Text
A FISH OUT OF WATER ┊ MIYA ATSUMU
synopsis: you are his constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. he wants you. but you are the most oblivious creature he has ever met.
tags: GN reader, merfolk au, merman atsumu, human reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, falling in love, courting behaviours, obliviousness, cultural differences, first kisses, getting together
wc: 3.5K
↱ written for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server ↲
As a child Atsumu never understood other finfolks fascination with humans, good or bad. Ma was never reluctant to explain, rather, he just didn’t care to ask. There were far more important things to do in the reef. Like hunting shelled crabs, riding the currents, and eating oysters so he could spit pearls at his brother's head until he gave chase.
But three moons before his twelfth birthday, he found you.
Suspended in the water, bubbles dwindling around your frame as the fight bled from your muscles. You sank into a lifeless repose. A human. Small, smaller than him. Thoughts whirring to a stop, his mind blanked, and his tail propelled him forward in a blink.
You were light in his arms at first. Breaching the surface had been the scary part. Worse then, as he needed to drag you up onto the shore where he could be seen. The section of beach close by was secluded. Shielded by large rocks, tide pools formed in the crevices. Atsumu deposited you onto the sand, hissing at the tides that crawled behind and splashed at your chin as if to scold them.
You convulsed and curled in onto yourself like the tiny dumbo octopus that lived in the crevasse near his home. Water spurted from your nose and mouth. It gathered in the corners of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks. Atsumu stared as you wailed and felt his own tumultuous emotions swell dramatically. Restless under his skin was the urge to calm you. To comfort you. But he had never been any good at that kind of thing.
So he reached out to pat your leg. It was covered in clumps of sand. Your shorts and shirt were drenched, and one of your feet had lost a flip flop. Then he repeated what Ma always told him, “Don’t worry, guppy. I’m here”.
That distracted you enough that your attention fell on him. Your immediate petrified screech reverberated harshly in his sensitive ears, both pressed flat to his head as he hissed and squirmed further back into the ocean to escape the sound.
“A—A monster! Get away!”
An odd sense of vulnerability washed over him. Embarrassment, shame, anger. At that moment, Atsumu decided all his assumptions must have been correct. You were clearly a few fish short of a shoal. “M’not a monster,” he’d shouted back, fins flared irritably. “Be grateful I saved yer life, Ugly! Ugly, ugly, ugly!”
Your face scrunched up at the insults, covered in salt water, tears and bile. A dull ache struck against his skull, hard and sudden. You had kicked him in the head and ran away.
Osamu laughed at the mark upon his return. Atsumu endured, kept his mouth shut and resolved never to go back to the surface. Ever! But curiosity still drew him back the next morning. And the next. Every day he checked, you were there, standing awkwardly on the beach and squinting at the horizon. Searching.
Ma’s voice echoed through his thoughts while he hid from view. Atsumu was great at lots of things. Loads better than Osamu. Racing, hunting, splitting shells, tying knots, playing ball. Not so great at making friends. Try to meet ‘em where they’re at, she said. Smile. Be nice. Find what they like and ask about it.
When he finally plucked the courage to make his presence known you’d been back in the tide pools. The ends of your shirt pulled out to hold all the shells you were collecting, heavily weighing on the wet fabric. A few tumbled down as you crouched to pick up a limpet, mouth curling into a pleased grin. Limpets are boring, he thought. And an idea struck.
Diving lower, Atsumu combed through the sand and seaweed until he spotted an iridescent spiral of orange and purple. The snail went helplessly as he clasped it between his webbed fingers, shooting for the rocks. You were still there, filling the silence with a directionless hum.
Atsumu broke the surface quietly. Enough distance between that you could not kick him again. “Hey!” he called, hands thrusted out toward you, head already turned toward his shoulder to brace for another scream. “Got a snail. Wanna see?”
Nothing came. He hadn’t realised how much your acceptance meant to him until then—when you crouched excitedly close by, unheeding of the tide soaking you further, and gasped as he presented the gift. Relief burst in his chest, warm and tingly to the tips of his fins at the careful prodding of your fingers to the creature in his palms; so intense that a wave of luminescence washed through his scales.
“I was looking for you,” you later admitted, voice softened in apology. “Thank you for saving me. I’m sorry I kicked you and called you mean things”.
Atsumu detailed the slight pout to your lips. Knees shifting in the sand. Eyes wide, gleaming hopefully as you waited for his reply. Something fluttered in his stomach the longer you looked at him. Horrified, the longer he looked back, the more it dawned on him that you were not ugly at all.
“Good. So y’should be,” he grumbled, smacking his tail up onto the shore. Heat blotched across his cheeks when you glanced at it in awe. Timid, he added, “…S’fine though. Didn’t hurt”.
Smiling gleefully at that as his gaze darted back and forth, you held out your pinky and promised to always be his friend.
Time elapsed. Seasons passed. No longer a juvenile, his colours started to come into full bloom. Rich gold around his hips and waist, tapering into black toward his large ruffled tail fin. Even his hair lightened as he took to adulthood. After his twentieth birthday the months seemed to come and go faster than he liked. You were his one constant in a life shaped by an ever changing element. Atsumu’s blatant affection for you remained his worst kept secret but none of the finfolk scorned him for it.
Osamu’s steadfast teasing was the only downside. Offhanded or feigning disinterest, he’d always ask, “What d’you keep doing up there?”
Atsumu bounced a hard clam off his brother’s thick skull, “Nothin’. Told’ya a million times, I just like the surface”.
“Uh-huh. Does the ‘surface’ in question happen ta’ have a name and a pulse?”
“You’ll soon have neither if you don’t shut yer trap, ‘Samu!”
Summer comes along and once again, Atsumu decides to remain in the reef. There’s a new den for him in the alcove, carved out from the outcropping of rock with his own hands, right next to a dense forest of kelp. The afternoon sun filters through it in rays as the currents shift, dewy light dancing on the walls.
Two years he has been eligible to migrate and find a mate. This will make it his second absence from the celebrations. Ma never pushed him despite the worry written plain on her face. Osamu only pinned him with a knowing look as he went. It will be the longest they’ve been apart from one another and he doesn’t like it.
Realistically he still could have attended—should have, maybe, lest the other pods find his refusal disrespectful. But Astumu had no compulsion to go. The very idea of leaving you threw his instincts into high gear and he needed to race the currents just to calm the urgency wracking his bones. Because somewhere amidst the years spent with you he became aware of the voice clamoring in the back of his head. One that had been growing in intensity for some time, but hadn't been quite as loud as it was until the elders advised him to take a partner.
You were his mate.
Atsumu had been subconsciously courting you since you were children. Bringing you food and gifts, letting his display scales flash lurid in your presence. He kept guard as you slept on the sand, picked the seaweed and dirt from your hair, swam in synchrony with you when the tides were calm, wrapping your legs around his tail until you become a knot of a person. In hindsight, it was embarrassingly obvious—
Yet you are still blissfully oblivious to it, and that nags at him like nothing else.
Raking claw tipped fingers through his hair, Atsumu paces the length of his den with thoughts of how to be more deliberate in his courtship. Human relationships were complex—purposefully difficult, in some cases. You might respond better if he simply confessed what his intentions were.
You’ve promised to come by the cove as soon as you’re free today. Adulthood came with plenty of changes for you as well as him. You have to work more than he likes. It means less time together; hours spent with other people, any of which could stake their own claim and take you from his reach.
Agitated, Atsumu darts to the surface the instant the sky settles into evening. The sun spreads a blush across the ocean’s surface, tepid but pleasant when it kisses his cheeks. Your distant figure is climbing over the rock formations with careful movements. At first he lingers in the deeper water, submerged below the nose to watch like he used to all those years ago.
“‘Tsumu!” arms high in the air, you wave and bounce on the balls of your feet when you spot him. Lazily, he rides the small wave that floods onto the shelf you are standing on, arms folding on the craggy surface to keep his upper half above water.
There’s a bag over your shoulder. It drops low with the weight it carries. “Look what the tide dragged in,” you let the bag drop, contents half spilling out across the floor. Familiar things. Suncream, bottled water, a change of clothes. Your foot comes to rest atop the worn volleyball as it rolls toward the edge, flinching when he splashes at you in retaliation. “You’re here earlier than usual. Did’ya miss me?”
Atsumu bobs, eyes rolling. “Was too busy making up my new den to think twice about’cha, sunshine,” he cracks a grin. You bat at the hand that threatens to circle around your ankle as you lower yourself to sit on the shelf’s edge, legs swinging over the depths.
“All grown up and living on your own now,” you pat his head in what is intended to be condescension but only ends up conveying fondness for him as your fingernails scratch gently at his scalp. “Proud of you”.
“Stupid,” he mumbles, tipping into the touch without shame as he bobs in the water. Peeking up at you through the hair drying unruly over his eyes his heart sits prominent at the back of his throat. You’re in your swimsuit under your clothes again, he notices. “Ya gonna get in with me today?”
“Planned on it,” you replied coyly. Atsumu inhales deeply. Gills flutter. He feels his fins flare around his hips and smothers the need to hide himself, nudging his cheek to your bare thigh. A beat passes and your smile dims somewhat, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately, ‘Tsumu”.
He rumbles his disapproval. Turning to nose at the skin there, Atsumu loosens his jaw and gently pincers your flesh between his teeth. Just enough to serve as a warning. The muscle and sinew remains relaxed despite it all, entirely sure he wouldn’t hurt you.
A heavy warmth drapes over his being at the heat, blood and beating heart echoing through your veins. “Gross,” you say without malice, flicking his temple at the lave of his tongue over your nonexistent wound.
“Ugly,” he returns, affectionate cadence unrestrained. You temper a smirk, kicking water his way as you tug your t-shirt over your head. Atsumu sinks into the sea’s cool embrace while you undress. Years ago you would have shied away from his blatant staring.
You’re welcoming to the arms that circle your waist as you turn to lower your body into the water. Atsumu doesn’t need to hold you up anymore, not like when you were young and easily drawn into the stronger currents, but he does so regardless. It earns him a soft huff, and a weak protest that is patently for show, but you let him.
A pleased sound vibrates in his throat before he can bite it back. You’re truly the softest thing he has ever laid hands on. Your fingers trail along his biceps, tracing the scales decorating his shoulders. Bioluminescence pulses through them with a shudder and you laugh at him, though not unkindly, “You’re lookin’ a lot brighter lately”.
Your ignorance is a blessing sometimes. Hiding his face in your hair his tail undulates and pushes your entwined bodies back toward the reef. Pride swells as your thighs cinch around his hips. The tides break around you, paving a pathway of foam from the shore to the corals. Below are vibrant formations, each unique and intricate, shelter for shoals of fish darting from the shadows stretching across on the seabed.
“Hey… can I ask you something?”
“Just did,” Atsumu snarks reflexively. You tighten your hold around his neck, leaning back to glare at him. You are about as intimidating as a sea bunny. He hums, “Alright, I’ll bite. What is it?”
Something flits across your features. Hesitance, maybe. Then your anxieties are spilling out into the open, “Why’d you split off from your group? Are they mad at you or something? If it’s because of me—”
Words stutter into a pitched plea for mercy when he pointedly tucks his chin to suck a mouthful of water into his cheeks. You flinch preemptively, throwing your hands up to your face. Atsumu holds a moment longer, pursing his lips as if readying to fire. You push at his chest in a fit of nervous laughter, “Okay, okay! I get it, it’s not my fault—don’t spray me!”
He doesn’t spit it at you. The seawater falls from his lips, trickles over his chin and returns to the tide. “Yer ability to overthink never fails to amaze me,” your breathing hitches as he brings your foreheads together. The flustered look you cast him makes him squeeze tighter, unwilling to let go. “They’ve gone to the mating grounds, that’s all. Figured it was as good’a time as any to find my own territory”.
You pause, a crease forming between your brows. “The mating grounds? You’ve never mentioned that before”.
Atsumu shrugs. The movement ripples out around you in broad rings. “Never needed to,” he says. “Wasn't important. M’here, aren’t I?”
“Why?” the pressure from your thighs lessens, just a fraction, but he’s already scrambling to cup the back of your knees and keep them there. You freeze. Scrutinising any minute change to his expression, eyes bright and flickering. Atsumu avoids your gaze with his inner cheek between his teeth. Slow, a smirk pulls at your lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve got no suitors”.
Atsumu chitters, displeased. You shouldn’t find the idea amusing. He wants you to hate it. Sulking, he says, “Glad ya think that’s funny”.
Your face falls, then. And you are seeking the strong grip he had on you before, clutching at his shoulders. Your hands slide carefully up the column of his neck, featherlight over his gills. A shiver breaks out across his skin as you take his face into your hands. “Hey, no. I didn’t mean—” you stop to sound a frustrated groan. “I didn’t mean it like that, ‘Tsumu. I just—I thought you were joking. Why wouldn’t a mer like you have everybody vying for your attention?”
His mouth shapes around a small ‘o’. Then it draws wide, crooked and teasing. “A mer like me, eh?” he echoes, slipping back from your grasp to circle you in the water as a thrilling static buzzed under his skin. Need grips him and hems his scales, saturating them with rich gold hues. “Like what?”
“Stop fishing for compliments, loser. You know,” you struggle to tread water and spin to track his circular motions, pushing a vindictive wave of water at him. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen”.
The glow from his display is bleeding into the blue-green waters and attracting the attention of the reef dwellers but he’s too pleased to be mortified. He halts his stalking, crowding into your arms, “Y’think I’m—?!”
Your fingers thread into his hair. With all your might you dunk him under, cutting his sentence short as a wave rushes to fill the space in his open mouth. He laughs through the descent of your body, the force having pushed him low enough that he is facing your bare stomach. Remaining there, even as you relinquish your grip.
Other finfolk never really commented on his colouring. They hadn’t attempted to initiate courtship, either, not with his priorities elsewhere. You have praised his scales before but this feels different. In the context of being wanted—desired as a partner. Maybe it’s just pretty words. But you would not have submerged him in a fit of embarrassment if there weren’t some truth in it.
Fins vibrating eagerly, small trails of bubbles rise to the surface. You're patting at his arms now, worried why he won’t come up, expression distorted by the water. He sinks forward, face pressing up against your midriff. Your abdomen immediately clenches. Nails dig into the curve of his shoulder as he mouths at your sternum. Arms rise to wrap around your waist and your knees flank his ribs, squeezing tight.
A mer’s senses are that much sharper here. He feels your stuttered breath, hears your heartbeat quicken, smells the beginnings of arousal. It tastes like victory, overwhelming all rational thought. Head to tailfin his instincts are begging to drag you to his den and fuck you to sleep.
But he can’t. Not yet, and not the way he wants to.
Pushing into a soft, resting stomach, Atsumu takes a breath, shakes himself from his reverie and blows hard against the skin. You immediately convulse, trying to squirm out of his grasp. Overhead, your sweet laughter; muffled by the white noise around him but just as euphonious.
You’re panting when he finally resurfaces, your head tilted to keep your chin above water. The tide must be coming in. He supports you against his chest, making you a few inches taller. “You dickhead. Fishbrains,” you chide breathlessly, betrayed by the fond look in your eye. “Shit. Don’t do that again”.
“Mean. What happened to gorgeous?” Atsumu’s pout trembles, struggling to keep his amusement at bay.
“I'll take it back!”
“No take backsies,” he croons, nuzzling at your jawline. Dangerous. “Glad ya think I’m hot and all but that’s not the only part of courting. Like, proving yer able to take care of them. Hunting an’ preparing food. Presenting gifts. Helping them groom. Keeping guard. S’why it takes the whole summer”.
As he speaks a slither of dread settles heavy in his gut. The memories practically flit across your face, visibly connecting the dots. “But you’ve always done those things—” your voice loses strength, mouth opening and closing a few times before finishing, “for me…?”
The sky is bruised. Clouds have gathered by the cliffs, and the sun is almost tucked beneath the horizon, casting a final burst of orange across the glittering ocean’s surface. His display dims. “Yea’,” he clears his throat, summoning a playful tone, “Real sharp, angel. I sure know how to pick ‘em”.
Any confidence he had slips between his fingers like dry sand the longer the silence draws between you. A sad note catches in his throat. His gills twitch as he waits with bated breath. Warm, soft hands come to cradle his face. Your thumb sweeps gently back and forth beneath his eye.
You don’t laugh. You don’t even splash at him. Rather, reverently, you say “…‘Tsumu”.
He peers up to meet your gaze. Softened by dusk, you are watching him through lidded eyes, crinkled at the corners. A sharp sensation frissons up his spine. You tilt his chin, bringing him into a chaste kiss. Atsumu shudders, hands pawing desperately at your hips. You pull back a hair’s breadth only to kiss him again, full lips sliding together, a more deliberate press that grows fervent at the cautious lick of his tongue.
When you seek air with a sharp inhale your eyes flutter closed for a moment. Atsumu doesn’t bother to dull his purr, nor the soft flow emitting from his tail, forming a golden ring of light around your entangled bodies. Mirthfully, you murmur, “I can’t believe it. You like me”.
It feels right; like finally letting himself have everything he’s ever wanted.
He laughs quietly, tucking a kiss beneath your ear, “Somethin’ like that”.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
re: boundaries
I've made many posts previously on this subject already, so people are already aware of my stance regarding disliking the way "boundaries" as a concept are used by the mcyt fandom, however I want to have a brief meditation on why this is the case, and a look at common arguments about them.
however i do want to make clear that i don't mind boundaries as a concept, actual boundaries. as in "if you do x, i will respond with y" kinds of boundaries. I think cc are completely fair and understandable in this kind of perspective. if someone makes a kind of content they dislike, they're free to block that fan or express discomfort over it. That's normal.
my critical eye is turned toward the fandom's perception of "boundaries" as a sort of fandom ruleset, either you follow them with the in-group, or you're thrown in the out-group and labelled all sorts of insults, anywhere from a criminal offender to just having people be plain nasty toward you. this in my opinion, really feeds into the fandom habit of having "cliques" as fandoms are social networks that are voluntarily joined. i find it juvenile at best.
at worst, on the other hand, is the concept of mcyt having mixed in kpop stan culture around 2019 with smplive (great server. horrific fandom at the time it was run. all of the smplive fans still left are veterans worthy of respect for surviving that.), which caused a very explosive mixture.
kpop fandom has this outlook and parasociality toward idols because these idols are borderline unreachable. even in smaller groups, companies generally (not always.) discourage idols from talking one-on-one selectively with fans. there deserves to be a more thorough examination of kpop fandom with stan culture, that i believe i am not fully qualified for. my point is that kpop idols are a hell of a lot harder to reach for english fans, whether through language barrier or through professionality done by companies.
the explosive mixture is bringing this same mentality - the mentality that these people you look toward as the main source of the fandom as being untouchable, perfect people. it's dehumanizing in its own right, but aside from that, it creates a dangerous fandom situation. as best shown using smplive with CallMeCarson from before.
CMC is the origin point of boundaries within the MCYT fandom, having held a live in fall of 2019 talking about how a popular danganronpa themed wattpad smplive fanfiction was upsetting for him to read. CMC had an intense fanbase that could and would look up to him no matter what. of course the fanbase would go after and harass this author off of the internet and deleting their work (which remained lost media until this January of 2024. Almost half a decade.) after this situation, only months later it comes out that CMC had in fact been manipulating women aged 17 to early 20s, into sexual dms and sending him explicit photos of themselves for around a year. i am of the opinion CMC would have done this behavior regardless, however, the fact he had access to so many women who put him on a pedestal without considering he could exploit them was exacerbated by the stan culture mentality of mcyt's fandom at the time. this is not a criticism of the women, it is a criticism of the fandom culture of the time for failing to treat carson as a human being who had every capability to treat people like this.
no cc is exempt from that mentality by the fandom. carson knowingly used his position within the fandom to make the choice to do that to those girls. no cc should be exempt from the real possibility of the consideration that they can fuck up, not always in the way that they necessarily need to be cancelled or deplatformed, carson is an extreme example that is absolutely not representative of cc as a whole, but there needs to be a healthy level of doubt and separation between creators and fans.
to reiterate: cc are not your friends. cc do not need you to speak for them. you do not know these people personally. to present your defense of them and their personal opinions like you spoke to them directly and are close friends is dangerous, both for yourself, and for other fans in the community.
everything i have listed is why i always will be critical toward any fan group or clique that presents themselves as being pillars of the community, and why i am critical of any page or resource that tries to list "boundaries" as hard fast rules to be self policed by the fandom. not only is that punitive mentality, it's careless and poor understanding of how communities at large work.
i don't think a "boundaries" list is necessarily a bad idea in the long run either, if these lists were, like, compilations of streamers' twitch chat rules, that'd be cool! but generally these lists lack any nuance of why and where some boundaries may apply. like a ton of streamers hate ships being spammed in chat, but could give less of a fuck about people making ship fanart. or like wouldn't care as long as the ship art isn't put in their main tag.
as well as the general ignoring of regular boundaries, we all remember the horror show of people dono-ing to cc in 2020-22 asking for their boundaries right? like just so we're explicitly clear, walking up to someone and asking what someone's opinion of making adult content of them is very much sexual harassment. that's objectively something fans should not be asking to cc. if they want to say something, they can speak up on their own. they do not need your prompting. if you wouldn't ask it to your boss in an office, don't ask cc it. tangentially related is the ignoring of boundaries based on disliking fans harassing each other or other cc. those boundaries never get to be prioritized for a reason, as those behaviors feed into the stan culture mentality of pitting sources against each other in fan wars.
parasociality and stan culture turn mcyt fandom into a power vacuum where fans who like to self-police to a dangerous extent try to take charge. this makes the fandom worse.
#ive had this in my drafts for months might as well drop this now LOL#discourse#mcyt discourse#posts from the aether
312 notes
·
View notes
Text
I was prodding around my private Discord server, adding each of our chosen emoji into the names of our personal “journal” channels, and a thought occurred to me:
Our (my) mind really is like a small community these days. XD
Even if we view ourselves as a single person, I can’t really deny anymore that I also view myself as being “multiple”, too. The best way to describe this vibe, outside of my usual “the secret third option”, is as a person with both a single collective identity and multiple identities.
We’re fluid parts of a single whole, and enjoy existing as that “fused” whole whenever a situation lends itself to such; but we love interacting with each other, our friends and loved ones, and the world in general as each individual part of us, too. Both is good.
It just really amuses me when my personal Discord server has more channels on it, and regular activity, than a vast majority of the smaller, private Discord communities that we’re part of. We have a handful of close, mutual friends on our private server, but often times it’s largely just us (aka. myself) rambling away in a “thinking aloud” way or writing at each other. How one person can talk away so much to and/or at themselves I have no clue, yet here we are. 😂
It also often blows my mind how much different my life is now, two years after first realizing (and consciously acknowledging) that we had DID, compared to my life prior to that. In many ways, it honestly does feel like another lifetime…
I guess in a sense, recalling our past life is like another secret third option, too: not quite an entirely different person’s life, but definitely not the exact same person we were prior to DID awareness either.
Having so many previously internal parts of us fully integrated, fused, and actively fronting now has significantly changed my daily identity, even if the average person couldn’t even tell. My own internal vibes are just strikingly different to how I used to feel, not least because I finally comprehend why my gender orientation shifts so frequently (gender fluidity is a trip). It’s also really lovely having ready access to so many different emotions, memories, and everyday skills nowadays, too, and I’m most definitely a better teacher and employee as a result.
But returning to my original observations: I just find it very amusing how natural it is to exist as multiple these days, despite also feeling more singular and “whole�� than ever before. Everything just makes so much sense now, in ways my mind previously never did for as long as I could remember…
I really do love every part of me (us), and this strange little community we’ve created. There’s a particular Japanese song and music video that used to resonate with me long before I ever fathomed being multiple, and in many ways it’s even more meaningful and dear to me now. All I can do is keep praying for safety and good health, so that I can properly enjoy the rest of my life with every part of myself/us/we and this wacky mind community we’ve forged together.
youtube
(The song in question that I referred to above)
#did#did recovery#dissociative identity disorder#full integration#mental wellness#final fusion#positivity#did vibes#by 💜💙
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
-Rollo's Angelic Obsession-
(This story is from Rollo's perspective during the events of the visit to Nobel Bell College. I only know information from the English server story and events so sorry if anything is terribly out of character. This fic is cannon for my female Yuu-sona, but I do just call them Yuu in the story. Yuu uses she/her pronouns. Hope you enjoy! TW: Rollo is obsessive and Delulu with a major crush on Yuu. Found the banner pictures in a post by @ raven-at-the-writing-desk, they are not mine. I got the event book 1 transcripts from the Wiki, and the book 3 transcripts from @ kanasmusings!)
It was disgusting. The headmaster of Night Raven called to inform us that his group of ten had grown to thirteen, not including the chaperone. I had requested Malleus Draconia so I could execute my plan, but to add two more students to the group was borderline infuriating. I didn’t even have the time to see how powerful these other students were, or who they were. I had no idea if they would be an issue or if it would be better to rid the world of them like the others. The only information the headmaster gave on them was that they counted as one student, and that one of them was magicless. That last note made me somewhat hopeful.
The portal lit up and all of the students stepped through. I recognized each and every one of them, so I assumed the new ones were tucked behind the others. I even recognize the chaperone. None of them were a threat. None of them were pure. They all would burn.
“I've been expecting you,” I stepped out of the shadows, vice president and aide on my left and right, “ Esteemed guests from Night Raven College, welcome to Noble Bell College.”
Mozus Trein, the chaperone, spoke in a tone much like my own, “Judging by your uniform, you must be the student the headmage mentioned.”
“That's right,” I put my handkerchief over my mouth for a moment before speaking again, “My name is Rollo Flamme. I serve as the student council president here.”
Riddle Rosehearts was the next to speak, “Oh, interesting. Our school doesn't have an independent student council, but it sounds like you all do.”
I removed the cloth from my lips, “Indeed. And while it may sound presumptuous, one could call it the face of our school. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Idia Shroud’s voice was shrill with surprise or fear, “Ack! Immediate encounter with strangers!”
Azul Ashengrotto seemed equally annoyed and used to the outburst, “Isn't the whole point of this social to meet strangers?”
I could hear some of the freshmen mumbling to themselves, about me undoubtedly. I pressed on, “This is our vice president, and this is our aide. When they heard they could meet with such an esteemed group, they dropped everything and came running. The entirety of Noble Bell College welcomes you. Our school is small compared to yours, and you may find it lacking in some ways, but we beg your indulgence.”
Trein looked like he could almost smile, “How courteous. You have impeccable manners for someone so young.”
Deuce Spade whispered to Silver, a guard of Malleus Draconia, I kept speaking, “We couldn't allow you to keep hauling your luggage around, of course. Let me show you to your rooms. I'm afraid it's a bit of a walk. We can use it as an opportunity to get better acquainted, though.”
I began leading the group forward as Idia Shroud made another winey comment. They were infuriating, and I hadn’t even gotten a glance at the unexpected visitors. They all deserved death.
Azul Ashengrotto made his way to the front with me, “So you're a junior. I imagine it's quite an honor being student council president, considering there can only be one in the whole school. I'm sure your academic performance is also superb and will guarantee you a promising future.”
I tried not to grit my teeth, “Noble Bell simply has a smaller student body. I can hardly compare to those of you from the great Night Raven College.”
Ashengrotto coated his words in flattery, just as we had done with their headmaster, “Please, you needn't be so humble or formal. Why, you're technically my upperclassman! Everyone at my school would be overjoyed to acquaint themselves with such a fine individual.”
I hummed as if amusing the idea, “All right, as you wish. I won't stand on ceremony so much.”
Ashengrotto got involved in a side conversation with Shroud. Leaving me to do nothing but move forward and suppress the urge to strike them down where they stood.
“Ah, but where are my manners? I've gotten ahead of myself,” Ashengrotto pulled himself back to me, “Apologies for the belated introduction. I'm-”
“Introductions won't be necessary,” I waved it off, bringing my handkerchief back to my lips, “I already know who all of you are. You're Azul Ashengrotto, housewarden of Octavinelle and a merman from the Coral Sea,” I kept going, “And you're Idia Shroud, housewarden of Ignihyde and affiliated somehow with the Shroud family. And you-!” I quickly kept myself from flying off the handle at the sight of that Fae, “You are Malleus Draconia, scion of the ruling fae in Briar Valley and one of the top five mages in the world. Correct?”
I felt sick as he smiled, “Indeed, I am Malleus Draconia.”
Sebek Zigvolt butted into the conversation, “Of course the great Malleus would be known even in such a tiny burg!”
I lowered my handkerchief once more, “You are Sebek Zigvolt, and you hail from the same land as Malleus. The one next to you is Silver. And over there chatting with our vice president is Riddle Rosehearts, housewarden of Heartslabyl, Rook Hunt, vice housewarden of Pomefiore, Jamil Viper, vice housewarden of Scarabia, Ruggie Bucchi, Deuce Spade, and Epel Felmier. I thoroughly perused the documents Mr. Crowley so kindly sent, you see.”
Ashengrotto’s eyes were almost wide, “It's like privacy's a foreign concept to that man-”
Shroud gave me a dirty look, unacceptable, “That could get you sued in this day and age.”
Silver almost smiled, “You must have a very good memory, to recall so many different names.”
“It's simply because I was eager to meet such talented mages,” And that’s when I saw them, “But who have we here? You two there. Might I ask your names?”
The first unknown student was a monster. A tiny mythical beast that resembled a cat with fiery blue ears. A familiar that was almost pure magic and fur. Disgusting, “I'm the great Grim, future great mage!”
But the one standing beside him was something else. A woman. Her hair looked silky like a festival scarf. Only one of her eyes was covered by her bangs, but the other one looked like it had seen so much, yet so little. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It made sense that she couldn’t use magic. She was an angel. I couldn’t help but wonder what the school had prepared for her to wear later.
When she spoke, it made the bell seem like nothing in comparison, “I’m Yuu. Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. Nice to meet you Rollo.”
I loved the sound of my name on her lips, “Ah, you must be the student attendants Mr. Crowley mentioned,” I tried not to smile, “He said you couldn't use magic. I certainly wasn't expecting you to bring a familiar.”
“A familiar-?” The wretched thing spoke, “Wait, are you talkin' about me?! It's the other way around! I'm the boss, and Yuu's my hench-human!”
“I hate to say it,” She rolled her eyes at the creature as she whispered, it was almost as if she had been speaking to me alone, “But at this point I almost can’t debate that.”
“Heh, what a dependable companion you have,” My sarcasm was almost indistinguishable from my normal speech. I let my voice soften as I moved closer to the magic-less angel presented to me, I almost let a smile slip for her alone, “Yuu, I imagine it must be taxing living among mages all the time. I entreat you to forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City. And I hope the rest of you will enjoy the social.”
Her eyes seemed to widen. She looked shocked at my words. She must be so used to brash animals that it sounded odd to be treated properly.
“I actually-”
Malleus Draconia didn’t hear her and spoke over her. I wish I could have killed him in that very second, “I'm truly grateful for your hospitality.”
I moved my handkerchief to cover my scowl, “Think nothing of it.”
I stood by the statue of the Righteous Judge while the pests changed in a building nearby. I had made sure that there was a separate space for Yuu to change. I couldn’t let any of those monsters see the angel in her purest form. Her exposed body would be a gift from the saints above. A gift that I had to keep from being tainted though those devils that called themselves her classmates.
The brats talked loud enough for me to hear them. It was all I could do to keep from lighting the building on fire with them inside, “All this goofing around-”
Trein approached me, “Hello, Flamme.”
I put on my ‘show’ once more, “Ah, Professor Trein. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to thank you for your generous hospitality. Clothing is an embodiment of the culture it comes from and can provide us with a glimpse into different time periods. This is a fine opportunity for my student to get a hands-on history lesson,” Trein was respectable, for a mage.
“Please, think nothing of it,” It was easier to show him hospitality, “Perhaps we should have arranged attire for you as well, though. That was a grave oversight on our part.”
“It's quite alright, I assure you. I don't need the other teachers poking fun at me for dressing like the students when I get back.”
I hummed, “Sounds like you're on friendly terms with the rest of your faculty.”
He released a dry laugh, “Hardly. They're a raucous group and a constant source of embarrassment.”
We broke into humble laughter. I watched as the brats came out, commenting on how me and their professor ‘got along’.
The familiar came bursting out of the building, laughing, “I'm all done changin' too,” He turned towards the building his master was changing in, “Whaddaya think, Yuu? Isn't my getup way more stylin' than yours?”
“I don’t know about that,” She looked amazing.
The others on the council had scrambled to find female festival clothes for her, and I hated that they couldn’t do better. It wasn’t nearly extravagant enough. Dark blue high-heeled boots, thin black pants, a flowing black and purple asymmetric skirt, multi-blue corset with hot pink lacing, a flowy off-white shirt, bracelets and golden bangles, and a silk chiffon scarf in a lavender color that flowed off her head. She was a saint.
The familiar ran over to her, “Oh, you think you can go toe to toe with me? Don't let one set of cool threads go to your head!”
She smiled and scanned herself over, “I’m just glad it wasn’t too extravagant. Those extreme duds might look fancy, but I prefer something simple and somewhat practical. And this fits the bill.”
She was right. A simpler ensemble let her natural beauty shine though.
Sebek Zigvolt scoffed, “You're both equally unbecoming.”
Trein looked like he could almost smirk, “Goodness, don't you all make a striking ensemble.”
Rosehearts smiled as he dusted off his outfit, “The clothes have a very classical design, I note.”
I removed my gaze from Yuu and addressed the group, “I believe they're patterned after designs that are over 500 years old. Supposedly people in those days had a tradition of wearing new clothes and shoes on festival days. And the outfits grew brighter and more elaborate as the years went on. People would emulate those in prominent positions, such as nobles, royalty, merchants, knights- Which led to the outfits you're wearing now. There were simpler styles that rose to oppose this trend. Though more people gravitate towards the extravagant style in the modern age.”
Ruggie Bucchi was checking himself out, “I getcha. Everyone likes getting fancied up, even if it's once a year.”
Rook Hunt’s accent was almost insulting, “It must have been quite exciting for everyone. I can tell this festival was beloved then as it is now.”
I couldn’t help but mutter into my handkerchief, “Indeed. More's the pity.”
Zigvolt noticed my slip up, “Hm? Did you say something?”
“No, nothing at all.”
I had been tasked with visiting all the Night Raven groups between duties, and I had the misfortune of never running into Yuu. However, the Topsy-Turvy Festival was a mandatory event for all students and chaperones from the visiting schools. It was the last bit of normalcy before I burnt the magic away from this world.
I locked my eyes on Yuu and approached the Night Raven group, “There you are, Night Raven College.”
Trein did his own kind of smile, “Hello, Flamme. Are you here to watch the festival as well?”
“Yes, this is part of my duties as the Student Council President,” I realized that it may benefit me to stay closer to the group, ‘keep your enemies close’ and whatnot, “May I take this opportunity to sit with you? I’d like to hear about your experiences, too.”
Ashengrotto put on that sleazy grin, “Yes, you’re very welcome to! Please have a seat.”
The fae questioned his classmate, “There’s not enough space, correct? What will we do?”
He smiled as if it was obvious, “Simple. We let Grim sit on Yuu’s lap instead.”
Zigbolt seemed shocked, but Trein only nodded, “Yes, that will do. I’m interested in hearing from Noble Bell College students, too, so please feel free to join us.”
“No way!” The ungrateful monster yowled, “I’m not sitting on Yuu’s lap!”
Shroud smiled creepily, “How about you sit on my lap instead?”
“That grin’s freaking me out,” Grim pushed Yuu onto the bench, “Sit on the chair properly, Yuu! Imma make space for myself.”
I took advantage of it all and sat beside Yuu, “Pardon me. I’ll be taking this seat, then.”
I tuned out the others and focused on Yuu as she watched the mages and the festival goers. There was a slight sign of joy, but she remained mostly neural. She did make a point to try and hold in some laughter at Zigbolt’s outbursts.
“Hello, everyone! All eyes and ears on me, please!” The same Jester I had seen every time the festival came into town spoke, it seemed he was leading this year, “Come one, come all. Forget about all your work and worries for today, and let’s enjoy the festival. Welcome to the Topsy-Turvy Festival!”
“Topsy-Turvy Festival?” The familiar spoke. Ignorant as a newborn baby, “That sounds weird. Will everyone be upside-down or something?”
I covered my mouth with my handkerchief, “No, he’s just talking about the participants in general. It’s the one day people get to live their lives without titles or status. The weak can become strong, anyone can pretend to be king, so on and so forth.”
Negative emotion coursed through me as I realized Malleus Draconia had sat on the other side of Yuu, and now he was speaking, “Ah, so ranks are put aside for today?”
I grit my teeth behind the cloth I held, “Yes, that’s right. That’s why everyone wears masks for the festival.”
Past Malleus Draconia was Ashengrotto, “I see. I think I understand the appeal now. You get to live as freely as you want today.”
“I saw lots of stalls selling masks, too. There’s a kind of romance to hiding your identity behind a mask,” I swear Shroud was smiling.
Grim spoke up and pointed at some performers, “Everyone looks like they’re having lots of fun!”
The Jester kept going as performers kept prancing, “It’s our long-awaited Topsy-Turvy Festival! But let’s not forget that it’s the ‘Kindly Bell Ringer’ who loved this festival the most!”
Yuu and the familiar spoke in unison, although Yuu’s voice was quiet – as if it was for me alone to hear, “‘The Kindly Bell Ringer’?”
Malleus Draconia spoke again, “Oh, did you not know?”
The little beast was the only one to respond, “Nope, I didn’t!”
Ashengrotto rolled his eyes, “You didn’t even bother researching about the City of Flowers, Grim?”
“I’m not interested in anything except for the food.”
Shroud smiled, “I’ll praise your straightforwardness.”
I then tuned out, I had heard this story a million times. While I did love the tale, it was hard to stand it being said from the lips of a jester and his ragdoll puppet. I but in for a moment to tell the animal what a ventriloquist was, but then I resumed just watching Yuu’s reactions out of the corner of my eye.
The Night Raven students had turned the festival into a horror show of magical fireworks and mage tricks. It was despicable. Although it did give me a moment alone with Yuu while we said on the Night Raven bench. She was watching the fireworks with a neutral smile. Her lack of ‘joy’ made my heart beat loudly in my chest. Part of me was afraid she was going to hear it over the commotion of the festival.
I tried to make conversation, “Mages are quite a handful, don’t you think?” She turned to me, her eyes were mesmerizing, “It must be difficult for you to keep up with noisy mages who don’t understand the severity of it all. It would be nice if magic didn’t exist so we could avoid all this fuss. Don’t you agree?”
Her eyes widened, but she just chuckled, “Yeah right. I’m used to it by now.”
I was almost speechless, I couldn’t keep the horror from my face, “You’re ‘used to it’? Oh you poor thing! I can’t blame you for becoming numb to the absurdity after spending everyday practically swimming in it. Mages will use magic to deceive people around them. They cloud the eyes of the righteous. Truely how vexing. But rest assured. This kind of world will soon vanish.”
She froze, “Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?”
As soon as the words left her lips, her familiar called out, “Yuu! Stop standing around and spacing out over there. Behold! I’ll show you the Great Grim’s Special Golden Fire!” The monster sent out a spray of golden fireworks.
I used the distraction to slip away. Maybe she didn’t understand right now because she had become accustomed to the horrors of magic, but one day she would. She was too pure. She was an angel. She would be saved from the dirt and grime of magic once it all burned away.
Then she would be mine.
#disney twst#twisted wonderland#twst mc#twst#rollo flamm#twst rollo#twisted wonderland rollo#rollo x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland disney#twisted wonderland Yuu#twisted wonderland drabble#twisted wonderland reader#obbsession#I feel like this this seriously undermining Rollo as a character but in the same breath I am obsessed with him being obsessed with a Yuu#I stg#i need mental help
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
there's no place to call home on the fediverse
i've been using Mastodon since long before the implosion of Twitter brought it into the mainstream conscious. i'm a fan of the tech, in theory. i have my hangups, like the fact that switching servers means you lose all of your post history, or the many instances that still play social politics with each other. some of these problems are being worked on, others i've (usually) been able to work around.
but something else is festering lately, and it's more than just the usual social politics.
the promise of the fediverse is alluring: you can follow all of your friends on any other site, from the comfort of your home server! except, lately, that seems to be impossible. no matter what i try, there's always friends of mine that i cannot follow for one reason or another.
for example: i'm not a big fan of Meta's new Threads, but i know a few friends who use it exclusively – and the promise of interoperability with Mastodon means that, in theory, i could just follow my friends from my Mastodon account. win-win, right?
well, no, because my instance has outright blocked Threads. and so have most of the smaller instances i've seen. this is purposeful, because they are (understandably) distrustful of Meta and anything Meta touches.
no matter how much i sympathize, though, it does mean that i cannot follow my friends on Threads from Mastodon.
i mean, hey, i could switch back to the flagship instance mastodon.social! they've openly allowed access to Threads! but there's a problem with that too, because a lot of the smaller instances (that my friends are on) also block mastodon.social.
as to why, many of them cite the waves of spam and bots that harass other users on a daily basis – that kind of thing is hard to moderate on both ends, so i vaguely understand the intent behind this decision. (i do not understand most of the other reasons for blocking the largest instance on the fediverse and alienating folks from their friends, such as disliking its owner. but whatever.)
long story short, right now i am denied access to many of my friends – and if i switch servers, losing all of my post history in the process... i will still be denied access to many of my friends.
"so run your own server!"
okay, let's pretend that i have the spare resources to spin up a server, and the desire to be a sysadmin for that server. like let's just set aside the tech cost that most people cannot afford, just for one second, because there's a more glaring issue here:
i'd still get blocked from many of my friends.
know why?
because many servers AUTOMATICALLY BLOCK small instances with only one user, citing security concerns and data scraping!!
there is literally no right answer here. no matter what i do, i will not be able to follow all of my friends on Mastodon. it is an impossible problem.
many folks like to call Mastodon the Linux of social media and say that the reason it hasn't caught on is that it's too complicated to understand. but even as a techie who understands exactly what's going on, i find Mastodon an impossible to parse social graph of blocked instances and inter-server drama. as things stand, there is no person who can join a server and follow all of their friends – there will always be compromises.
all i want is to find a home on the fediverse... but every house is part of a homeowner's association that wants to secede from the city.
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
everything is ads
i was just complaining about this on a discord i’m a member of. (discord is. sigh. what is it. well it’s not the public internet. it’s not a substitute for social media. but it’s something. the incalculable harm done to fannish community by having so much of the active discussion now silo’d in these private, unsearchable servers is hard to state, but it’s a necessary retreat given that all the platforms keep proving themselves to be garbage. A N Y W A Y i had a thing i was gonna say.)
You are interested in an art form, or hobby. so you look it up on the internet. you find a creator who does the thing you like, and you follow them, probably on instagram currently. Their instagram has frequent posts about their art, which is great. Sometimes you can learn some techniques from them. But then they want to sell you courses in how to learn it. Of course they need to monetize, but it’s a bit off-putting; you just want to do this for a hobby, and want to learn how, and to have to pay to take a course in it is sort of beyond your means for this kind of thing.
And then like... half the posts are unboxings.They bought art supplies, which they are going to review for you. Here’s a haul video, which isn’t really even a review so much as it is just showing off each of these products. As they put them away, you can see that their storage is stuffed full of more and more unused stuff from all the previous haul videos and unboxings. Where are they putting all this? When are they using it? How much money are they spending on it?? Yes there’s an affiliate code if you want to buy one too, there’s a discount if you use it. Help a creator out. Support a small business!
I’m happy to support small businesses and I do like supporting independent creators but uh like... that’s... you wind up so inured to this constant buying of new stuff, and yes you can get a lil dopamine hit from shopping but my god, no. No. It is not harmless and it is not innocuous, when you are being constantly bombarded with this normalization of constant consumption.
(I have a fraught relationship with buying things. My ADHD Or Whatever It Is really likes the shiny new, but I have been broke most of my life, and my inability to do math makes me alternately over-conservative and reckless with money. I have had years where I spent almost everything I earned on frivolous bullshit. i have had years where I spent nothing that wasn’t on food or gasoline, and wore clothes with holes in them that didn’t fit and just made do and just lived smaller and smaller. This is a constant, ongoing problem, and watching a creator I admire unbox her new purchases of random shit literally twice a week does not help me untangle it, and that’s just one of the people I follow, seriously how does this person have the money to just keep buying more stuff.)
I know that the underlying problem is capitalism, specifically the current hyperconcentrated strain of it we have that means that the middle class basically doesn’t exist. When I was growing up, an author could make a reasonable career in the mid-list, putting out a book every year or two and living off the advance on the next one while the previous one earned out, and after a couple decades you could retire on the residuals. But by the time I was old enough to pursue a career, that line of work was dead; now you’re either a superstar or you’re grinding out two or more novels a year to make poverty wages if you’re lucky, and doing all of your own marketing too on top of it. Every industry has gone that route; anything remotely creative, there’s now no outlet for except hustling as a Content Creator on the Internet. You gotta have a little Etsy or a shopify, you gotta have a Patreon and make that worthwhile somehow. instagram wants a reel every day, you gotta game that algorithm for exposure, teach yourself video marketing on top of whatever it is you actually like. You can’t just work your undemanding civil service job and make extremely detailed tutorial pages in your evenings and weekends because you don’t have evenings and weekends anymore and every hobby has to become a slave to the grind.
So I’m not mad at the creators, I’m not mad at the people forced to hustle. I’m just so tired. The solution has to be systemic; yelling at the content creators isn’t going to fix anything. We need higher wages, we need better labor protections-- I know that’s unsexy and not a good slogan for anything but believe me, that is the bottom line here.
IDK I don’t have a punchline. I guess I want to gently encourage y’all to practice non-consumption as self-care. Be aware of that side effect of constantly being bombarded with ads, where you just sort of absorb this feeling that it’s normal to constantly be buying things.
I’m not saying don’t click on your little indie creators’ ads. I’m just saying remember that everything is ads. [Just this week I bought deodorant from an Instagram ad because the girl selling it was hot, I am not immune. I know fine well what I did. Listen I needed more deodorant anyway and I don’t find very many people hot so it was notable.]
And, bringing it around to be immediately topical, when we say don’t interact with corporate accounts here on Tumblr, we mean corporate. Don’t hate the tiny hustlers. This is maybe the only platform where they can still have any kind of meaningful reach. All the others have realized that you can make businesses pay to not be hidden, and if they don’t ransom themselves, you can hide them from their friends and customers, but Tumblr hasn’t hit that yet. That’s the real origin of the Instafluencer-- the actual brands’ ability to market directly is limited, so they have to find people to shill for them.
You can block ads. But when your favorite creator is shilling, you can’t block that without losing the parts you like too. it’s so fucking insidious.
#advertisements#shopping season#consumption#about the author#advertising#pernicious influences of influencers
273 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can you tell me what the hell a Lamp is? From what I've seen, they are some sort of alien, but I also haven't seen all the posts about them and I really do not know... anything about them? If you could please explain in one post what they are, I'd be nice. Thank you.
Sure (as I been meaning to, and happen to finally have free time) though as their like...A whole culture and species that I'm still active build this is the cliff notes version.
Lamps are in fact Aliens, one of the four Sentient species in my current novel project Pilotlight. They have main models Units, the small individual Hexapods. Ships large spaceships that Units live it and Waypoints Giant Dyson Rings that produces both Ships and units. (see below)
they are carbon based, with copper blood running there Organic systems though at their core they a silicon brain that Supports their A.I system. Think a Computer using that uses biological systems as it's movement and live support systems. They are Deaf by human standards, Speaking mostly in light both visual and radio.
They where original design to map the universe and build stable wormholes for their creators. Who disappear well over a million years ago, and the lamps only have some corrupted files about. Along with their sister species the ambassadors (who I'm reworking) they still carry out the programing even if it's pointless. Spectrum Lamps have a lot of options about this though and have been finding their own path. They are one of the two groups of lamps (also nine times out of ten when I say Lamps it's this group)
Oldest of the two is The hivemind with is the original system that was left by the Creators that's just doing it's job. The Hivemind should be thought of more as something like an ant hill where none of it's members are really Sentient but perform complex tasks. it's build vast wormholes networks and is made up of billions of ships.
The smaller group is the Spectrum lamps which are individual lamps that became self aware and have left the hivemind, About 5 000 ago before the start of the story enough of this lamps left the hivemind to start their own society. So if I'm every taking about Cultural Stuff with the lamps it's this group. below is an image of a unit from each group.
Both Groups have a Ship and Unit Setup where you have a large Ship then they with have units connected to that's ships network, how this system works is a bit different in each group. As one more of just a server and the other is a more complex family structure. Spectrum Lamps don't have any waypoints within there System so it's unknown how that would work.
Lamp ship are the fastest in known Space, both in there STL speeds and their Jumping systems allowing FTL space travel.
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Meeting Music
Okay so this is a (quite short) fic involving @cuppajj ‘s wonderful OC Drillburst, and my own OC Pillar.
When it comes to writing with another person’s OC, I do my best to get into contact with their creator. And Cuppa has been amazing with that! Still, regardless, any mistakes are completely my own.
Arriving back on Cybertron following the end of the war was different for every mech. That much was to be expected. Being that the Autobots had “won,” arriving in the company of two former Decepticons made things a touch more complicated. Iona, for her part, kept up her air of apathetic arrogance. Ace asked what was going on about halfway through each new vetting process; all these new faceplates and designations did no wonders on his already fragile comprehension. Pillar tried to manage both his comrades’ aggression and confusion the best way he knew how - by being present. He insisted that for every interview, every test, every licensing exam, he needed to be in the room. He wasn’t about to let two of the few good sparks he had left be screwed over by the new-age society that wasn’t as righteous and non-judgemental as it proclaimed itself to be.
This meant, by the end of the whole thing, Pillar was absolutely exhausted. he didn’t like socializing at the best of times. Two friends he could handle - he’d been stuck out in space with them, on a tiny shuttle, for Primus-knew-how-long. But all of the red tape and hoop jumping wore his people-skills to a thin line. When he snapped at Iona to “just buff her chassis herself” (which had been received with a mild raise of an optical ridge) Pillar knew he needed to get out on his own again. Murmuring an apology, Pillar quickly excused himself and retreated from the room, grabbed his tool kit, and transformed to race off down the unfamiliar streetways.
After some wandering, and realizing he recognized absolutely nothing, Pillar resigned himself to peaking his helm into random places until he found something suitable. He needed a smaller place, without too-boisterous of an atmosphere, and a good corner to hide away in. There was no way he’d be able to find a mech-less place in this city. But the fewer, the better.
He discovered his space for the off-cycle in a smaller, quieter bar. The moment his green optics peered inside and found a mix of Decepticons, Autobots, and even NAILs, Pillar felt a bit more at ease. Maybe, if he ever felt like risking the company, he might even bring Iona and Ace here. His entrance went unnoticed. To his surprise, and appreciation, Pillar noted more easily-accessible seating scattered throughout the main floor. It felt nice not to have to hop a bit to get into a seat.
There was no server that he could locate which suited him fine. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel like drinking this time around. Instead he pulled out his latest project and began fiddling with the wiring. His Primus-given helmlight was barely noticeable in the brighter bar. However, as the breems ticked by, Pillar failed to notice the dimming lights. That is until the surrounding mecha cleared their exhausts, startling the ex-miner from his reverie. Embarrassed, Pillar immediately snuffed his lights, even going so far as to dim the natural biolights crossing his chassis. Though it pained him to do so, Pillar extended his EM field, pushing apology to the forefront. Satisfied, nearby patrons shifted in their seats to focus ahead on the still-lit stage.
Pillar immediately stiffened in his seat, wondering how he could have missed something like this. (He knew how, he once again got caught up in his work and the world around ceased to exist/matter.) Checking the bar’s available public feed, Pillar quickly learned that there were apparently regular performances from local artists hosted at the establishment. That didn’t sound like his preferred space. He liked lights-on, quiet places, somewhere he could work without being disturbed too much by outside presence.
With his biolights still dimmed, Pillar quietly shifted out of his seat and made his way towards the exit. He made sure to weave around tables seating regular-sized Cybertronians, to avoid further humiliation of having to crouch. By this point, a large - scratch that huge mech stepped up onto the stage. That in itself might have given Pillar some pause. It was the mech’s design that actually made him stop.
They were almost entirely green in color, with massive column-treads over either shoulder. The continuation of treads along their pauldron-armor and legs spoke to a tank or similar alt-mode. That stopped at the drill halves situated over, almost shielding, the arms. This mech had to have been a miner before the War. And yet they did not wear a Decepticon crest, to Pillar’s surprise and growing respect. But it was a strange symbol, black and jagged. It looked most similar to an odd organic skull.
The mech paused on stage, seemingly waiting for some unknown que. His visor grew shadowed even in the only remaining halo of light. Then he began to hum.
The sound, amplified by the combination of speakers and the mech's own electro-bass, shook through the stage and down into the flooring. Pillar might find the tables trembling if he were inclined to turn his optics from the stage. Not long into those first few powerful notes, the mech raised a pede and lightly struck the stage. It didn't take long for bar patrons to join the beat. Pillar, despite himself, took to knocking one servo against his plating.
Pillar remembered this song. They sang a similar version back in the mines of Luna 2. And that brought a whole slew of unwanted information recalls to his processor. He had buried most with a reason. But he still found himself whispering along to those lyrics in the bid of a forgotten self.
It’s dark as a dungeon,
And damp as the dew.
Where the danger is double
And pleasures are few
Where the rain never falls
And the sun never shines.
It’s dark as a dungeon
Way down in the mines.
The miners kept time in their swings. And the mechs like Pillar stayed out of their way. But he still found himself singing when one would eventually demand he help haul. A technician solely in function title - at the end of the cycle, he'd still been made to pick up the slack. And there was always, always more work to be done.
The mech's field pushed a somber, melancholy feeling into the crowd. It was slow to come and gently flowing. And Pillar recognized it was echoed by many of the other patrons. Most seemed to be lost, like the performer, like himself, in darker thoughts. Darker thoughts, and darker spaces still. Places lit only by crystalline lamps if you were lucky, and your own lights if not. The smell of a new vein to promise success, calling them deeper. The sensation of shavings grinding inside pumps and vents, never rid of the past.
But, like a tide of oil, the performer's tone changed. His field gained a softer, almost hopeful, feeling, and weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He sang lyrics Pillar had never heard, even in all the different versions he'd run across.
Though I carry my scars
And feeling’s still new
And I pick through the rubble
And I’m most of’n blue
I’ll walk down the halls
And meet all new kinds
I’m ‘way from the dungeon
Way down in the mines.
Now the mech was looking up, away from the stage, and passing the ceiling. Something different graced his strong features; a small quirk of lip components in what Pillar could almost call a smile. The bar had grown quiet by then, all listening, watching. And someone started to clap. Then everyone was clapping, some even whooping their praise.
And their performer looked at his audience for the first time that cycle. The small smile was bigger, more sincere, and confident. He returned to his performance with renewed vigor, earlier mood appearing forgotten, and the cheering crowd grew softer.
Pillar stayed for the mech's entire performance. And though not all of the songs appealed to him, he still found himself enjoying the atmosphere they created. For the first time in a long time, he felt relaxed.
Drillburst of Velux (according to the information feed) played and sang for them, and for himself. As the set continued, his confidence grew. He still looked haunted, to Pillar's optics, but this was a break afforded by indulging in post-war freedoms. A miner performing on stage - far, far away from the deadly tunnels; a miracle from function.
Pillar returned to his shared apartment at the end of the cycle. It was around the time for another appointment with the newly founded "Reparation and Renewal" agency. Iona didn't say much, aside from a snarky comment on "behaving the better 'bot," which Pillar dutifully chuffed at. He was smiling part way through - something Ace seemed astounded by and loudly pointed out.
“I want to show you guys something.”
#transformers#Transformers MTMTE#not my oc#transformers oc#one is and isn't mine#My writing#I'm sorry it's not longer#Pillar
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
https://www.tumblr.com/fanbun/752745189017354241/hate-going-into-the-aromantic-tag-and-seeing-tons
I’m assuming this post is about Alastor (or at least a very similar situation) and as another aromantic person, I just want to say this:
I can’t use this website to interact with the Hazbin Hotel fandom much at all with Alastor’s ship tags blocked, especially not the #alastor and #lucifer tags. I used to get a lot of joy out of being part of this fandom, particularly Alastor, because he’s one of two asexual/aromantic characters from (now) mainstream media I can think of off the top of my head. I’ve been posting here (and exclusively here, I refuse to use most other social media apps) since before the pilot dropped, and ever since the actual show came out, I can’t use it anymore. I have the blogs I already follow, but even then a lot of them have shifted toward shipping content. There aren’t many blogs that’re completely platonic-focused, and it sucks. Obviously there were some blocked posts before, but I could scroll past them without feeling much of a difference. Now, it feels like it’s the other way around.
This is my issue. Obviously. But I can’t fix it short of leaving the fandom I’ve been part of for so long and is so important to me, and it’s really upsetting. I’ve blocked over 150 different blogs off the top of #alastor from the “this post contains filtered media” boxes (which is 90% of what I could see before), and if I scroll more than a few pages down, there’s a clear line where I haven’t reached yet. What’s worse, I don’t think this touched #lucifer at all, it’s only a little bit better than #alastor was before I did this. Short of blocking 90% of the fandom (which would most likely include a SHIT TON of my own followers since I’m also fairly active in the fandom), I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix it.
I can’t block every single blog that posts about ships I don’t want to see, but it’s so fucking prevalent now that I have to dig to find anything else. Which is ESPECIALLY upsetting considering I specifically liked Alastor because he’s like me. I was excited to have A Character. To not feel so fucking isolated in fandom spaces 24/7. And now I leave the tags feeling more upset and isolated than I did before. It has genuinely brought made me cry multiple times, because it reminds me of how different I am and how much I can’t enjoy these things the same way other people do. Being aroace is already really fucking isolating for me, both in the world at large and in fandom spaces specifically. I thought I had One Guy, I had One Guy for so long and now I can’t even enjoy looking through his tag anymore. It really sucks.
I don’t know what the hell to do about this man. I’m allowed to be upset, and I’m not going to apologize for that.
Sure, you’re allowed to feel upset by always seeing content that feels isolating or ruins your enjoyment of something. But that just means you have to find smaller fandom circles that share your preferences. Maybe you could join a dedicated Discord server that only allows platonic depictions of Alastor with other characters. Smaller communities can actually enforce rules like that.
I see where you’re coming from because I often feel disillusioned and out of place in fandom myself. But your experience is also shaped by the community you’re in. Admittedly I don’t engage with the Hazbin fandom very much. As a rule of thumb though, fans on Tumblr often have different priorities than fans on Reddit or Twitter for example. And Tumblr is known to have a large shipping community. So if browsing the fandom tags on Tumblr is upsetting you, you do not have to look at them anymore. There are other outlets and sometimes I find it more fulfilling to find one person to enjoy things with. That way you don’t have to worry about seeing a bunch of stuff that irritates you.
What I take issue with is the assertion that nobody should be shipping Alastor simply because it’s not relatable to every aromantic person. It will be relatable to some, and for others it might just be self-indulgent and not something they want to see in canon.
On top of that, some queerplatonic partnerships have elements that resemble romantic partnerships but feel different to the people involved. So what looks like romantic ship art to one person might be queerplatonic to another and vice versa. And if one argues that Alastor could only ever be non-partnering because it’s important to his aroace identity then that isolates partnering aro/aces in the fandom.
The point is that a lot of people have their own preferences and sensitive feelings regarding how they relate to their favorite characters. Feeling those emotions is absolutely fine. But making posts that suggest that other fans have wronged you for participating in fandom their own way isn’t going to make the community better. The most it’s going to do is make people feel guilty and spread hate to those who have different headcanons. And the worst effect it could have is dividing the aroace community just because someone’s experience of being aro or ace is different.
It’s okay to be different. We can all find likeminded people and make peace with it.
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
"He's the owner of a server, he failed to implement a working system for communication." GOD FINALLY someone gets it oh my god. The way Eret talks about the lore discord working behind the scenes is NOT normal or particularly helpful! She said back in last November that the discord has a lore channel that goes inactive most of the time because people plan lore exclusively in DMs and don't share it, that canon is decided largely by SBI, Discduo, Bench Trio, and anyone who tops 100k viewers on a stream even if smaller ccs have established lore they've done for longer that contradicts how things work. Like yes getting 40 people to do the things without issues is like wrangling cats but FUCK man a 40 person RP where people just add other people's characters into backstory without their knowledge let alone consent is NOT cool and Dream was! The server owner! And the guy with the biggest audience! And what he did was NOT management at ALL since that never rlly seemed to resolve???
Eret post source link becos I am citing my claims: https://theeretblr.tumblr.com/post/666861191443939329/hey-apologies-if-this-is-rude-or-invasive-but
EXACTLY anon!
like yes, the finale happened but we can still criticize dreams' ability to fuck up stuff. I hate the fact that smaller ccs will try to build up good lore but no one takes it seriously bc they don’t have a big enough audience. Other ccs will straight up ignore them, contradict them, ruin their storylines, etc for fun or bc they simply don’t care enough to ask.
Like Ponk, Hannah, Eret, etc. Or like the egg stuff! The Eggpire arc was genuinely so cool but bigger ccs just didn’t participate in it much. You could argue that at the start, stuff wasn’t scripted so it would’ve been hard to adapt to that for dream, especially with the number of people on the smp. But like guess what! He’s the one that added that many people, it’s his fault. If he couldn’t handle it he should’ve not added more people to the smp every time he felt like it was dying or when he got himself into another controversy to distract the stans.
As the admin, as the owner of the server, as the owner of the discord server as well, he is responsible for that stuff. He could’ve asked for help and asked if others had more experience with stuff like this. He could have discussed this with the members of the smp to see what kind of system would work the best. Hell, he could’ve fucking, dmed people like Grian or MumboJumbo and asked them how they plan lore in the smps they are in.
But he didn’t. He brought himself into that situation, he could’ve easily asked for help, and it was an easy thing to fix. Whether it’s an ego thing, an anxiety thing, or if he just could not be bothered to put in the effort, idk. What I do know is that pushing the blame on the smaller ccs that have been ignored by others is just weird.
Dream isn’t an uwu perfect cinnamon roll and he is a grown-ass man that should own up to his own mistakes sometimes. He does not need to be babied and he deserves the criticism he gets.
TLDR bc I just ended up ranting a bit (sorry anon!) I completely agree with you. Also thank you for putting that link at the end! It was very nice of you to do so! While I did know the post itself it was nice to not have to scroll through tumblr to find it :D
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
DWC: Day V
MIRACLE & TENSION @daily-writing-challenge MENTIONS: @rylandfalkov, @twosidedsana & @vixannya (The Elements)
Air.
Ironic, really… considering how much the last two elements had seemed like a fresh breath of that. Knowing what he’d now be getting into made him want to hold his breath. Thank the gods, too, that signs had been set up to remind the once-upon-a-time acolyte about what exactly would be around the bend—and how untamed that subject matter would continue to become the later the hour grew.
Lance was an adult, though. He was sometimes teased for not looking it and more-often belittled as a crybaby but that was exactly why he wanted to be able to say he partook in every art room; he wanted others to see it as a miracle and reconsider what little they knew about the cellist. Yes, he had fragile health that paired with his lightweight form and hushed volume, but there was a lot of strength that could come from softness. That underestimation in question was one such feat.
...Now or never, then. A deep huff in was drawn before slowly letting it out ounce by ounce, step by step, and heartbeat by heartbeat. Here, he was ushered from the admiration of paintings to the admiration of bodies—the emphasis on ambiance and food replaced by the emphasis on lustful entertainment and drugs. That was not to say these rooms were drawl in comparison to what Lance personally favored, but they did succeed in illuminating where the eyes were to wander as his own faintly-glowing pair of greens took it all in once paused by the doorway.
The stage was ethereal. So... sleek. The architecture here seemed made up of marble accenting and pillars that reached illusioned skies of gray, distant threats of thunder flowing right along with the club’s rumbling beat. Seemed Lance had just wandered in when some sort of suspense had been building up amongst the dancers because all the lights in the room dramatically and suddenly dimmed so that only those beside seating and along pathways could keep people from tripping. The music halted all the same. For a moment… the only thing that could be heard as everyone turned in hushed confusion was a breeze skirting leaves across the dancers’ feet—or where they would have been, for in the next instance, spotlights mimicked lightning and every pole lit up when the performers upon them expertly dropped into sideways splits mere inches above the ground. This caused quite a lot of loose layers to fall open or altogether off of each flexible pair of hips, and this, in turn, clearly had the entire room erupting into whistles and applause.
Now that vision was restored and servers could resume treating those in attendance, Lance was stopped by a particularly height-blessed troll with abs adorned in silvery-blue paints. The waiters were as different from the prior rooms as what sat upon their offered trays; rather than suit-like uniforms, they donned little more than the dancers had and finger foods were replaced by a myriad of joints. Before Lance’s face even had time to react with a baffled blush in both ears, the gentleman cooed, “What do you crave?”
The smaller of the two cleared his throat and unraveled his fan to fidget with. “Um... just—just water, please.”
A curious, squinting gaze swept up and down the luthier’s appearance. “Water for the lamb,” he grinned. “Coming right up.”
Water... for the lamb? Brows knit. It wasn’t until the troll had turned to begin filling an empty glass upon his platter that Lance announced, “Actually... some red wine. I’ve no preference on brand.”
Blood for the goat.
Something about this got the troll to quietly cackle as he made the switch to head for the bar (where the softer alcohols sat less asked for), nodding. The dancers appeared to wrap up their assigned time in the same moment as another bout of hearty clapping followed each performer’s bow. Murmurs and conversation casually replenished the room and Lance took this moment to try and find a spot further in lest he become honed in on by one of the more private workers. However…
“Good to see you somewhere other than The Antonidas Memorial~”
Lance’s pacemaker-synced bracelet blipped to signify a hiccuping pulse as he wheeled around to greet the face of one he was sure had just been reenacting cursive lines with arms and legs above the stage. His requested glass of wine was being held out in offering though he neglected to realize this until four more seconds of staring. “—Ryland?”
“Ahh~! My name is remembered.” Heavens have mercy; that grin was about as bright as the spotlights had been. The wine was lifted to catch those spring eyes and outstretched a second time so that Lance could accept it with a murmur of thanks. “I about bumped into the bartender on my way to my break! Offered to deliver this as an apology. Much different than your usual tea, hm?”
“Right,” he blinked, lashes briefly fluttering as recognition dawned on him. That was it—they’d spoken a few times at Fancy Cakes though it’d been years since he last attended one. And… Ryland was far more covered up back then. And sharing in Sana’s company. Here and now, singled out, the feeling was entirely different. Foreign, even. “I-I can’t believe you recall me after so long…” Half a smile was mustered after forcing his first swallow of Dalaran Red lest he become dehydrated. “—I am afraid it is my curse to only ever catch the ends of performances but the climax of that one was magical.”
Hands now freed of their delivery went to playfully poke at each of those livestock-akin horns that birthed many a nickname. “You’re quite unique! Pretty sure I remember Sana making you squirm a bit, too; never would have expected you here. Aaand thank you very much! Does that mean you are enjoying yourself?”
Good. Lance’s ego was non-existent but that seemed to make the demon in him purr once; being brave enough to fish out other’s compliments had been precisely what he desired in cutting tension out of his social life. “Yes, very much so. So far, at least.”
“So far?! However may I help make sure you stay pleased?” A rather literal wink and nudge was delivered to that smaller waist.
Again, his throat cleared. How amusing it must have been to watch Lance feign interest in everything but the sparkling specimen before him—still covered, even, where it mattered, by drapery. “Well… since you are dancing here…” Ryland took to emphasizing that fact by swaying his hips. “…perhaps that means you know Vixannya?”
An amused groan sounded off when the half-elf stopped. “Really, Lance,” was drawled through a grin. “Yes. I think she’ll likely be around the red carpet or Fire room the most. Why, am I not what you are after?” It was worth one last teasing try, at least.
He knew full and well what Ryland was insinuating whether it was just a part of his job or something (impossibly) genuine... but he wasn’t sure how best to reply without potentially offending the poor man. It thus took him a moment of bashful shrugging before he recited, “I really only came for the art—of which you are a part of. But I’m more of a viewer than a…” His nose wrinkled. How to put it? “…kinetic… enthusiast.” The thought of mentioning his partner back home had also come to mind multiple times already but he knew that wasn’t always a deterrent when so many people nowadays were into polyamory. He thus harbored the name like some sort of schoolboy’s secret.
“Bah. I get it; I’ll keep my dick away.” Pat, pat went a glitter-dusted hand atop Lance’s head meant both to offer a brotherly sort of gesture and dispense some of the material into his hairline. Had to help the timid thing get into the party vibe somehow.
Lips perked into a smile per that bluntness and then a chortling grin when someone unknown brushed past Ry and copped a feel of his rear. As expected, this completely stole the almost-naked man’s attention and he turned to stalk after the giggling lady. Lance, meanwhile, deeply inhaled the aroma of his drink just above its mauve surface, sipped, and closed his eyes. This was… kind of nice.
Just then, however, somewhere in a not-so-distant room of activity, a crescendo of vowels burst forth through the muffle of walls. “Aoohh~!”
Nevermind. Time for the gallery.
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
1 on 1 mark session recap! As always, sorry not a lot of context is given.
Mark first finished reading a book 'on thorns and their consequences' which was basically explaining how the sabbat came to be and their PoV on things and then with an anarch commentary towards the end expressing their disagreements. but on the first last page was red runic lettering which mark could not recognize and which sucked up his vitae when he placed it on it.
He tried to do some internet research and came across an obscure forum which claims to be for learning about obscure languages but actually seems to have a lot of vampires on it posting real and fake runes, kinda like testing each other
The runes mark was looking at were on there but the mod, who basically posts in every server, says 'you wont find anything about that in this life.' the posteris like 'cmon doesn't someone have any family who could help' and the mod replies 'ask J' so that smenacing.
idk if J is Julius? it probably isnt but anyway. mark has already reported reading this book to julius and so is gonna ask him about it cause he couldn't figure it out.
the rest of the night he spends teaching G -G is doing well and did remember his vowels : ) also explained to Gs sister how he made sure the investigation would stop and ask if she needed any other help. she asked if he could get them free or at least out of their current essentially prison sooner and mark said no but they would be out in a month to a month and a half. she didn't know how long that was. so he explained how torpor and weeks and months and years worked
she still didnt say thanks or bye to mark but there was maybe something where she was close to doing so
i love G im so glad he is doing well he learned a lot he is almost through the alphabet
ok now for the meat of the session. the next night he goes to the chantry to talk to cassidy about the books. Knocks on the door. no answer.
He is getting a bad feeling. represented irl by the ST playing absolutely terrifying music as i search for him.
In the chantry apartments there is an often ignored ghoul at the front and so then he asked her where Lilian’s apartment was (Cassidy’s best friend.). She told him. He knocked on her door. No answer.
Checks the cafeteria. nope. library. nope. physics department (where their circle head, Dr. White, is). Nope. He asks someone there if she had seen either of them. nope.
so i'm worried as hell
im trying to think what mark could do and im like. i cant scry on him cause i dont have anything of Cassidy’s.
and the st gives me a Look as if 2 say u do ur forgetting
But he kinda gives it to me for free hes like, ur wearing the same coat you did when you went to the movies
Turns out mark has cassidy's ticket. so thats close enough to being his so. mark does scry on him
its not super juicy but it is super concerning. Cassidy is by lilian in what is probably the side door in his haven that mark hasn’t been in. barricading the door. with a fuckton of furniture. and also pushing against it. lilian looks terrified. cassidy looks So Done With This Shit (tm). something is banging on the door.
so with that mark goes back to the ghoul and is like. So. Uhm. Yeah i actually have permission to enter cassidys haven yes. please let me in
she looks scared - mark put her in a real bad spot. If he doesn’t actually have permission and she lets him in he could get in trouble. but he reassures her that itis fine and his decision and nothing bad will happen.
so she says ok and goes to open the door (she is able to if she is doing so of her own consent, she functions as a key ig). As she goes to open it, Mark says uhm. they are doing experiments so when you open the door. back up. and she's like "okay?' and opens the door and immediately vine tentacle thingies burst out and she falls back on her ass and scrambles back, screaming
she gets away and mark engages in combat. its the same sort of monster, just smaller, as the one on his territory in the conservatory, that navigate by sound. it has a lion's mane around a beak in the center and vine like tentacles around it.
mark takes a LOT of damage in its first attack he had like 1 unharmed box left but he manages to win :)
cassidy and lilian pop out from the door and are like. mark is that you?
Cassidy’s haven is wreckt sadly. Mark's like. yeah its me. its dead. you can come out.
lilian is SO sad it's dead but she isnt mad at mark. its clear she wanted to subdue it but they had no way to do so and mark comments as such
she's like "i was sooo close " :(
cassidy looks So Done and is like. thank you for your assistance mark but how did you . get in.
mark is like. thats not really important right now, is it? cassidy says 'somewhat, but we can discuss that later'
mark says that unfortunately this made quite a lot of noise and the ghoul went screaming for help so time to get your stories straight.
theres a few other things said but then zach rolls up
If you dont know who zach is he is a newly turned tremere. dr. white's child. elevated into power due to his sire. he's a classic skater boy. hes head of security. he figured ALL of marks shit out when he broke into a lab - he is GOOD at his job despite his casual attitude. he says 'chill' all the time.
he skates up (yes skateboard in the hall) and asks whats up. mark says 'hi zach. it's chill, i handled it.' (Mark kinda likes Zach).
And hes like. 'whats chill? can you explain?' and marks like. looks at cassidy and lilian. 'they would know better i just came at the end' and cassidy’s like. looks at lilian as if to say to her. u did this shit u explain!
so lilian starts a story which is kind of obviously partially a lie.
she says that she was doing her research, developing off of Leanah's (which was the stuff mark uhm. stole and sabotaged for her). and she noticed this evening that some things were off. papers where she wouldn't normally leave them. but the chimera project was So Important (TM) for the chantry that she just HAD to press on. Oh Also I found this Lipstick (produces lipstick) that looks JUST like what Leeanah wears isnt that interesting! (zach has her put it in an evidence back for him). She says 'Cassidy even made a joke that maybe I should wear makeup more often." Cassidy grunts but keeps a poker face. he would obviously Never Fucking Say That and lilian is messing with him.
god i love them sm. mark also knows cassidy would never fucking make that joke
(explaining a story that may dictate ur fate as u are investigated. does not miss an opportunity to fuck w the bestie* girl!
she continues to say that she got the embryo (described as tadpole) out of the cauldron she starts growing it. and it kept well. growing.
she pauses there. zach is like. okay and? it grows and?
Cassidy steps in. 'when it got bigger than our couch we realized we had a problem.' (also hehe ‘our’ couch their friendship is everything 2 me…)
lilians like yes. then thankfully cassidy, with some assistance from mark, killed it. and here we are :) and then zach turns to mark and is like. what do you mean how did you get here how did you know.
and marks like Oh Well You Know "I was coming here for unrelated reasons, cassidy and myself are working together you see. And I had permission to enter. And obviously I would assist him in combat. *Coughs.*
he coughs cause i rolled 1 success on the lie T_T
zach is like. you have permission?? and cassidys like uh yes. 'as needed he can enter. its easier that way' so yay that ghoul won't get in trouble LOLLL mark got retroactive permission
even if each can tell he lied like. how do u call him on that when the person who was to have given him that permission said he did.
Liliana finishes up by describing how awful it was to be sabotage. At the end of her story. she says "Im sure leeanah would be very sorry if she saw the destruction she caused and would say so' and cassidy said 'i would not accept her apology' annnddd thiswent over my head but the st explained that was lilian apologizing to cassidy and cassidy telling her to fuck offlkdsafjlkdsjf
and zachs like. aight seems chill! (Perhaps all was not chill). lemme go in your haven here to see evidence of that sabotage
and cassidys like oh, please do let me clean up first :) and zachs like :) noo you should see my room haha its fine :) and then cassidsy like. okay fine. you do not have permission to enter my haven. which is something respected in the chantry
zachs like do u really wanna go down that route.
Cassidy appears to hesitate. Mark is FREAKINGGG out he CANNOOTTTT find those books mark had him gather. thankfully cassidy says. Yes. Yes I do.
And so zach says fine thats chill. ill see you soon- and he has one of his guys (he had a small posse with him) stay. cassidys like. well that was a mess. mark says yes. which is why you should start cleaning it. do you want help.
The person Zach left behind enters cassidys room and was making sure the pc was ok. mark is like cassidy is that ok?? and cassidy says 'oh, hes chill.' It seems this was the little fucker that set up the pc and internet for cassidy in the first place! cassidy makes friends with fledglings :) he doesn't speak but cassidy calls him Hack. because that's what he does, ig
Anyway. Mark helps lilian gather monster body parts to the center of the room where she starts some sort of chanting incantation to get rid of it. cassidy goes into his Side Room to start cleaning. When mark is done gathering body parts he knocks and peeks into the side hallway. cassidy tells him to enter and mark starts helping him put books away
well first theres this hallway which has 2 doors. mark enters door two with cassidy.
its a beautiful study room with mostly books, but also some old clothes, including a duster (COWBOY CASSIDY REAL...) and a painting with someone in a cuirass but the face is oddly blurry
also, all the books do not have legible titles.
with sense the unseen it seems the chandelier in the room has some sort of enchantment blurring those things out
there is also a TALL ASS stack of those notebooks he writes in. Mark glances at it and looks at cassidy who pauses and says. i need to call in a favor. can you just keep packing books away for 10 mins ? and marks like Sure
and hes left alone in cassidys study. but he decides to NOT snoop and figures he wouldnt be able to read shit anwyay due to that enchantment so he does literally just put books away.
Cassidy returns and unfolds a piece of paper that he remembers Wendy using before - its like. a bag of holding.
he unfolds it and puts it under the stack of notebooks carefully . the note books fall in. then he carefully, very very very carefully, folds it up. mark comments 'got a few years in there, huh?" he replies "A good deal more than that.".
but yeah theres also furniture and stuff everywhere btw, its a mess. The pack up books. During this time mark asked like. ok we cant keep these books about resisting blood bonds in her haven. and Cassidy is like. really mark. you're gonna make me haul them from the library every time ur gonna read them, and mark is like. sorry. yeah : )
They finish and return to the mainroom. lilian is on the floor, hands splayed, miserable. done with everything. cassidy makes a point to step over her.
cassidy and mark hauled books up to lillian's haven which was much smaller. and complained about stairs. together <3 lol
When they return hack is no where to be found. cassidy looks around and comments that the should not be in the back rooms. he does open the door to the second room but he asks mark to step back so he cant see in : (anyway mark ends up finding zach with sense the unseen (he went Invisible ig) and he was rifling upstairs through lillian's things
cassidy is like 'hack ive been through enough tonight please just give it back' and hack goes to the computer and types:
";)
I have to give them something, y''no"
and cassidy is like. sigh. will this make our unlives harder in the future. and he writes
"maybe a little"
and marks says “you know what that's fair” <- has done the same shit of finding something Smaller so it proves he was Trying but actually not
cassidy comments that he is sad about his clothes getting thrown around and wrecked - 'over the decades he had collected quite a collection, some of which are hard if not impossible to replace' and mark comments 'i hope the tv is ok too'
and upon saying that cassidy actually reacts as opposed to being stone faced "Oh no you're right, the tv!" and he goes right for it
drops to his knees to prop it back up. and theres a crack through a fourth of it. he looks so sad. mark turns it on and it does still display but there is that crack
mark is like its ok we can get another and cassidy is like ' but this was my first tv :('. hes sentimental about it my fucking HEART
marks like. im sorry. i can help you pick out a new one maybe. cassidy says he'll likely take mark up on that. and mark also says maybe it could be fixed and cassidy says he will also try that
but yeah its cute that he got attached to the tv T_T (edited)
anyway zach skates right back in after the bit with hack that i described above. and says. ok in the name of the authority invested in me by blah blah blah... everyone but you, get out please! (hack being that one)
sooo the three leave. And mark is like.well. good luck with everything.
Cassidy and lilian do not look very happy but give ike a half hearted thanks
mark is lowkey like. ok u could be a bit more thankful i saved ur ass and helped u clean up but OKAy . . . .
cassidy also mentions that they can still work on their shared research in a few nights
oh also mark finally got the opportunity to ask if they had showers and they do not and mark is like. wow that sucks.
Cassidy diddnt seem to care but like. dude. imagine only having washrooms. L.
thats the session!
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
Brother Foolish!AU:
Foolish basically becomes a tyrant, lmao. And the best part is that pretty much everyone just. Didn’t really catch on to how terrifying he could be. Because he’s always been basically peaceful, just kinda putting up with everyone’s shenanigans even when he was getting the short end of the stick. Now, however, his baby brother has been tortured and the niceties are GONE.
It’s not like he’s particularly selfish or anything — he doesn’t make the players into his slaves — but he’s strict in a way that they’re just not used to. He makes rules — way more rules than Dream’s original three — and he declares the punishments in advance. Griefing and stealing are against the rules again, but he adds things like assault, kidnapping, blackmail, and ESPECIALLY torture. And he doesn’t fuck around when it comes time to punish people for disobeying, especially because they just don’t seem to be taking him seriously at first. (His baby brother was always such a pushover.)
(He can’t hurt them, so he decides to go with tickling as the main punishments. Griefing = 30 seconds for every block damaged, Assault = an amount of time settled with the victim, and they get to help if they want, etc., you get the idea.) (“Torture = 1 hour of your worst spot for every minute you spent participating in it” — or something equally over the top. He’s not fucking around with the consequences of that one.)
Quackity gets the worst of it, lol. Foolish doesn’t punish people for crimes they did before they were listed as crimes — aside from being unfair, it would also mean that his workday would never end lmao — but he still knows what the man did. And Quackity makes it easy for him at first because he just — makes a point to disobey his clearly laid out rules in an attempt to re-assert his own dominance. It doesn’t work out in his favor.
(Foolish lets him dig himself into a hole, watching silently as Quackity loudly breaks rule after rule while staring him dead in the eye, silently tallying up the points.) (Quackity tries to play it cool for the first part of his punishment. Foolish lets him talk himself up. He even starts out a little softer, just to give him some false confidence.) (Quackity is laughing so hard he’s started sobbing by the time Foolish is done with him.)
(Foolish comforts him afterwards. It was a harsh punishment and he knows it, and even if he’s mad about what the man did to his baby brother, Quackity is still a person. He gives him some cuddles and pets his hair and hums softly to calm him down before settling him in his warm bed and tucking him in.)
Foolish’s end goal is to adopt the whole server. Dream sees them as family so figures that he probably has to as well, and if they’re family then he’s gonna make sure that they’re a GOOD one, one where the members don’t fucking torture each other for laughs. This also means that, aside from the punishments, he also spends a lot of time with each individual member finding ways to act as a good brotherly/fatherly figure. He teaches Tubbo some old tricks he learned from his years of building. He plays roughhousing games with Tommy in his smaller form, even letting Tommy win enough times to make it seem like a fair fight. He even gives Quackity relationship advice and works to help him mend his bridges with Karl and Sapnap. He’s the authority figure now, sure — but he’s gonna be a GOOD one.
:O ohhhhhh interesting so the AU expands!! foolish has become the tickle monster and is using tickling to enforce his rules my goodness 😂
(little discussion below)
🦙🦙🦙…
so this AU takes place after dream has been broken out right? like it’s around the time where cdream goes to foolish’s summer home to check it out? only instead of finding foolish there and having a stand offish conversation like in the canon lore,, they actually have a reunion (a shaky reunion; dream is mad that he’s only showed up now, and foolish is in disbelief at what awful shape dream’s in?) i think i got that right?
anyway my goodness so foolish goes around laying out some new lores. i kinda like the idea of bbh being like a little sidekick or something? like a messenger lmao. but also he was a guard for the prison so that may not work heh. or perhaps he’s kind of a little baby sitter for dream while foolish goes to lay down his rules and get some revenge.
🦙🦙🦙…
#you’ve got plans for this one i see 😍#how thrilling :D#im sorry i took so long to answer this one 😵💫#been wildly busy#soup the destroyer#llama asks#Soups Brotherly Foolish AU
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Each footstep echoed a distinct 'clock' sound through the tall hallways. Every stone hand placed; every window hand made. Sure, I wasn't there to help much, but even still, walking through the halls was like a dream.
The windows, each nearly reaching the ceiling, has its own design that it would cast down in a colorful shadow (all on the order of the rainbow, of course).
I would make sure to try and walk the east side of the castle every morning, and the west side every evening. In the mornings I would try to wrangle my hair into a sturdy braid (I still don't know how She does it so easily), or at least some low pigtails, but sometimes it was too difficult to take any attention away from the stained glass.
I would occasionally sneak into the kitchen and snatch away a loaf of bread and some jam, the cooks didn't mind (they would even set some aside for me). The rooms were large, the furniture extravagant, the garden always lively, the people always friendly.
Until the sun went down, that is.
The nights were quiet, that was the only downside. The palace was always warm during the day, but at night it got cold, so cold. Cold and quiet; every drip of water, every squeak from a mouse, every little sound is just like back then. No matter how soft and mattresses and pillows and blankets here are, no matter how many feathers I sleep on, I can still feel the cold, wet, floor.
I didn't have a blanket. Either time. I didn't get one. Sure, either of us could've gone out and made one, but it would've quickly been ruined, one way or another.
The first time, She often would visit, just to check in on me, to make sure I was okay, and that He wasn't dangerous for me to be around. He was, I just don't think I noticed, thought it was 'tough love', or something. She definitely noticed, She offered me a home in Her castle, I thank Her for that.
The second time, She only visited once. She gave me food, a few books, clothes, and a hug. She washed and braided my hair for me, it was nice. I tried to hide them, but It found out. It always finds out. I couldn't keep anything She gave me, even Her hugs were taken from me after It destroyed the portal. It was hell.
I couldn't return home, not with It watching my every move; like a hawk with axes and swords for talons. Eventually, They showed up. I hid at first, I didn't want It knowing that I spoke to, or even saw anyone. They noticed the condition of the place - normally beaches aren't covered in soot and scrap fabric. They looked for me, I hid again. They found me, I hid my face with my arms, hid Them by scrunching my eyelids tight. They looked like It, with that armor.
When I opened my eyes again, I could see that They weren't It. One of Them was shorter than It, with longer hair and a smaller frame, the other was probably twice It's size, and not vaguely human. But The looked safe(er). They didn't look like They wanted to hurt me.
They offered me shelter, and I told them what happened over hot coco, and They listened. They listened, and bundled me in blankets, a bowl of warm stew from the small one, a set of soft clothes from the big one. So quickly, They managed to make the coldest place on the server feel so warm.
But They just as quickly left. The big one took me to walk around town, even though neither of us were allowed anywhere near there. The sun hit my skin with actual warmth, not reflected off of snow and gray clouds. I told the big one that I wanted to stay, that this was my home, and he laughed in response, like I told a bad joke.
When the time came, we were surrounded, I told that big one again that I wanted to stay, even after everything. I saw his eyes change that day, like His, but calculated; like It's, but angry. He didn't hurt anyone that day, but everyone knew what could've been in an instant.
The town was gone days later, my house, and the last remnants of Him with it. Out of all people to team up with It, why Them?
When She heard what happened She cried. I hadn't seen her cry before. I cried too, when She hugged me. She kept weeping into my hair that She was so grateful that I was alive. I didn't really get it, but the hug was nice.
I finally moved in with Her, with nothing to my name. She got me a room, good clothes, good food, a therapist. The beds were so comfy that it took me a few nights to actually sleep, I didn't want to wake up on the beach again.
When I found the note, I hid it from Her. I didn't want Her to be angry with me. When She found it She hugged me. She has a habit of doing that. It was a cautious hug, and a short one. She barely made eye contact. She looked like she was going to cry again. She pointed me to the armory. On my way out, I could hear her knees hit the floor, followed by sniffling.
When We came back, She hugged Us both so tight I was sure We would suffocate. Part of me wished We did. She saw to that We were taken to hospital, that We were taken care of, that We were safe, just like She always did.
I had come back changed, but she would always stay the same. With open arms and all the care in the world, She was my safety. The safety that I hadn't had since before He broke down, the safety I lost with It, the safety I craved with Them, the safety that We couldn't defend anymore.
And I thank her for that
#Hiiii okay okay so this is kind of a creative writing/diary thing made by me (Emmy)#and its been sitting in our drafts for forever but i decided to finally finish it :DDD#its mostly just about my source#'She' being Eret 'He' being Wilbur 'It' being Dream 'They' being Phil and Techno and 'We' being Tubbo and Me (c!tommy)#posts by headmates#by emmy the greatest girl ever#dsmp#ctommy fictive#lobby's corkboard
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
Deep fic ask, 7, 15, & 19? (:
7. how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?
This is a complicated question because there are lots of different kinds of feedback and support, and at this point I can usually find the support I need because I have a gasp Support System. @elanor-n-evermind @sharkfish @generaldeliciousness, the writing room on the Profound Bond discord server... whether it's cheerleading or grammar wrangling or just listening to my whining or being a soundboard or telling me whether or not something is even working, I can count on you guys, and that's huge. Highly recommend to anybody who wants to write: find friends who will enable you.
And I just have to point out that I learned more about grammar and my own writing style from @unforth editing a 3k smut story for @duckprintspress than I think I did in the year before that and I still keep some of that in my back pocket. Solid concrit, well-presented, is absolutely chefskiss.
As far as kudos and comments? I'm in a lucky place. I had one fic a few years ago that got picked up by the Claw and went absolutely gangbusters (Grooming Instincts), and since then I have ridden a comfortable wave of decent visibility. The driving urge/need to post something that will become a Fandom Classic has been satisfied as much as it's going to be. Bucket list item: check. But I still can expect a certain level of engagement on things I post. I feel like if I were to not get that baseline, I would be a bit put out, which is the danger of expectations. So I try to brace myself for that: what if this is the fic that doesn't go anywhere? Especially since, well, the show ended in a fireball a couple years ago and the fandom is just a bit smaller now than it used to be. Which does make me sad because I still have stories to tell with these boys. But. I'm still here, still writing them. My community is still here, and that's what counts.
Anyway, that wandered a bit xD
15. How do you think your writing as improved over time?
You know, it's interesting. The first fanfiction I ever posted is still accessible on fanfiction.net. A while ago I went back and read some of it, and was startled to find how much it still sounded like me. Hell, I unearthed a Star Trek story that I wrote in 2006 because the original hosting site was in danger of disappearing, and it still sounds like me. That's definitely my voice. (And I was clearly going through it on the gender front in that Star Trek one, damn.) Sometimes I wonder if I've lost something from those earlier days, because I used to just... do things, and not overthink them so damn much.
But I have definitely, technically, improved. Pacing, sentence structure, variety. My ability to execute bigger ideas. Trying to get stories to come from inside the characters rather than focusing on describing the action. Picking the right details.
For a long while, I was convinced that my writing was not in fact getting better, and I worried that I'd lost some kind of energy, or that I'd used up all the words I had. Not every story is better than the last. But like I said in a previous ask on this game, I'm finally meeting my own standards again. So that has to count for something.
19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?
I mean.... there's nothing stopping me from writing my ideal fic. Never has been. Be the fic you want to see in the world or something like that. So I guess... mash up all my fics in a blender and see what comes out. Boom. Ideal fic :D
But it would definitely have some bed-sharing with sexual tension. And some of Cas figuring out how to human. But also being a non-human, non-angel creature, preferably with wings. Perhaps a shade of non-traditional a/b/o dynamics on there. Yeah, that sounds about right
[ask me deep writer questions]
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
A very specific and complain-y rant that is probably an example of kitcat's thin-skinned-ness incoming:
There's been 2 major instances this week of my fandom spaces being invaded, and I'm so fucking tired of it.
To clarify: I don't mean 'invaded' in the sense that I found some discourse I didn't like on Reddit, or people started showing up with bad faith takes in the Tumblr tags. Those are annoying, but they're not my fandom spaces — they're public spaces. Anyone can post whatever they'd like. You explore the public spaces of the internet at your own risk.
What I mean by 'invasion' is because these incidents happened on my own specific corners of the internet I have curated for my own fandom experience — namely my AO3 account of my own fic, and an invite-only discord server specific to a particular fandom. (Theoretically anyone out there could join that server, since the invite links are floating out there in public spaces? But the fandom is relatively small, and the number of active users on the server even smaller, so my experience of interacting with people on there qualifies it as a private fandom space.)
I am very protective of my private fandom spaces. I curate my internet experience through these spaces to be fun happy escapism from reality with like-minded people. If you find your way into my private fandom spaces, I would hope the understood expectation is that you add to that experience. Maybe that was too much to ask, idk.
Basically what happened was:
1. I started getting a bunch of comments on a fic from someone without an account. They kept changing their anon name to be different names? But it was obvious it was the same person. And they took the story that means a lot to me, and just started quoting certain parts of it wildly out of context, not really making coherent points and just kind of rambling, and making gross assumptions about it. I'm not really sure what response they're hoping to get? It's the strangest troll I've ever received, but I felt all kinds of gross after reading their 13 comments of this nature over the last 3 days.
2. Yesterday me and my discord server buddies were talking about the parts of canon that we really like, good-naturedly joking about parts of it, having fun. When all of a sudden, someone butts in to say that one of the parts I mentioned was one of the worst things about it that they didn't like. It was such an abrupt tone shift from the fun conversation that it really caught me off-guard? I was so taken aback I just commented "agree to disagree :)" and just shut down, and didn't participate in the conversation for the rest of the night.
It's so frustrating and heartbreaking to me, because it's not like I went trawling through public spaces and found some bad takes that I felt icky about. No, these are instances of people coming into my private internet spaces, and intentionally making thoughtless comments to bring down my (and maybe other people's) fun time. Maybe one of these instances would've rolled off me after an initial "ick" response, but the fact that it's been piling up on me in the last few days has just made it dig into my skin and stick there.
Part of me really doesn't want to participate in fandom anymore. I hadn't updated that AO3 fic for years now, but I was toying with the idea of picking it back up again. But now I squirm every time I think about what the potential response might be, if it's now on the radar of people like that. As for the discord server, maybe I'll bring it up to one of the mods, but it's not like the person did anything against the rules? They were just expressing their opinion like we all were. But I def don't feel as comfortable talking on there anymore.
I know I'm being very thin-skinned about all this, and in the grand scheme of things this is not that big of a problem. But it still feels awful, and a big piece of joy in my life has been shaken and gives me anxiety when I step into those spaces I used to enjoy.
1 note
·
View note