#something something THE lambpost something

[berryless]

Weekend worth of all at once

Sunday x Original Female Character (Angst, PG || 1.3k words || Sunday POV, Stellaron Hunter Sunday AU, before Charmony Festival and a timeskip later, some goodbyes and apologies are made)

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Read this work on Archive of Our Own.

"I thought you were booked all the way until the end of the Charmony festival. How come you're here?" Sejal asked, face surprised, but she still leaned closer, pulling him in, and Sunday let himself fall into her embrace, trying to remember the feeling.

"I managed a few minutes to spare," he said quietly, soaking in her presence. His voice didn't tremble, his hands didn't waver, and yet an aching, bone-deep bitterness spread inside his chest at the thought that this will be the last he'll see of her.

"You okay?" Sejal's voice was as soft as her fingers threading through his hair, and Sunday chased the touch, eyes half-lidded.

"…I'm ready."

He always was, his life long set on the course of orchestrating this moment. Whether he was fine or not did not matter in the grand scheme of things so long as he could fulfill his purpose.

"Don't push yourself too hard, hmm?" Sejal pressed his head down to print a kiss on his forehead. "I know the festival is important, but you're even more so."

Sunday couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"I'll try," he lied.

"Good." Sejal cupped his face and held hers against it, speaking gently into his lips, "I know you can do it. You worked so hard for it. Even if some mishap will happen, no one will disparage the effort you put into this."

He looked at her intently, right into her smiling clueless eyes, right into her wounded weary soul that still found in herself a sliver of kindness to spare for others.

"It will be perfect," Sunday promised, covering her hands with his own. "I'll make sure it is."

An eternal paradise of safety and happiness for everyone at the expense of a single sacrifice—such price was barely worth mentioning.

"I believe in you," Sejal laughed and kissed him, and Sunday tightened his hold on her, tippling the essence of this sole last moment like a hopeless drunkard chasing the high.

It wouldn't get any better for him. Not for him.

But it would—for everyone else, and that's all that mattered.

"See you in a dream."

It wouldn't be him there, but if it was important to her, if he was important, Sejal would find him in her paradise. Sunday hoped she would.

"Or not," Sejal smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief. "For such an occasion I might actually use my waking self to congratulate you when this all ends."

Sunday smiled back, not feeling his lips.

"Don't," he said softly, fingertips ghosting her cheek. "Sleep well. That's all I want for you."

"You're not part of the script," Sunday said slowly.

"Surprise guest appearance."

Sejal stepped out of the shadows and bowed to him, her leathery tail making a graceful curve in the air. She looked the same way she did at Penacony, she acted like nothing had changed since then, even though everything did, and Sunday couldn't just close his eyes and pretend to believe it, because the time for dreams had passed.

He was wide awake now.

And he would stay awake until the time for curtain call comes.

"Why did you wake up..?"

"I never planned on sleeping forever. Penacony was always no more than a dream, bound to end sooner or later."

"Why are you here then? You should've left me in that dream."

"Is that what you want..?"

"…"

Sejal cupped his cheek, and Sunday fought against himself to turn away from her instead of leaning into her touch. His fingers ached, his fists squeezed tightly.

"Please…" He asked her quietly, barely above the whisper, hoping Sejal would understand him without words, when he wasn't sure what he begged for himself.

She did not.

"Please what?" Her hand slid to trace his ear. Sunday had to take a sharp breath of air, backing away from her touch only to feel her fingers catching his wing, palm pressed against his head. "If you want me to leave, you have to say it properly. Because right now…"

Sejal tugged him closer, cradling his stuttering, breaking heart with her hand.

"You don't sound like you want that."

That would be because he did not.

Still, Sunday clasped her wrist in his grasp, pulling her hand away from his chest. Sejal allowed him to do it without any resistance, just as she always did, and somehow that made it harder to let her go. To completely push her away, even though he should've done that.

Because Sunday was certain—if he'd ask her, she'd leave without a fight.

"…What do you want from me?" Sunday said quietly, feeling her pulse through his gloves. "I have nothing of value to give."

Sejal sighed.

"I would've tried to swoop the whole package, but I guess the Slave of Destiny struck you a deal first, so there's not much—if anything—left of your free time, yes?"

"…Why would you want that..?"

She tilted her head and looked at him like that was the most foolish question Sunday could ever ask. Even though it was completely logical.

"I am a wanted criminal with a price that's only going to rise in the future," he reminded her of the obvious.

Sejal frowned, her hand slipping away from his wing.

"You don't think it's the price for your head that I'm after..?"

…When it dawned on him that prior to those words, he never even considered such possibility, Sunday himself was startled. How could he, a man always wary and cautious, one that was used to plan for all outcomes, not think of something so obvious..?

Sejal tensed in his grasp, his silence echoing in palpable hurt in her eyes, and Sunday immediately knew that this was the moment: the crossroads of his destiny where he had to make the best possible choice.

And there was only one both good and ruthless, that was best for Sejal, that was kind, and selfless, and just. That Sunday of the Oak family would not hesitate to make, bearing the minute pain for her cloudless future.

But he was not that person anymore.

"…Will you be satisfied with just my head..?" Sunday asked, watching her, attuned to notice the minute changes: the way her shoulders rounded, her gaze softened, her lips curved. Just one short phrase, and she was back to that familiar languid self, supple and pliant, a person shaped of liquid metal that melted into the touch—and slipped through it with no less ease, no matter how tight you tried to hold them.

"It's been known to happen," Sejal murmured, smiling at him, and when Sunday discerned the underlying meaning, he couldn't help but look away, hiding the lower part of his face under his wings.

"I take it you're here to tease me," he said curtly, glancing at her.

"If that is all I'm allowed to do…"

His fingers trembled around her wrist, and Sunday let go of her, but without delay Sejal's tail roped around his leg, its pointy end slipping under his thigh strap, not pulling him close, but not allowing him to run away either. Not that he planned to, but what insidiousness this was—to use her own body as a leverage, knowing all too well he wouldn't want to hurt her.

"I'm not," Sejal said softly, catching his hand and intertwining their fingers. "But it's the easiest part to do."

"Then what would be the difficult one..?"

He watched her thoughtfully, heart heavy and firm, ready to take a blow Sunday knew he deserved.

For a very long minute Sejal held his gaze before leaning in to hold him.

"…I'm sorry," she said quietly, and this kind of soft punch he never expected took all the air out of his lungs.

"…Why..?"

"…I believe in you. I know you can do it."

Sunday stiffened.

He couldn't possibly forget those words when they were among the last few she said to him at Penacony.

"I'm sorry."

[rollercoasterwords]

they r going to do crazy things to ur sacrificial lamb post

to be fair they already have been….one person on here reblogged it & added an incredibly long & detailed breakdown of how they thought each character from south park would react to reading the post

[ramrodd]

If crows are as intelligent as a 3-year-old child, why don't we try to domesticate and train them as pets?

COMMENTARY:

In Washington DC, there is a legend that the spirit of Woodrow Wilson roams a territory centered around his home on S Street as a Raven and it sort of the King of the Crows in that area, more or less north of Dupont Circle on either side of Coneecticut Avenue out to Military Road and then west to American University then south past Chef Geoff’s on New Mexico Avenue to the Three Sisters.

Until 911, the territories of the tribes of crows around Adams Morgan and Woodley Park were pretty distinct. There was a territory that extended from behind the Starbucks at 18th and Columbia down Biltmore to the Bridge and another territory across Calvert Street from where Adams Mill and Calvert Street meet down to the bridge. And, if you kept walking across the bridge and up the hill to the National Cathedral, you can determine the various boundaries of the territorities by the singnal calls the sentries employ to challenge all who violate their kindom. Caw Caw Caw was the signal of the Starbucks territory and Caw Caw - Caw Caw was the signal call north of Calvert Street.

18th and Columbia Road was something of a no-mans land and you would hear all sorts of foreign calls. My favorites were a couple of crows that liked to pearch on either side of the plastic owl on Madam’s Organ balcony rail put there to scare crows away. Their attitude reminded me of the Matthew Brady photo of the three Confederate prisoners at Antietam.

On 911, I walked up to the National Catherdral to say a prayer or two and, on the way home, I went to Cleveland Park for pizza by way of the northern boundary of the International School, which is an arbor from 34th Street NW east down McComb to Connecticut and I think there were two tribes inside the fence. All the way down, I responded to their sentry calls, which always surprised them at first, but amused most of them and pissed off a tiny minority,

Anyway, I got a pepperoni slice at Vace’s and the mood was very subduded. There wasn’t much traffic and it didn’t have much urgency but a sort of a Cheech and Chong dreaminess to it. I started home acoss the bridge heading to the Zoo and I got about halfway across and a crow challenged me with a CAW-CAW-CAW just over my head on on the lampposts, so I responded with the same snytax CAW-CAW-CAW and immediately, a chorus of easily 100 crows pearched on all the lambposts on the bridge responsed CAW-CAW-CAW! It was an amazing sight, all those crows on the lampposts

So, of course, I saluted with my pizza slice and called CAW-CAW-CAW, which seemed to please them all.

Between 911 and the invasion of Iraq, Lymes disease wiped out most of the crows in Northwest DC. They are beginning to come back, but the tribes aren’t nearly as robust, yet, as the were on 911.

And, as far as I know, I’m the only Wilson left in the neighborhood, not counting Woody’s ghost in his home on S Steet NW.

[ricardosousalemos]

Watch Chairlift Perform “Bruises,” “Ch-Ching,” “Amanaemonesia” at Final Show

At the end of last year, Chairlift announced that they were breaking up after a series of farewell shows. The last of those shows took place tonight at Brooklyn Steel. During the concert, the duo performed “Ch-Ching” (off last year’s Moth), “Amanaemonesia” (from 2011’s Something), their breakout hit “Bruises,” and more. Watch clips from their performance below. Since the announcement of the band’s breakup, vocalist Caroline Polachek released a solo album, Drawing the Target Around the Arrow, under her initials, CEP. The group also shared a video for “Polymorphing,” from their final album.

Read Pitchfork’s new feature, “Finished Business: An Exit Interview with Chairlift.”

until next time Chairlift 27-99-23 http://pic.twitter.com/QFxjq7tPu3

— chris payne (@cpayneonaplane) April 23, 2017

What a talent and babe #chairlift

A post shared by Jaclyn Alexander (@lambpost) on Apr 22, 2017 at 6:50pm PDT

Last #chairlift show ever

A post shared by Carianna (@carianna_a) on Apr 22, 2017 at 6:36pm PDT

Thank you #chairlift !! I love you 🐧💙 #brooklynsteel

A post shared by Woramon 🐧🐧🐧 (@littlepengin) on Apr 22, 2017 at 8:18pm PDT

[rollercoasterwords]

ok personal top 5 least favorite responses 2 lambpost:

1. terfs going ‘woman moment’ -> your politics are rooted in a fundamental reinvestment in the very sex binaries that undergird patriarchal power & your analysis of this post is shallow & mean-spirited. immediate block

2. ‘get therapy LOL’ -> health itself is a social construct as is mental health & therapy is not a neutral institution. your assumption that anything deemed strange/abnormal/uncomfortable must be the result of an emotional state in need of ‘fixing’ indicates a lack of critical self-reflection as to how and within what institutional confines your own ideas about what is ‘normal’ & ‘healthy’ have developed

3. ‘wait is this deep & meaningful or is it weird & horny i can’t tell’ -> your inability to reconcile the fact that the erotic can be meaningful & the grotesque sexual paired with your assumption that art must have a single, fundamental True meaning is tiresome

4. ‘oh yeah well i’m NOT the priest’s favorite sacrificial lamb because i bite & kick & fight back’ etc etc -> ok. why r u on the priest’s favorite sacrificial lamb post then

5. ‘clearly the Actual Meaning of this post is X & anyone interacting w it in a different way is a freak/brain damaged/incapable of critical thought/etc’ -> do u enjoy the pedestal u have built for urself. does it make u feel special.

personal top 5 favorite responses 2 lambpost:

1. this comic by @honeyedheartss -> beautiful & i am always thinking abt it <3

2. these tags by @unclemagnemite -> genuinely a fresh & fun interpretation i had not considered which added something new 2 my own experience of a post i wrote. also very funny

3. people making webweave posts w supernatural & succession characters -> this is what social media is meant for. also ur so right that character is definitely the priest’s favorite sacrificial lamb…

4. this fanart by @penaltyboxboxbox -> idk who that man is or why he’s the favorite sacrificial lamb but i think it’s so cool how his guts r out

5. this comment on tiktok -> let’s all hold hands & become alpha wolfs. together <3

[rollercoasterwords]

went 2 my favorite zine store yesterday & it gave me the idea 2 make lambpost into zines but there is literally no way 2 sell something online without paypal doxxing me 👹👹