fighting is only matched by Rebecca, her best friend and girlfriend, Laea is a goddess of the earth

after the gang members discover their divinity they’re sent by the head goddesses of the main pantheon, the goddess of nature and her younger sisters, the goddess of fire and the goddess of water, to be trained in using their divine abilities and then are sent to prove their worth to the pantheon

the gang are sent on a quest to recruit a goddess of ice into the pantheon, many have been sent but none have succeeded

they get to the temple she lives in(a temple to the greek goddess Athena, because mankind still worships the same gods as in real life) and eventually find out that the reason nobody has succeeded in recruiting her to a pantheon is because she’s been cursed to be unable to leave the temple and thus literally cannot join a pantheon

they help her break the curse and so Ganlina, regal and traditional goddess of ice joins the pantheon, and eventually Laea and Rebecca’s relationship too

(though of course none of the relationship stuff happened in the roleplay, it’s all stuff I added later, after I started to get past the heteronormativity I grew up with)

the gang is then pulled into a war between the pantheon and the goddess of shadows and death(who’s actually, it turns out, not really evil, just so freaking sick of being ostracized for what she’s the goddess of that she decided to turn against everyone and prove them right)

they go on several more quests to help defeat the goddess of death, the only one of which I can actually remember still involved Ganlina feeling pain for the first time in her life because her powers create an impenetrable ice layer over her skin, but even that can’t completely protect against a punch from the god of strength, so she had a moment similar to Legolas in him and Gimli’s drinking competition

this roleplay affected, or set a precedent for, how I approach religion and divinity in my stories, which is to say that generally I don’t

it also added big strong woman, excitable woman, and regal woman to my base characters(though I don’t use them as often as, say, flamboyant man[which might be the base character I use the most often])

and also, again, I tend to gravitate characters with these bases toward/around each other

Third - The Order of Masks

this one I did not come up with the story, a semi-post-apocalyptic superhero story roleplay my brother came up with the premise for

unfortunately all I can remember about the premise is that it’s a group like the Justice League except a little more organized, a little more underground, a little more official, and a little more invested in their apprentices&proteges

also, all of them wear masks, more like masquerade masks than the classic domino mask too

I had several characters throughout it, because I was less confident in my character creating skills and had a tendency to scrap a character because I was just Not Invested in them

the four I scrapped(that I can remember) were named Jay, Swan, Peacock, and Peafowl(these were their hero names, I didn’t give any of them real names)

Jay was literally just a human version of Jayfeather from Warriors, Peacock and Peafowl were insufferably proud and self-centered twins, and Swan was just kinda waay too over powered with no personality to make up for it

the characters I kept were Falcon, Raven, Lion, and Streak

Falcon was one of the main heroes, a strict but kind woman with the power to locate anyone at any time no matter where they are, obviously she had a day job as a bounty hunter, in which she was known as Bird of Prey

Raven was Falcon’s protege, a serious minded, no-nonsense girl with power over wind and the ability to grow wings(or pop working wings into existence on her back might be more accurate)

Lion was somehow Raven’s best friend, despite being a total flirt who couldn’t take anything seriously if his life depended on it, he came from a family of hero musicians, had super-strength and a banjo with a hidden dagger he called his banjagger

Streak was a weird character that somehow lasted against all odds, a blind and deaf girl with power over the movement of molecules who was stronger in hot&dry areas because she was from the desert

Falcon started the base character of the strict but kind mentor woman, Lion and Raven are branch-off bases from the flamboyant man and the intellectual woman, the flirtatious man and the serious woman(bases I tend to pair together - not in relationships, just in general)

Streak helped me learn not to make a character too much

Fourth - Gooz and The Little Black Kitten

I don’t remember much about their story, just that the main characters were Tomb Raider’s children

Gooz and the LBK helped me realize that sometimes the best and most memorable characters are simply the ones that are the most fun, even if nothing about them makes sense

Gooz’s official name is Intelligent And Highly Explosive Cream(or something along those lines, I don’t remember exactly) but he prefers Gooz

he’s an experiment, the kind where you say there’s no possible reason for the scientists to do this but the scientists are like ‘we just want to see if we can’

he is a cream

that has an intelligence and a personality

he communicates telepathically

he causes explosions when he touches anything with over a certain level of force

in the roleplay he got applied to the outsides of a pair of gloves and a pair of boots

that he then somehow had the ability to control

his chosen name is Gooz because that’s how he pronounces ‘goo’, for some reason anytime he tries to ‘say’ a word that ends with a vowel ‘z’ ends up being added in, also ‘s’ is replaced with ‘z’ usually

he’s a bit of a goofball and just really loves people, wants to be treated as an intelligence with wants and likes and feelings

the Little Black Kitten is just that, a little black kitten, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand, who can speak

and boy does she

she is the most dry, snarky, does-not-care-and-literally-just-wants-to-be-left-alone, little thing you will ever meet

instead of growling or hissing when upset she just says, in a completely flat voice, ‘hiss, growl, go away’

she’s like the goth of tiny kittens

but somehow her and Gooz became friends

I think she just liked that she could curl up inside his boot and anyone trying to get her out would risk blowing themself up and then he just kinda grew on her

they started my love for having characters use dry wit, characters who are friendly and innocent(relatively), and the most unlikely of friendships

also, like I said at the beginning of this section, they helped me learn not to take myself too seriously in creating characters and letting them grow into whatever amazingly ridiculous or ridiculously amazing thing they end up growing into

and, of course, they showed me that sometimes the side characters are so much more engaging, enjoyable, and memorable than the main characters

if you have some really old ocs you haven’t thought about in a while you should look back and see how they’ve affected your current ocs and how you write, you might be surprised

[iviin-855]

A list, top is most likely, bottom is would not, of how likely your ocs would fistfight god.

Any special interests that would seem unusual to the common person?

Favorite food, everyone has one.

Name one traumatic event, or like, the most traumatizing one, even if its just a spoon falling on ur oc's face.

Thank you! I've always wanted to do one of these!

I am not sure if I can properly sort them according to their willingness to fight god so I included their reasons for doing so.

These are not all of them but i couldn’t keep this in my inbox any longer. Might reblog with the rest

Tybalt (Pathfinder)

he is like 17, extremely chaotic and full of hubris. Of cause he would try to fistfight god

magic tricks (not necessarily actual magic but Prestidigitation is one of his favorite actual-magic ones). He mostly uses them for pranks

anything with processed sugar. You don’t get that in a druid circle..

the mountains are not merciful. When he was 6 he ran away from his circle farther than before and got lost. The Circle managed to find him 2 days later he was very cold and hungry. He learned to respect the mountains after that

Shahkah (Pathfinder)

I thing fistfighting god would be far from her since she serves a god as a cleric but Urgathoa is slowly getting there if her minions keep killing her friends

Has a keen interest in the ancient history of osirion and languages despite having a hard time learning it.

Sugared dates on a calm evening with friends

Seeing her companions die. Leaving that house with her friend covering their escape. He got resurrected but that made the thing no less traumatizing (not to mention the friends that stayed dead). When she was helping out at her fathers hospital when she was a child she had wandered where she was not supposed to. In the ward for the most ...extreme cases she walked into the room of a dying man. He was under a lot of pain. It took her parents hours to find her afterwards. It set her on the path of a healer more than her fathers profession ever could. And she did step into their footsteps becoming an adventurer like they had been, despite using magic to heal rather than just surgeons tools and medicine.

Runa (Pathfinder)

She would punch any deity to show how much stronger mammoth spirit is

looks for goodnight stories for her brother

that steak the tiny ulfen alchemist made that day when he challenged the previously undefeated in duel princess of a rival clan to a cooking duel. When you are a barbarian warrior you don’t get that food every day

when she, her brother and some other kids were kidnapped by a witch and experimented on. She nearly froze to death and serveral children (possibly including her brother I haven’t decided yet) died. She hate witches now

Sheza (Pathfinder)

she is a priestess, but she would definitively spar verbally with a god given the chance

she is interested in engineering (she is a storyteller, priestess and diplomat. Engineering is not a typical interest for that background)

the food served at high class galas and parties she would answer. Its actually a traditional kasathan baked good. Reminds her of the fleet

She messed up an negotiation (think hostage situation) and got someone killed

Mistwalker (Elder Scrolls, Morrowind) tw: slavery

She knows cruelly beyond the lives of most. She deeply respects the hist but all other gods don't have that luxury. She wont seek them out but if they get in her way she will fight them

she likes to learn how to cook, just for herself

Baked ash potato made with a secret spice blend

before she was mistwalker she was a slave on a farm in morrowind. Another slave, an old khajit looked out for her and snuck her food. He took the blame for a mistake she did (and, as she later realized, something he did to allow her later escape) and was beaten to death. She escaped soon after. In blackmarsh she became mistwalker and with the guidance of the hist she came back to Vvardenfell to wreak judgment

Lee'na (Elder Scrolls, Oblivion)

She would fistfight aedra and daedra to gain their knowledge. In fact she did fistfight Jyggalag and took his place as sheogorath, daedric prince of madness

her interest in alchemy is not that unusual but she is rater interested in the weather and the way storms form

sweetrolls

the caravan getting attacked, the portal incident that separated her from her brother and adoptive mother

sir Blade (Elder Scrolls, Oblivion)

no

he likes romantic poems (he is aro)

freshly baked bread, good cheese and a bottle of Surilie Brothers Wine

When his caravan was attacked by bandits. The trauma was so strong he suffers from temporary amnesia sometimes

Commander Nahrillia (Guild Wars)

She has/helped killed a god and multiple stronger than gods beings

songs from all corners of the world

apples. Apples so quiet, you might say they're whispering…. :(

to be honest her life is one traumatic experience after the other

Trip (Transformers, crew of the starseeker)

he would try and get his ass kicked

new paintjobs. Brighter colors longer lifetime… too bad they are light-years from his usual supplier

Energon with an iron-copper taste

found some messed up stuff in a decepticon research facility. Defected from the autobots and went neutral to get as far as possible away from that

Flyaway (Transformers, crew of the starseeker)

he would, could and should kick primus ass. He deserves it.

He bakes

the energon treats he hides in the pilot console

he was a decepticon pilot in the early days. doesn't talks about it.

Puncture (Transformers, crew of the starseeker)

why bother punching primus when she is defiling his work every day?

Collects starmaps. According to the crew she has a… Fixation on fuel-pump systems, but that is not unusual since she’s a medic and also a vampire

the innermost of a prime, taken alive. Very, very rare good

Like most vampires hers has to do with relationship drama

Ganii Tal'orar (SWTOR)

yes. Imagine the glory! No better prey.

zoology. Not (just) to hunt better but because of her respect for the great beasts

spicy steak

She was a streetkid in nar shadaa. One day she and her girlfriend were attacked by people in dark cloaks. She was separated from her girlfriend (Kyrass. They did everything together. To be without her is to be without armor). She managed to hide and when the fight was over she looked everywhere for Kyrass. When morning came she went to the skyport to search for information, narrowly missing Kyrass looking for her. She resolved to become a great warrior and saw that path as bounty hunter. She joined the great hunt in the hope to learn from the greatest warriors in the galaxy -The mandalorians

Kyrass Zaada (SWTOR)

you know the “if god exist its our moral obligation to kill him” quote? Thats Kyrass

geology

fresh batha meat with spices

until the jedi found her she was a streetkid in nar shadaa. One day stange people in black robes tried to take her and a few others. In the scuffle she lost sight of her girlfriend and partner in crime (ganii. They did everything together. To be without her is to be without weapons) and was nearly taken when jedi arrived. She was hurt so she was taken to a hospital and when she went back to look for Ganii, she was gone. Assuming she was taken Kyrass went with the jedi, who promised her and the other force sensitive kids to be trained in the force, to be able to protect others from what she now knows as sith

Nittu Startrail (SWTOR)

 same as kyrass except for her gods, which have always been on her peoples side. She would be honored by a challenge of wits against the skywalker however

woodcarving. Her japor snippets are carved intricate

Huttcake and tsai

She grew up in slavery and survived the detonation of her transmitter.

Zexuun Kha (SWTOR)

if it gave him power? Yes. But he wouldnt use his fists.

Star constellations, from all kinds of planets. He doesn't indulge in this interest often because he considers it frivolous

the best sushi on alderan. He was very helpful to the empires war effort because of this

He grew up in slavery and turned out exactly opposite from Nittu. Take your pick from his experiences

This really made me think! Very Helpful! Especially the interest thing. I had to think of something beyond the usual description (a hunters hobby is tracking, but thats expected for him. Ineed something else) which added depht to the characters. Thank you!

[spyvstailor]

Origae-6 sex pollen fic?

Ohhh. I never get anon requests! Here goes…rated RR for Really Raunchy y'all. Hide yo kids!

Origae-6 was more beautiful than Daniels had imagined.

When they landed the whole planet seemed to be in full bloom.

Trees like Earth willows hung low over the lake where she had set up to build her cabin, their hanging branches releasing beautiful white blossoms into the water. Across the lake another type of tree had released white bits of fuzz into the air like fat snowflakes and they floated lazily around creating a scene worthy of a fantasy painting.

Daniels felt the romance in the air as couples took breaks from building their colony across the lake from her cabin and it made her heart hang heavy.She missed everything, about Jake. From his sneaky, almost roguish grins to the sound of his voice

At night, with the entire planet silent and serene, she missed him most. His body, hard and angular, his scent, musky but always clean. The feel of him wrapped around her, above her, pinning her down, pressing against her.Slicing her hand on a board, she cursed and dropped it.Maybe she should get her head out of the gutter and back into her work.Daniels thanked whoever was determined to be the new deity of man for Walter. He was the one with the technical know-how. She was just the muscle.

When it came time for her to obey the original orders to decommission Walter with the ship, she found no one objecting when she refused. Walter had made fast friends with the people and he had everyone in his corner, one of them, a robotics engineer, had even replaced his lost hand with a fairly good working match.Even if Walter hadn’t made friends, Daniels would have never had the heart to do away with him. He was her best friend, her family. Walter was the only one she wanted to build her cabin with.And he was so helpful, not just in building their home by the lake, he was there when she needed him. Quiet and observant, patient and just as sweet as always.

And at that moment he was there at her side, already patching her hand up.Android’s didn’t sweat like men, but in the sun Dany had noticed that Walter’s synthetic skin was beginning to bronze as she studied where his collar revealed his skin beneath, hidden from the sun.

“You should take your shirt off,” she said absently picking up the material to see the tan line better. “So you’ll get an even tan.”

Walter didn’t say anything, just finished bandaging her hand.

Daniels had no idea where the thought of Walter shirtless came from, but she suddenly had an urge to see him sans shirt.

The thought of why he could tan and how came to her mind, but she brushed it off the instant Walter stepped away.

Idly, she studied his body as he returned to work. Why did Weyland-Yutani find it necessary to make him so beautiful? What purpose did it suit to have a tall, broad shouldered God walking among them?He was a distraction at the moment.

What was wrong with her?

This pervert eying Walter like he was a slab of meat was not who she was.

His ass was poetry though.

Stop it, Dany!

Poor gentle Walter, what did he ever do to merit her drooling over him like some bitch in heat.But the things she could do to him…

Enough!

“Do you need a break?” She asked him.

Walter looked up with a glimmer in his blue eyes. Or were they green? Grey? They seemed to change, shift with the day. “I don’t,” he replied.

If course he didn’t.

That tiny, pleased smile touched the corners of his mouth and she smiled back.

“Want to go for a swim?” She asked.

He’s smile widened a little.

Heading for the water, leaving her work behind, she stripped her shirt off and shimmied out of her pants, leaving her topless, in her underpants.

Small breasts meant she hardly ever wore a bra, it was the hippie in her, she supposed. Wanting to live off the land with the man she loved, wearing next to nothing, not caring at all that Walter was now staring at her quietly, eyes unreadable.

Dany loved the lines of his face. They gave him character and a sort of charm.

“Coming in?” She asked. The cool water did nothing for the fire that thrummed in her blood.

Walter straightened his spine, standing at his full height.

Was he always so tall?

Slowly he set down the hammer he was using and approached the water.

Whereas she could go about bare foot and in next to nothing, he still wore the jumpsuit and hoodie he wore on the Covenant, even in the heat.

It drove her insane how much he covered up.

“It’s cool,” she added.

He was quiet for a moment, before asking in a grave, almost serious tone, “are you certain you want me in there?”

“Yeah,” she answered easily, not once thinking that what Walter was asking and what she heard him ask were two different things.

With precision and elegant grace, he knelt and unlaced his boots, before shucking his sweater.

She playfully splashed him and darted away into the deeper water.

He stopped halfway through unzipping his jumpsuit, eyes on the horizon behind her, across the lake.

Curious, Dany followed his gaze, but she didn’t have the vision Walter had, and missed whatever it was he was looking at.

Turning back, she watched as he looked about them, at the fluff that was flying around in the air.

She studied the hair of his chest, the muscles of his abdomen that were almost agonizingly half hidden by his jumpsuit. His hands were so beautiful, long spidery fingers, knuckles that looked like they had been in too many fistfights. Who was the man they designed Walter after? Whoever he was, he was gorgeous.

Walter’s eyes were on her again and he angled his chin down a little to speak, “there’s something in the air.”

“Are you sure it’s not love?” She teased, floating on her back, knowingly putting her breasts on display for him.

Without a word, Walter turned and walked off.

Dany watched him go, disappear into their tent with a gaze turned dark with lust. She would followed him there if she had to.

A short time later, he returned with one of their atmospheric devices and held it up, testing the air.

She emerged from the water.

“Pollen,” he murmured as she reached out and wound her arms around his waist. “At an eighty percent margin. You’re intoxicated with something carried by it. Some sort of endorphin enhancer.”

Dany slid her hands over his bare chest, pushing his jumpsuit open a little more.

Walter removed himself from her and walked over to the water’s edge, collecting her clothes.

“It’s only seasonal,” he declared, holding her clothes out to her.

“Then let’s not waste time,” she teased. “Fuck me.”

Walter looked at her evenly, blinking. “I would imagine allergy medication would work to block the pollen.”

Without a word he moved towards her and scooped her up.

She bit her bottom lip. Now they were talking.

Carrying her to the tent, he laid her down on her cot and moved to their first aid kit, digging through it.

In the meantime, Dany shucked her underpants and waited for him to return.

Leaning over her, he offered her a pill.

“Take this,” he suggested. “You’ll feel better.”

“I just want you to touch me,” she whispered.

Reaching out, he stroked her hair back with his hand. “Take the pill, Daniels,” he mumbled.

She ran her own hand over his cheek, thumb ghosting over his lips as he managed to ease the pill into her mouth.

Dany swallowed it.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

Covering her with a blanket, Walter said, “I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Stay,” she breathed.

Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to hers.

Dany angled her chin up, trying to taste his mouth on his lips, he but moved his head to the side.

“You’ll feel better soon,” he said, voice rumbling in his chest.

She pressed herself up against him wantonly, needing to find a release.

Walter moved her forward and slid in behind her, holding her between his legs, hands on her forearms, keeping her still.

In her ear, he whispered words, poems, stories, songs, until Dany began to feel that hot thrum in her blood cool.

After an hour or so, she began to feel the cold of being wet and naked, the first shiver that racked her body was quelled by Walter pulling the blanket up and around her.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked her finally.

Embarrassed, she nodded.

“I think Spring will be interesting around here,” he said.

It was an attempt at a joke, which though she appreciated it, her humiliation prevented her from enjoying it.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It was the pollen,” he stated.

“No,” she murmured sheepishly. “I don’t think it was entirely the pollen.”

Walter was quiet.

Struggling to angle her face up to read him, she found him closed off, blank.

“Walter?” She asked.

“I know what you need,” he said. “But I don’t think I’m the one you need it from.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” she declared.

After a painful minute of him being once more emotionless, he tilted his mouth down towards her, pausing an inch from her lips and hovering there.

She pulled back curiously.

“Just testing,” he grinned a little, before completing the motion.

Dany pushed back into the kiss eagerly. At first it seemed as though Walter didn’t know what to do, how to move his head and then, like a light bulb coming on, he began to kiss her like a fucking pro.

She scrambled to turn around without breaking the kiss, straddling him, hands going straight for his bare chest.

Pollen or no, he was still the most beautiful man she had seen in years.

As her mouth slid down from his, she stopped to worship his collarbone, admiring something she had never considered sexy before.

Walter’s hand slid through her hair and he cupped her skull in his long hand. He could break her if he wanted, he could close his hand and squished her like a bug, but he was so careful, so gentle with her that it almost made her cry.

His skin wasn’t oily or grimy or sweaty, it was delicious and she lapped and suckled as it desperately. Her goal was have kissed every inch of him and she was nearly a third of a way there.

As she journeyed lower, forcing his jumpsuit open roughly, she never knew how much of a fucking deviant she was, until she glance up and found him watching her with innocent, curious eyes.

She wanted to darken that innocence a little, to make him think wicked thoughts when he thought of her.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

“I thought you knew,” she teased, pushing his jumpsuit off his shoulders.

“I said I knew what you need, a want and need are two completely different things,” he corrected.

“I need you,” she stated, pulling his jumpsuit off as he lifted his hips to help her remove it. “And I want to suck your soul out.”

He blinked at her wicked grin.

“Does that scare you?” She asked, hand moving to touch his cock through his ship issued underwear.

“Nothing does,” he replied. “I was made without the ability to feel fear.”

“I don’t mind a little fear,” she admitted. “As long as it’s all in good fun.”

“Like a rush of adrenaline?”

“Are we really going to talk semantics while I stroke you through your boxer briefs?” She demanded, pleased that he could actually get hard. Pleased still further than he had a dick to begin with. He could have been made like a Ken-doll, so the fact that Weyland-Yutani built him fully functional made her think there was a hidden reason why he was so beautiful.

Unable to wait any longer, she unwrapped her gift, mouth down and on it before Walter could react.

Dany dragged her tongue from the base to the tip, before grinning up at him.

The unreadable android had his eyes closed and his head back a little and she laughed a little in triumph. So she could elicit a reaction from him if she tried hard enough.

At her laugh, his eyes snapped open and he pinned her with a stoic, wide eyed look, before suddenly gripping her and tossing her back onto her cot.

She giggled at the feeling of his power, legs falling open on their own like the bitch in heat she was.

Walter covered her body with his, eyes staring at her evenly as his hands roamed her body, fondling her almost mechanically. She kind of loved the feeling of humiliation as he was so business-like in his tactile study of her and when his fingers found her nipples and pinched, she arched her back, prepared to allowed him any use of her he wanted.

At his mercy, she realized that just as much as she wanted to corrupt his innocence, she wanted him to corrupt hers as well. She wanted it to be rough and almost dominating, before curling up in exhaustion in his arms, safe. Because she would be safe. Walter would still be her Walter, she had no doubt as to that.

His fingers left her breasts and roamed down past her neatly trimmed curls, to her core, where he plunged them in her roughly, eyes still watching her with a simple, studious look.

As he worked his fingers in and out of her, thumb moving over her clit, she realized that he was going to make her cum as he mercilessly watched her and it turned her on even more.

“Suck me,” she murmured to him, pushing his head down to her breast.

It was a selfish act, but she had no choice, he did this to her.

As his mouth descended on a nipple, as he nibbled and suckled, as his fingers continued assaulting her, she found herself getting close to her greedy goal. It had been so long since she had a good fuck, that it didn’t take long at all before she was arching her back and moaning, trembling against him.

Walter wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her up, fingers slowing inside her, eyes on hers. He held her through the last remnants of her orgasm, before placing a sweet, almost promising kiss to her temple.

Sighing, she flopped back onto the cot.

“I can’t move,” she mumbled.

Walter sat back, eyes on her, still hard.

“You’re gonna have to take what you need,” she teased. “I’m boneless.”

Thinking he got the joke, she was startled when he gripped her hips and suddenly slammed inside her. She was startled, but it was completely welcome, as her over stimulated body trembled again and she whimpered.

He slowed his approach, worry furrowing his brow.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, reaching down and taking his hand in hers. “I won’t break.”

Taking that as an okay to be a little rougher, Walter picked up his pace, hand still holding hers.

Despite her over stimulation, and wanting nothing more than to reach completion with him, she began to roll her hips in time to his thrusts, meeting his powerful things with her ass.

Picking her up as though she weighed nothing, he settled her on his lap as he rocked into a sitting position and Dany found herself riding him.

With each thrust, she could feel him hitting her deep inside and it was both pain and pleasure.

“I love you,” she panted as she fought hard to reach her second orgasm, the second one always harder than the first.

Walter tilted his head at her like a puppy and she buried her face into the side of his neck to laugh.

They both reached a blissful high together, shuddering and panting together, collapsing into her cot in a heap of limbs.

With her last ounce of energy, she rearranged herself to lay on his chest, listening to his artificial breathing and the beat of a fake heart.

“You have a heartbeat,” she mumbled in surprise.

“Yes,” he said. “For you.”

She found that sweet, until he added.

“So you don’t find it macabre to wake up to a still bed partner.”

“It could have been so romantic, Walter,” she teased.