#mild fantasy racism

[molassified-minipak]

6. You Lied To Me

Anaranë would stomp into the courthall were it not for her ‘escorts’. The city guard had assigned her two minders, as though she would break and run! She’s a pillar of Houdham society! The scandal! In any case, her appeal means she’s on her best behaviour.

Two heads of dark hair push through the crowd calling her name. “Anaranë! Nanë!”

“Yamacho! Almando!” Ana gawps. She hadn’t expected to see her twin brothers here. “What-”

Almando sweeps her into a hug - a tame one, they’re still in public and the guards are watching closely. “Sashiburi! It’s been so long! How’d you enjoy country living for a few months?”

“Ugh. Morning glories, is Misthaven a dump. Proper compost heap,” She rolls her eyes and hugs Yamacho too. “I’ll be ecstatic to come back home. Are Tou-san and Kaa-san here?”

“We’re waiting out here for them, havenae seen them yet. They’ll be here,” Yamacho assures her. A bell rings from inside and the guards start nudging Ana along. “Go get ready, Nanë, we’ll be in shortly!”

One of the einher guards seems to find that funny. All three hoblings glare at her.

The hall was daunting the first time Ana was here for her sentencing, and walking in now, it hasn’t gotten any less so. Ceilings as high as any temple’s, long thin leaded glass windows, glossy marble floor, all suited for a wealthy shipping port. Misthaven could never.

Across the corridor, Her Withery Blightedness herself plunks into the prosecutor's bench. Ana scowls at Sculwater. The hag has a few friends with her, members of the Houdham Gardeners’ Association: Mister Falrax, Miz Elulien, and - Miz Thrushwaite, the turnleaf! Ana thought she was on her side! Ana’s own side of the court is much emptier, but not for long. Her family will be here soon.

The President of the Gardeners’ Association comes in and talks to Sculwater. To scold her, probably; all this nonsense must be a terrific drain on the President’s time, especially with the Winner’s Ceremonies to begin this weekend.

The President smiles at Sculwater. Shakes her hand.

Sits behind her.

Ana has a bad feeling.

The magistrate enters. All rise. Ana’s side is still empty. Her lawyer shuffles a few papers and doesn’t look at Ana.

Where are Yamacho and Almando? Tou-san and Kaa-san?

The gavel hits the podium and Ana jumps. “Wait- not everyone’s here yet, cannae we wait just a minute more?” She hisses to the lawyer. They give her a pitying look. She hates it.

The magistrate reads through the case recap. No family.

Sculwater’s scumbag slugsniffer lawyer stands to recount the ‘horrors’ done to his client. Ana scoffs. The magistrate shushes her!

Her own lawyer stands, details the ‘sentence’ Ana had suffered through thus far, and…commends its efficacy? What the foxglove. “What the foxglove, it isnae effective, I want to come home! That skunk-cabbage knotweed fungus is a liar, I’m innocent-!”

“Miss Papaverde!” The magistrate slams his gavel twice. “Order!”

“She deserved it! She’s targeting me, she’s jealous-”

“Miss Papaverde, I’m trying to keep you out of a gaol sentence!” The lawyer hisses.

“And a bang-up job you’re-”

“Order! For contempt of the court, I sentence the defendant-” The President jogs up to whisper to the judge. A small bag exchanges hands. “Hrmph. Out of deference to the defendant’s position in a respected Houdham guild, I sentence the defendant to indefinite banishment, instead of the prison sentence I would assign anyone else,” the magistrate growls.

What. “What.” Something’s ringing, like a wet finger around a wine glass rim.

Ana’s lawyer sighs and puts away their notes.

The President comes over to say something that Ana can’t hear.

The benches behind her remain empty.

Her escorts walk her to the door - they must do, Ana doesn’t remember how else she’d have gotten there. They push her along, eager to… banish her. From her home. Forever. “Wait…” Please…

Someone shoves through, calling her name again.

“Sorry, Nanë, we tried-”

“Where were you.” It’s not a question.

“Nanë, Tou-san and Kaa-san were here, they just-” “You promised.” Don’t cry don’t cry don’t- you’re in public, don’t-

“I know, but our parents insisted, Nanë! It’d reflect poorly on the comp-”

“You lied to me!” Ana screams.

“You blew up a house, Anaranë!” Yamacho yells back. “What were you thinking? Not of us, clearly!”

“I needed you! How dare-”

“No, how dare you!” Now Almando joins in. “You know we’re trying to set up our own business, Nanë. You remember how tough it is to build a client base! You were our inspiration, and now we’ve got your criminal record to turn investors away!”

Don’t cry don’t cry-

“You’ve shamed the Papaverde name.” Yamacho folds his arms. “Tou-san and Kaa-san have rescinded your right to it.”

...What? The ringing is back.

Almando says something else and storms off. Yamacho tries to put a hand on Ana’s shoulder. She dodges it. He walks away too. Don’t cry don’t cry the tears are hot on her skin don’t cry-

The guards bundle her to a carriage that takes her out through the city gates. Behind her, the fireworks start for the Winner’s Ceremony.

[mqlaren]

Hella interesting to me how all these blogs posting “Who let Nelson in” Max bro lmao. He’s there for Max, in Max’s side of the garage but I guess y’all will keep dancing around the truth

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 4 - The Shadow of Death

Happy birthday to meeeee!

This piece is canon. I finally let Kamaria loose as a whumper for once!

Taglist: @painful-pooch

Masterlist

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Contains: whumpee turned whumper, lady whumper, mild gore, blood, murder, stabbing, past genocide, referenced fire, trauma, fantastic racism

.

.

Kamaria moves like the shadow that people call her - though they don’t know her, only what she leaves behind. Most think she’s a man, because they can’t imagine a woman doing what she does. Others swear she must be a ghost, since no one has ever actually seen her. 

The truth is, plenty have seen her. They just haven’t lived to tell about it. 

Tonight, her heart pounds a bit harder than usual as she makes her way through the compound. This mission, as far as her father and Ethorcon are concerned, is just yet another removal of a leader in Kedosa’s army to help their next attack be more successful. It’s nothing special. 

But for her, tonight is personal. She knows this particular unit. She knows what their leader did.

The two guards pacing close by the Colonel’s tent fall dead quietly, one with a slit throat and one with a knife protruding from his chest. She needs privacy for what’s coming next. Retrieving the knife and wiping off blood on her skirt, she strides toward the large tent and throws open the flap.

He’s asleep, as most are at this hour. Kamaria walks closer, boots silent on the hard-packed dirt, until she’s staring down at the unsuspecting monster. So smug, even in his sleep. Uncaring of the hundreds of lives he’s completely destroyed.

Well, two can play the game of monster.

She wakes him with a stab to the arm. Normally she doesn’t mess around - one stab in the heart or slice through the throat and she’s done. It’s just a job, just something she has to do to survive and to work towards her revenge. But this time she takes a mild pleasure in watching him flail awake with a yelp and find himself looking into the eyes of The Shadow of Death. 

It’s fitting, she supposes, that her eyes are all that can be seen when she dons her hood and mask for a mission. The green eyes of her father. The one feature of hers that can be definitively tied to the man who trained her for violence. 

The Colonel breaks from his surprised stupor and reaches with his free arm for the gun propped on the other side of his bed. Kamaria whips a second knife out from her hip and drives it down into that arm, pulling a strangled cry from him.

Weakling.

“You murdered my people,” she murmurs, leaning down closer to him, her weight on the two knives still embedded in his arms. 

“Wh-...what?” he gasps, eyes wide. “What, what people? What are you talking about?”

She twists the knife in her right hand and he cries out again. “The Vaya of the forest. You led the raid on their village, back when you were still a Major.” She still doesn’t know who raided her own village, but she’s known this man’s name for three years and she’s been waiting for this day ever since. “You burned their houses and fields. You slaughtered them in their own homes. You killed women, children…” 

She’s starting to get caught up in her own memories, in flashes of fire and desperate screams. Days after she’d seen her own village destroyed in the same way, she and Arran and Madhis had been hiding in the forest and had smelled the smoke and heard the screaming from a distance. At first she thought she was having another nightmare. It turned out she was witnessing someone else’s.

“You helped to destroy an entire race, a peaceful race, and for what? Because your king demanded a tiny piece of land for himself?” She twists the knife again, eyes flashing. 

He chokes out a laugh, raising his head off the bed a little, attempting to get brave. “You’re saying you’re one of those uncivilized creatures?”

Gritting her teeth, she yanks one knife out, allowing blood to begin flowing freely, and places the tip at his throat, instead. “Whatever it was for, whatever you thought you were going to get out of it…you were wrong. You don’t get to live to see the end of the war.”

“It’s an honor to die serving my king.”

“Dying on the battlefield, perhaps. Dying in bed, not even dressed properly, writhing pitifully under the hands of a Vaya woman? Not so honorable.”

As soon as she moves the knife from his throat he tries to make a grab for her, but she doesn’t give him the chance. The blade slips back into his flesh, this time just underneath his ribs. He screams, and she waits until he’s done to pull it back out. To his credit, he does attempt once again to lunge for her despite the injuries, but she just slices at his hand and plunges the knife into his thigh. 

“I am going to make sure you die, but I am also going to make sure you have plenty of time to think about what you’ve done while you die.” She had so many other things she wanted to do to him, to make him hurt. She wants to set his tent on fire, give him a taste of his own medicine. She wants to set this whole compound on fire. But that would result in punishment for herself, and her stupid brain would paralyze her if she was near a fire of that magnitude, anyway. 

She could still make him hurt more, though. But to be honest, now that she’s here, she finds she doesn’t really have the stomach for it. Killing is one thing. She was desensitized to that a long time ago, when she was still a teenager. But torture? She’s on the receiving end of it far too much to find pleasure in doling it out. Her goal now is exactly what she said - make sure he takes some time to bleed out, but can’t be saved if someone finds him before he succumbs. 

Removing both knives with a jerk, she thinks of the screams echoing through the trees, of the orange glow that lit the night sky, and stabs him one more time, in the stomach. Then she calmly wipes both blades onto his sheet and replaces them in their holsters. 

He’s either in too much pain or already losing too much blood to even look at her, much less make any more snide comments. She stares down at him for a long moment.

“Goodbye, Colonel. Polind na terreva ti suptor si na pletaja qe ti syo.”

The Shadow of Death turns and walks out of the tent. 

Later, when she sleeps, she dreams of fire.

.

.

Vaya interpretation - "May the Earth see you as the blight that you are." It's a Vaya curse that essentially means, "I hope you don't rest in peace."

[tofixtheshadows]

My first reply got cut off but originally I was talking about how common it is for fantasy writers to fall into the "fantasy racism, but everyone is white" trap, and how deftly Kui subverts this by both being extremely in depth about how the differences between her fantasy races shape their societies, and by commenting on this with characters like Kabru and Thistle.

i love that elves are properly shown as imperial powers in DM. i'm personally clapping and cheering with every post you make on the matter. race doesn't quite exist in DM as we understand it in our reality (where skin color is used to box people into groups) but kui EVOKES it a lot and definitely takes advantage of real-world impulses and biases despite them not quite manifesting in DM the exact same way.

my favorite instance of it is how the elves of the west ("western civilization" which are also, conveniently, in the north) abuse and suck a region in the global south I Mean Utaya dry, and how they try to do it over and over and over again at the expense of the local populations there. it's such a good parallel.

It's really well done. Like, the elves have a very good reason to be there anytime a dungeon develops, they are theoretically keeping a demon from devouring the world ... but good intentions or not, it still allows them to throw their weight around and seize control of land and resources that they deem "lesser" races unfit to steward. All while not telling them what's really going on, and going around and snatching up random civilians around the world to throw them in prison.

Plus, as I've talked about before, Kabru implies that the Canaries were to blame for how Utaya went down. And he might be right! We don't know. But even if they weren't, best case scenario is still everything I said above.

I commend Kui for giving this storyline to a person of color in a majority white cast, and for giving him a fairly explicit (for Dunmeshi at least) racial identity.

[riekesart]

1920s Magical London Loki/Tony AU is finished! Read The Talent on AO3.

The Talent (46869 words) by Bottan Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Thor (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja & Loki (Marvel), Loki & Odin (Marvel), Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Characters: Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark, Thor (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja (Marvel), Odin (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Laufey (Marvel) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Magical London, Science Bros, Alternate Universe - Human, Fantasy and Fictional Setting Racism, Period-Typical Racism, Action/Adventure, Magic User Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Loki Needs a Hug (Marvel), Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Plot, Magic and Science, Monsters, Alternate Universe - Historical, POV Loki (Marvel), Mentioned Substance Abuse, whoops the rating changed, sorry folks

Summary: 1920. London’s magical society is dying. Plague sweeps the streets and monsters lurk in shadowed alleyways. Amid hunting monsters and trying to establish himself in his father’s eyes, Loki finds himself thoroughly distracted by American millionaire scientist Tony Stark. And when he realizes Stark might hold the key to end Britain’s suffering, Odin tasks him with securing the engineer’s help. ** “Alright, alright, you got me,” Stark sounded exasperated, incapable of bearing the silence. “I will do one business meeting – as in the number one, a singular meeting – in exchange for dinner. Look at me, do you want me on my knees, begging? I just really want to pick your brain.” “Wednesday,” Loki said automatically. “Eleven. Bor & Sons offices.” “Done,” Stark said with a grimace. “Dinner on Friday, and I get to pick the place!” Loki blinked at the mild chaos that Stark left in his wake and found that he hadn’t agreed to dinner, at all.

[critter-genfic-events]

This week, we have nine (nein) fics that feature Time/Dimension Travel: Other universes, Isekai, time travel (in either direction)! Check them out beneath the cut and if you like them, remember to comment and kudos!

Remember Me in the Intervals by inkedinserendipity (70530,Teen) Warnings: the author doesn't warn for them but canon character backstory elements, major character death (implied) Pairings: The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast, Beau/Yasha, Yasha/Zuala, Caleb/Mollymauk

Caleb goes back to fix everyone's backstories instead of his own, basically.

Reccer says: It illustrates very clearly how much Caleb loves the Nein. Listen, this is SUCH a heart-wrenching story, I always cry when I read it BE WARNED! I usually read it twice: first in chapter order and then in chronological order.

In this World or any Other by Amrynth (1907,Teen) Warnings: Major Character Death (Canon) Pairings:

After Mollymauk's death in the Marrow Valley, he wakes up in the library with a burning need: to get back to his friends.

Reccer says: I liked it

The Worlds Between Us by Nellaplanet (159303,Mature) Warnings: graphic depictions of violence Pairings: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha Nydoorin, Beauregard Lionett/Jester Lavorre

Or; Caleb and Beau have to rapidly reexamine their worldview upon discovering that magic is not only real, but exists in a world all of its own (and that the people wielding it are unfairly attractive and very, very dangerous).

Reccer says: One of the great isekais in the fandom! I love all of the different elements they were able to weave in

every moment changes lifetimes (even moments we regret) by grayintogreen (789,Teen) Warnings: Major Character Death (time loops) Pairings:

Caleb is in a time loop, staring at the temporal dock

Reccer says: Heartbreaking and an interesting form

Fortune's Favor (Fortune's Fools) by flashhwing (30289,Teen) Warnings: Choose not to warn Pairings: Eventual Shadowgast

In another timeline, the Mighty Nein fall to Lucien. Essek, with Artagan-the-weasel's help, travels back in time to save them.

Reccer says: It's fun to see a late campaign Essek try to wrangle an Early Campaign Mighty Nein

What endures beyond the silent edge by Beleriandings (241985,Teen) Warnings: Choose not to warn Pairings: Canon relationships present

The Ring of Brass fall into the future during the Apogee Solstice. There, they meet the Nein.

Reccer says: It's fun seeing the various parallels and crossovers!

Fall Back by Killbothtwins (4050,Teen) Warnings: No archive warnings apply Pairings: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast

After the fight at the Malleus Key, mid-C3 Beau and Caleb are shunted not only through space but also through time, arriving back in early Campaign Two to friends who are very surprised by their sudden changes.

Reccer says: A really fun idea and a great way to highlight just how much change all of the Nein have gone through since the beginning of the series. Killbothtwins has a fun writing style and an excellent grasp of the characters' voices, the bantering reads just like what we hear around the table.

The Heart External by BeatriceEagle (3554,Teen) Warnings: CNTW Pairings: Caleb & Beau, Beau & Bren, Caleb & Bren, Caleb & OC, Beau/Yasha, Caleb/Essek

Post-C2. As Beau struggles with the challenges of being a new adoptive parent of a teenager, she receives an SOS from Caleb. She arrives to find him standing over his bound, unconscious younger self—and though Bren should be just an echo, it seems he isn't going anywhere.

Reccer says: A fantastic Caleb & Beau QPR—with all the warmth *and* friction of the original—as well as a nuanced, thoughtfully observed take on what Caleb being brought face-to-face (literally) with his younger self would really mean.

in the times inbetween by jakia (8098,Teen) Warnings: miscarriage, fantasy racism, homophobia (all mild but present) Pairings: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast Una Ermendrud & Caleb Widogast Leofric Ermendrud & Caleb Widogast

Una Ermendrud meets Caleb Widogast for the first time when she is nineteen and pregnant, and he’s passed out in her azaleas.'

Reccer says: It's everything I ever wanted in a 'Caleb actually completes his goal' fic: Una immediately clocks Caleb as the 'weird but sweet and harmless' type of wizard! Caleb makes a tiny paradox happen! Leofric punches Essek in the face (and it was awesome!)

This is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, it'll be Storytelling! Whether it be sharing backstories or spinning a brand new yarn, all are welcomed.

Then the weeks after that, it'll be Grog focused stories, Cross-Campaign works, and then Skill/Class Swap fics!

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

Oh! Also! Critter Gen Week is happening! Prompts have been announced, you should check them out.

And hey, if you're looking for some more good gen content, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[lady-quen]

End of the Line

"A lifeless mannequin, dancing on strings. Each string spoke to him in the thousand hushed voices of magic. It hurt. Each string begged him to usher his body back together. The Alchemy danced behind his eyes. A silver serpent, swallowing its own tail. It fucking hurt. It isn't over, it said. You made it so." "You killed your death, now live with it."

[Post-EoD drabble, 3k words, just exploring the consequences of people finding out my Commander a is a lich. Part of joint canon with @commanderteag (Maolmuire used with permission.) Angst, tw for decapitation, swearing, fantasy racism. I took some very mild creative liberties with the Pact status and the Void.]

Even times of newfound peace still had their work cut out for what remained of the Pact.

The original plan had been to dissolve after Jormag and Primordus. Then, after Soo-Won. And now, with Void stragglers remaining all around the world, he was in charge of the strike forces in a large-scale round-em-up-and-neutralize operation. Because of course he would be - the famed Pact Commander that he was. At least the rounding up part was easy, with choice waypoints repurposed into ley-line beacons at Taimi's suggestion. One he took gladly, with the haze beast as the precedent for Void's attraction to energy nexi.

At least, this time, his emotions weren't being used as the lure. Even if the calculations were just barely within the margin of error, his daughter's plan was working.

"Sir! We've got sightings in the canyon!" Elina, one of the scouts, reported. Maelmordha nodded, comms device clicking to life.

"Hundar Pike strike force! On my mark, unload all explosives into the valley!"

"Demolitionist Tirxxi reporting! All troops in position!"

Splendid. Despite last minute adjustments when the Void headed down an alternate path, everything was going more or less smoothly. Much easier this way - if this continued to go well enough, nobody would even have to engage the enemy in ground combat. He alone would likely be more than sufficient to pick off the leftovers. A bitter smile graced his features in anticipation. Ever since Aurene had departed into slumber, he could no longer count on that little miracle atop the Harvest Temple. And so, he had to make this work without her.

The Void was already dying out, but the last of it congregated in areas most affected by the late Elder Dragons. Though waiting was certainly an option, there was always the risk of further loss of life - and so, mobilizing the army for one final cleanup was the most logical course of action. The Commander's voice once again entered the channel.

"Site Alpha confirmed, reached. Team Alpha, on my mark... Now!"

He could feel the explosion from miles away. The ground itself shook as a decent part of the canyon collapsed into itself, burying the monsters below in a rockslide, clouds of gunpowder, and an avalanche for good measure. Freeform Void attempted to bleed through out of the cracks before dissolving into the air without particular fanfare.

He repeated the order for site Beta, cutting off the encroaching shadows and closing the valley behind them. Perfect. Like sheep herded to the slaughter - without the mind behind it, the chaotic element was as directionless as any other dragon minions left without their master.

Still, where it was directionless, it was certainly not a complete pushover. The final act drew close; Descend into the valley on-foot with Legion choppers monitoring closely from above. If it gets ugly, fall back. It shouldn't, but he was no fool to risk his troops like so.

"Lieutenant Tornbanner. Everett. Cinniod. Maolmuire. We're going in."

"Sir yes Sir!"

A small contingent of shock troopers under Tornbanner, Everett's medics, Cinniod's mages and Maolmuire would be more than enough to make quick work of whatever creatures still clawed their way out of the snow. There weren't many, and most were already far too dazed by the explosion and distracted by the ley line energy wafted into the canyon to be as much of a threat in close quarters as they used to be during the Canthan campaign. And so, in they went.

Two dozen pairs of boots touched the ground when suddenly, the Commander raised up an arm, signaling for the soldiers to wait. His gaze, fixed on the heaps of rubble, was unreadable.

"...Allow me to handle this by myself. Stay behind and make sure nothing sneaks up on any of us. Eyes and ears wide open."

He did have a rather poor track record with magical lures. It would be for the best if he went on ahead and cleared the way, with the others as backup but otherwise out of harm's way. The unmistakable spires of Brand crystals shimmered all around him in their rich, purple hue, framing an entrance underground. Kralkatorrik. Guess a piece of the old man remained beneath the canyon, after all. Not that completely erasing an Elder Dragon's influence from the world was easy, even for another one. Forces this old had their roots set firmly in the world.

A part of him wondered whether she really wanted to purge every last trace of her grandfather. These crystals, now dormant - in a sense, were they not the final keepsake she still had of him..?

Did she remember him? Were the Dragons not connected by some sort of Dream? Did it possess past memories, as well? Did she know what he was like before he -

Went mad. Razed billions. Slaughtered her mother.

Something turned deep within his gut, a familiar pain he did not expect. Visions of a burning blade, the same one that took his life - and an asuran prodigy, the only other mortal he had known who stood, with him, at the precipice of immortality. How did it feel..? To achieve the state he had. Locked within the chassis of a machine, mind uploaded into ones and zeroes. A novel form of life, if it could be called that.

Blish, do you think you were alive?

He descended further into the cave, Banner warband watching closely behind.

My golem body kept me safe, but... if anything happened to you, I'd never forgive myself.

Forgiveness. What a fleeting concept, comparably far easier to give than to receive. He stared into the brilliant violet. Hey, old friend... are you in there, still..? Do you "forgive" me?

Killing and corrupting... it's what you do. It's what you were born to do.

W - what?

A harsh left, swords pointed at nothing. Gold eyes blinking against the crystal gleam before turning to face his troops. The Commander gave a reassuring nod - nothing here, either.

He wasn't sure whether whatever he heard was a voice inside his mind or a product of stress. Perhaps both. Perhaps neither. The crystals had eyes.

Could a dead thing feel..? This wasn't Kralkatorrik. He was gone. And yet, there was a distinct sorrow within the air, and each step felt like moving through mud. He couldn't help but wonder: Did the beast regret all that he had killed? Was this a final vestige of his tortured soul, buried in hopes of never again seeing sunlight? Was what Aurene had been doing all this time..?

It wasn't just to erase his corruption. It was to erase his pain. Kralkatorrik, he... couldn't rest easy until he was gone to the very last, it seemed. But what about Blish? Was he gone, too, or was he suspended in that hellish state of darkness? Unable to pass on until the silent prison holding him was destroyed without a trace? Dear Mother, why did everything have to always end in boundless suffering?

And it was then that he realized. The miscalculation was not a miscalculation. They accounted for it, yes, but the Void? It hadn't been following the ley line at all.

It was following Kralkatorrik's torment.

The ground shook. Tendrils of black slithering through bedrock, snaking around Brand pillars.

Several malformed creatures emerged, taking on shapes of the long dead in a chaotic masquerade. Icebrood. Risen. Branded. Destroyers. Mordrem.

"Fall back!" Maelmordha wasted no time. This was bad terrain - a chokepoint. They needed to make it back out into the open, into a direct sightline with the choppers, should all this go south even faster than it was already going.

Wherever he was involved, things had a habit of turning to shit. SNAFU, indeed. At least then, his presence usually prevented the situation from escalating from merely "shit" to "fucked beyond measure and then some."

He was not about to let anyone die this time.

For you. Trahearne, Eir, Almorra, Blish, and too many others to count.

"I'll hold them back! Go! Go! Go!" A swift cut from Lædingr ended a charging Icebrood. Black ooze splashed his armor, sizzling where it hit. "Don't worry about me, I'll be right behind you!"

It was a lie. But, hah, he was very much planning on surviving. Call him a control freak - but this? How this ended was entirely up to him.

No more hesitation. No more loss. No more -

Vaughn Tornbanner's matchlock took out one last Mordrem before the Lieutenant herded his warband outside, the charr providing cover for escaping medics. Flame and lightning magic crackled all around them, lashing out against whatever unlucky monsters sought a bite of the Commander's forces. Here and there, phantom mirages of the fourth Knight of Thorn distracted and incinerated foes with beams of light.

There was more Void here than they had ever accounted for. Even in its death throes, it closed in like a storm.

The diabolist focused, and shade magic enveloped his form. The necromantic fire in his blades erupted into a blaze of blue, his once-gold eyes opening to the same, cold hue. Rows of fangs unfurled upon his chest, a full-body snarl.

In the shimmering dragon amethyst, he swore he could glimpse an image of a small and sickly asura. In life, Blish had mirrored Taimi so closely.

His lips moved, soundless. There was judgement in his eyes.

The front line of Void creatures suddenly stopped, phantom hooks digging into the mass of writhing shadow as his chains constricted all like hungry serpents. With a sickening crunch, the bodies before him were warped, limbs torn from their sockets, necks snapped, multicolor eyes fading in the flash freeze of death. He exhaled a puff of frigid breath, attempting to channel enough ice to seal over the entrance. In his chanting, Grenth's own magic - permafrost extending out of his palm in an explosion of crystalline shards.

The Void. It was trapped... finally.

"Commander!" There was abject terror in Cinniod's voice. Several people gasped. Maelmordha made a single step to turn around, dual blades still held firmly within his grasp.

"Everyone! Is everyone -"

There was the vague sensation of something cold passing through his flesh. A blur of black and technicolor, a flash of steel on his left - his eyes followed it, and then it was on his right. He... his neck... hurt.

Something strange happened to his vision and he watched his own body collapse with a thud against the ice wall. Rivulets of gold quickly seeping into black fabric as he convulsed and fell slack, Dromi and Lædingr falling from the grasp of still-twitching fingers.

"Holy shit." Someone commented, eloquently.

Vaughn's rifle and Maolmuire's blade made short work of the beast who had mysteriously gotten behind the seal.

"Commander..!" A cacophony of meaningless voices that only registered as though from underwater. Gibberish. People shouting, shuffling closer, then back again in sheer disbelief. Distant sounds of magic and gunfire, a yelled warning as more Void began to close in, this time having dug itself out of the avalanche resting outside. Someone at his side, clearly shell-shocked, calling for a medic.

What... what was... going on..? His senses, suspended and disembodied. He willed his hands to move and watched them do so, as though he were a puppetmaster observing his doll.

A lifeless mannequin, dancing on strings. Each string spoke to him in the thousand hushed voices of magic. It hurt. Each string begged him to usher his body back together. The Alchemy danced behind his eyes. A silver serpent, swallowing its own tail. It fucking hurt. It isn't over, it said. You made it so.

You killed your death, now live with it.

The body slumped against the ice seized, more sap spurting out of the stump of its neck. But his spirit held dominion over it yet. That foolish, foolish spirit. Fists clenched, feeling the familiar shape of sword handles. It was jarring. Utterly disorienting, but he closed his eyes, and he allowed the puppet strings of his curse to guide his movements. And he rose, like the countless dead he once commanded.

Now upright, the lich's body stumbled over to where his head lay. He released Lædingr and felt his own fingers in his leaves, and then he willed them to lift.

Only then did he open his eyes. Nothing but blackness and striking blue. Phantom pain pulsed throughout his flesh, and it maddened him. Even now, disconnected from his lungs, he let out a broken laugh - it seemed to reverberate, like the voice of a ghost. The Pact forces turned to face him. Several drew their weapons.

The implications of everything that transpired in this cave would wait.

"Just... let me handle this. Nobody dies here... but me."

He was the expendable one. He was the sacrificial lamb. And he was the wolf, draped in lambskin. Every death he took instead of another was penance. His every breath was a lie, for as long as nobody knew the true extent of the monster he really was.

Blish' mechanized voice echoed in his mind. This is the end of the line.

No more secrets.

That's right. He was the accursed; The Commander of Death. And all his fallen subjects haunted him.

Maelmordha stepped out of the darkness, Dromi hovering patiently next to his hand as he cast a spell. Without a shred of mercy, phantom fangs crushed the few Void creatures that still remained, grinding them into less than the dust they had come from. And then, all was quiet. Only the winter wind and the buzz of ley magic in his ears.

The Pact troops slowly approached, and with a deep sadness he realized most of their weapons were pointed at him. Their eyes, reflections of terror. And he realized he was still holding his head like a grocery bag.

The necromancer loudly cleared his throat - if a ghostly impression of doing so counted.

"...Excuse me." He fumbled for a moment to place his head where it used to be, making several adjustments before what seemed like blue fire began to knit his flesh back together.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Cinniod confessed, knees giving out as the elementalist violently dry-heaved into the snow. Several worried voices chattered, indistinct. Indecisive. He couldn't blame them - after all, they had just witnessed their hero turn out to be a villain. Perhaps Joko had been right - at least in the sense that both of them were abominations.

Perhaps the world would one day need saving - from him. But until then, he could still work to make it better.

"Soldiers."

His troops shuffled uncomfortably. They had every right to. Monster, someone snarled. He smiled.

"A good friend once told me.. to stop keeping secrets. I admit I fumbled that spectacularly. So, now, there you have it."

"Fucking knew you can't have killed a god." Vaughn spat, lips trembling over angry fangs. He raised his rifle, claw hovering dangerously over the lever. "Without selling your soul for power."

He laced his fingers, and smiled apologetically. There was no resentment in his eyes, only understanding. No words to make it better. Only open ears, to hear what was overdue. The price for this betrayal. At the very least, he had managed to keep up the act until the Dragon War was over. This operation? He would gladly step down if asked. Though Logan had been aware from the start, they both agreed on one thing: keep it under wraps. And if the cat ever gets out of the bag, then, well...

"Soldier." He addressed the charr. "While we're still on the field, your behavior is mutiny. Reconsider."

"Fucking bold of you to talk, monster!"

"And pray tell, what will shooting me accomplish that cutting off my head failed to?"

The Lieutenant snarled, but slowly lowered his gun. Bronze eyes gazing with nothing but pure disgust at the sylvari who seemed to be, despite all, a picture of flawless stoicism. All a part of his charm. Every liar needed a strong façade.

The Commander opened his mouth to speak. Maolmuire, however, had other ideas.

"Everyone! Don't you know the Void's properties have been evolving? Didn't you hear about the haze in the Gyala Depths?"

Maelmordha sighed. "Maolmuire..."

"It's messing with us. This is a mass hallucination!"

It seemed he had to be more... forceful.

"Maolmuire, stop! You've said enough."

"You're complicit, huh, you malformed weed?" Tornbanner sneered. "All you hivemind bastards were in on it from the get-go."

The necromancer focused his gaze on the Iron Legionnaire, something dark in his eyes that sent a shiver of dread up the warrior's spine. "I'm asking for the last time, Lieutenant Tornbanner. As for everyone else. I do not intend to falsify the truth, and welcome those who wish to report the incident to do so at their leisure."

He could feel an era close with his words. Despite everything, still he smiled. Time and time again, he found a way to smile in the face of those who doubted him. Always, he would.

"It is overdue that I stand in front of the Pact War Tribunal for my crime against Tyria and her people. But first... Lieutenant, report. Is everyone alright?"

Something shifted behind Vaughn's eyes. Flews slipping over jutting fangs - a predator that only stood down knowing its might to be no use. Not in front of a Godkiller. A Dragonslayer. A... whatever this man even was.

"Nobody was badly hurt... Maelmordha." The name tasted like venom on his tongue. "I answered you. So now, you'll answer us."

"I will, rest assured." Without further ado, the choppers descended, extending ladders. The necromancer looked away, turning his gaze to the sky.

"Everyone. It was an honor to be your Commander."

[steddiemicrofic]

Steddie Microfic June 1st-8th Masterlist

never cared much for stuff by @steddieas-shegoes | Rated T | cw: temporary character death, mourning | tags: love realizations, eddie munson lives, getting together, first kiss

More than a Wet Dream by @rindecisions | Rated E | cw: dub-con | tags: monsterfucking, tentacles, demon eddie, somnophilia, magic sex, dream manipulation, belly bulge

stuff... by @cringevalue | Rated T | no cw | tags: pool party, steve harrington's ass, jokes about hypnosis

an attempt to steal a car by @xzerosparrowx | Rated M | cw: mild language | tags: attempted car theft, eddie steals cars, mention of al munson, meet cute, steve has a messy car

The True Face of Bravery by @tinytalkingtina | Rated T | cw: mild language | tags: fantasy DnD au, tiefling steve harrington, anti-tiefling racism, steve harrington has bad parents, implied child abuse, first kiss

the first in a history of removals by @loveinhawkins | Rated G | cw: absent parents, implied depression in a parent | tags: post-canon, pre/developing relationship, steve harrington backstory

Forgotten by @fuctacles | Rated T | no cw | tags: friends with benefits (mentioned), college

Beary soon by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated G | no cw | tags: post-vecna, everybody lives, recovery, mutual pining, tooth-rotting fluff

Packrat by @thisapplepielife | Rated T | cw: language | tags: established long-term relationship, moving, one of them is a packrat, and it isn't steve

hot stuff by @steveseddie | Rated T | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, steve has a crush, he blurts it out while helping eddie pack to move his new trailer

The Stuff of Our Lives by @marvel-ous-m | Rated T | no cw | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, steve harrington has bad parents, eddie munson has a bad father, flight of icarus lore mentioned

sweet tooth by @hawkinsbnbg | Rated M | no cw | tags: established relationship, bad innuendos, fluff

[echo-goes-mmm]

Kitty Elliot AU #7

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: mild fantasy racism 

Ambrose watched Elliot lap up some oatmeal. 

“Don’t you want a spoon?” he asked.

Elliot looked up, licking a bit of breakfast off his lip. He blinked, and went back to eating.

“Well, if you’re sure,” shrugged Ambrose. He sipped on his tea, enjoying the fresh air of the morning. He had opened the window, and the lovely spring day had him in high spirits.

He glanced back at Elliot, who was licking the bowl clean. There was a scar on the bridge of his nose, and the leather of his collar was dirty and cracked. He was still wearing Ambrose’s old shirt and boxers.

“How do you feel about getting new clothes?”

Elliot’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he tilted his head in a way that asked ‘why?’.

“Well, you can’t wear just a shirt and underwear all the time. I don’t have enough spare clothes for you even if you did.”

Elliot didn’t look very happy, but he nodded anyway. 

“And… maybe we could take off that collar?”

Elliot looked away, his hand coming up to his throat. Ambrose couldn’t understand his attachment to it.

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

Elliot’s ears swiveled back in shame, and Ambrose felt bad for bringing it up. Maybe Elliot was just used to it and didn’t like change, or maybe he liked it in the first place.

It wasn’t right. Catfolk weren’t animals, they were people. They weren’t like Elliot.

No one was like Elliot. 

Elliot didn’t talk. Elliot didn’t like wearing much clothing. Elliot didn’t sit at the table to eat. Elliot didn’t want to be touched.

Elliot wore a collar.

“You don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to.”

A piece of leather wasn’t going to hurt him, and if Elliot wanted it, Ambrose wasn’t going to force him.

___________________

Elliot hopped up on the windowsill, settling in for a nice doze in the sunlight. True, he had just woken up, but sleep was always welcome.

Master was going shopping. He said he would be back in a few hours, and that meant peace for just as long. 

The bell rang as the door to the inn opened, and his tail flicked in annoyance. So much for a nap.

“Hey cat,” said James, slamming the door behind him. The loud sound hurt his ears, and Elliot winced. “Where’s Ambrose?”

He pointed at the door. 

“Out, huh?”

Elliot tucked his arm back in and nodded. 

“Perfect.”

James turned towards the kitchen, and Elliot watched, his ears rotated to the side. He didn’t like James. 

He could just go up to the room he slept in and wait for Master to come back, but the windows there didn’t face the sun.

Dishes clattered in the kitchen, the noise irritating but compelling. What was James up to in Master’s kitchen?

Maybe he’d just stay downstairs to keep an eye on things.

___________________

James sat at a table, drinking an ale and helping himself to a hearty brunch. Elliot wasn’t sure if that was allowed, so he did nothing.

“So,” James said, chewing some bacon. “Was your mom a human and your dad a cat or something?”

Elliot narrowed his eyes.

“What?” James said with a grin. “It’s just a joke. I know that’s not how it works.”

He flicked his tail in irritation.

“I mean, it would suck if it did.” He took another sip of ale. “Cause cats only live for like ten years, ya know?”

James waited for him to respond, but Elliot looked away. He refused to humor the idea.

“Gods, you really don’t say much, huh? Or are you just too animal to talk?”

Elliot shook his head, staring out the window. He could speak, but…

“Whatever,” James said. Elliot heard him pick up his dishes. He startled when a rough hand landed between his ears.

Elliot turned, baring his teeth, and James yanked his hand away. A hiss slipped from his mouth before he could stop it.

“Yeesh,” James muttered, “so touchy.”

The fur on his tail stood on end, an itchy unease tingling up his spine.

James went to wash his dishes, and Elliot manually smoothed his fur to try and chase away the feeling.

The front door opened again, and Elliot turned to see that it was Master. He had shopping bags in his hands, and a smile on his face.

Was that good or bad? He couldn’t decide.

The sound of running water cut off, and James stepped out from the back.

“Hey boss,” he said. “Was wondering where you were.”

Master frowned. “It’s Monday, James. We’re closed.”

“Oh yeah,” James said with a smile. “I forgot.”

“Hm. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Nope,” James lied. “I just got here. I guess I’ll head out then.”

Elliot narrowed his eyes, his tail swishing. Had James come in just to steal some brunch and leave? 

“Right… I’ll see you tomorrow.” Master let James pass by and out the door, and Elliot was relieved to see him gone.

___________________

Ambrose set the bags on a nearby table.

“I bought you some shorts,” he said, pulling out a pair. “They’re only a little longer than the boxers, so I hope they’re comfortable for you.”

He held a pair out to Elliot, who sniffed them. He traced a finger over the soft cotton, looking up at Ambrose.

“You like them? I got some shirts in the same fabric, and more undergarments.”

Elliot nodded, still tracing over the fabric.

“Would you like to change now?”

The catboy withdrew back into the windowsill, shaking his head. He looked small, and afraid, and Ambrose felt stupid for suggesting he strip down. 

His eyes landed on the filthy collar on Elliot’s neck.

“I, uh, got you a present, too,” he said, turning to rifle through the bags. He pulled the wooden box out, and offered it to Elliot.

Elliot gingerly took the box, his hands following the grain. His eyes were wide, and his ears twitched.

“Go on,” Ambrose encouraged. “Open it.”

Elliot gently pulled the lid off, and his tail trembled at the sight. 

___________________

A soft black collar sat in the box.

It was new, brand new, and he could smell the polish and leather. There was a small steel ring in front with a metal tag.

He turned it over. Elliot, it read.

A nametag. A real nametag, and it was beautiful.

“Do you like it?” Master asked above him, and he could only nod. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Would you like me to put it on for you?” Master said in a soft voice, and Elliot wiped his eyes, nodding.

Master carefully undid his old collar, tugging it free of the buckle. The missing weight felt odd, and for a moment he was afraid.

But soon the new collar- a new collar!- fastened around his neck. It was slightly heavier than the old one, but Elliot didn’t care.

His eyes fluttered shut, letting the weight of his collar settle. It felt so much nicer than the old one.

A purr stuttered out of his chest, rusty from disuse. He doused it quickly, and checked Master’s face to see if he was angry.

“I’m really glad you like it,” Master said, smiling. Did he not mind the noise?

Tentatively, he let himself relax and purr, and Master did nothing.

“Could I-?” Master gestured, and his hand came close-

Elliot flinched.

___________________

He should have known better. Elliot’s purring stopped, and the look on his face made Ambrose’s heart hurt.

He pulled away, dropping his hand.

“Is there anything specific you want for lunch?” he asked, hoping, but Elliot was silent.

Of course he was.

Maybe next time.

“Right. I’ll go put your clothes upstairs,” he said, stepping away from the windowsill.

taglist:

@cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings

@zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

@snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda

@loserwithsyle @bitchaknso @taterswhump @fleur-a-whump @otterfrost

@hellodecisionparalysis @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @risk606 @i-walk-on-the-dark-side @phoenixpromptsandstuff

[theboywithburninghands]

All good things must come to an end. This is the final chapter/epilogue to the story taking place in @rottentricks’s universe. Will I return? I may. I love this interpretation of the characters. But, for now, this is the end. Enjoy!

T/W: Suicide, manipulation, sexual innuendos, fantasy racism

Animals Ch. 5: Pigs on the Wing

A green 2000 Honda Accord pulled into the Medical Center parking lot around 2 pm. A fair skinned brunette woman in a black leather coat and a red scarf emerged from the passenger side. She winced a bit at the cold, but marched forward anyway.

“Ella! Wait for me!” her husband, similarly pale, in a tan duster and blue baker’s boy cap, stumbled out of the driver’s side, hurriedly putting his keys and cellphone into his pocket.

“I just need to see her,” the woman replied.

“I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to worry as well,” her husband muttered.

“Vladimir, save your carping for later!” Ella snapped.

A woman with curly red hair and an eyepatch over her right eye stood outside the entrance in a violet peacoat and white-and-pink Pompom hat. She took a drag off of a mostly spent cigarette, dropping it and grinding it into the snow with her boot upon seeing the two out-of-towners.

“Ella and Vladimir?” she asked with a glowing smile.

“That’s us, you must be Ragatha,” Ella replied, giving a thin and nervous smile in return. “It’s a pleasure to put a face to a name. How’s Pomni?”

Ragatha led them inside, tamping the snow off her boots. She led them down the hall.

“She’s just fine! I know you two must be worried sick, but she’s right as rain. She’s eating and drinking, and… well she’s definitely talking. She’s actually talking to some police officers right now.”

“Police offi- Excuse me?!” Ella cried.

“No, no, don’t worry! She did something really amazing! Come on, she’s in here.”

Ragatha led them into room 6. In addition to two local police officers, one of whom appeared to the sheriff if the cowboy hat and aviators were any indication, an enormous rabbitman in a white shirt and suspenders stood off in the corner. He eyed the two of them with mild suspicion, before seeming to understand their relation to Pomni and looking away again.

“Mom, Dad!” Pomni smiled and held out her hands from her hospital bed. She looked tired and her voice rasped, but she had color in her cheeks.

“Oh, honey! I’m sorry we took so long!” Ella went over and grabbed her daughter’s hands. “Are you okay? What’s going on? You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, ma’am.” one of the officers, the woman without a cowboy hat, answered.

Ella looked from the police officer back to Pomni. “Pomni, what happened?”

“Well… she appears to have helped us solve a murder case.”

“Oh, is that all?” Vladimir replied distantly.

“What?!” Ella cried. “Pomni, what have you been doing?! You said you were just attacked by an animal, what’s all this about- murder?”

“I’m sorry, mom. It’s been… it’s been a wild few days.”

Pomni turned to the police officers. “Can I fill them in on everything?”

“Might as well, we could stand to hear the whole story over again.” the sheriff drawled.

Pomni told them everything. From the biased detectives, to looking for clues in Kaufmo’s condo, to the Nightwalker, to Jax rescuing her. All the way to the announcement she made on the news. She only left out the part about Jax going to investigate, since she didn’t want him nailed for breaking and entering. By the end of the story, both of her parents looked like they had run a marathon. Pomni paused to take a long drink of water.

“I know it wasn’t safe, or smart, but I needed to do something. Anything. I knew as soon as I saw that fake pill, that…”

“Pomni. It’s okay, I just… it’s so much at once.” Ella admitted.

“Normally you’d be in a lot more trouble, Ms. Freeman. You trespassed, and that evidence you found is inadmissible in court, since it was obtained illegally.”

Pomni looked down. “So there goes my scholarship, right?”

“Well… Dr. Wren came forward and admitted everything. Seems like you were correct. He had been giving Kaufmo fake pills, in hopes of him killing himself and stirring up advocacy for his cause.”

“Bastard…” Pomni whispered.

“So, even though your methods were unorthodox, you did help us track down the real culprit,” the female officer continued. “The sheriff and I agree that we can let you off with a warning this time.”

Pomni’s parents sighed in unison.

“All of that said, we don’t want you poking around in police business anymore,” the sheriff said. “You got incredibly lucky that our perp had no spine. If he had decided to shut his mouth and get a lawyer, he probably would have walked.”

“I know. I just…” She looked across the room at Jax. They locked eyes. “I knew you had the wrong guy…”

Jax gave her a small smile.

“We did,” the female officer said. “And for that, we owe Mr. Kingston an apology.”

The sheriff seemed to clam up a bit, but he chewed his lower lip and walked over to Jax.

“On behalf of the Autumnvale Police Department, I’d like to apologize for the mistake we made.” he groused.

“…Thanks,” was Jax’s curt reply.

The sheriff nodded stiffly then motioned towards the door. “Let’s go, Melissa, paperwork ain’t gonna finish itself.”

He stepped out the door, the female officer smiling at Pomni’s parents.

“Pleasure meeting you two, enjoy the rest of your day.”

She followed the sheriff out of the room. Pomni’s father looked at Jax, the rabbit-wolf blinking in response.

“You rescued my little girl, sir,” Vladimir said.

Jax got to his feet after a moment. Even though Vladimir was the tallest in the family, he only came up to Jax’s armpit.

“Just doing the right thing, Mr. Freeman…” he muttered. Pomni had to swallow a giggle at how shy the crossbreed was acting around her dad.

“Thank you so much… I’m forever in your debt, Mr. Kingston.” Vladimir extended a hand. Jax looked at Vladimir’s hand for a few moments before he took it in his own enormous mitt and shook it gingerly.

Ella approached the butcher as well. She opened her mouth to say something, finding no words. She threw her arms around Jax, who jolted and held his arms out to the sides.

“We owe you the world, sir…” she whispered tearfully. The top of her head only came up to his diaphragm.

“Uh… I uh… Y-Yeah, thanks. I mean- you’re welcome.” Jax stammered.

“Mom…” Pomni whined, blushing.

Her parents stayed for as long as they were allowed, chatting with Ragatha and septuple-checking if Pomni was alright and that she for certain had everything she needed. Jax mostly stood outside the room, sizing up anyone who came too close. It wasn’t until Pomni called him inside the room that he began to speak more to her parents.

“So, you’re a butcher, Mr. Kingston? Is that a very lucrative business in this town?” Vladimir asked.

Jax had to think for a moment. Lucrative. What did that mean again..?

“Erm… yes. I have a lot of customers.” he replied after a pause.

“I’ve been a satisfied customer for years,” Ragatha added with a glowing smile. “He’s got the best bacon, the best pork chops, the best steaks- oh my gosh, you guys need to try my steak and eggs tomorrow! It’s the blue-plate special!”

“I’ve had one of his steaks… they’re amazing.” Pomni said, sucking on a cherry menthol drop. The hospital thankfully had some of those in stock along with the lemon-honey kind.

“Wow, I’m surprised. The drive into town seems like nothing but wheat and cornfields…” Ella said.

Jax made an unpleasant sound in his throat. “I hate corn.”

“I was going to ask. You are part wolf, right? Are you an omnivore?” Vladimir asked.

“Dad…” Pomni chided, but Jax raised a paw at her and nodded reassuringly.

“Yeah. I eat meat and greens. Just not corn. Fuc- Uh, screws with my stomach.”

“Well, that’s no love lost, really. As a dietitian, I can tell you that corn is mostly just starch and sugar,” Ella said. “And I can tell you’ve been eating right, Mr. Jax.”

“Mom…!” Pomni exclaimed.

“What? He’s in excellent shape. You could learn a thing or two from him, Pomni.” Ella’s tone became a bit more stern. “You’re not just eating instant noodles and toaster pastries, right?”

“No, mom…” Pomni grumbled.

“I make sure she’s well fed, Ella, don’t you worry.” Ragatha chirped.

There was a small commotion from down the hall as Gangle, in her beret and holding her libretto for A Winter’s Tale, hurried in along with Zooble. Jax looked up from examining his own bicep and smiled at his cowboy friend.

“Hey, ‘Secret Admirer.’” he said, a knowing gleam in his moon-yellow eyes.

Gangle spoke up before Zooble had time for a retort.

“Guys! We should turn on the-” Gangle noticed Vladimir and Ella, holding her libretto a little closer to herself. “Oh, uh… excuse me. Hi, am I interrupting?”

Pomni’s mom smiled and got to her feet, shaking one of Gangle’s ribbons. “No, not at all. I’m Mirella Amadeo, Pomni’s mother.”

“Hello,” Vladimir said shortly.

Pomni smiled a bit, her mom was always the most social in the family.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Gangle said with a nervous but happy laugh. “My name is Gangle, and this is my friend Zooble. Their pronouns are they/them.”

“Howdy,” said Zooble, doffing their hat.

“We should turn on the news, it’s gonna start any minute! Channel 03!”

Pomni picked up the remote from the nightstand and switched on the small, wall mounted CRT television in the corner of her room. When the screen fuzzed with snow, she pressed a few buttons before the picture flicked to black, then to an animated intro for the 5 o’clock news.

“ADC News: Your window to the world,” a smooth-voiced man announced.

The picture cut to a well-dressed cougarman and human woman behind a glass desk in a somewhat futuristic-looking newsroom.

“Good evening, I’m Robert Watts,” the man began.

“And I’m Jennifer Silman, and this is ADC News. Our top story tonight…”

The camera zoomed in on Silman, a screen over her right shoulder showing a photo of the Autumnvale Regional Medical Center.

“…the ongoing homicide investigation of Autumnvale man Kaufmo Hawkins has taken yet another startling twist. Earlier today, Pomni Freeman, the young woman rescued from a Nightwalker attack by the previous suspect Jax Kingston, gave an explosive accusation in front of Autumnvale Regional Medical Center.”

The picture cut to footage of Pomni talking into the megaphone earlier that day.

“You’re not a hero. You’re a freak! All you did was bully a man that everyone loved into killing himself, then you made the guy who was already the town pariah into the main suspect because it looked good to defend him!”

Pomni covered her face with her blanket, her parents looking at her incredulously. Jax gave a proud smirk. The picture cut back to the cougarman news anchor.

“The man Miss Freeman accuses in that clip is Dr. Cole Wren, Autumnvale’s 64-year old psychiatrist…”

A photo appeared over his right shoulder, showing a mugshot of Dr. Wren. His eyes were hollow and his expression vacant.

“…who Miss Freeman accused of prescribing fake antidepressants to Hawkins, in the hopes that he would take his own life. Wren swiftly turned himself in after being accused, and, according to the APD, confessed to everything.”

The picture cut to a high ranking officer, who the screen identified as Commissioner Waylon Richmond, at a press conference. Flash bulbs blinked intermittently as he stood on a podium.

“The coroner’s report shows that Mr. Hawkins had no trace of antidepressants in his bloodstream at the time of his death… He had to have been off of them for months.”

It cut to the mugshot of Dr. Wren again, with the male news anchor narrating over it.

“The reason? Wren says that he wanted to be seen as a pioneer for social justice, framing Autumnvale’s butcher Jax Kingston…”

It cut to an image of Jax being handcuffed and let into a squad car. He glared daggers at the camera.

“…for the crime. Kingston is a crossbreed and has faced tremendous prejudice both as a child and an adult.”

It cut to Kinger, sitting in his living room, looking forlorn.

“When he was a boy he would come home from school with bruises and cuts all over… He said the other kids trapped him in the jungle gym, poked him with sticks and threw pebbles at him. They said he was a ‘[censored]’ and belonged in a zoo or the circus… he was only seven.”

Pomni looked at Jax. He simply watched the screen, poker-faced, with his arms crossed. The news footage cut to a picture of Dr. Wren shouting into a bullhorn in front of the crowd of protestors.

“Wren confessed that he wanted to have Kingston wrongly convicted so he could lead a protest for crossbreed rights, to not only raise awareness for the cause, but also to be seen as a hero. ADC News, Robert Watts.”

The footage cut back to the newsroom, the female anchor turning to the male.

“I gotta tell you Rob, this entire case was like something out of a spy thriller. So many twists and turns!” she exclaimed.

“I have to agree, Jen, and we have to commend the work of the young lady who brought this accusation forward-”

Pomni swiftly mute the television and covered her face, which had turned tomato-red.

“Please no more…” she begged.

“No more? Pomni, you’re a hero! You got a vile human being arrested!” her father declared.

“I’m not a hero! I just…”

“Impostor syndrome, it’s a bitch.” Zooble said.

—

Visiting hours ended at 5:30, so soon enough it was time for everyone to head out. Pomni was gently encouraged by both her surgeon and her parents to stay overnight to let the bites knit and in case any of her stitches popped. Pomni agreed. She had work she needed to do, but her parents insisted they would call her school and inform them of the situation so she could get an extension. Besides, she didn’t much feel like moving anyway.

Her mother and father (and Ragatha) all kissed her goodbye and wished her a peaceful evening, her parents promising to return as early as possible with breakfast. Gangle lent her a book to read, the works of Eugene Ionesco, and Pomni politely accepted it even if she was too tired to read much of anything. Zooble merely bid her goodnight, but, after everyone left, squeezed Pomni’s hand and thanked her “from the bottom of their heart” for helping Jax.

As for Jax, he excused himself to the restroom a few minutes before closing time. He remained missing as everyone said their goodbyes, but a few minutes after Zooble left, he returned.

“You’re gonna get in trouble…” Pomni said with a weary smile.

Jax smiled right back, his sharp teeth on full display. Pomni was either too familiar with him or too fuzzy inside to be frightened of the sight of it anymore.

“I’ll risk it. You know, I still owe you for helping clear my name. Even if Caine bailed me out, I’m sure the cops would have been gangstalking me for ages…”

Pomni shook her head. “You don’t owe me a thing. You saved my life and got me the clue I needed to get a confession out of Wren. We’re even Steven.”

Jax chuckled. “Alright, so we’re even. But what if I wanted to give you something anyway?”

“Depends on what you wanted to give me.” Pomni replied, as coquettishly as she could given her exhaustion.

Jax walked across the room and knelt at her bedside. “Just a question. Would you ever want to go out and see the town together? Preferably not while I’m carrying you, unless you enjoyed that.” Another wolfish smile.

“Har har. But yeah, I’d love that.” Pomni replied. “As soon as I’m feeling better and get some of my work done.”

“Sounds good. …You know…” Jax looked at the floor, still maintaining a smile. “I was kind of hoping to give you something else.”

“I was kind of hoping you’d give me something too.” Pomni replied, taking a hand and petting one of his ears. They were thick and shaggy. She wanted to cuddle one.

Jax knelt forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. He had gained a bit more confidence since their last kiss a few hours ago. Pomni felt the tip of his tongue on his lips, fighting the urge to slide her own hungrily into his mouth, but she overcame her id. She was in the hospital, after all, there was a time and a place for that sort of thing.

She held the back of his head gently, keeping his lips against hers for a good half minute. He let out a low, long but gentle rumble against her lips that tingled her all over, giving her gooseflesh. Oof, the thought of hearing that right in her ear…

The kiss broke, Pomni petting his ears and tickling under his chin. He crooned happily. She kissed him again on the forehead.

“Alright. More tomorrow, you don’t need to get in trouble again.”

“Okay. Promise?” he asked with a tiny, eager smile.

“I promise.”

Jax nodded and gave her another toothy grin. It was so threatening before… He passed by the sheepwoman nurse as he went through the doorway.

“Sir, visiting hours have-”

“Already leavin.’” Jax replied, holding up a hand without looking at her.

He walked to the front door, hands in his pockets. It had been a day of firsts. The first time he’d ever had a guest to his house that wasn’t his parents, the first time he’d ever been really thanked for doing a good deed for a stranger, the first time he’d ever been kissed by someone other than his family… Hell, three kisses in one day. That was pretty amazing. His first girlfriend. Was she his girlfriend? Maybe. It was surreal to think about. Girlfriends and boyfriends weren’t for him. For two decades now, he’d grown to accept this. But, here he was.

He half expected to wake up back in jail. A pleasant dream his mind had cooked up about a pretty customer he met at his shop, right before those three dick-swingers woke him up behind bars and told him they were transferring him to prison for the rest of his days. Where had they gone, anyway? Probably back to the big city. They hadn’t done much of anything other than find planted evidence and get shouted at by a cute little lady. What men. Muy chulo.

He stepped outside. It had dipped down into 20 degrees, but it felt good. Bracing. Tonight he’d stoke a fire and make some beef stew, maybe chicken soup. Something good for a winter night. He wanted to call Zooble and tell them what happened. No, wait. He didn’t have a phone. What the hell was he thinking? Call up his best friend and gossip about a relationship? That sounded more like the kind of girl that would have picked on him back in school.

“Hey, freak.”

Speak of the devil.

Trevor took a drag on his cigarette, stepping out from behind a parked truck.

“Hey, Cyclops. That your truck? Or you taking a leak behind it?” Jax smiled, showing all of his teeth.

Trevor snorted mirthlessly. “I suppose you think you’re in the clear since the mayor decided to pardon you. Am I right?”

“Well, the guy who actually did it turned himself in. So, yes. I can tell you’re just broken up that it wasn’t me that killed the comedian. I can see tears in your eyes- sorry, eye.”

Trevor’s lips peeled back in a snarl. “Hilarious. You oughta be a comedian. I’m laughing real hard on the inside.”

Jax tilted his head in mock curiosity. “So, why’re you here, Trevvy-boy? You want a kiss?”

“I’m here to tell you, mutt, that you’re not off the hook. I still owe you for this-” Trevor pointed to his eyepatch. “-and just cuz you got a little bleeding heart from the city to call out that quack, doesn’t mean you get to walk.”

“Hm? What, are you saying you did it, Trevor?”

“No, I’m saying-”

“Yeah, you don’t have the spine to kill someone.”

Trevor’s lip curled upwards again. “I’m saying, I think you did it, and you got Little Miss Moneybags to bribe the mayor into bailing you out.”

Jax snorted. “Please. You honestly think I got that kind of influence?”

“I do know that Miss Daddy’s Money in there is a bleeding heart, who’d probably fall for your sob story.” Trevor grunted. “Maybe even get a wittle cwush on you. Isn’t that right, half-breed?”

“Aw, someone needs new material. Look, you gonna take your shot, or no? ‘Cause I’d like to go home.” Jax said, passing by Trevor and stepping out onto the road.

“Hm. So you’ve not had her.” Trevor said pensively. “Funny. She had a great time with me.” Trevor grinned lasciviously and lolled his tongue out.

Jax stopped walking and turned to look at his bully. “What did you say?” His pupils dilated, his yellow eyes gleaming rings of bloodlust.

“I said Miss Richie Rich had a go-”

In an instant, Jax rushed towards Trevor. His claw flashed in the orange sunset, rocketing towards Trevor’s face. The wolf instinctually raised a hand to block the swing, but it was too late. His claw was within jabbing distance of his one good eyeball. He feebly braced for impact, even as the claw rocketed past him and poked him gently on the snout.

“Boop.~”

Jax prodded Trevor on the nose, pulling his claw back and smiling mischievously. Trevor growled and rubbed his nose with the back of his arm.

“What the fuck was that, freak? Huh?”

Jax shrugged. “Today has been the best day of my life. I feel too good to fight you. Besides, I know for a fact Pomni wouldn’t even touch your cretin ass, because she’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah right-” Trevor began, only for Jax to spin about on his heel and head off towards his house.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“I’m not done talking to you, freak!” Trevor shouted.

“Yeah you are.” Jax replied.

“She’ll see you for what you are! You’re a monster! I know you are!”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Keep shouting. You got nothin.’” Jax replied, and he began to whistle.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, gleaming an iridescent orange, no more words were exchanged. Both of them knew Jax was right.

—

So, I don't feel alone on the weight of the stone

Now that I've found somewhere safe to bury my bone

And any fool knows a dog needs a home

A shelter from pigs on the wing

[actress4him]

March Trope-A-Thon Day 4

A wing au for Brumaria had never ever crossed our minds, but when I saw the prompts I had to give it a try. This is not likely an au that will ever come up again, but it was fun for this one piece!

Bruno belongs to @painful-pooch !

The Shadow of Death Masterlist

Fandom: Original Work

Prompt: Wing Whump

Notes: This is obviously an AU!

Contains: lady whump, torture, fantastic racism, mild blood, mild gore, knife wounds, burns, fire, flashbacks

.

.

“It’s no wonder you always keep these hidden.” 

Roderick is standing somewhere behind her, meaning she can’t see anything he’s about to do. He knows it makes her nervous, she thinks. Of course he can hurt her just as much from the front or the side, and being able to keep an eye on him doesn’t really do her any good, but she’d rather at least see what’s coming. Right now her arms are stretched out to the side, wrists chained to opposite walls, so all she can do is turn her head and she refuses to do that and acknowledge that his position is bothering her.

“They’re honestly the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen. Hideous, really.”

They’ve been at this routine for…is it four years now? It seems like an eternity. Kamaria tries her best to follow orders, makes some tiny mistake, and she and Roderick end up here, in the guardhouse, so that he can punish her. He strips her of her weapons and any protection she wears, including her cloak, chains her up, then generally proceeds to insult her.

Four years, and his insults still somehow grate at her emotions. At least when he’s insulting her, though, he’s not making the unsettling, disgusting comments that have become more and more prevalent lately. 

“I’m surprised that your mother didn’t toss you out as soon as she saw you. Tell me, did the Vaya often point and laugh at your pitiful, misshapen wings? Even I can see how malformed they are, but they must have been really laughable next to the full, grand wings of a real Vaya.”

“You keep the name of my people out of your filthy mouth!” she hisses, fists clenched in their bonds. 

“Ah, I hit a sore spot, didn’t I?” Grabbing one wing at the base, he yanks her backwards toward him, leaning over her shoulder to growl in her ear. “You know I’m right. These poor excuses for wings show everyone exactly what you are - a miserable little half-breed.”

She’s worked hard since living here learning how to control her expressions and not show her reactions or pain. She practices it now, eyes boring into the metal bars straight ahead, jaw clenched tightly shut. 

Her wings are small and misshapen. They barely reach past her hips, nowhere near large enough to actually support her, and one is smaller than the other. And yes, she wishes that they were as large and beautiful as those of her mother or any of the other Vaya she’d known, but she does still love them. They set her apart from the humans, connect her to her people. Yes, she keeps them covered when she’s out, but when she’s alone, in her tent, she stretches them out and lets them breathe and preens the reddish-brown feathers as she was taught. 

She could explain to him that the Vaya were far more accepting than humans could ever be. She could tell him that her friends used to choose to walk places with her instead of flying so that they could be together, that her mother spent hours lovingly caring for her daughter’s wings, that not one person had ever laughed at her until she met him. 

But it wouldn’t make a difference. He wants to hurt her, so she might as well let him think that he’s succeeding.

His hand slides down to the end of the wing and he pulls it out away from her body, then grabs a clamp from the wall to hold it in place. Since he can’t see her face she lets herself wince at the pressure and the way it tugs at the small feathers there. He repeats the process with the other side, spreading both wings out wide to mimic her arms. 

Sometimes he pins them out of the way so that he can reach her back better. Sometimes he does it just to leave her in an uncomfortable position. Today, however, she has a sinking feeling that this will be one of the few times he’ll actually target her wings for the punishment.

“Now that I think about it, though, I think they deserve to look even more pathetic. More importantly, I think you deserve the reminder that you’ll never be a real Vaya.”

Before she can decide whether she wants to respond to that, he grips a handful of the smallest feathers and rips them out. Kamaria jolts, but bites down on any noise that wants to escape. It isn’t the first time he’s pulled out her feathers. They’ve grown back before, and they can again. 

He moves to her primaries and secondaries, plucking them out one by one as hard as he can and occasionally multiple at a time, tossing each over her shoulders so that she can watch them flutter to the ground. It stings, but it’s more infuriating than it is painful, knowing how long it’s going to take before her wings look whole again. 

“That’s looking better, but it’s not enough yet.” She can hear him cross to his table of tools, and swallows hard. Whatever he ends up picking is metallic sounding when it clanks against the wooden surface.

The only further warning she gets is his footsteps approaching. There’s a flash of movement in the corner of her eye, and a knife stabs down into the meat of her right wing. She jerks forward, unable to hold back a grunt of pain as tears sting her eyes. 

Roderick’s not done yet, though. Adjusting his angle, he drags the knife downward, tearing through skin and muscle until the blade hits bone. This time Kamaria can’t help crying out, though she bites it off as quickly as she can and forces herself to keep to harsh breaths through her nose. Her wings tremble with pain. She can feel blood oozing out of the cut, staining whatever feathers are left. 

The knife stabs into her left wing. Instead of dragging it down, he slashes upward, through the top of her wing, again and again, effectively shredding it. Without anything to clench her fists around, she settles for digging her blunted fingernails into her palms, head dropping forward and teeth gritted.

Roderick steps back, admiring his work. “I wonder if that will ever heal correctly. Somehow I’m doubting it.”

He sounds so smug. But the worst part is that he may be right. She’s seen Vaya with horrendous wing injuries before that flew again in the end, but without healing magic or anyone who can guide her through how to build the muscles back up…

“I’d rather be sure, though.” He’s at the table again, but she can’t focus on what he’s doing past the throbbing pain. 

The next thing she’s aware of is heat close to her skin. Immediately she gasps and tries to pull away, memories flooding her mind, but there’s nowhere to go and Roderick laughs as he jabs the torch into her wing. 

Feathers catch fire. The smell is unbearable, but the pain is worse. She can’t tell what is happening, but it feels like her entire wing is engulfed in flame, the heat taking over her back and eating through everything. 

The village is burning, entire houses have gone up in flame

Intense heat presses against her from all sides

Her family members take to the sky, trying desperately to escape, only to come tumbling back to the ground with their wings on fire, screeching in pain

She doesn’t realize she’s screaming and sobbing until she’s doused with water from behind, and even then she can’t seem to stop. Roderick’s laughter echoes in her ears. The fire is gone, but the burning pain lingers, and the remains of her village keep fading in to replace the cell around her. 

“There,” Roderick declares once he’s stopped laughing. “So much better. Now they’re as far from being real wings as you are from being Vaya.”

Kamaria can only hang there shuddering, a few errant tears slipping down her cheeks. 

.

Ten Years Later

“Your wings.”

Kamaria freezes in place, hands plunged down into the rushing river water. She’d taken off her cloak to wash up, and hadn’t heard Bruno approach from behind. Now she desperately wants to grab the cloak and throw it back over her shoulders, but it won’t do her any good. He’s already seen. 

“What happened? They’re…” 

Disgusting? Mangled? Horrific? Any of those would do.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just…it looks like it was really painful.”

Flashes of fiery pain and the smell of burnt feathers take over her senses for an instant. She finally removes her hands from the water, shaking droplets off of them before standing. The still-healing wound on her leg gives a twinge that she barely notices. 

“I’m only half Vaya, they didn’t grow right.” It’s a stupid response. Obviously he can see that it’s more than just that. What else is she supposed to say, though? He doesn’t know about Roderick and her father and the fact that she’s just a weak pawn who gets beat up on a regular basis by her superiors. 

“You can’t fly.” It’s said more as a statement than a question. 

She almost wants to laugh at that, because looking at the state of her wings it should be exceedingly obvious that no, she can’t fly. There are bare patches covered in jagged scar tissue all over the tops, and half her primaries and secondaries are missing and will never grow back. The feathers that remain are in poor condition, she gave up on trying to preen them years ago since she can’t stretch them out fully anymore. 

Instead, she spins around to face him, shrugging. “Never could.”

“Shadow…” He’s giving her that look, the one where he’s all concerned and pitying that she hates. “Someone hurt you.”

She scowls. “It happens in my line of work.” Bending over, she snatches up her cloak and wraps it back around herself, hiding the wings again. “They were useless anyway, it’s not a big deal that they’re even more useless now.”

“Someone hurting you is a big deal.”

“Just drop it, Bruno.” She pushes past him, heading back for camp.

He falls into step behind her. “Okay. I’ll drop it.” 

It’s not until they’re back at camp, sitting down by the fire, that he speaks again. “I only want to say that, for whatever it’s worth…I’m sorry that happened to you. I'm sure they were…beautiful wings, even if they were small.”

They were. And now I can’t stand to look at them.

She doesn’t reply, just tosses another stick onto the fire. 

[kabrumithrun]

Fic: Stupid with Love

https://ift.tt/6g9BSd7 by PeachBunny21 Chilchuck didn't think much of Laios Touden when he first saw him. He was a run-of-the-mill adventurer and Chilchuck had seen plenty of them. Granted, he never met anyone quite like Laios before, but that was about it. The day they met was when he was hired to be this new party's picklock, a simple job that he could easily handle. He didn't think Laios was the type to be an effective leader and he didn't expect this group to last long. . . . Months pass before they become years and Chilchuck has become a permanent member of the most bizarre group of people he has ever met, yet Laios still tops that list as the weirdest. His attention always keeps getting drawn to the Tallman, who always seems so respectful but always manages to cause people trouble wherever he goes. Chilchuck just can't seem to figure him out. He can't stop thinking about how strange he is, how annoying he is, and how stupid it is that he can't stop staring at this attractive blond man who could lift him with one arm . . . Oh no. Chilchuck, for the first time in his life, begins to fail at his number one rule for adventuring. (Follow their relationship from before the story to after the end of the manga!) Words: 5506, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: ダンジョン飯 | Dungeon Meshi | Delicious in Dungeon Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Chilchuck Tims, Laios Touden, Marcille Donato, Senshi (Dungeon Meshi), Izutsumi (Dungeon Meshi), Namari (Dungeon Meshi), Shuro | Nakamoto Toshiro, Mithrun of the House of Kerensil, Falin Touden, All the Characters in Dungeon Meshi Relationships: Chilchuck Tims/Laios Touden, Marcille Donato/Falin Touden, Kabru/Mithrun of the House of Kerensil, Kiki Floke/Namari Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Chilchuck Tims-centric, Emotionally Constipated Chilchuck, Light Angst, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Sexuality Crisis, Love Confessions, Food, Issues with Eating, Fantasy and Fictional Setting Racism, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Union Man Chilchuck, Autistic Laios Touden, Oblivious Laios Touden, POV Chilchuck Tims https://ift.tt/6g9BSd7

[cactusmisslittle]

Pairing: Blurg/Omeluum (background)

Warnings: Fantasy racism, mild sexual themes

Summary:

Blurg and Omeluum are in love with each other. Unfortunately, they are the only two people who are unaware of this fact. Or, Society of Brilliance members gossiping about their painfully obvious mutual pining, among other things.

[whumping-valentine]

@augusnippets Day One: Brainwashing

I was originally planning on making these generic, nameless, whumpee/whumper things, but I thought it would be more fun to use my different characters. This was… MUCH harder than I thought it would be. Between picking the character and not trying to spoil something that actually happens in my series, it's a challenge in and of itself, nevermind the 31-day prompts! This was hard to plan out, I hope you like them, and I hope you'll like this glance into my broader book universe AKA my entire life lol

I've been procrastinating all day, but here it is! I feel like most people have these all ready in advance, but I'm writing these one day at a time just like god intended. Alright, enough yapping.

Content: (Implied) brainwashing and propaganda, fantasy racism.

Characters used: Misty (angel) and Jackson (demon)

These are pretty much exclusively for myself, but if you enjoy them that's cool, too! I just wanna challenge myself with writing my different characters every day.

Also sorry if the writing is bad, I wrote this in 20 minutes at 11 PM, lol. I'm jus' goin' with it, man.

~~~

"Do you have to bother me?" Jackson exasperated. "Do you not have anything better to do with your time?"

Misty straightened herself, "Do I have to bother you?" She scoffed, "Is that what you think this is? Am I a mild annoyance to you?"

"You are, yeah. Now, your mother, that's someone I would take seriously. But you're just a little girl who's been fed so much propaganda that she thinks what she's doing isn't crazy."

"Little girl?" She took offence, "We're the same age! Don't- don't you dare condescend me!"

"If me being slightly rude to you is the worst thing that's ever happened in your privileged life then you're doing pretty good." Misty was about to reply, but Jackson continued, "I'm sure Heaven isn't all it's cut out to be, really. There are so many different dimensions and planets in our world, what makes you think yours is the sole paradise? All of that brainwashing propaganda they feed you? That they feed the humans while they're still on Earth? Does it make you happy to stomp on creatures who don't have the same privilege you do? Does it make you proud, Princess?"

"No, see this is what you demons do. You lie, you trick, you steal, all for your own gain. You don't care about humans, don't act like you do. As Princess of Angels it is my job to keep them safe. Me, my family, and all of the other higher angels stress by the day. I am not the highest authority, I will admit. I would never place myself to the same level as the Virtues, Thrones, or Seraphim. I am merely an Archangel who looks after humans."

"That's a whole lot of yapping to say fucking nothing. Really though, you should consider yourself lucky. You have an entire team of angels to help you. You know what my job as Prince entails? Making sure that all of Hell doesn't literally fucking escape! Do you think we ALL want this shit? You think we're all evil just because our magic is different than yours? Because we look different? Because we live somewhere you deem unholy?"

"You're lying."

"Is that your only retort? That we lie? Because the only people that I see lying are angels."

"Angels would never lie, that's a sin."

"Well then your people are the biggest sinners I know." He said, "And, honestly, Misty... If you really want to do good in this world, you should look out for all of your souls. It just so happens some are suffering in Hell."

"Why should I care about them? They made their choice while they were on Earth."

"And what about all of the non-humans who were sent there as a form of punishment?"

Misty rolled her eyes, "That doesn't happen!"

"Really? It doesn't? How would you know, did your family tell you that, too? Look, one of us here is the demon prince who has seen this stuff first hand, and the other is a sheltered angel princess who's rarely left the safety of paradise. I bet you don't even know what happens in Hell. I bet they tell you it's all fun and games down there, don't they?"

"Of course not, Hell is supposed to be a punishment."

"Then what kind of punishments are happening in Hell?"

Misty was silent.

Jackson spoke darkly, "Do you want me to tell you?"

●●●

●●●

This wasn't very whumpy but hey, I still followed the prompt! I think it's quite fun to take a prompt and spin it a bunch. It makes things more creative and diverse. The whump is more so implied in this one.

Also I don't think this is technically canon to my series because I'm not sure when this conversation takes place. It would have to be while they're really young because Misty has always been more of a rebel teen, but the dialogue isn't exactly childish. Oh well, it's fun to write random stuff without worrying about actual canon to its fullest. This is slightly out-of-character for the both of them but not enough that it's weird.

Also it is like almost midnight that's how much I've procrastinated lol. Good night

[whoishotteranimepolls]

(This was gonna be really short but I found these topics too interesting sorry)

I was gonna send an ask on how I agree with the point of “fictional characters cannot be harmed” and how that goes into the “it isn’t aren’t harming yourself or others around you” rule of enjoying things. (I mentioned that since this blog doesn’t hurt anyone, though you can make an argument some creeps will take it too far, this blog isn’t one of those cases and it’s way too long to discuss)

But as I was scrolling I realized how fucking crazy it is to mean no one started ranting about the mild, probably accidental, racism in Dungeon Menshi. It was something so obvious to me that when I was watching the episode that first introduced the orcs I immediately knew that it was inadvertently racist and I’m shocked all of the rants against you focused on extremely petty and biased things instead of a very obvious (though still not a reason to get a whole show banned) reason.

Even then in the show, despite the stereotypes, it’s shown that the orcs were oppressed, are still undermined, and are trying to do what they can to survive. I haven’t Dungeon Menshi yet, but I wanted to comment on how people who rant against you yet ignore this obvious point against the show end up showing the fact that they don’t actually give a shit about being “woke” (sorry) or an actual activist or an ally to anyone. They just want brownie points.

Anyways sorry for the rant all the fandom vs illiteracy stuff got me in a talking mood. Keep being awesome 👍

There's a reason I started the Fandoms vs. Illiteracy Series, and It's expanded tag Fandoms and Media Literacy. I wanted to start discussions based on these essays because of the lack of media literacy and this performative activism.

Now, no one has explicitly brought up the fantasy racism in Dungeon Meshi. However, several characters were targeted in that big rant or list of characters someone wanted to be banned because they were blonde with blue eyes, even though a good chunk didn't have blue eyes. After all, every time they won, it promoted white-centric European colonial beauty standards. They used a couple of ridiculous terms along those lines interchangeably. It's a very long, extensive list that is just a giant wall of text I'm trying to transcribe into something legible because I'm organizing it based on fandom. Because I may have deleted the original message, but I took screenshots because it was that wild.

Now, regarding age, because of the crazy stuff people say and how some people take things too far. For proof of this, look at the polls with characters that are drawn in a particular moe style. So even though they're 30, they look 12. The comments and reblogs on those always turn into a dumpster fire and can turn very creepy. So, I will not be lowering the age below high school. There's just no way I would be comfortable in allowing that crazy to be unleashed on anyone younger than a high schooler, even though they're not real. Just the thought makes my skin crawl. I have an entire post dedicated to the crazy nicknames and tags people put on my polls, and they're hilarious. I'll give him that, but I'm not lowering the age. I've seen a million and one reasons why high school's my line. Now, I'm pretty lenient on what I will put in a poll, but I do have my limits right now. There are no mechs, no weapons, and no one under the age of 15 because that is the age of a first-year high school student in Japan. Other people or blogs may have different limits/rules and what they're comfortable with. But those are mine, and I make the rules

[lemonduckisnowawake]

Having finished the Sumeru quest, I truly believe that the problems in Tevyat keep exponentially increasing per country because you have

Mondstad - standard fantasy quest about defeating a dragon and learning about the power of friendship; the more generic fantasy setting too, with the English-Germanic inspiration it's got going on. It IS good and sets up a lot of the lore, but in terms of thematic complexity, it's very straightforward even though it does go in depth

Liyue - I don't know what to say, man. It's literally just a god faking his death and having fun planning his own funeral and causing issues with a side of discourse about how gods and humans can coexist as society changes (that I think is minorly undermined with the looming presence of Celestia via Visions). Definitely deeper, develops the themes set up in Mondstad, has a unique lore inspired by Hoyo's own country, but still mostly good times (until you get to the Traveler quests, but shhh).

Inazuma - the people in here are NOT having a good time. You have oppressive oligarchies and tyrannies, the abuse of military and governmental power, and the cyclical nature of war/abuse contrasted with how power can be used for good (think Ayaka and Kokomi vs Ei and the other commissions, and Vision Holders vs also Ei) and how eternity DOES mean something only what does it mean when you stopped time and changing at your lowest and most traumatized point (by the way, IMO none of the characters really know what eternity actually is, fundamentally, and yet have skipped to establishing it...causing many issues). Fascinating worldbuilding based on Japanese mythology and ancient society and further plot development that's still pretty mild....and then you get to the Traveler Quests.

Sumeru - yeah, okay, the abuse of academics. Racism and discrimination, both in the narrative and metanarratively (and it's not just the skin color issue, too.) Taking advantage of kind people in power. The importance of education. The inherent classism found in it. Censorship. Government regulation of knowledge. Lowkey allegories for oppressive religious government systems AND radical religious groups. The importance of history. Being remembered and leaving a legacy vs being forgotten to save others. The lore deepens and so does the pain. The worldbuilding in Sumeru is DEEP and yes there are issues with packing two different land areas together but it still stands out REALLY well against your typical fantasy world, blending in elements of sci-fi and horror (right?) with a magic-school-but-it's-a-university setting. Lore explodes as we get more info and teasers that things get way deeper

I haven't gotten to Fontaine, but. Well. French Theater Kids is the vibe I've gotten.