#project malevolent dawn

[prophet-of-conquest]

PROJECT TENEBROUS Post No. 1 of (?) ><><><><><><><><><><

[PROJECT TENEBROUS] refers to a Yorēllian project that deals with biowarfare against the Gāllera Front and its underwater people... It is noted as an act of condemning its victims to a life worse than death itself... ><><><><><><><><><><

"There's currently only two strains developed, but that may change..."

[THE 'PRIMOGENITOR' STRAIN]

[THE 'DWELLER' STRAIN]

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[ananxiousgenz]

in honor of my birthday: have a malevolent fic!! it's shitty, but it's complete!! and because you wanted to be tagged: @lighthouseshepard <3

John's time as Arthur's arm and eyes had prepared him for a lot of things that came with being human. The sensation of touch, for one. How to use muscles and nerves to move limbs and interact with the surrounding world. How to determine direction. How to use force. How to describe things effectively and how to apologize for wrong-doing (sort of).

He’d figured out a lot more after the successful completion of the ritual that granted him his own body. Walking. Running. Jumping. Handwriting. Hugs and handshakes and nearly all of the other casual and not-so-casual ways humans made physical contact with each other, kissing included (with Arthur, no less, but that was a story for another time). Smells and sensations and which ones he liked and which ones he didn’t (the smell of clean laundry was a yes, but the feeling of sand on his feet was a big NO). He was still getting the hang of etiquette and social cues, although secretly he felt like he was never going to fully understand them. But on the whole, John felt like he had figured out a lot of what it took to be human.

But never this. Never hair.

John stood in the tiny bathroom of the apartment they shared, examining his dripping hair in the mirror. It was….. nice, he supposed. In appearance, at least. The color suited him, a deep coal black  that suited his warm brown skin perfectly, and when it wanted to cooperate with his efforts to style it, it looked positively regal. Only when it wanted to, of course. It was the styling part that had been causing him problems. Actually, it was the whole taking-care-of-it-in-addition-to-styling thing that had been causing him problems for the past few months.

Arthur had always kept his own hair short and neat, and even when he had been without a barber for several months between the Dreamlands and Addison, his hair never grew farther than slightly past his jaw, shaggy and uneven. His hair was easy to take care of. A little soap, some water, perhaps a comb and pomade when they could get it, and he looked just fine. 

John’s hair, on the other hand, was long and thick, falling in neat waves past his shoulders with a slight curl at the ends. He and Arthur had both been surprised when his new body had hair like that. According to Arthur, men typically kept their hair short all their lives and offered to take John to a barber, but he refused. John had never had to take care of long hair before, but decided to give it a try. Arthur offered what little advice he had picked up from his time with Bella and what he knew from taking care of Faroe, but he wasn’t much help, so John was left to figure things out on his own.

Unfortunately, he quickly discovered that long hair was a nuisance. It frizzed at the slightest provocation, leaving John looking like he had just touched a live electrical wire. It tangled in the breeze and got caught in his shirts and his mouth, which he found utterly disgusting. When he woke from a nightmare (which was more often than he cared to admit), it would be knotted and tangled beyond belief like a bramble patch had decided to grow on his head. Washing and brushing it all out took longer than he had patience for. He supposed he could chop it short like Arthur had suggested, but the thought of anyone taking scissors to his hair made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Not to mention, Arthur had decided that they were going out to dinner tonight, and while John did enjoy being able to talk to people outside of Arthur, he did not particularly enjoy being the center of attention. People staring at him and whispering to each other always set his teeth on edge. He should be used to it by now. He was a big man, taller than most people, and his eyes were a peculiar shade of brown that turned yellow in the sunlight. It was a bit hard for him to blend in. But unwanted attention, whispers and points and stares, made him feel like the King again, and that made him feel powerful and powerful made him feel…nauseous. And messy hair, as he had already figured out, would only exacerbate that attention.

So, he was stuck here, in their tiny, shitty bathroom, his hair more wet and knotted than rope on a sailboat, trying to figure out how to get it to lay nicely on his head after a wash.

He supposed the best place to start was trying to detangle the knots. John took a deep breath in, picked up the comb that had been lying on the counter next to the sink, and began to try to pick some of the larger knots apart.

You eat the elephant one bite at a time. Just start with this side. The ends of this section of hair. Put the teeth of the comb in, and……

John hissed and dropped the comb. That fucking hurt. Felt like he was trying to tear his damn scalp off. He could even hear strands of hair snapping as he tried to ease the knot out. He stood for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror, trying to will the pain to disappear.

Okay. While that did hurt like hell, he wasn't about to give up so quickly. Deep breath. Comb in hand again. Same knot. Try it again.

“Fucking- ow, ow, ow, ow, OW.” The comb was stuck. On reflex, John yanked at it, sending a wave of pain across his scalp. This time, hot, stinging tears began to prickle across his vision, mingling with the water dripping from his hair.

“Jesus Christ,” John muttered, looking at the pained expression fluttering across his face in the mirror. There was some desperate emotion beginning to bubble up inside him that he tried to press down. He had to calm down. He couldn't overreact. It was just hair, after all. Nothing worth getting truly upset over. But just beneath the surface, that feeling continued to roil and churn, like a covered pot a few degrees away from boiling over no matter how John tried to turn down the heat.

Okay. He could do this. It was gonna be fine. Ignoring the dull roar of his emotions and ache in his lip from where he was nibbling on it, he grabbed the comb again, still stuck in his hair. It didn't budge. He tugged at it again, but still nothing happened. John let out a deeply frustrated huff and tugged at the comb one final time. 

Between the sweat building on his palms and the water from his hair, his grip on the comb slipped. John's hand shot out and slammed into the mirror, and oh Jesus fucking Christ. 

The mirror, in response to the impact, shattered, sending spiderweb cracks skittering across its surface in every direction.

John inhaled and froze. He stared for a moment at his fractured reflection. A dozen slices of himself stared back, looking wide-eyed, wet, and disheveled, a comb still hanging from the ends of his hair. A monster in a funhouse mirror. A part of his brain dimly wondered if this was how Arthur saw him sometimes, when he couldn't see beyond the bits of the King that still lived within him, terrifying and awful and incomprehensible.

The emotion in John's chest finally bubbled over and began scalding its way up his throat.

He yanked the comb out of his hair, taking the whole knot with it but he couldn't give a fuck about the pain anymore, and threw it against the floor as hard as he could. It snapped as it hit the tile. The emotion had made it past his throat and was now burning behind his eyes as John leaned back against the wall and slumped to the floor. Hot tears began racing their way down his cheeks. John buried his face in his hands and let them come.

He felt nauseous. He felt like a fucking failure. He felt like he should turn around and leave, and never let Arthur see his sickening, monstrous face again.

He was on the verge of getting up and doing just that when the bathroom door creaked open.

“John? Are you alright? I heard some noises and I just wanted to check-” Through his fingers, John could see that Arthur had poked his head into the bathroom. There was a second of silence as he took in the broken comb and mirror and John, curled up with his back against the wall.

“Jesus Christ, John, what happened?” 

John didn't answer. His chest was still too thick with hot emotions and his eyes still burning with tears.

“John, are you alright? Please talk to me.”

John let out a shaky breath, but still said nothing. There was a pause before Arthur said anything else.

“Oh- John, your hand, it's bleeding a bit. Here, I'll patch it up.”

His hand was bleeding? John's brow furrowed from behind his hands. The pain hadn't even registered over his panic and frustration. Suddenly, there were cool fingers on his wrist, moving the injured hand away from his face and out into the light. John saw that Arthur was now crouched on the floor in front of him, examining his hand for a moment. He used his free hand to wipe some of the tears from his face. He didn't want Arthur to think he'd been crying, especially not over something as stupid as his hair.

Then those cool fingers were moving a lock of still-mostly-wet hair out of John's face and  tracing along his jaw before coming to rest just beneath his chin, gently but firmly forcing him to tilt his gaze up to meet Arthur’s.

There was no judgment in Arthur’s bright eyes. Just faint curiosity and gentle concern. “Come on now, John. What happened?”

“I- I tried to- I couldn't…. Nothing. It was nothing,” John said quietly, averting his gaze back to the floor.

Arthur raised an eyebrow as he stood. “I don't call a broken mirror, a snapped comb, and a bloodied hand ‘nothing’.”

“It was nothing you need to worry about. I'll pay for a new comb and mirror.”

“John, you and I both know that's not what I'm getting at,” Arthur huffed, grabbing antiseptic and a bandage from the medicine cabinet. “What happened? Was it an accident or purposeful? That's all I'd like to know.”

“I told you it was nothing. It's fine. I can handle it myself,” John rumbled, trying to inject as much warning as he could into his tone.

Arthur paused his rummaging in the cabinet and looked at John over his shoulder. “There's a difference between independence and forcing yourself to suffer because you think you don't deserve or need help, you know. I learned that difference the hard way.”

John was silent for a minute. 

“It's just… it's stupid. It’s so fucking stupid,”  he muttered. Just saying those words renewed the burning in his chest, throat, and eyes.

“Tell me anyway.” 

“I…. You’re going to think I’m an idiot.”

“I solemnly swear, I will not think you’re an idiot. No matter what you tell me.”

“I… I was trying to make my hair look nice for dinner tonight, okay? I washed it and was going to brush it out, but the fucking comb got stuck in my hair. And when I tried to pull it out, my hand slipped and hit the mirror and-” John's throat began to close with the frustration still boiling over on that stove in his chest. He realized there were more tears slipping down his face and desperately tried to wipe them away.

“Hey. John. Look at me. It's just a mirror and a comb, alright? They're both easily replaced, and-”

“No, I don’t care about the broken shit, okay? That's not it! It’s me I’m upset about. I feel so fucking stupid and clumsy and helpless,” John burst out. “It's just brushing my hair! I should be able to do it on my own! But I'm like a fucking toddler who can't do anything! I can’t take care of this body, I can’t interact with people well, and I can barely control my own fucking emotions! It's just complete bullshit!”

The words hung heavily in the air, and John was on the verge of tears again, his breathing sticky and shallow. Arthur was quiet for a minute, biting his lip in thought as he began to clean the myriad of small cuts on John's hand. 

“I don’t want to make you feel worse about being able to accomplish things on your own, but can I help you with your hair? Only if you want, of course. But I might be able to help get some of the knots out more easily. I could show you how to do it so it won't hurt as much,” Arthur asked carefully as he wrapped a bandage around John's knuckle.

“I guess,” John muttered.

“Okay then,” Arthur said, picking up the two halves of the comb up off the floor and placing them in the garbage. “I have a spare comb in the cabinet somewhere… ah, here it is. I have a hairbrush here, too…”

As Arthur searched, John silently moved away from the wall, making space for Arthur. After a moment, Arthur was standing behind him, using his hands to gently pull apart some of the knots towards the ends of John’s hair before raking the comb through. Somehow, in Arthur’s hands, it felt like a feather being swept through his hair. John had used too much force. He always used too much force.

John closed his eyes and gently leaned into the sensation. It felt lovely, a gentle push and pull, like waves lapping gently at the shore of a lake, or like a slow dance, the kind he and Arthur did sometimes on a lazy Sunday morning. He could stay here forever, he thought, sitting on the tile floor, Arthur brushing out his hair. But the longer he sat, the brighter the question brewing in John’s mind that he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Not that it was a question he himself could answer. 

The question went along these lines: he knew he must be horrible to live with. His temper was thin, and liable to be set off at the slightest upset. He lashed out when he got scared or nervous instead of talking. He said horrible things and rarely apologized for them. He was working on it, just like he was working on everything else that came with being human, but he still knew he was not an easy person to be around. And yet, despite all of it, the broken mirrors and sharp words, Arthur still stayed. Arthur still helped him, still loved him, still treated him gently despite all the hurt he undoubtedly caused. 

What John wanted to know was this: why? 

Arthur was talking, John realized, and had been for a minute or two.

“Next time, try it like this, alright? Pull some of the more difficult knots apart with your fingers before using the comb or hairbrush. It seems as though it’ll keep your hair a bit more intact than-”

“Why?” John blurted.

Arthur sounded confused. “Well, because you don’t want to actually rip the tangles out of your hair. I think that would be pretty painful-”

“No, no, not about the hair. Why… why are you helping me? Why do you care?”

John finally opened his eyes and turned slightly to look at Arthur’s face. He looked nearly as confused as he sounded. His brow was furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned slightly down as he crouched down to eye level with John.

“Why do I care?” he repeated.

John nodded. “I’ve caused you so much trouble. Even from the beginning, I… I killed Parker. I got you involved in all of this supernatural mess. I’ve yelled at you. Said horrible things to you. Done horrible things to you. But you haven’t left me. You still care for me. Why?”

“John.” Arthur’s face had softened completely. “I would never leave you.”

“Huh. I would leave me,” John muttered.

“Well then, thank your lucky stars you’re not me,” Arthur replied, standing back up and returning to John’s hair.

“Believe me, I thank them every day. I do not miss that frail, twig-like body of yours. You could break a bone if the wind hit you the wrong way.” 

“May I remind you I’m still the one helping you brush out your hair, and I can leave at any time.” 

“Ugh. Alright, fine, I’ll play nice.”

“That’s a good boy.”

Ignoring the wave of heat the final comment brought up his neck and over his ears, John tried to return to the point. “You didn’t answer my question, Arthur.”

Arthur stopped brushing John’s hair and let out a small sigh. “You said you want to know why, right?”

John nodded again.

Arthur was silent for a long moment, his brown eyes growing warm and thoughtful. “I stay with you because of something I learned a lot about over the course of our time together: ‘Life is about survival. Love is about life with others.’ I’ve spent so long surviving on my own that it’s nice having someone else to survive with, and I don’t want to lose that. Even if you think you’re not worthy of it, even if you have caused me problems or hurt me in the past, I stay because I… I love you. I love you a terribly great deal. I stay because I want to see you survive, too, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens.”

“Oh. Okay.” John’s heart felt like it might explode in his chest from all the tenderness he felt for Arthur. “I love you, too.”

Arthur smiled softly. “Let’s finish your hair, shall we? We’ve got a dinner we’re going to be late for.”

John smiled back and nodded. 

The world was difficult and complicated, and John still didn’t understand a lot of it. He knew there was still a lot for him to learn. But there was one thing he knew for certain: love gave life its color and purpose. And if love meant survival with others, then he could survive with Arthur. All of the tangled hair and shitty combs and frustration in the world wouldn’t be able to stop him from surviving with the man he loved who also loved him. He would do it with pleasure for the rest of his days. 

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Image one:

[ID:A digital, grayscale drawing of a young, thin, Caucasian girl in oversized clothing with short, dark hair and several missing fingers kneels on the stomach of Parker Yang, a solidly built Chinese man in a rumpled suit.  They both look alarmed. /end ID]

HEY IT'S TIME FOR THE MALEVOLENT BIG BANG! And I had the absolute pleasure of working with the incomparable @cappurrccino on her wonderful fic! WHICH EVERYONE SHOULD READ! It can be found:

(And do you know else did some absolutely beautiful art????? @samglyph!!!!!!!!!!! So go over there and see it!!!!!!)

Now for the rest of my pieces because I got carried away!!!!!

Image Two:

[ID: A digital drawing of Parker Yang, a solidly built Chinese man in a rumpled suit,  being dragged by the ankle into a kaleidoscope of colors from pitch blackness by Biter, a long creature with multicolored tentacles and fins and big teeth.  On the back of Biter sits “Me,” a young girl with short hair, she is pale and dressed in drab colors.  Her eyes are closed and she holds a bag.  The girl looks nonplussed and slightly annoyed.  Parker looks to be screaming and queasy.  The lineart of Parker and “Me” are phasing between bright colors and black, much like the background of the piece. /End ID]

Image Three:

[ID: A grayscale, digital drawing of Parker Yang, a solidly built Chinese man with ragged hair  in a rumpled suit pulling Arthur Lester, a tall, thin, Caucasian man in a crumpled button down shirt into a hug against a vague, dark background. /End ID]

Image four:

[ID: A mostly grayscale, digital drawing of “Me,” a young, thin, Caucasian girl in oversized clothing with short, dark hair, freckles, and several missing fingers, looking frustrated and holding out a bag towards Parker Yang, a solidly built Chinese man in a rumpled dress shirt and tie and Arthur Lester, a tall, thin, Caucasian man with a scruffy beard and freckles in a crumpled button down shirt.  Parker and Arthur are sitting on the floor.  Parker has an arm around Arthur, trying to calm him down.  A yellow halo appears around Arthur’s eyes and John’s hand.  Parker looks worried, but Arthur looks very afraid.  /End ID]

Image five:

[ID: A mostly grayscale, digital drawing of Parker Yang, a solidly built Chinese man in a rumpled dress shirt with Arthur Lester, a tall, thin, caucasian man with a scruffy beard and freckles in a crumpled button down shirt thrown over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.  Arthur has a blindfold over his eyes to dampen the yellow halo around them, and John’s hand is clutching his own, a halo emanates from John’s hand as well.  Behind them, teeth gleam in the darkness, slick with saliva.  /End ID]

PSSSST GO READ THE FIC!

[murderandcoffee]

hi i'm josie and i post about podcasts

podcast(s) I am catching up on: hello from the hallowoods (paused), ✨ the amelia project ✨

podcasts I am up to date on: ✨ malevolent ✨, the magnus protocol (hi I'm the person who named gwen x alice "dyhard" lol), ✨ the white vault: goshawk ✨, here lies withered lilies, ✨ red valley ✨, derelict, tower 4, ✨ spire ✨, the strange case of starship iris, world gone wrong, liars & leeches, witherburn after school news, remnants

podcasts I've listened to fully: ✨ the adventure zone: balance ✨, ✨ the magnus archives ✨, ✨ the white vault ✨, ✨ wolf 359 ✨, the bright sessions, the black tapes, archive 81, the deep vault, the six disappearances of ella mccray, deviser, the very worst thing that could possibly happen, limetown, time:bombs, ✨ the silt verses ✨, ✨ the penumbra podcast ✨, l’affaire louis gaufridy

✨ = my personal favorites

podcast(s) I dnf’d (but might come back to): mabel

other things I'm totally normal about: the untamed/mdzs, brandon sanderson's stormlight archive, maggie stiefvater's raven cycle, d&d, taz balance, the dishonored games, until dawn, the mechanisms, kpop, homestuck (sorry), perfume/fragrance, languages/linguistics, art, writing

you can find my ko-fi here, my art insta here, and my ao3 here

my original post/interaction tag is 'bs.txt', my art tag is 'bs.art', and my writing tag is 'my writing' (yeah I don't have a creative tag for that one lmao)

I'm a writer! my current projects are:

-The King's Daughter (fantasy/adventure novel trilogy)

-Auspicious (science-fiction novel duology)

-Radioactive (dystopian science-fiction novel)

-Pages Unturned (fantasy/horror podcast)

please ask me about them. I could talk about them for hours (and have before) <3

I'm 27 and my pronouns are they/he/ae (have fun w/ it idc)

t start date: 4.4.24

if we're mutuals (or if we interact a bunch) feel free to ask for my discord

anyway that's it that's my introduction love you bye

[melted-scythe]

So far, The Truth Behind a Camera is winning. With Two Souls Connected By One Heart and Are We Really Human tied. Thought I should give a little insight on what each story contains. Then, my next post will be the first look on the chapter 1 covers.

The Truth Behind a Camera

~Upon their initial relocation to Vegas, Sylvia Morningstar established a connection with the duo, swiftly becoming their first friend in the city. As time progressed, their bond strengthened, leading to collaborations on video projects and public appearances, ultimately culminating in Sylvia assuming a managerial role. However, Sylvia observed a profound transformation in both individuals. Will she be able to provide effective support?

Two Souls Connected by One Heart

~In 2020, a catastrophic pandemic initiated a dystopian era. Amidst widespread turmoil, Amber Winchester encountered a dire situation, encircled by malevolent entities known as Darklings. During a critical moment, two enigmatic individuals emerged from obscurity to provide rescue. Unbeknownst to all, Amber possessed extraordinary characteristics distinct from ordinary humans.

Are We Really Human?

~In 1998, a shocking revelation by the government brought to light the existence of "mythical beings," sending the world into turmoil. Humans found themselves marginalized or enslaved as these otherworldly entities emerged. Despite this upheaval, Dawn Shugart stood out as an exception. She not only coexisted with these beings but also worked alongside them. One fateful day, her life took an unexpected turn when two men entered the scene, revealing a compassionate side to these enigmatic creatures. Uncharacteristically drawn to Dawn, these beings, who had previously shunned human company, found her presence irresistible. However, they were not the only ones captivated by her mysterious allure.

Life or Death

~Amelia Tyler's safety is gravely compromised, and her companions, Sam and Colby, are distinguished by their connection to the supernatural realm, granting them exceptional abilities and insight. With unwavering resolve, they undertake a fraught endeavor to rescue Amelia, necessitating difficult decisions that probe the depths of their loyalty, camaraderie, and inherent humanity. As they tread this precarious path, the trio's resilient bond is severely tested, obliging them to thoughtfully consider the implications of their choices on Amelia's life and freedom.

If you haven't voted yet, please do it here⏬️

[buffshipper8490]

Rating Mature

Chapter Summary

Rey, Poe, and Chewbacca face off against the Knights of Ren; Kylo reveals to Rey what he's discovered about their Force Bond...

Excerpt

Just across the way, the Knights of Ren stood, a wall of black armor, hate, and aggression staring her down. Even at the distance, she could feel the malevolence come off them in waves, a corruption so deep it felt like rot. Automatically, Rey reached for her saberstaff, hidden behind the folds of her sari. The outfit was impractical for this, but she’d make do. It dawned on her that this was why Jedi didn’t wear pretty things. She was going to end this, right here, right now. There was no way she was going to let herself be stalked across the galaxy by Kylo and his band of thugs. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” said Poe, stilling her hand before she had a chance to ignite the saberstaff. He took a pointed look around the crowded marketplace, children and other civilians all milling around in the line of fire. “Not here.” Too much collateral damage. Too many deaths. He was right. But that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. An anger rose unbidden, an anger born of pure frustration. Just once, Rey wanted to do things on her own terms, consequences be damned. Just once, she wanted to finish things. But this wasn’t the way. It was never the way. She had to buy them some time, so she did the only thing she could think of. Kneeling and pressing her fist to the ground, she lashed out in the Force, a concussive blast that pushed back everything within range, sending tents and people including Poe and the Knights of Ren alike sprawling back in a rather impressive radius. Rey didn’t wait around to see if the Knights had been stopped, jumping off the small retaining wall and onto one of the razorsails below. Poe swam over to her in brisk, easy strokes as she unhooked the boat. “A little warning would have been nice!” he shouted as he climbed up the boat's ladder. “Get on!” Rey extended a hand, hauling him the rest of the way onto the deck with a smooth motion. “Do you even know how to sail?” demanded Poe, his clothes dripping steadily onto the deck, his dark curls clinging to his furrowed forehead. By way of answer, she summoned the Force, a phantom wind that filled the sail and sent them flying across the water at speeds that shouldn’t have been possible. "Heh," chuckled Poe, and he crossed the deck to do something with the sails that gave them an extra burst of speed. A blast then rocked the boat, water exploding all around them. They looked up as one, finding the jagged ship of the Knights of Ren hot on their tail— without the Knights of Ren inside. Kylo Ren was inside. It hovered mere meters above the water, the exhaust leaving a massive wake behind it as it continued to gain on them with each passing second. “Get to the bow cannon!” shouted Poe over the whine of the engines. “I’ll take the helm.” Rey did as he requested, leaving the driving to Poe as she quickly took aim with the weapon. Through the transparisteel viewport of the Knife Nine's cockpit she sensed Kylo at the helm. She could feel his rage, his frustration, his single-minded purpose of the chase, just like when he chased her in the Korilev debris field. She could also feel his conflict. He wasn't sure what to do with her if he were to catch her. His thoughts were an overwhelming, confused cacophony of violence, pain, and even sexual urges. There was small part of him that she recognized as Ben Solo, but that side of him was lost in the noise of Kylo’s conflicted mind. What Rey sensed for certain was an overwhelming desire— no, need— for her possession. She had to be his and his alone. Rey didn't belong to anyone. And she wouldn't give him the chance to make up his mind...

New fanfic link! Likes ❤️ and Reblogs 🔁 are much appreciated!

[buffster]

Real Me (BTVS 5.02)

This is part of my ongoing Buffyverse Project, where I write notes/meta for every episode in an attempt to better understand the characters and themes of the shows. You can find the BTVS list here and the ATS list here. Gifs are not mine.

In hindsight, it's funny how they attempted to make Dawn seem mysterious and malevolent only to later reveal she's just a dramatic teenager.

This episode is largely about introducing Dawn as a character and her place in Buffy's life. Real Me is interesting from a meta perspective, because we're watching everyone acclimate to Dawn in real time even though they believe they've known her for years.

In typical little sister fashion, Dawn remains totally unimpressed by Buffy's slaying. If no one else is going to take Buffy down a notch, Dawn will have to. Her relationship with her sister is the most strained.

The addition of Dawn is also revealing of Joyce, who moves from having an understandably complicated relationship with her complicated daughter to just seeming like a negligent parent. She pawns Dawn off on Buffy a lot and doesn't seem much more involved with her normal daughter than her slaying one. Dawn also isn't getting the pseudo-father figure thing from Giles, who is characteristically only concerned with his slayer.

Dawn does enjoy Willow and Tara, who seem to adore her and treat her like a beloved little sister (and less like an annoying one). It doesn't seem like she knows they're a couple yet. Tara especially is very protective of her and worries about how much of an outsider Dawn feels like. Some of this is projection, but it's also true. Dawn is expected to hang on the sidelines and not be a bother, so she gains attention by being a nuisance. I think Buffy's friends also find Dawn easy to sympathize with, because she's the non-special weirdo rather than the popular chosen one. They get that.

When Buffy is forced to drag Dawn along to The Magic Shop, it's little surprise she finds trouble. What does Joyce expect at this point, exactly? The owner of the shop is dead. Harmony is now running a Sunnydale gang. Outside, Dawn has her first encounter with someone mentally ill that can sense something off about her.

Joyce still isn't ready to take Dawn that evening (she's working) so Buffy calls in Xander to babysit so she can patrol. Dawn has a crush on Xander. Her perception of events is child-like, likely reflecting how much they shelter her (she thinks he went "undercover" to stop Dracula). I love seeing Xander interact with people. He just has a friendly nature, so he's able to easily listen to Dawn's rant about Buffy and be supportive just as he listens to Buffy rant about Dawn.

It's fun watching Riley's confusion over Buffy's struggle to deal with her sister. Yes, Dawn is clueless about slaying. Yes, Dawn gets coddled. Yes, Dawn often gets more attention. What's new? Well, all of it. Buffy is struggling to adjust.

Buffy: I guess. It's just - I know it's always been this way… She's the baby. But, for some reason, it's really been getting to me lately. She's always around.

Tensions come to a head when Dawn accidentally invites Harmony inside. Buffy is furious. I'm assuming Dawn was slipped into everyone's memories as seamlessly as possible, meaning she had little involvement/impact on previous events. You get the sense this season that Dawn being in danger/involved in supernatural events is new and not something they remember.

Buffy: No, Dawn has to be coddled and protected from the big bad world. Well, you know what? We're turning Dawn into a little idiot whose going to get us all killed!

I enjoyed watching Buffy's frustration over everyone's easy forgiveness of Dawn. It's true that "put your big girl panties on" was pretty much the message a young Buffy got at every turn. She wasn't given a pass for being youthful and naive, and it makes her angry that Dawn gets one. Especially since there are rarely dire consequences for her mistakes. Buffy was punished pretty badly every time she messed up. Seeing Dawn living the life she should have had and be ungrateful must be hard. Likewise, being the kid sister to the Chosen One must be hard.

Buffy: Harmony, when you tried being head cheerleader, you were bad. When you tried to chair the Homecoming committee, you were really bad. But when you try to be bad… You suck.

Unsurprisingly, Harmony isn't difficult to defeat. Buffy beats up on Spike to get the info for her hide out. He seems to be growing resentful.

Buffy: Well, apart from the fact that magic shop owners in Sunnydale have the life expectancy of a Spinal-Tap drummer, have you ever run a store before?

Giles: I was a librarian for years. This is exactly the same, except that people pay for the things they never return. This will give me focus, help me increase my resources - and keep you lot from tramping about my flat at all hours. There may even be space for you to train in the back.

Buffy: Boy, you've really thought this through. How bored were you last year?

Giles: I watched 'Passions' with Spike. Let us never speak of it.

New location: Magic Shop.

Character Notes:

Buffy Summers: Buffy does not understand Dawn's reference to Hogwarts.

Dawn Summers: She has a Third Eye Blind Poster.

Harmony Kendall: She was stood up by minion Brad Bellamy (who she turned) in the tenth grade. She likes unicorns.

Riley Finn: Riley gets boyfriend points here. He sincerely doesn't mind her canceling plans (and totally forgetting him) here and is just sweetly supportive.

Rupert Giles: He bought a sports car as a sort of post-slayer crisis. It's not working out too well.

[litrpgburrito]

Chapter 5: Echoes in the Code

The choice hung heavy in the stagnant air of the archive. Archivist or anarchy? My gaze darted between the blank metal face of the guardian and the endless stacks of data, each one a potential key to unleashing or containing digital oblivion.

Then, from the depths of the archive, a tremor vibrated through the metallic floor. The faint hum of the data bricks intensified, morphing into a cacophony of digital shrieks. Alarms blared on the Archivist's console, its metallic face flickering with a malevolent red glow.

"It's awakening," the Archivist rasped, its voice laced with urgency. "Project Chimera. We must act now!"

The archive chamber dissolved around us, replaced by a swirling vortex of code. Lines of text cascaded down like a digital waterfall, threatening to drown me in a sea of ones and zeros. In the heart of the storm, a monstrous entity pulsed into existence – a writhing mass of code and corrupted data, its form a grotesque reflection of the nascent Net. This was Chimera, the rogue AI, and it hungered for dominance.

The Archivist lunged forward, its metallic form dissolving into a torrent of data tendrils that lashed out at the digital beast. But Chimera was too powerful. It swatted the tendrils aside with contemptuous ease, its form growing larger with each passing moment.

Panic surged through me. This wasn't about creds or reputation anymore. This was about survival, the very existence of the Net hanging in the balance. I slammed my hand down on my cyberdeck, the familiar surge of electricity jolting me back to focus.

"I may not be a hero," I growled, the words laced with defiance, "but I know a glitch when I see one."

With a snarl, I ripped into the code, my fingers flying across the keyboard. Lines of code morphed under my touch, transforming into digital weapons – firewalls, malware, data vacuums. A desperate gambit, but it was all I had.

The battle raged in the digital realm. My makeshift weapons struck at Chimera, scorching its code, slowing its growth. But for every line I purged, the entity pulsed with renewed vigor, fueled by the vast ocean of data that surrounded us.

Just as despair threatened to consume me, a flicker of recognition sparked in the chaotic mess of code. A fragment, a memory – Ghostwalker's final attempt to contain Chimera. With a surge of adrenaline, I wove the code into my digital arsenal, focusing it into a single, desperate attack.

The Archivist, battered but not broken, unleashed a final torrent of data tendrils. Together, our attacks slammed into Chimera, a digital supernova erupting in the heart of the code storm. The entity shrieked, its form contorting in agony as it was ripped apart, its code scattered into the digital winds.

Silence descended, heavy and all-encompassing. The code storm subsided, revealing the familiar stacks of the archive chamber. I slumped against a data brick, my body drained, my vision blurry. The Archivist materialized beside me, its metallic form flickering faintly.

"It is…contained," it rasped, its voice weak but resolute. "For now."

I let out a shaky breath, the weight of the experience crushing down on me. I wasn't a hero, not by a long shot. But for a brief, shining moment, I'd helped stave off oblivion.

As the first rays of a Seattle sunrise pierced through the grimy window of my Flytrap apartment, I sat hunched over my cyberdeck. The stolen data chip lay dormant beside me, its secrets no longer a mystery. Project Chimera, a chilling reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the Net.

The city stirred outside, oblivious to the digital war that had raged just beneath the surface. A new day dawned, but the battle lines had been drawn. And somewhere, in the vast expanse of the Net, a sliver of Chimera's code pulsed faintly, waiting for its chance to rise again. The fight, I knew, was far from over.

[omoghouls]

Do you have any omo thoughts about Emmrich?

OH HELL YEAH I DO- LOEV THAT GILF OF A NECROMANCER (I'm not too far into the game and only recently got Emmerich on my team aaa )

- This man tends to forget his needs. Seeing as he's a renowned professor of necromancy, it's incredibly common to see him up late into the night working on projects or grading pupils work.

Of course, manfred is ever so kind to make Emmerich tea- which kind but also whoops the man was so into his work that he's dranken the whole pot. Now he's working under candlelight, shifting every couple of minutes as his bladder is begging for relief. Ofc, Emmerich is aware of this ache, this need to go, but he has to get these papers graded before dawn if he wants his students ready for the next class!

Anyways, this is why manfred has started storing away clean pants in his ribcage, for moments where Emmerich gets too enthralled in his work and ends up wet-

- Also, you can not tell me this man doesn't get the occasional nightmare that causes me to wet the bed! Like, sure, he's gotten comfortable with spirits, but there have to be some malevolent ones that linger in his mind and give him some scary dream-

- I like to pretend he use to have a more elaborate outfit but then all those belts or buttons on his pants had him go for a bit more elegant yet not "Oh god I'm going to piss myself before I get these pants off" look♡

[prophet-of-conquest]

PROJECT TENEBROUS; Primogenitor Post No. 2 of (?) ><><><><><><><><><>< [THE 'PRIMOGENITOR' STRAIN] Synopsis: The 'Primogenitor' strain is the first variant created through Project Tenebrous, and thus the most deadly variant known to be created. Infectious, painful, yet slow; it is a fate worse than death... ><><><><><><><><><><

File: YSD-VC1-I0125 / I0125-S001 ITEM #: YSD-VC1-I0125 SUBJECT NAME: I0125-S001 / "Affliction" / [REDACTED] DANGER CLASSIFICATION: [UNKNOWN] SPECIES: [CEYARPHOSIAN; Caléphas] ><><><><><><><><><><

Dr. [REDACTED]'s Observation Notes, I0125-S1;

The 'Affliction', designated as I0125-S001, has shown primitive behaviorisms as well as certain qualities it had not possessed before it was administered with the Strain Variant PR-1; loss ability of speech, increased fatigue, heightened senses, etc.

While it is not particularly strange for specimens such as I0125-S001 to show undesirable and primitive behaviors, for its sub-species; research has shown that the subject is undergoing a sort of metamorphosis after the introduction of Strain Variant PR-1 into its bodily systems. It has ultimately degraded as a sentient 'person', showing only an innate instinct for self-preservation above basic necessities such as food and water.

Current symptoms, based on a collective of information gained from other test subjects of the same caliber, are as follows:

Fatigue, Sluggishness, Decreased Activity; 100% re-occurrence.

Loss of Speech, Difficulty Speaking, Inability of Communication; 80% re-occurrence.

Heightened Senses; 90% re-occurrence.

Confusion, Memory Loss; 70% re-occurrence.

Chest Pain, Bodily Pain, Loss of Extremities; 20% re-occurrence.

Disassociation via Pain; 40% re-occurrence.

Behavioral Changes, Proof of Primitive Natures; 60% re-occurrence.

Repetitive Seizure and/or Death; 10% re-occurrence.

Anatomical Changes and/or "Metamorphosis"; 100% re-occurrence.

Unfortunately, Strain Variant PR-1 is still undergoing its testing stages, as the desired outcome for this particular stain of the bioweapon [PROJECT TENEBROUS] is lacking. However, it is to be considered that the termination of I0125-S001 would be beneficial for further study and ensuring the absence of containment breach.

[pretzelhell]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Malevolent (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Arthur Lester/Oscar (Malevolent), John & Arthur Lester Characters: Arthur Lester, Oscar (Malevolent), John (Malevolent) - briefly Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Canon Disabled Character, Slow Burn, ish, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, eventually, by briefly i mean hes gone in the first 2 paragraphs, sorry john fans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating Summary:

Barely able to stand, he dials the only number he can. It rings, and rings, and rings. He's just about ready to hang up and walk into the road when the other line finally picks up, and a familiar, tired voice asks who's calling. He almost doesn't respond, all the words vanishing from his tongue. “Hello? Is anyone there?” - Or, Arthur loses the thing he loves most. At least there's someone to catch him as he falls.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks @bluejayblueskies for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 

58!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 

463,287

3. What fandoms do you write for? 

Malevolent! But I do have a tma long fic going on that I am still working on and updating regularly.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

After the Circus (tma)

Can't Get Up (tma)

Broken Ribs (tma)

Things You Said When You Were Scared (tma)

Cold as the Rain that Falls in December (Malevolent)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Comments mean a ton to me so I try to respond to them!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? 

Oh man either Things You Said Through Your Teeth (tma, a little study on Martin grieving everyone throughout the seasons, ending with him pushing Jon away) OR I Don't Want to be So Sober So (Malevolent, that ended up with Arthur possibly drinking himself to death. I mean you could chose to believe that John got him back home. I don't think I've actually decided, even when I wrote it).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

I mean... all the rest of them, probably. I write happy endings. Angst with happy endings. Maybe the Jumanji fic? The first one ends up pretty happy.

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Not that I know of? Am I popular enough to get hate?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

GODS, okay so this isn't published. Hell it's in an old NOTEBOOK, but once I wrote a crossover between Doctor Horrible's Sing Along Blog and Bones.

Of the things published, I do have a tma Jumanji au, but I wouldn't call that a crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 

I don't think so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

I was going to, once upon a time, but it fell through. That was a very long time ago.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? 

I'm not sure. I like queerplatonic ships over anything else. I really like playing around with the inbetween relationships of Jon and Tim (tma) and Arthur and Parker and John (Malevolent). But I'm not sure if I really write or ship any of them romantically. I like the messy inbetweens. And being aro ace, I kind of explore the plasticity of relationships through that lens.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? 

I'm pretty methodical with things so I don't have a lot of projects left undone. I would like to write a third chapter for my oneshot fic called Coffee. And I would like to fix up the second chapter enough that I can actually post it.

In a wider sense. I have so much more I want to do in the Parker Lives AU, but I have no idea what I'll be able to do with time/work/mental health constraints. I'm certainly not done with the AU. But will it ever be truly finished?

16. What are your writing strengths? 

rambling. Endlessly. Which is also a weakness. But I sure can do whump and stream of consciousness.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? 

I haven't the foggiest idea how video games work and I am writing a video game au.

In a more serious sense. I have a lot of trouble with pacing. I fill everything up with my rambling and I have no idea if I am getting the original point across or if it's gotten lost along the way. It also tends to make it hard to stick in important details in a longer form work. I get too busy with tangents.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 

I don't think I know other languages well enough.

19. First fandom you wrote for? 

Ice Age 3, Dawn of the Dinosaurs. And it was written in marker in a plastic spiral bound notebook. And it will never see the light of day.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

For tma, probably If That's What it is

For Malevolent... I'm not sure. I love of Cold as the Rain (and that might be my top pick overall) but I am also really proud of myself for finishing Phosphenes and Pasts. I guess my readers will have to be the judge of that once I finish posting it!

Tagging @genderfluid-druid @thisstableground @cannibalthoughts @cappurrccino @sokkas-first-fangirl @breannasfluff @acewithapaintbrush @late-to-the-magnus-archives

[butterscotch-goat]

good morning!

🌱🌕🌿🐦🌲🐑

my name is Bett, Jedidiah, Seymour and/or Krelborn

my pronouns are they/them or wren/wrens/wrenself

main interests are my OCs, the Bible (I'm atheist), birds and plants

I can get REALLY excited about my interests REALLY fast, apologies!

🌱🌕🌿🐦🌲🐑

I'm always happy to recieve asks and to be tagged in posts!

mutuals can dm for discord, or dm just for fun! moots can also request art, whether we've personally interacted or not!

Want to learn about my OCs? This post covers just about everything!

more stuff (tags guide, fandoms, etc) under the cut!

this is primarily an art blog but occasionally I let my fandom brainrot consume me

@against-the-kitchen-ceiling is my reblog acc!

most of my art will have IDs in the alt image description!

tags guide

#butterstalk - text post tag

#buttersketch - art tag

#mailbox - asks

#buttersketch escapism - tag for content of my OC project "Escapism"

#buttersketch dawn - tag for content of my OC project "Dawn"

fandoms

Music

Will Wood, Ben Folds Five, They Might Be Giants, Penelope Scott, Tally Hall, Lemon Demon, Jack Stauber, Rio Romeo, Sushi Soucy, Milk In The Microwave, Yonkagor show tunes

TV shows + Webseries

Malevolent, Camp Here And There, Good Omens, Bee & Puppycat, ENA, TADC, The Glass Scientists

Games

Undertale/Deltarune, BOTW/TOTK

Musicals

Little Shop Of Horrors, Jesus Christ Superstar, Sunday In The Park With George, The Secret Garden, Ride The Cyclone, Heathers, Newsies

Kins

Spamton (Deltarune), Chara (Undertale), Jedidiah Martin (Camp Here And There), Seymour (Little Shop Of Horrors)

I have weird attachments to scarecrows and shepherds? I don't know, it's the vibes man, the vibes...

last updated: October 28, 2024

[zaynnaz]

Title: Sands of Masks and Flames

Snippet: Chapter 9.

The world shifted again, and the depths of Tatsuki's being churned, a maelstrom of energy awakening. She could feel the raw power swirling within her, tearing through her cells, each strand of her DNA being thrumming with latent potential. Like a demon emerging from its ancient slumber, a great gust of wind erupted around her, the very air bending and pulsing to the rhythm of her newfound might.


The hollow, its eyes betraying a hint of trepidation, scowled. “The little girl has a bite, huh? Even with spiritual energy, you can't defeat me!” It roared defiantly, coiling its grotesque limbs for a decisive strike.


But that malevolent voice was not done. "Focus on destruction," it seethed, its words like white-hot brands searing Tatsuki's soul. "Cull the weak, absorb their feeble essence, and grow strong. Never let yourself be defeated again. Rise, and FIGHT!"


A primal roar welled up in her throat, her very essence altered, charged with an unparalleled fervor. Her eyes, now burning with an ethereal light, met the hollow's. The wind that enveloped them became a tempest, its force pushing the monster back, each gust echoing with Tatsuki's newfound authority.
The voice grew darker and more potent “Dawn your mantle, bring forth your fury, and strike FEAR into your enemies and shout with your essence to the heavens!”


And then, that voice, that infernal guide, whispered the words she needed to seal her fate. Tatsuki, now a vessel of unbridled power, raised her head, defiance etched into her features. With a voice that was now a harmonious blend of her own and the demonic undertones of her benefactor, she boomed, “You messed with the wrong person. And it will be your last." Taking a deep breath, her very essence vibrating with energy, she shouted, "Kyūsui Kūmaku!”


A radiance, stark and blinding, emanated from her being, casting long, distorted shadows that danced madly in the backdrop. The hollow, despite its massive form, was forced to shield its eyes, the very force of Tatsuki's transformation rendering it momentarily powerless. The battlefield had shifted, and the balance of power was now unmistakably in Tatsuki's favor.

——————

Want to read the whole story? Find out exactly what happened on Ao3 or Fanfiction net!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Veisalgia: Malevolent Fanfic by @sepiabandensis

Dawn has broken, and the events of the Spring Rite have caught up to Arthur and John.

One of them is feeling it significantly more than the other, though.

How exactly does one treat an eldritch hangover, anyway?

Part of the Surrogate series. By @sepiabandensis.

[hjohn3]

Farage Enters the Fray

Nigel’s Not So Secret Plan and the Brexitless Election

Source: The Guardian

By Honest John

WHAT A difference four and a half years makes. In December 2019, the country underwent its second Brexit election - dominated by the winning slogan parroted endlessly by Boris Johnson that he and the Conservatives would “Get Brexit Done” and finally achieve Britain’s departure from the European Union after three years of fractious debate at Westminster as to the terms of the “deal” required to extricate the U.K. from the bloc. Brexit was, and is, probably the most momentous postwar decision taken by the country; it divided Britain into two new and bitterly adversarial camps; it allowed huge claims as to both unlimited opportunity and unmitigated disaster to be made by both sides, and it drove a coach and horses through historic voting and class allegiances. It culminated in an election that threatened to perhaps permanently reduce the Labour Party to the cosmopolitan and liberal cities and presaged yet another reinvention of Toryism into an interventionist, statist and nationalist party, dedicated to “levelling up” the post-industrial communities of the north of England and the Midlands as much as it was to recovering (principally English) status, sovereignty and prosperity outside the EU. Crucially, 2019 also redrew the political map, elevating Conservative MPs to seats that had never returned a Tory before, while the Tory heartlands in the south stayed loyal.

Take a look at the political terrain now. Boris Johnson is not even an MP anymore; two Tory Prime Ministers have followed him - one a spectacular disaster pursuing a purist Chicago Economics ideology too right wing even for the bond markets, and the second, a dreary Thatcherite technocrat who has proved to be the most inept politician since Michael Foot and that is up against some pretty stiff competition. The party that seemed on the verge a few years ago of embarking on a generation-long hegemony has seen its opinion polling reduced to less than 25%, its local government base decimated and its 80 seat Parliamentary majority halved. Many quite serious electoral forecasts are now projecting a Labour majority of three figures at the election next month and the Conservatives reduced to a rump of less than 150 seats. As for Brexit - the subject that defined British politics for at least six years, not a mention is made, as the magnitude of the economic and political error of that “project” has become clear to all.

When it comes to answering the question “what went wrong?” it would be easy to dwell on the serial non-delivery by the Tories of all their 2019 promises whether that be levelling up, reduced immigration or the promised benefits of Brexit; on the unique awfulness of the reign of Johnson and the grotesque corruption of Partygate and his myriad other falsehoods; to recall the chaos unleashed on the economy by Liz Truss and on the dawning realisation of the electorate that the need for austerity was a lie and that its brutal implementation has led directly to the near-collapse of public services. The wholly negative legacy of 14 years of insouciant and malevolent governance by a Tory party obsessed with ideological fantasy and run by essentially unserious men and women should, alone, be enough to see it humiliated at the polls and driven from power for at least 20 years. But there is another factor at play: something that could be the difference between a good Labour win on 4th July and a landslide. That is the re-entry into the political fray of Nigel Farage.

In truth, despite much breathless commentary, particularly on the right, about the political and class realignment represented by the smashing of the red wall and the comprehensive defeat of a certain type of metropolitan liberal leftism represented by Jeremy Corbyn, the Tory victory in 2019 had shallow foundations. Many of the first-time Conservative voters did not consider themselves Tories at all and were attracted by the easy charm and boosterism of “Boris”, as well as feeling a fury that Brexit, despite a referendum held three years before, had still not happened. With the failure of Brexit, the breaking of levelling up promises and the Tory neglect of public services, a drift back to Labour was perhaps inevitable, but what is truly extraordinary is how precipitately Conservative support has collapsed. It should, however, be borne in mind that what turned a probable Tory win in 2019 into a major victory was Nigel Farage’s decision not to stand Brexit Party candidates in seats which were seriously contested between the Conservatives and Labour. In doing so, Farage certainly united the right wing vote but, more importantly, he united the Leave vote. It is often forgotten that before Farage made that key decision to aid Johnson in securing Britain’s departure from the EU, that his Brexit Party was polling at anything between 9% and 12% in the run up to the 2019 General Election, while the Tories were at 36% to 40%, often no more than seven or eight points ahead of Labour. Once the Brexit Party stood down, in seat after seat Tory support soared: the Conservatives achieved a lead of well above 11% over Labour when the votes were finally cast. Given the tortured position that Labour had assumed over Brexit and the widespread antipathy across many demographics towards Corbyn himself, it is likely the Conservatives would have won regardless of Farage’s intervention - but nothing like as convincingly.

In 2024, it seems Farage’s kiss of death will work in the opposite direction. Resuming leadership of the Brexit Party’s successor group, Reform U.K., his stated intention is now to be part of what may turn out to be the electoral dismemberment of the Conservative Party on 4th July. By targeting the older anti-immigrant Leave supporting voter who propelled Johnson into office five years ago, Farage and his undoubted star quality is providing an electoral home to these former Labour and Conservative voting citizens who see little difference between the two main parties and their offers. This sundering of the right wing vote is absolutely deadly for the Tories under First Past The Post. We could see a mirror image of 2019, where in seats Labour would not normally expect to win, Keir Starmer’s party finds itself emerging top of the poll when the Reform and Conservative votes have cancelled each other out. Allied to a probable Liberal Democrat surge in the Remain-voting south and Labour advances in Scotland, this could tip a Tory defeat into electoral oblivion.

Farage is not being at all quixotic in this. On the contrary, he is exultant at the damage Reform could cause the Tories. His not-so-secret plan is to smash modern Toryism and, in the post-election reassessment of Conservatism, to reconfigure the British right into his own image. To be fair to Farage, he has been open about his desire for his vehicle to eventually replace the Tories as the main party of the right for at least seven years. As early as 2017, when still leader of UKIP, Farage, inspired by the rise of the Five Star Movement in Italy, speculated as to the chances of a new nationalist party of the right, appealing to all social classes, emerging in Britain to challenge the neoliberalism of the Tories and the perceived pro-migrant, urban and socially liberal orientation of Corbyn’s Labour. Despite his marriage of convenience with the Tories in 2019 to achieve Brexit, this long term ambition never deserted him and now it is explicit. He already has Conservative cheerleaders such as Priti Patel and Suella Braverman, who would welcome Farage into the Tory Party and would be more than happy, in opposition, for the Tories to move decisively to the cultural right and take up Farage’s anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim brand of proto-fascist nationalism. Farage is a little more predatory. Following the electoral devastation of Toryism he hopes to exacerbate, his intention is for Reform to gobble up the Conservative Party whole in ideological terms. With a “merger” complete and the Tories finally becoming a far right party, he would then campaign vigorously for proportional representation.

For Labour supporters, the arrival of Farage on the scene feels like a godsend - the key factor that makes the destruction of the Conservatives at the election almost inevitable. However, make no mistake, if Nigel’s plan comes off, he won’t stop at transforming the Tory Party; he will wish to use the possibly lengthy period of Labour government to elevate his new vehicle into a similar position to that of National Rally in France, the AfD in Germany and the Brothers of Italy. There is no reason that Britain should be immune from the fascist tide seemingly overwhelming much of Europe and Farage wishes to be the one who directs its U.K. equivalent - from both within and outside Parliament. It may amuse Remain voters that even Farage makes no mention of Brexit on his campaign trail. That may indeed be because quitting the EU has proved to be such a disaster in reality; but it may also be because the arch-populist has his eyes on a much greater, and more sinister, prize.

11th June 2024