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quintalon · 2 years

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Trope Mashup: The Remix has revealed!

I’m so excited to share these amazing stories and gorgeous artwork! A huge thank you to everyone who participated in this mini-fest.

An Accidental Confession by mcal

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott

Rating: G

Summary: Lord Malfoy has begun to make his intentions towards Miss Granger known, and Mr. Nott, who has loved Hermione since childhood, is quite at the end of his sanity.

Tracking the Storm by sun-celine

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: M

Summary: Hermione was found abandoned in a grange twenty-one years ago in the hamlet of Elston, Wiltshire. Young Master Draco Malfoy is just back home from his Grand Tour, most displeased with the situation he finds at his ancestral home. The approaching storm will bring them together, but what will be left in its track?

Sanguis by LadyBlack3

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Rating: E

Summary: If someone had told him a few years ago that he would consider Hermione Granger a colleague, and dare he say, a friend these days, he would refer them to the Janus Thickey ward post-haste. Returning to his life after she was turned into a creature of the night, will sharing very close quarters and only one bed finally make them face up to their attraction and reveal a hidden truth?

Web of Lies by emsallthat

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy

Rating: M

Summary: Hermione, a young little girl is adopted by Druella and Cygnus Black back in 70s. She is pure, blameless, trying to figure out her life in new magical reality. But this new normal is not as ideal as in people minds. During her school years she would slowly reveal the truth, constructed of lies, society beliefs and old, strange traditions. She would learn that, despite being an inconvenient child, she could be useful for Blacks family.

As perfect mistress for Lucius Malfoy.

But it would require preparation.

The Artist by IzzieStellar

Pairing: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy

Rating: T

Summary: Nude art model has a strange experience with a new client.

And That's That by prophet_of_troy

Pairing: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson

Rating: G

Summary: Neville is scared of everything, all the time, especially when Professor Lupin pairs him with Pansy Parkinson.

A Sprig of Heather by hermioneclone

Pairing: Minerva McGonagll/Pamona Sprout

Rating: T

Summary: Pomona looked skeptically down at the cat at her feet.

“This is my protection?” she asked Inspector Dumbledore, her voice laced with doubt.

“Minerva’s the best in the business,” Dumbledore told her. “She’ll make sure no harm comes to you or the Aibrisiscus orchid.”

A Familiar Rivalry by motherbearof3

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Rating: G

Summary: Potter's Protective Wear and Malfoy Industries are competing against each other to be awarded a contract with the Ministry, but only one company can be chosen. Which one will win?

You Breathe Out and I Breathe In by Blessedindeed

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: N/A

Summary: The more time they spent together, the more he realized he could not fight her. He watched as she stepped away from him into a background of blues and greys. She took a deep breath of the crisp night air, lifting her face to the overcast sky.

Rumor Has It by lrs002

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Charlie Weasley

Rating: T

Summary: All the students at Hogwarts like Hermione Granger. She makes learning about Muggles fun. So the students wonder why their lovely Muggle Studies Professor hasn’t been whisked off her feet by an eligible bachelor yet.

However, not all romance is dead because Professor Granger has a date to the annual charity ball.

But rumor has it that she’s actually married? What in the world is going on!

Mind Magic by storyofeden

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Malfoy

Rating: M

Summary: It had been seven years since Hermione and Narcissa's relationship ended. Of course, it wasn't really a relationship because they'd only spent two weeks together one winter, and three months together one summer. It was all secrets and lies, and those were not adequate foundations for a relationship. There was no reason for them to talk about it either. They might live together now, but that didn't mean they had to have a bloody conversation about it--didn't need to talk about how Narcissa had been Hermione's first crush or why Narcissa left in the middle of the night or the way heated looks and mischievous glances still sparked arousal.

Nope. Absolutely nothing to discuss.

Twilight of the Chosen One by AlocYrrehc

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley/Pansy Parkinson

Rating: T

Summary: Nothing had prepared Harry for what he saw when they walked in.

“Harry, is that…” Hermione trailed off, stunned.

Harry, having lost the ability to speak, merely nodded.

“But he’s dressed like a…” she continued.

“Yeah,” Harry croaked, having found his voice again.

“And he’s singing about…”

“It would appear so.”

“But… why?”

and some things you just can't speak about by NeonDomino

Pairing: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Regulus Black/James Potter

Rating: T

Summary: When Sirius almost dies in his attempt to protect Remus, a fae in the forest, he doesn't expect to survive. He certainly doesn't expect to find himself bonded to the other man, or fall in love.

Rose des Vents by Vertraymer

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy

Rating: M

Summary: Prompt: royalty au + flower shop au

Time is Running Out by AccioMjolnir

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Rating: E

Summary: Hermione Granger takes a posting at Hogwarts for a year and finds herself inexplicably drawn to the mysterious and withdrawn potions master.

~~~~

See the whole collection here!

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madamhatter · 3 years

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👫

Send a 👫, and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship / accepting / @recklessinventor

Two kids who are so hard into their studies that they are remarkably reckless for a passion, and they cannot even consider thinking once more about safety protocol. Sophie has taken great care towards others and, recognizing the similar approach that Jeff has in inventing, like in her creation, she really considers a lot of what she may tell him and how that may negatively impact him in his science ventures. As much as she shrugs off her own care about her personal safety and health, someone as young as Jeff should not be in any way developing that habit and getting as bad as her. Jeff often hears Sophie recounting what she has constructed and made as a seamstress and hatmaker, but she tends to sprinkle in white lies. Specifically, a made-up Sophie who actually cares to take breaks because the key to a successful project is a clear mind. Over exhausting oneself would impede on those chances. However, anyone can tell that from the scars on Sophie’s body, she never listened to her own advice.

Sugar isn’t any of their friends; both Jeff and Sophie have difficulty handling sweets if offered to them. Jeff seems like the type who’d decline it well, while Sophie struggles to decline an offer because she finds it ill-mannered and rude to the other person. It becomes a painstaking time for them, and they end up trying to figure out how to handle it. Sometimes, Sophie can stomach it but ends up sticking out her tongue like a displeased cat -- she would eat a slice for Jeff if he asks her to if he couldn’t handle it.

Tidy and clean, Jeff’s workspace has never looked this good until Sophie decided to use her expertise in housekeeping to keep the place looking spotless. There have been some issues before, mostly exchanges for her not to touch items he left in a particular way. She respects that decision but implores him to consider letting her at least polish some items.

Honestly, Jeff gets a taste of home whenever Sophie decides to bring over her cooking. She doesn’t think twice about what she’ll bring but it’s already might be something that he’s familiar with. It is British cuisine, perhaps not the tastiest, but it is a sense of nostalgia for both of them. For Sophie, it’s having someone close to Martha’s age being fed properly, reminding her of how she raised her sisters. For Jeff, perhaps it is the longing for a kind of home where food can be waiting for him, along with someone who’d actually be there for him.

#( checkbooks inquiries and much ; answered asks )#( in which we learn about the eldest ; headcanons )#recklessinventor #[ *CRACKS HANDS* LET'S GO - ]

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salesmanofhappiness · 4 years

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She’s... Fluffy

(Ikala Belongs to @landprotectedby3 / @princce7 )

Tortus had this invasive thought lately. One that both terrified and intrigued him. Everyone would talk about how soft Sky and Ikala were. It must have been true, as he would see others just idly pet them without much care. It brought out the worst kind of curiosity in him. One to this day he never wanted to know the answer to... until now.

While yes, he had technically known Sky for years, it had been so long that the memory of just how soft her fur was slipped his mind. She bragged, of course. Keatons having slick, silky coats that no other creature could measure. As curious as he was, the merchant didn’t want to use her as a base for his curiosity. Perhaps, had he found out later that she wasn’t a talking cat, he might have gone for it. However, it gave him a displeased chill; knowing she could talk. Could tell everyone about this strange desire. He only wanted to know what he was missing out on. But that fear. That screaming in the back of his mind, the unpleasant tingle that made his heart race and his face began to sweat cold. Surely his curiosity couldn’t drown out his life-long phobia. Surely.

For now, the merchant was just idling in his chair. The shop was quiet; only making these rather annoying thoughts more prominent. He left out a long, loud sigh as he leaned back in his chair. The merchant could get away with this in secret. No one had to know he was trying to face his fears. It honestly seemed like no one noticed when he actually jumped a big hurdle; so perhaps it didn’t matter. Feeding them table scraps-- Actually feeding them at all, and letting them come closer and closer into his personal bubble as months went by. Such big feats were small to everyone else. Part of him wondered if they actually knew he was-- in all earnesty, trying. Another sigh. The merchant’s eyes drift toward the display tables. Mask lined in rows waiting only for their owners. They didn’t expect anything from him. At most, if they could, would request a cleaning more often. Of course, that could just be him projecting. Sure, he could read them, sense and underlining emotion or energies within; mostly from the artist that created them, but beyond that there was no desire for anything. At the end of the day they were inanimate and not sentient. They wouldn’t care if they were set on fire, let alone notice his inner struggle.

There was a pause in thought. Did he want someone to notice? Tortus wasn’t quite sure of that himself. With a final sigh, he decided he was hungry. It was time to close up for lunch. Maybe a nice meal would help filter out his troubled mind. The merchant stood from his chair and gave a flick of the wrist. The familiar click of the shop door locking had barely registered. His foot falls leading him up the stairs and into his apartment above the shop. The quaint, homely place was as he left it the night before. A small apartment, leaving only so much space to work with. The kitchen, living room and work space were all cramped in their own little space of the main room. Unfinished masks cluttering his work desk, and the smell of drying paint wafting through the air. A comfort to him, but a sting to the nose of someone else. The floors were clean, at least, clean enough. His shop took priority over his apartment, and often there was a layer of dust on something, or even bits of wood scattered here or there. Maybe cleaning would take his mind off things. Though, it would have to wait. Stepping to the kitchen, he almost didn’t notice the purple mass curled up on his couch.

Out of what must have been instinct at this point; he froze. His naturally squinted eyes glued to the ball of fur snoozing away. He forced himself to calm. His heart had already started to beat from that jolt to his system. It was getting easier, but he still wasn’t sure just how long he can take it. If you had asked the merchant before all this. Before Majora awakened, before Sky showed up, he would have told you that he didn’t like animals. He refused to be in any close proximity to them. While he certainly couldn’t say he wasn’t still afraid; there was an attachment there now. Tortus himself was still very much afraid, but their presence in his life had made it difficult to say he would get rid of them. The word wasn’t quite comfortable; familiar, perhaps. They were familiar to him. He took in a shaking inhale before pooling his composure and continuing to the kitchen. She was asleep, he reminded himself. She was harmless.

The merchant went about the mundane, but comfortable task of making a meal. Something simple for now, but also requiring his attention. Luckily, he had dried noodles for himself. That was simple enough. He lit his old stovetop and got the kettle and pot. Couldn’t have lunch without a comforting cup of tea. Some black tea with honey and a dash of cinnamon. The smell and taste cleansed the pallet and eased a wary mind. As the merchant set up, he couldn’t help but notice his mind wandering once again. Back to the uncomfortable idea prior. He would occasionally catch himself looking at the sleeping raccoon creature. Her soft breathing was the only sign she was alive.

“No.” He thought aloud. “No, it’s too risky. If I startle her, she might…” He shuddered at the thought as his muttered words trailed off.

But what if.

What if she didn’t attack him? What if his fears all these years were actually irrational? He was a powerful man, capable of anything he put his mind to. What was he afraid of?

He knew just what he was afraid of. He was afraid of the pain. A reasonable fear, but was it reasonable at this moment? Was he justified in thinking Ikala or Sky would hurt him purposefully?

Tea. He needed some tea. Though, the longer he stewed, the more his mind insisted on the “What ifs”. He was called a coward for most of his life up until recently. He was a brave child turned skittish. A boy ready for anything marred and world wary long before adulthood. He took a breath and looked over to Ikala. No one was here to call him a coward if he decided to back out of it. He could do however he pleased; beyond hurting the creature. Tortus put down what he was holding. At first he only stood there; watching Ikala gently breath. There was the lightest few steps forward. He could feel his heart in his throat. There was sweat already starting to trail down his face. He clenched his teeth, forcing a few more steps. There were long pauses between his steps. Little moments to try and pool his courage and composure. Somewhere, he had heard animals could smell fear. Ikala probably smelt it constantly, but he earnestly didn’t know how she would react if he touched her. He could feel his chest tighten, making breathing difficult. Still, he pushed forward. He was inches away from Ikala now. He could feel his whole body shaking. His throat started to feel dry, forcing him to swallow. Most of his resolve had vanished. He was just standing there, looking down at one of the many… many creatures he feared the most. She was a construct of sorts. A living, breathing creation of Majora himself. She was no normal raccoon. Her very existence was once the bane of his. Purple fur bled into blues and pinks. Though, the longer he stared, the more he realized subtle things he had missed. He had been more focused on her snout full of teeth and little hands with long claws. Both of which had proven more than capable of doing damage. That maw was blue, with a purple strip going from her nose all the way up and spreading out around her eyes. Light blue and purple almost neatly divided just above her eyes. Wrapped around her eyes was a pink mask of fur, almost bridging her nose, before the purple line broke the connection. Those terrible claws, he noticed, were also pink, but a deeper, more sedated color. His eyes trailed down, realizing he had only never noticed her purple color. When she was actually many other colors. Tortus never actually took a moment to study her this closely. This new found discovery put a little more vigar in him. Drawing in a deep breath, he slowly crouched down to be at her level. He was still shaking, but he wasn’t paralized like seconds prior.

Carefully, hesitantly, he reached out his calloused fingers toward her. His breath held as he grew closer and closer. The merchant could feel his breath hitching, and his eyes started to feel wet. And then, with the lightest touch the man could ever manage, he finally made contact. It was gentle, and his hand was near vibrating, but he had done it. As he watched others do countless times, his fingers gently smoothed down her side. He started to ease.

Everyone was right. She was soft. No long before that thought came to his mind did Ikala sturr and look at him. He froze. Eyes wide and the violent shaking seemed to get worse. He could feel tears wheeling now, threatening to downpour at the slightest movement. He could feel his mind racing with unpleasant memories. Fear. This was unhinged, unfiltered fear. Tortus wanted to run, but he felt glued to the spot, unable to think, only see flashes in his mind as Tortus stared the raccoon down. The seconds felt like hours as she tiredly looked at him. She finally yielded, her head falling back into the soft cushion as her body inched closer. It gave Tortus a start, but nothing compared to what he expected to happen.

His shaking hand just laid on Ikala’s side. The tears that threatened calm down in a pour. He was near hyperventilating, but this wasn’t out of fear. Yes, he was afraid, he knew this small interaction wasn’t going to be enough. It was the relief that washed over him. It was complete relief giving out into quiet sobbing.

Maybe. Just maybe he could do this.

#drabble #ALL ABOARD THE FEELS TRIP #Probably should warn ya. Some emotional stuff ahead.

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boobtubedude · 4 years

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Reposting my original “Lost” series finale review

(Originally posted May 23, 2010, on Zap2It. RIP, Zap2It.)

So here’s the deal: this will not be a complete recap of the series finale of “Lost.” To try to make complete and coherent sense of what just dropped our way would be 1) impossible, and 2) be a disgrace to what just happened. Because what just happened isn’t something you instantly react to, but rather mull over during the course of a few days, weeks, months, or years. After all, that was the final episode. We have all the time in the world to think about its implications until we “move on.”

And yes, I use the phrase “move on” specifically due to the use of the phrase by Christian Shephard in the sideways universe, which we know now to be real only in the emotional sense of the world. All throughout the season, the producers of the show have assured us that what happens over there had stakes and meanings, and this is still completely true in the most basic of senses. Neither the pro-epilogue camp nor the pro-Island timeline had it exactly right, even though both camps had valid perspectives to bring to the table and pieces of the puzzle in hand. What “Lost” brought instead was a third perspective, one that nobody really saw and one that I bet made a core section of its audience completely and utterly insane with anger.

Looking at the finale from a perspective of mythology isn’t the best way to go about it. (I started to jot down “So who put the stone in the devil cave in the first place?” before slapping myself silly.) Looking at the finale from a perspective of plot probably isn’t the best ay, either. (Waaaaay too much time spent on getting Ajira 316 up and running again, especially considering the sideways resolution. And there are enough holes in the overall plot as a whole to dig a few dozen wells down towards the light inside all of us.) But looking at it from an emotional perspective, I thought the finale was a masterpiece.

In a sense, “The End” was a love letter from the show to itself and, hopefully, to the audience as well. But it didn’t pay off donkey wheels and Dharma Initiatives but the core characters of the show themselves. The sideways universe did offer a second chance, but not in the way that those that saw the sideways world as a chance to live their lives free from the Island. Instead, it offered each character a tremendous grace note, one felt both by the characters but also the audience at home. When these people “flashed” to their Island lives, they didn’t flash to epic moments in Island history: they flashed to empty jars of peanut butter and freshly picked flowers and all the small moments that make up a relationship.

If the show had to get one of three aforementioned elements right (character, mythology, plot), then it absolutely focused on the right one. As of this moment, writing in the immediate aftermath of what I just saw, I could care less about what happened to Kate and Company once they left the Island. The point of the show seems to be that what you do is less important than the meaning behind what you do. And moreover, if you live those lives in the correct manner, then the specifics are null and void. In the end, you arrive at the same destination. (In Richard’s case, you arrive there with newly graying hair, and the chance to actually buy the eyeliner you’ve long been accused of using.)

Now, let’s talk about that sideways destination itself. If put on the spot, here’s what I think we’re supposed to take away from it: As Island Protector, Hurley envisioned a way to give a gift back to those with whom he shared his time on the Island. Mother had her style, Jacob had his style, and Jack had his extremely interim style. But placing Hurley in ultimate charge of the Island? Brilliant, and not just because I predicted this last Fall and am happy I got at least SOMETHING right.

He’s the absolute perfect person to take the Island from what it was (something to be protected) into what it should be (something to be shared). In a show full of selfish people, Hurley is the epitome of unselfishness. Go back to the pilot episode: he’s distributing food on the first night (including a double dose for Claire, eating for two at the time). In “Everybody Hates Hugo,” he once again institutes a massive redistribution of foodstuffs. In both the Island timeline and sideways one, he uses wealth as a means to help others, giving away his cash rather than hang onto it. So having him established as the final Protector of the Island that we see (though, I imagine, not the final one by any means) worked for me.

What I imagine did not work for a LOT of you is the fact that we’ve spent one-half of the final season of the show watching events that would have been solved in “LA X” had Haley Joel Osment been on the flight. It’s a feeling that I have sensed coming for a while: the sideways world was doing such a damn good job of providing emotionally resonant moments that it eventually turned into an overwhelming attractive option for both the characters and the viewers. In fact, it turns out that the major players had absolutely no problem moving on once they made their emotional connections/breakthroughs, and instead willingly moved onto whatever lies on the other side of that white light.

As such, I look at the sideways world now as something created by Hurley (with Ben’s help) as a stopping ground for all major players in the “Lost” universe to meet at once, irrespective of when or how they died. As Christian says, there is no “now” over there. Time is just a relative construct created by people who are used to seeing events progress in a linear manner. What does Hurley ever want? For his friends to be happy! So what does he do? Well, he doesn’t build a golf course, he builds a space for them to somehow connect after shuffling off their mortal coil and all end up getting the moments of happiness that eluded them, making connections that had been previously missed, and getting forgiveness once thought impossible. They don’t have to be alive to have these things matter once achieved in the sideways universe, which is why I was behind the ultimate explanation 100%.

In the end, electromagnetism had nothing to do with the sideways world. There was no Faustian bargain between Eloise Hawking and The Man in Black. I’ve spent the second half of the season (ever since “Happily Ever After”) arguing that theory, and I’m delighted to be wrong. Why? It’s easier to buy “Hurley’s gift” as a reason as opposed to trying to throw Schroedinger’s cat as a reason for the sideways world. And that “gift” yielded scene after scene in the sideways world that reminded us all why we care so much about this show: its characters. I’m sure everyone had their particular favorites: for now, I’m putting Sawyer/Juliet in the pole position with Charlie/Claire as a surprising second. I’ll take scenes like this over lengthy exposition of the true nature of the glowing cave any day.

It’s obviously easy to say, “Well, the characters are happy, so we should be happy.” But clearly it’s not that simple. After all, these characters are fictional, constructs of the writing staff, whom I am sure went into hiding knowing that there would not only be questions but flaming torches/pitchforks aimed their way once this episode dropped. If we didn’t care about these characters, then there wouldn’t be such anger. Either you read interviews and now feel deceived, or you’re generally displeased that our characters are all dead. I’m not going to tut-tut you from that perspective, since it’s your perspective and you’re totally welcome to it.

To me, anything in the sideways world ended up being something of a bonus, both a meta-level and a narrative level. The show didn’t do the one thing I prayed it wouldn’t: negate the sacrifices and deaths on the Island timeline for some sort of reboot/do over in the sideways timeline. So, we got to see really interesting combinations and remixes of existing characters in unusual settings, with those settings driven by a combination of subconscious psychological desires and latent psychological holdups. (Kate sees herself as the innocent victim, rather than an actual killer, but is still on the run. Sawyer fashions himself a do-gooder, but is still unable to shake the memory of his parents. Jack invents a domestic life he never had, inserting a new body in his life in the form of a son to replace the father he could never find.)

On a character level, the sideways world allowed these characters the chance to let go in ways that they were unable to do in their actual lives. To fault the show for creating such a space when we have so often lamented the unfairness or abruptness of their deaths seems a bit hypocritical to me. For example, let’s take Sun/Jin. Many howled when they died, unable to believe two seasons apart boiled down to one episode; many others noted that it didn’t move them, due to the couple being alive in the sideways world. Turns out, the sideways world gave them another chance to “be together,” as the latter group suspected, but also honoring the sacrifice that tore up the former. I’d love to call this win/win, but I’m not sure I’d get many takers on this.

Let’s take another example: John Locke. Here’s a man that died a potentially pitiful death in “The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham,” only to have his life honored and vindicated in the finale. Without inspiring Jack, the good doctor doesn’t return to the Island, and never becomes Protector, and never stops The Man in Black, and never passes off the torch to Hurley who in turn creates a special world in which Locke not only gets to have the relationship with Jack they never had on the Island, but also gets to forgive his murderer. I could give a flying fig about the other people on the outrigger if I get payoffs such as this instead.

And, as many of us suspected, the show closed on a familiar image, in a familiar place. Some might find fault with the heart of the Island being so near the place where the show started, but if The Island has taught us anything, it’s that looking and seeing are two different things. Charlie couldn’t “see” his guitar until he chose to give up his drugs. The cave is no different: Jack couldn’t see it until he was ready to see it. That’s the work he had to do all along. By bookending the series around a man opening up his eyes to the unknown and closing them as a man who learned what it meant to truly live, “Lost” encapsulated its’ primary thematic concern: what it means to live and learn through other people. They lived together, and none of them died alone. Not in the end. Perfect.

I’ve tried to thematically address the biggest issues/ideas of tonight’s episode. I realize I am short on specifics, but I also realize that there’s probably a huge need on your part to talk about this episode as quickly as possible. So I’m going to end things here, but know that this is just the beginning. Over at Zap2it’s Guide to Lost, we’re going to spend all week looking back at this episode, and by extension, the series itself. Next week, we’ll be continuing our look back at this ambitious, epic, emotional, imperfect, messy, glorious, unique show. I look forward to hearing your comments below, and I look forward to continuing the discussion with you further over on the blog throughout the week.

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sepublic · 5 years

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A Revised Overview of the Infinity Train

So, after THAT amazing ‘finale’ (more like SEASON finale, heh-heh), I’ve never been more happy to be a clown after making such a drippy, sentimental post about Infinity Train ‘ending’.

With that in mind, the Season Finale of Infinity Train gave us a HUGE load of revelations regarding the setting, specifically the Infinity Train, and the characters aboard it.

I had made a previous post regarding a theory on the Infinity Train essentially being a huge, interactive videogame gone out of control, with the NPCs being straight-up actual people (if not humans), the number being a leaderboard system, etc.

Well, time to throw all of THAT in the trash… Or more accurately, the recycling bin, because while a lot of it seems to have been wrong, I feel like there’s still a few points regarding a programming allegory to the Infinity Train that still apply. Likewise, this overview of the Infinity Train is by no means complete, seeing as how the show isn’t. For now, though…

The Infinity Train isn’t some sort of videogame, at least not one for fun if one wants to cling that theory. More accurately, it seems to be something of an Interdimensional Automaton of sorts, one that is able to travel between at least two realities- Our world, and the wasteland-dimension it frequently runs in.

It seems that the Infinity Train is essentially Silent Hill, except mobile and with a lot more variety. Unlike Silent Hill, instead of beckoning you to it, the Infinity Train comes to you instead- How convenient!

So what else do we know about the Infinity Train?

Well, for starters… It’s a machine of sorts. A very powerful one, made up of many cars, and of innumerable length no less. As indicated by the cat, the Infinity Train originally started off as lone engine, the ‘beginning’ of the train. This Engine has the ability to indefinitely spawn cars that contain pocket-dimensions of various sizes, with some containing whole worlds within.

The Infinity Train as a whole is overseen by its Conductor, OneOne. Although it’s able to still function without its proper Conductor (as seen when it kept making cars and picking up passengers even without Amelia or OneOne’s input), it evidently doesn’t function at peak capacity without OneOne.

It seems that the Infinity Train’s purpose is to seek out those who have past issues and trauma and are attempting to flee from them in a way that actively endangers them; As others have pointed out, it’s more than likely that Amelia was planning to jump to her death off of the roof of the university the night the train found her. Likewise, Tulip’s on-foot trek to Osh Kosh, amidst the cold and dark with such little preparation, could’ve given her hypothermia and death.

The Infinity Train doesn’t kidnap people- In fact, it’s an ultimately benevolent force. It instead rescues people from themselves, and gives them the opportunity to explore its cars and the worlds within them, and hopefully, gather enough experiences within so as to emotionally mature and accept whatever issues they had been fleeing from.

However, this process isn’t foolproof- Passengers’ numbers –which mathematically indicate and quantify their emotional development and maturity- can also climb up, and the system can even be hijacked by outsiders. The Infinity Train will provide the opportunity for growth, but it won’t hand it over on a silver platter- It still has to be earned.

It seems that the Steward is a natural part of the Infinity Train- Each car has a port specifically shaped to fit the Steward’s three-clawed hands. When OneOne resumed control as the Conductor, the Steward visibly stopped upon his command. Additionally, the opening behind its mask contains a slot that looks like it could fit OneOne, indicating he can pilot it directly.

Either way, the Steward is undoubtedly a maintenance worker, meant to repair glitches and handle other issues on the Infinity Train before it was repurposed by Amelia. Another feature to note of the Infinity Train is its cannons.

Prior to Amelia evidently removing and repurposing them as her own tools, the Infinity Train had a pair of cannons installed on the front of its engine. As showed in the finale, these cannons require a specific input, a ‘programming’ of sorts, in the shape of the orbs.

Earlier, I’d speculated that the orbs were batteries, and while this is still a valid interpretation, I think it’s more accurate to say they’re memory cards of sorts. Each orb has a specific programming, or code installed into it, so that when it’s plugged in, a hard-light simulation comes into being as a result.

When these orbs are plugged into the Infinity Train’s cannons, the cannons have the ability to reconfigure targets into the specific object programmed into the orb- If an Orb containing a Corgi simulation was plugged in, anything shot would become Corgi-like. Likewise, if it the Orb had a Cockroach-dog programming, then targets would turn into Soul-Draining cockroaches.

This begs the questions as to the purpose of these cannons, and whether or not they always had the cockroach orbs installed. More than likely, these cannons are meant to clear obstructions in the Infinity Train’s path, as well as potential threats, if such things exist. The purpose of the cockroach programming could be meant to convert immobile obstacles into living creatures that will move themselves away.

Additionally, the Cockroaches’ soul-draining abilities could (and this is pure speculation) be used to clear away and kill any mobile life in an area that could hinder the Infinity Train; In other words, the cannons are a defense-measure created by the Infinity Train to protect itself and remove obstacles through any means necessary.

This ultimately begs the question as to why there are other cockroaches in the Infinity Train’s ‘home’ dimension. Perhaps they’re originally obstacles, converted into weapons by the train to clear the area of any obstructions? Or maybe the Cockroach orb was Amelia’s doing, and she merely used the cannons to get rid of people she was displeased with.

After all, in her quest to create her Perfect World, she required orbs with specific codes and programming in order to replicate certain features. And as we see in the Corgi Car, this can put her at odds with the inhabitants of a car, who no doubt want their world to keep functioning and could try to obstruct the work of the Steward.

Regardless- The Orbs have a specific programming, and when plugged in that hard-light simulation comes into existence. The cannons can make that programming into a reality by converting other targets, and Amelia eventually removed the weapons to repurpose them for her own ends. Whether or not the cannons can convert the human passengers and things found outside of the Train is a mystery- The cannons are only ever seen hitting and affecting inhabitants and constructs originating from the Infinity Train, so it’s possible that these cannons merely ‘reprogram’ what has already been made by the Infinity Train.

The orbs act as the identity of the Train- Without them, the cars they power become blank and empty. They are again, the ‘programming’ and code of the Infinity Train’s simulated hard-light worlds. OneOne himself, who is orb-shaped, seems to be the ‘code’ that causes the Infinity Train’s true engine-room to manifest in place of Amelia’s quarters.

This does lead to an interesting question- Who and WHAT exactly are the natural inhabitants of the Infinity Train? The Corgis and Turtles frequently allude to a long, rich culture and past. Likewise, both the narrative and the setting treats the people from the Train as ultimately VERY real, actual people with thoughts, feelings, emotions, etc.

We don’t see anyone disappear when an Orb is removed, although that could be because Amelia didn’t desire that specific person as part of her Perfect World. This begs the question of whether or not the inhabitants were created by the Infinity Train.

I have two possibilities on the matter;

The Infinity Train, which has existed for a while and goes on infinitely, probably has existed for about as long as well. It created many cars and worlds within them, as well as people who may or may not have been hard-light or physical matter; Regardless, those people were the progenitors of the other inhabitants, and they led to the creation of future generations of Corgis, Turtles, etc.

Alternatively, the memories the inhabitants have of their long, rich history is all simulated and programmed into them. That isn’t to say that they AREN’T people- They still very much are. But they’re people who were made as part of a world, and a world that needed a history, lore, and civilization to it.

Again, neither proposal seems to answer the question on the exact nature of the inhabitants- Are they hard-light simulations of a higher-level and caliber than what Amelia had stolen? Or are they legitimately flesh-and-blood (or crystal or water)? Although the Corgi Cars’ having an actual, fleshed-out history is easily possible, the Turtle Car is interesting.

For starters, it seems that it’s incomplete due to the Steward having removed several of the ‘memory’ orbs powering it. However, Tulip’s remark at its familiarity, and comparison to Amelia’s Perfect Car, would imply that the Turtle Car was in fact created by her.

Obviously, this begs the question- How long has Amelia been alive? Time passes normally on the train, and her past shows the presence of things such as videogames, indicating she hasn’t been alive any longer than a normal human. That means that if she DID create the Turtle Car (and Turtles live longer than humans, usually), then it’s more than likely that the long, diverse history they speak of isn’t real, but simply something programmed into their memories.

And if that’s the case, then that begs the question as to how those Turtles were made? Are they sapient, high-level simulations who were presented with a specific world and life and lived it? Or are they actual physical matter?

Of course, this all hinders on the idea that Amelia DID create the Turtle Car, when it’s possible that it’s unfinished state is merely due to her taking orbs from it for her own creation. Whether or not she took the orbs during its creation or after is another question.

As we get into the question of the exact nature of the cars and its inhabitants, this also poses another discussion; Specifically, their purpose.

We know that the Infinity Train’s goal is to help people move on, and it even keeps track of every passengers it’s acquired and their development, all overseen by the Conductor. Several of the cars seem almost tailor-made for the passengers’ development, such as the Crystal Car, which helps Tulip acknowledge her happy childhood memories, or the Chrome Car, which teaches Tulip to accept help from others and not just run away.

Whether or not those cars were made specifically at the time of Tulip’s arrival for her (or ahead of time, or just in general) or not, it’s obvious that the cars are meant for the passengers, and can be rearranged for them. Other cars, such as the Straight-Up Italy Car, the Spa Car, or the Monster Mash Car, can function as rest stops that keep the passengers rejuvenated and alive, and the Business Car even has a ‘Rest’ area for Tulip to stay in.

So what’s up with the OTHER, unusual cars- Such as the Duck Car, or the Pinball Car? Cars like these seem to have no purpose other than to be puzzles, or just minor nuisances. And it’s clear that just solving these puzzles won’t necessarily contribute to a passenger’s growth, as Tulip solves many cars and yet her number doesn’t go down.

Perhaps said cars are meant for other situations and passengers? Keep in mind, Tulip’s experiences happened when OneOne, the proper Conductor, wasn’t in place, so we can assume that the Infinity Train may not have been operating at full capacity. It’s possible that with OneOne in control, every car is more tailor-suited to a passenger’s needs.

Likewise, the Infinity Train continues to make cars even without OneOne or Amelia’s input, so perhaps the stranger, meaningless cars are the result of no guidance from a Conductor? Or do the unusual cars point to a previous purpose for the Infinity Train before it became a guide for lost souls? Maybe the unusual cars are just meant to provide random entertainment for the passengers in-between lessons, so they don’t go insane from boredom.

Perhaps some cars just ARE, or maybe the culmination of many cars can ultimately add to a passenger’s development. For the most part, they are meant to help the humans who board the train, and the worlds and histories within the cars could easily create situations where the passengers learn to interact with others and act as people. Additionally, the strangeness of the cars and the diverse worlds and people some have could be a way to help the passengers adjust to new things and change; Thereby helping them learn to accept their current circumstances back home.

The Infinity Train seems to have many computer comparisons, with the programming, the simulations, etc. OneOne acts as an overseer, or ‘admin’, and the steward performs maintenance. On its own, the Train possibly runs on its own automatic Motherboard that controls the creation of new cars, as well as keeping track of passengers and quantifying their growth.

When a passenger reaches zero, they have learned to accept whatever traumas led them to run away in the first place. At that moment, a portal automatically appears at their current location to take them back, and it will stay at its spawning point unless moved by the Conductor.

All this in mind, it begs the question as to who, or WHAT created the Infinity Train? Its mechanical nature points heavily to it being a manmade construct, but considering how stranger reality is in the train itself, it’s possible that it came into existence all on its own. Even if its origins remain a mystery, its current state and future is still relatively understood.

TL;DR The Infinity Train is an interdimensional automaton and basically mobile Silent Hill. It leaves its home dimension to pick up distraught people who are putting themselves in danger due to not accepting whatever issues they’re dealing with, and provides situations and cars meant to help them grow as people, all while giving them a number that quantifies and shows their growth.

The worlds and objects and maybe even people within seem to be ‘programmed’ through orbs that power the Train, and the Engine is constantly creating more cars. Usually it’s supposed to be overseen by a Conductor, but it can still relatively function without one. It has cannons that can convert targets into a specific programming, presumably as a defense measure. The Engine itself acts as a creator and even a computer, what with it having a Motherboard and all. Once a passenger reaches zero, they can go back home.

The Infinity Train may or may not have a mind of its own.

#infinity train #tulip #oneone #atticus #amelia #theory #speculation #discussion #conductor #steward

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ausp-ice · 5 years

Text

Snakes That Bind, Part Three

I have neglected to post oops But here is part three of four! It is a long one.

Words: 1822 Part One | Two

Wraith/Wren: Me Waylyn: @unluckiest-black-cat

Waylyn opened his eyes. Breathed. Blinked.

He felt...

He felt powerful, brimming with energy. A coldness seeping into his blood, his bones, sapping not his strength, but his weakness.

He sat up, inadvertently using his his right arm, which twinged with phantom pain but felt more like an iciness sunken deep where his flesh one used to be.

He lifted it to inspect it. It was a smooth black, with a stripe as black as void twisting around his forearm before it disappeared into his bloodied sleeve. A crest of something like horns sprang from the back of his wrist.

He ran his flesh hand across his new one. He could feel sensations from it just as if it were his own arm.

A shift, and a line appeared on the side of his hand, before it widened, revealing the glowing yellow eyes that were now so familiar to him.

“Kese...?”

Y̸͈͖͙͙͎̼̎ę̵͇̯͇͉̥̭̄ṣ̸̡̩̗͇̭̬̏͒̏̐͋.̵̢̒̂̚

Its voice was all staticky again.

Waylyn looked around, eyeing the skeletal remains nearby. It sparked the ugly feeling that plagued him every time he saw them.

He started laughing. First an unsuppressed giggle, soon an unbearable cackling clawing at his lungs.

Once he calmed down and the grin fell from his face, he looked down at his new hand.

“You’re all I can trust.”

—

“Mmm... hmm...” Waylyn was sitting in the dying light of his campfire, humming a random little tune to himself.

Well, not just to himself. To Kese, as well. To Them. These days, They never attacked him. They just lingered around him, flitting at the corners of his vision, whispering to him.

Kese talked. Some days, Waylyn could understand. Other days, everything was just a mess of static in his mind.

Today, Everyone was almost silent. The whispers seemed less communicating to him and more murmuring amongst Themselves.

Waylyn looked up at the dying light of the sky, seeing the pale moon rise. It looks like it might be a full moon tonight. Has it only been a month?

He suddenly felt tired. Hungry. He just wanted some peace, some rest, some reprieve. But wasn’t he happier like this? Well, he was still tired.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he watched the fire at last burn out, leaving the moon his only source of light. But slowly, a clicking sound grew in volume, echoing in his mind. As if someone was approaching.

A black flame sprouted before him, growing into a tower of darkness. From within it, a form emerged. He first saw the heels, tapping against the solid shadow spread across the ground. His gaze rose, and he saw the billowing coat of darkness, the glint of claws in the moonlight. A trail of black flame lined with white, twisting around, leading to a crown of insubstantial hair framing a face cast in shadow.

Their eyes opened, revealing an eerie yellow. The same yellow as Kese’s eyes. (The same yellow his eyes were turning, when he saw his reflection in a pond.)

A grin split their face, an array of sharpened, white teeth. “Waylyn. How good it is to see you.”

As the portal disappeared behind them, the light of the moon exposed their face, and Waylyn’s eyes widened in shock.

“Wren? We all thought... We all thought you were gone for good.”

Their grin simply grew wider. “In some manner, that is the case. Call me Wraith.”

Waylyn’s gaze shuttered. “Where did you go? What did you do?” You left me with everyone that betrayed me, he didn’t say.

Wraith turned their gaze to the shadows. “I found a way to fulfill my wishes. And to fulfill those of others. But there was a... transition period. And there are rules to follow.”

Once again, Wraith turned their gaze to Waylyn. “But now, They are mine. The Throne,” they paused for effect, “is mine. They are your friends, yes? As is Kese here.” They gestured toward Waylyn’s arm.

Waylyn glared at them suspiciously. “You know Kese?”

Wraith cackled. “Kese was my closest friend for years. We, too, can be—if you so desire. You and I knew each other quite well, once. Now then, Waylyn.” Wraith walked closer and bent down, offering a hand. “Come with me. A night of food and rest is yours for the taking.”

He peered suspiciously at the clawed hand. “What’s the catch?”

The smile carved itself back on Wraith’s face. “Company, nothing more. You’ve suffered much, haven’t you? This is your reward.” They locked eyes with Waylyn.

“Trust me.”

Waylyn reached out his hand.

—

It was the best he’d eaten since... since Before, probably. Waylyn sat next to Wraith, who sat at the head of the table.

He started digging in as soon as the food materialized before him. Wraith laughed a little helplessly.

Once Waylyn had satiated himself to some extent, he noticed Wraith wasn’t eating. “Aren’t you eating anything?” He said around a mouth full of the juiciest meat he’s ever eaten.

Wraith shook their head, still smiling. “No, no, I am sustained by Their power, nothing more. This isn’t even my real body, though it is a construct that holds my consciousness.” Their gaze grew distant. “My real body is... elsewhere.”

They blinked a bit. “Ah, nevermind that. Now let’s see...” Reaching out, their hand hovered near Waylyn’s arm. Waylyn paused eating, confused.

The stripe of pure darkness shifted on his arm, uncoiling and reshaping to form a familiar shape that then wound around Wraith’s arm, though the tail was still attached to Waylyn.

“It is good to see you again, my friend. Be good to Waylyn, will you?” Kese flicked out its tongue, retreating back to Waylyn in mere moments. At Waylyn’s look, Wraith gave a carefree shrug. “I wanted to say hello.”

“I... didn’t know Kese could do that.”

“Ah, that was with my power. Usually, this would not be possible.”

“Oh.”

They continued to converse about random topics, until they arrived at the one that made Waylyn’s blood boil.

“I just... I can’t believe they would betray me like that! I thought they would understand. I thought that they understood me.”

Wraith gave a light pat on Waylyn’s shoulder. “They simply cared more for their own wellbeing than your happiness with Kese. There will always be people who do not understand.”

“Gh...” Waylyn clenched his teeth. “I can’t help but feel like things would have been better if you were there.”

“Oh?”

“You did always listen to what I had to say, even when I could see that displeased look on your face.”

“Perhaps. I’m certain things would have different, at least, if Wren was there.” Wraith sat back in their seat. “But I am here now. And I will listen to what you say.”

A choked laugh escaped from Waylyn. “Better late than never, I guess.”

Eventually, the soporific effect of being well-fed began to weigh on his eyes.

“Ah, I suppose that’s enough talk. Come now, Waylyn. I’ll take you to where you can rest.”

He had a vague sensation of being half-carried to a room, where he was lowered to the softest bedsheets he’d ever felt in his life. He was enveloped in warmth, slipping into oblivion.

“Rest well, Waylyn. We’ll see each other again.”

—

When Waylyn opened his eyes again, he was back at his camp.

He sat up, looking around. “Was that a dream...?”

He inspected himself, and to his surprise, his clothes were cleaned and mended. He felt... He hardly felt hungry at all—compared to the ceaseless gnawing he had since coming here—and he hasn’t felt this energized in ages.

“I guess... it wasn’t a dream, Kese?”

Ņ̸̳̲̟̖̗͎̼͗̏͆̍̄̀̈́̄o̶̧̧̲̭̻̦͈͌̋̀̽̿̕ͅ

Waylyn stretched and got up.

—

The next time Wraith came to visit, Waylyn was curled up on his side, nursing his DragonFly-inflicted burns. The gems were worth it, though. Stolen from right under her nose!

She wasn’t happy when she spotted him as he was leaving, though. The burns spoke for themselves. Kese wasn’t very happy, either.

“Tsk, tsk, you don't seem to be doing so well tonight.”

Waylyn cracked open an eye, shooting a glare at the current lord of shadows. “You think?”

“My apologies I did not visit sooner. There are certain requirements.” Wraith came closer, bending over him.

“Ah, that does not look good.” They waved a hand over him, shadows rippling, and the pain faded to a dull ache.

“I can heal you. Come with me.” A hand, held out.

“Yeah, fine.” He took it, and shadows enveloped him both.

—

When he opened his eyes, he was seated at the table again. His body was completely healed, clothes without a single tear or stain.

“Welcome back to the world of the living. Actually... perhaps that is,” Wraith coughs, “not quite accurate. But welcome back to my palace!”

Waylyn raised an eyebrow. “How did you do that all so fast?”

They waved a hand. “Oh, it was only a few minutes. A little infusion of shadow magic. It helps that you're so compatible with the darkness.” Sharp teeth flash in a grin.

Compatible, huh.

Kese’s whispers echoed in his mind.

Once again, Waylyn ate and conversed with Wraith. And when sleepiness once again weighed upon his eyes, they led him to his bedroom to sleep.

—

Wraith started visiting more often.

“The closer you are to the shadows, the easier it is for me to come.”

They exchanged words, stole a few platonic touches. Pats, a hand on a shoulder. Reminiscent of an age ago, without the taint of shadows.

Wraith would carry him to bed sometimes, when he was feeling particularly tired.

“How the heck... can you carry me so easily?” Face muffled against a coat smooth as shadow.

A laugh vibrating through him. “Construct, remember? I can do what I want.”

Waylyn pulling clawed hands to him, inspecting them, running his fingers across the tips. The same hands that helped him an age ago, or not?

Wraith running their hand across Kese, pulled from Waylyn’s arm.

Wraith sticking a hand in his hair, their marvel at its voluminous softness unchanged from when their eyes and hands were softer.

S̴͉̐ẖ̷̒a̶͓̓d̸̯͝õ̵͔w̵̠̾s̵̞̿,̶͓́ ̴̣̊s̵̡͊t̵̨͋ă̸̙i̴͓̽n̵̦͘ḯ̴̜n̴̼͐g̵͈͗ ̶̯̃h̵̟́i̵͙̽s̵͇̕ ̶̠̄ś̵̺ò̷̗u̷̙͛l̴̡͗.̴̩̆ ̶̹̏S̷̮̈́h̴̗̓a̷̺̒d̸̢͝o̸͚̚w̵̗͘s̴̤̓ ̸͈͌ţ̷͘h̶̞͊a̴̜͐ṭ̶̅ ̵̠̓h̴̰̿à̵̙v̴͔̕ë̶̯́ ̶̻̿s̶̅͜t̷̨͗á̶̭i̷͈͂n̵͉̕e̵̖̔d̸͓͌ ̶̲̂Ẃ̷̗ř̶̜e̸̱͒n̵̩͊’̵̡̎s̴̩̓ ̸͇̄s̴̡̀o̸̦͌u̷̦̍l̷̦̐.̴̛͈ ̸̱̕I̴͓̚t̷̡́'̶͉̂s̸̤̓ ̸̖͆w̸͖͐h̴̥̃ȃ̶̹t̶̨̑ ̸͌ͅỷ̷͓o̸͈͐u̶̙͒ ̶̞͂ẃ̷̗a̷̙͘ń̶̮t̵̬̏è̷̜d̷̞͘,̶̯̉ ̴̟͋i̴̹̐s̷̤͋ń̷̪'̴͓͋ẗ̵̢́ ̴̻͊i̸͌ͅt̸̩̎?̷̧̋ ̵̳̌T̵̩̑h̶̲̑ǐ̸͍š̸͇ ̷̼̍i̸̘͋s̵̖͗ ̷̼́a̴̙̐ ̶̟̇s̷̜͐ḿ̸̱a̵͔̒ḽ̴̈l̸͈̊ ̸̘͘p̶̼̀r̵͔͑ì̸͎c̷̝͛ë̸̢́ ̵̭͂t̵͙̍o̷̯̚ ̸̻̑p̷̠̔ã̸̤y̵̅ͅ ̸̨̕f̶̰͛ȯ̸͓r̵̮̎ ̸̘̓ȳ̸̖ơ̴̳u̴̽ͅr̵̩͗ ̷͕́w̷͍̓i̶̠̊s̵̪͐h̸͇́ḛ̴̌s̴̢͛.̸̹̋

Smiles less sharp. Shadowed eyes more open. Wraith would stay with him, sometimes, as he fell asleep, and sometimes when he woke up in the morning on the Surface. Before vanishing in flames of shadow.

They were...

They were almost...

Happy?

H̶̙̅a̴̧͗h̶͔́a̸͈͂h̵̿͜a̸̭͂h̶̛̤â̵̫h̸͉͐ạ̷̿.̶͕͝ ̸̹̈́T̷̪͊h̶̤̅e̴͕̕ ̴͍̈́s̵̩͝ḧ̷̗a̶͇̓d̴̒͜o̶͓͋w̵̝̒s̸̫̋ ̴̜́w̸̻̉ị̷͗l̴̜̍l̶͚̈ ̸̼͘b̶̼̔i̸̓͜n̴̰̅d̷̨̄ ̴͈̾y̵̩̓ö̴̧́u̸͚͋ ̵̘̚e̸̬̐v̵̨́e̶͚̿r̵͔̾ ̵̱̏c̷̥̽l̶͍̋ò̷͉s̴͇̀e̴͍̍r̷͛ͅ.̴̰̇ ̴̙͆̈́Ì̷͇̮̩͛t̸̒ͅ'̷͍͓̆̀̇s̴̡̱̥̙͌͆ ̵̢̧̲̉͝w̶̛͖̟̗̥͒̌̔h̵̪̫̀̂̄a̶͙͋͒͆ṫ̴̙͕͐ ̸͎̓͒́y̴̼͕̝̏̋o̴̡̩͙̝͑̀ü̷͖̭̆̒ ̷̢̎̉̂̄w̵͉̦̓̀̈́ạ̵̭̫͙͝n̸͖̍͠t̷̢͙͕̓̓̊͘.̵̝̓͂̕ ̷͓̯͈̦̀W̵͉͍̭̾h̶̯͊ą̵̬͕͈̈̃̎t̸̗͕̗̥̋ ̷̞̮͈̙̋y̵̖̟̓͐̾͜o̴̝̫̊͠͝ú̶̱̰͊͝ ̴̨̙̝̲͘b̷͕̍̀̇͠ȯ̷̲̏͂̕͜t̸̫̙͌̓̔h̷̨̳̞̽̓͘ ̵̩̋̿́̉ẅ̶̡̧̻́ȃ̵̖̩͇̃͌͝ņ̵̍͝t̶͚̞͛.̶̧̥̜̦̃͊͝ ̴̝͇̭͑͐̚J̶̡͙͇̤̘̼͔̈͂͒̓u̶̪̟͓̳͇̍͐͒̎͌s̴̭̭͚̼̃̍̒͘ͅẗ̸̩͉̳̩̖͖̉̂ ̷̨̘̖̹̬͉͕͓̉ò̸̺̳̑ņ̷̬̪̙̪̥̜̣̅͑̆́̚͝ę̷̮͕͉̦͇͗́̎̌͗ ̴͇̍̑͐̆̀͗f̸͓̱̮̄ͅi̵̩̬͉͕̪͎̬͓͐̔͗̕n̵̡̢̖͚͍͍̞̠̊̆̀̄ǎ̶͖̖̠̻̮͉̫͆͐͜͠l̵̡̢̲̖̓͛̃̓̃̓̕ ̸̛͍̭̭̰͈̆̆̍̆̈́̾̍͜p̷̛̗̪̩̯̣̙͕̔̀̇̊̈́̈͜ụ̴̢̻̒̎s̶̢̼̖̬̤̝̯͗̒̕͜h̸̼̣̼̣̺̺̿̀̓̿͛̇͘͜͝.̴̧̬̥̠̥̞̥̽́͗͋̎͘

Ǫ̸̛̛̻̫̬͙̘̱͇͈͇̳̱͙͍̈̀͑̐̓̽͆̚͝͝n̵̬̳͑̃̐́͋̈́͆̐͋͑͛̈́́̚͝ͅȩ̶̨̢̠̩̮͙̝̤̭̈͗̌͆͆̔̇͠ ̵̛̞͍̋̀̒̈́̑́͊͋̽̽̕͠͝f̶̖͙̼̥̱̓̀͂͑̽̓̿̐͝͝i̴̢̨̢̠̜͓̲̞͈͔̜̣͙̰̥͛̄̄̈͛͆͂̈̽̄̓̕ņ̵̧̫̝͉̰͔̯̞̳͍̭̭̠̓́̑͐̿̂̃̓͂̑͜͝a̵̢̛̛̳̺̪͔̖͇̖̠͌̂̈̇́̊̉̄̊̓͝l̵̦͓̳̯̼͆̽͌̽̐͌̀̈́͝͝ ̵̳̼̒̍̀̀͌̋̎̔͑͘͜p̸͔̗͛̀͒̅͊͐́̕̕��͉̮̩̗ư̶͕͕͚͂͛̕��̢s̵͕̲̥͝h̴̨̯͕̪͚̩̖̹̝̮̜̟̠͖̃̇͒̅̚͝ͅ,̴̧̨͎͈͈̞̼̮͑̌̇͐͜ ̸̗̙͈̹̳̮̝̣̦̣̩̣̂̃̃̔͝ă̷̡̛̩̻̙̱͍̓̓̀̽́̕͠n̶̛͔͈̘͕̻͕̼̯̘̹̰͙͒̆́̓́̽͝ḑ̸̨͎̘̼̩̣̫̰̝̜̳̼̒͊͆͐̊̓̅͛̑͐̈́ ̷͈̻̲̬̯͛̔y̶͚͆̾o̶̡̠̫͖̝͓̣͔͕̙̦͉̹̻̊̊͊͆͗̋̈́̂̾̈́̐́̂u̵̢̠̠̫͔͖͗͑̒͐̀̃̉̍̿̕ͅ ̸̧̜̝̟̟̣̣͗̎̍̃́͘͝w̷̢̨̖̼̰͖̍͜i̵̛̪̪͈͖̗͔̒́͂̽̌̏͑̇̓̑̀͘̕͝ͅl̴͍͓͉͉̠͎̱̾̔̐̎͐̇̾̓͛̒̀́̕l̶͚͔̺̯͕̥̈́̏͜͝ ̸̭̣̋b̴̢̨͎̣̥̬̗̯̤̮̰̂̇͐̀͂̈̄͗̊͋̓͘e̴͐͗̆͌̔͂́̅̂̋̽̅̎͌ͅ ̶̛̮̟̞̾͆̀̋̿̍ͅb̴͇̯͕̟̱̣̪͑̋̇͛͂̿͘͝ͅơ̴̖͙̘̥͙̘̮̜͖̮͇̳̟͍̤͊͑̎̀́̈́u̴̻̠̯͖̠̰̼͈̖̇͋̎̇͊̈̓̆̄̽̔͘͜͝n̵̨̡̜̳͎͈͇̝̲͍̾͌͋́͛́͘ď̴̢͔͎͉̾̎̍̉̀̈̾̾̀̕͠,̶̟͇͓͉̠̯̯̳̼͖̉̓́́̑̑͋̂̍ ̶̟̯͉͈̃͂́̐Ś̸̜̟̱̀̔͌h̴̢͌̃́͗͌̐̇̂̌̍̂̀͒͐͌à̸̛̹̠̣͑͑̈́̎̈̆̚̕d̷͚̳̳͈̥͍̬̃͜͜o̴̻̮̳͋̇̚͜ẁ̵̨̢̼̝̹͍͕̞̫̾̄̎̑̒̈́́̆̆͝ͅ ̵̢̧̰̝̦͚̗͋̑̎͑̍̉̓͆a̴̮̰̲̩͍̅̇̏͒́̉n̵̢̛̙̞̰̩̰͙͂̆͒̾͋͘d̶̡̦̟̼̈̇̀͂̽̓͗͘͠ ̴̡̡̡͕̣̭̥̠̭͍̠̬͌̂̐͊͌̃͑N̷̨̡̛͙̫̙̜̲̲̔̏̏̔̓͌̒̌̈͗͆͘͜͝ỉ̴̗̞̭͔͚̝͓͓̤͖͖ͅǵ̸̢̧̢͓͔̦̤͚͉̥͍͑̆̍́́͛̑̀̐͂͆̚͘͜͝h̴̠̯͎̱̗̍̓͝t̴̛̟̱̫̼͉̰͖̦̮̲͎̳̍̈̾̓̄̄͌͑̌̒̎͂͘ͅ.̵̥͚̳̯̩̘̻̪͔̲̖͇͕̦̈́́͌̓͒͐͂̚̕͠ ̶̤̰̰̤̐͗̉̉̉̈́̀̔͊̌͌̽̃͠

J̷u̸s̸t̶ ̷a̵ ̵l̶i̵t̶t̴l̵e̸,̴ ̵l̵i̸t̵t̷l̵e̴ ̸f̸u̸r̵t̴h̶e̷r̴.̴

The shadows sunk deep into his soul.

#don't starve #writing #Snakes That Bind #Waylyn #Kese #dst AU #short story #wren curtis #wraith

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years

Text

Strays (1/1)

Summary: It’s not the first time Ryan’s seen this particular stray around his building.

Notes: Because reasons.

AO3

It’s not the first time Ryan’s seen this particular stray around his building.

Lean and lanky, sand colored fur with muted tabby markings. Bright green eyes and gentle temperament, loud little bastard who does his best to trip him up when Ryan comes home.

Showed up out of the blue one day with a fancy gold collar pulled so tightly around its neck it wasn’t breathing properly. Fur matted with mud and dried blood, limping along with a bad fracture in one its forelegs. Sharp eyes and sharper claws, it didn’t hesitate to flash when Ryan got too close.

Patience and a bit of kindness had won it over, allowed him to get close to it. Coax it out of hiding and see to its injuries. Earned him an odd little friend of the four-footed kind over time.

“Hey,” Ryan says, tied and aching, shoulder twinging uncomfortably as he bends down to scritch the stray’s ears because he knows what will happen if he doesn't.

Sad eyes and soft, pitiful cries as it trails him up to his apartment as though Ryan is the worst kind of person there is, career choices aside.

The stray meows, accusatory as it looks up at him, look on its face as though it’s annoyed Ryan’s late.

“Look buddy,” he says, past the point of caring that he tends to talk to the stray as though it can understand him. “These things run long sometimes.”

Because sometimes the asshole you’ve been hired to kill has access to things like grenades and homemade explosives and things get tricky. Especially when the guy’s the paranoid kind who knows someone’s coming after him and things go to shit for a bit.

The stray sneers at him, trotting ahead with its tail held high and this flounce that has Ryan shaking his head as he follows.

========

Ryan had done some looking, put out feelers around the city for anyone missing a cat with a fancy gold collar worth a pretty penny. Did a little looking online too, just in case, and when no leads turn up he figures it’s probably some rich asshole who has enough money not to care if their cat goes missing.

So now the stray isn’t so much a stray as it is a frequent visitor in Ryan’s life.

It lounges around his apartment like royalty, loud and demanding and bossy as hell, and Ryan -

Well.

He knew what he was in for when he made the mistake of letting the cat stay the first time it set paw inside his apartment. (It’s a cat, that’s what they do.)

At the moment Ryan’s tending to an array of minor injuries from his latest job. Picking bits of dirt and crumbled masonry out of a gash thanks to flying debris and bad luck. The stray’s watching him, tip of its tail twitching.

The stray smacks his hand with just a hint of claws when Ryan when Ryan thinks about passing on stitching it up. Thinks butterfly bandages will do the trick just as well, if a bit messily.

Ryan looks up to see the stray has this displeased look on its face, starts growling when Ryan just sits there, and flashes its claws. Mean looking things that would undo what progress Ryan’s made so far.

“Christ, alright,” Ryan mutters, wondering when he started taking orders from a damn cat.

========

Ryan knows there’s more to Los Santos than the rampant crime and corruption. Desperate souls just trying to keep their heads above water.

There’s a flipside to everything here. Go down this street and knock on the door with a mark on it, and if you know the password you’ll find yourself in a goddamn fantasy novel.

There are creatures here - ‘shifters and vamps and everything in between.

Beings from the old country who’ve migrated to America generations ago and found their way to Los Santos. Gotten lost in a city that doesn’t care who (what) you are or where you came from so long as you know how the city works.

Ryan’s heard the stories, all these beings with powers and abilities and how one terribly fragile human like him can’t possibly hope to match up against them – and yet.

He’s garnered a reputation of his own in this city, made a name for himself that stands him on level footing with some of the most powerful names here.

There are crews, gangs, you learn to be wary of if you last long enough. The Fake AH Crew are at the top of the list, notorious wanted criminals known for being ruthless when it comes to their enemies.

They say Ramsey’s something old – no one’s sure what he is, just old and tired and waiting for the world to end. Passes the time entertaining himself, gathering strays of his own with mixed heritage and watered down bloodlines, wreaking havoc and making sure the whole city knows who’s behind it all.

“You’re the Vagabond, hmm?”

Ryan sighs, looking up to see Ramsey watching him, amused little smile on his face.

He's had a long day and isn’t really in the mood to entertain guests at the moment. Just wanted to go home, deal with his latest injuries in peace.

His arm stings, parallel scratches bleeding sluggishly and nursing what feels like cracked ribs.

“Ramsey.”

The man moves forward. Looks disheveled with sleepy eyes and that smile like he’s laughing at the world. (Something he knows no one else does, perhaps, or maybe he just finds what people will do to get by so terribly amusing.)

On the surface of things he seems like he’d be the harmless kind, but there’s this air of subtle power about him. The kind of person who knows their worth, is comfortable with it.

“Looks like you’ve had an exciting day.”

Ryan’s been fucked over, is what he’s been.

Contacts who were blinded by greed and a phone call that led him to a construction site expecting to meet with a potential employer and finding an ambush instead.

Pair of ‘shifters with sharp fangs and claws and looking to make a name for themselves by killing him, not realizing the mistake they’d made. (The same one so many of their kind make, again and again and again because how could a squishy little human ever be a threat to something like them?)

And now this.

Not his day, really.

Still, it’s not Ramsey he’s worried about so much as the banshee. Eyes on Ryan the whole damn time, and angry as hell about something.

Steps up beside Ramsey who watches, mouth quirked in a faint smile.

“Where the fuck is he?” he demands, so very quiet.

Ryan stares at him, bemused.

The banshee takes another step forward, pushes into Ryan’s space -

They both freeze when there’s a rattle and clank above them, and look up to see the stray making his way down to them via drain pipes and rusty fire escapes.

It drops down in front of them, this smug little look about it.

“You little fucker,” the banshee snarls. “Do you have any fucking clue how long we’ve been looking for you?”

The stray’s tail flicks once, twice, and then it makes a little run at the banshee, leaping at the last moment to land, lightly, perfectly, on his shoulders. Purrs up a storm as it butts its head against his face, making these chirping noises like laughter as the banshee seethes, muttering darkly under his breath.

“Gavin,” Ramsey says, and the cat looks over, ear flicking.

There’s an amused smile on Ramsey's face. Shoulders loose and easy as he takes in the stray draping himself across the banshee’s shoulders like it’s a favorite perch of his, and Ryan -

Ryan’s just so very tired because this is Los Santos and there’s a flipside to everything here.

========

“You know,” Ramsey says, eyeing Ryan thoughtfully. “We could always use someone as resourceful as you in the crew.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow at that, sounds of Ramsey’s crew getting the stray – Gavin – to spill what he’s been up to for the past few weeks. Where he’s been after disappearing on them after a job went bad and he ran into Ryan. Thought he was interesting and all and decided to stick around for a bit. (Clearly Ryan is even more of an idiot than he thought for not realizing.)

Still.

A crew like this doesn’t need a mundane like him, fragile little human up against the things that go bump in the night.

Sure, Ryan can hold his own in Los Santos, but running with a crew like Ramsey’s is on an entirely different level.

He doesn’t go looking for trouble deliberately, but hell if he turns tail when it comes looking for him. (Surefire way to paint a target on your back, that. Get the wrong kind of people interested in you.)

They both look around as the banshee’s voice rises in pitch.

Anger and exasperation and this distinct note of concern.

A moment later Gavin comes tearing out of the living room, ears pinned back as he leaps for Ryan, sharp caws digging in as he scrabbles for stable footing.

When Michael comes skidding around the corner Gavin meows somehow managing to make it sound insufferably smug as Michael regards Ryan warily.

“Give it some thought,” Ramsey says, this little curl to his mouth as he watches the three of them locked in their little stalemate. “You might like it here.”

========

Gavin on two feet is just as much as a menace as Gavin on four feet.

The only difference is that he can use actual human words now, which makes acting like he doesn’t understand what he wants a bit harder for Ryan.

Still, there are workarounds.

“What does that even mean?” Ryan asks, not-so-secretly enjoying the exasperated look on Gavin's face.

Gavin sighs and repeats himself, a string of unadulterated British nonsense spilling from his lips that, sure, Ryan could make an educated guess about, but this is far more entertaining.

“Ryan,” Gavin says, bit of a pout creeping in and it’s honestly a little bit annoying at how adept the little bastard is at manipulating Ryan and the others. “Don’t be a minge.”

See, Ryan can guess what Gavin means by that, but -

“That’s not a real word,” Ryan says, biting back a smile at the look Michael tosses him from across the room.

Little bit wary of him still, but that’s fine. Ryan’s the newbie here, gun for hire for job Geoff insists will more than make up for the hassle of having to deal with the others for the duration.

Gavin throws his hands up and launches into a rant about idiot Americans who doesn’t understand clear English, and Ryan -

Ryan sits back and lets Gavin’s little rant or lecture or whatever the hell it is wash over him while processing none of it.

He’s not entirely certain he’s cut out to work with a crew, but for now this isn’t so bad.

#fahc au #werecats #freewood #vagrant fic #Touch Not the Cat #just like ALL the werecat aus i guess???#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#still working on prompts my friends #:DDDDD!#i love that there was a tag for werecats on ao3 to btw #beautiful #werecat aus

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fan-clan-fun · 6 years

Text

Fanclans Masterpost

Unlike some writers, I have a tendency to focus on the culture and worldbuilding of a particular idea, which means I often get caught up in the nitty gritty details and never write stories about them. So here is a simple masterpost of all the many fanclans which i have developed over time, which anyone can ask questions about.

Clans for my Oracle Project, set in the North Carolina Smoky Mountains:

Ashclan: The most diverse clan, which believes fire as their deity. Ashes are a main component of clan ceremonies, and they have a unique rank who dedicate their lives to tending the living flame of their clan. They are adaptable, and admire and appreciate someone who can overcome their shortcomings to become a better cat. They live in a forest often wracked by fires.

Coveclan: Their spirituality is tied to water, but they also have a firm belief in a Great cat, whose two eyes are always watching, the Night eye, and the Day eye. Most of their beliefs and culture center around dualities, thee are always two sides to a story, two forces at work, good or evil. They live on the edge of a lake with their camp in a cove.

Ridgeclan: The martial clan, they are very heavily tied to earth, and their spiritual place is a spire of quartz which reaches into the sky, a perfect example of how the earth connects to the sky and Starclan. They are very no nonsense and have rules for everything, and despite having the largest amount of territory spreading across a ridge, they also deal most frequently with predators and prey shortages.

Bloomclan: Almost a matriarchy, this clan is heavily centered on familial interaction, particularly between a mother and her kits. As such this is the only clan where the requirements for deputy are either mentor an apprentice/or raise a litter. In many ways, they are the most flexible or lax when it comes to traditional clan ways, particularly about mates and mating. They are firmly connected to nature and plants, and always bury their dead with seeds and seedlings so that a new thing may grow from the remains of an old. They live in a meadow which supports many species of trees, shrubs and flowers.

Clans for my old roleplay site, Ancient as the Sea, set on the coast of North Carolina:

Rootclan: The most traditional clan, they split from Waveclan due to disputes on the warrior code and Starclan. They are exclusive to the point of beginning to have issues with severe inbreeding. Like one of my previous clans they are more strict and martial, but they focus around aspects of the code and staying traditional to the original ways. One might call them the extremist clan, where they pursue everything with passion and fervor, including their belief in Starclan. Rootclan is a clan of competition, of honing skills through activities, they have tournaments and hunting challenges as part of their holidays, a chance to earn rewards in prey and prestige. They live in a heavily forested area and are expert tree climbers.

Waveclan: The clan of water and ocean, this clan is deeply in tune with the tides and the changing of the weather. Half of their territory is waterside, briny water with water foul and the coast, the other half is open windy fields. They have the rank of Skywatcher, who works to predict the weather and help protect the clan from the violent storms which once flooded the clan and nearly drove it to extinction. Waveclan has a higher amount of prey and as such have more free time than the other clan to enjoy their territory and cultivate relationships. They consider themselves to be a huge family, and nothing goes on in the clan without everyone knowing. They are generally a peaceful clan, especially after an event which only the elders remember where a warmongering leader led an attack on Rootclan which ended up killing the medicine cat. Leaders have been encouraged since then to avoid war and aggression, which leads the younger generation to feel like the other clans walk all over them.

Ferryclan: This clan is an urban clan, living in a town which holds a ferry to the Outer Banks. The clan is an odd mix of kittypets, rogues, and clan cats. They are the most open of outsiders, but before a cat become a warrior and full member, they must take a journey and make a specific oath, at this point, the least dedicated are often simply encouraged to seek another lifestyle. As part of being an urban clan, they are far more lax when it comes to certain parts of the code, particularly involving humans. Since there is less prey to hunt, particularly during the winter, Ferryclan makes use of every resource available, and thus will accept food from humans, or steal it, in order to survive. Their contact with humans has allowed human vocabulary/ knowledge or certain items to make their way into clan knowledge, and certain prefixes exist in the clan, like pepper, salt, oil, gravel, which dont exist in any other clan.

Other info of note: These clans share a very similar religious structure, in that their dead are all buried in a specific burial place, in order that their spirits may ascend to Starclan. If their bodies are not buried there, they become trapped as spirits on earth. This is why the greatest punishment on a clan cat is to be refused to be buried there, either by exile or other methods. Since spiritual energy is far more active in these clans, certain ranks have very specific spiritual energy attached to them, thse are leaders, medicine cats, and the guardians. Each of these ranks have special abilities, but also consequences. Leaders gain nine lives, but these lives are the spirits of past cats which become fused to their own bodies, which means leaders sometimes have cats speaking to them in their head, or can lose their own sanity and identity. Leadership is not for just anyone. Medicine cats bond with a significant cat of their past, often a medicine cat or their mentor, and thus gain a line of access to Starclan for spiritual advice. And Guardians are the protectors of the burial grounds, and fight off scavengers, predators, and malevolent spirits. They gain enhanced abilities, endurance and a second sight which allows them to see spirits and spiritual energy. Any cat of these ranks who has become connected to Starclan through spiritual energy is forbidden to bear or sire kits, with the understanding that that spiritual energy would be both physically, mentally, and spiritually harmful to any resulting kits, if they even managed to survive. Of course there is more to this religious system, and is possibly the most complicated I have ever created…. Yet.

And my most recent project, my medieval scottish clans. I intend to make them a roleplay if anyone is interested!

Quick Note: My medieval clans are still somewhat under construction, particularly their religion and pacts with the Faerie. If anyone has any suggestions or knows a lot about the mythology of Faeries, send me a message, I need all the help I can get! That said I do have a few things figured out. First of all, In ancient times, the first clan cats made a pact with one of the most powerful of the faerie. In return for service in the afterlife (and essentially guarantee of an after life), some cats, those who became heroes and legends in their lives, could essentially become faeries themselves. Unfortunately because it was a faerie deal, it did not go too much as planned, yes the cats would go to the stars, but very few became actual faeries. As such there is gratitude but also great distrust. However, some faeries offer better terms, certain deas to certain cats which improve the lives of cats and increase the chances of becoming a faerie in the afterlife. Each clan and rank has a pact with different faeries. Also, in Scottish folklore, Cat Sith are black cats who are associated with faeries or witchcraft, but are untrustworthy and thought to steal souls. For the clans, having a solid black pelt is considered at least unlucky, and at most the dangerous possibility that they are not true cats at all but faeries in cat skin. Black cats outside the clans are vehemently driven away, and never welcomed into the clans. Names are also considered sacred, and some mothers give their kits secret names, under the hope that this means they cant be replaced as changelings. A lot of what I want to do with these clans is take certain superstitions in medieval times, and play with them, as well as give a completely different context and time period for a warriors world.

Moorclan: The clan of the high moors, descended from actual Scottish Wildcats, who were pushed out of their territory by human villages and the domestic cats within them. Some would say this clan is the most broken and hurt. Their decisions, made in terms of survival, are often considered barbaric in the eyes of others. Yet they are quite structured in their own way, with certain specific roles which attempt to maximize the abilities and potentials of the cats they have. They have two unique aspects, the rank of counselor, who serves as a repository for the knowledge of clan history and law, and the herbalist, who serves as the main healer for the clan. Because of the counselor’s importance, they have a bodyguard which happens to be their apprentice, who protects the teachings in order that they may be passed on, and since one healer for an entire clan is not enough, the healer has three assistants, who specialize in specific areas, but who may or may not succeed them as full healer. What sets them apart from the other clans however, is their stance on faeries. While they are a part of the original pact, they became immediately displeased with faeries, and sought a way to cut themselves off from them in any way. They found one faerie, who offered to essentially cut their territory off from the fae world, but asked a terrible cost. Any kit born with a solid black pelt must be sacrificed to them, in the possibility that they might be a faerie kit, who could disrupt and destroy that isolation from the faerie realm. Of course the clan does not directly murder the kit, but simply leaves it out in the open, exposes it to the elements. This more than anything has isolated it from the other clans and most other outside cats. This also means that neither their leader nor their healer have any faerie bond, and so are as mortal as any warrior.

Pineclan: Pineclan lives in a predominantly pine and evergreen forest, which runs to the coast and some cliffs. The closest to human settlement, but remaining separate from them, Pineclan has the widest range of pelt colors and genes, with accents like silver, and amber, and chocolate. Perhaps they have been influenced by humans, as they follow a fairly linear hierarchy. Their leader is the Monarch, chosen from amongst the kits of the previous monarch as the one with most potential and insight to lead the clan. The deputy/second of this clan, is the chosen Consort of the monarch, their pair and counterpart who compliments the skills of the monarch and fills the gaps in the leadership. Often they share two separate skill sets, where one specializes in the matters within camp, social interactions and mentor/apprentice pairings, while the other specializes in matters outside of camp, such as organizing hunting, and territory patrols. Although it is encouraged that the consort and Monarch also be mates and produce kits, it is not required, in the case that they are both of the same gender. In this case, what is preferred is a strong bond and ability to work and lead together. For this clan, the faerie pact which was made to benefit the clan was made to extend to the specific royal line, so if a leader must be chosen, they must be chosen from the royal line to accept the blessing. This blessing involves longer life, but also the benefit that they cannot get sick (in this case are also immune to cancer). Eventually there are things which the blessing cannot cure or suppress, and the cat will die, after a longer than average life, or in battle. Healers also have a pact with a faerie, but it is one which must be earned. The healer has 2-4 apprentices when the time comes to choose, and they learn the arts of healing, but also of good counsel and wisdom, and of cunning. They are trained with how to deal with faeries, of the dangers. Then they go to the faerie ring within their territory and pass into the faerie realm. There they must make their way to the faerie which issued this challenge. If they survive, and do not get lost or flee from fear, they gain the ability to walk between the real world and the faerie realm. With this ability they can protect their clan from certain faerie interference, and save cats on the verge of death. But it is dangerous, and they must choose who to save, because they only have a certain amount of energy to use in saving others, lest they risk being stuck in the faerie realm forever. This clan, although it interacts with faeries, is still quite wary of them, and cunning and word games are encouraged or taught to kits, because words and names are quite powerful, and faeries although they never lie never tell the full truth.

Firthclan: The clan of the pure mountain waters, and the mysterious bogs and fens. This is by far the most spiritual of the clans, and the one most open to faerie influence. Firthclan cats are very respectful of faeries, and very tolerant of them, even of the smallest variety, and interact almost daily with them. This means that there are more benevolent faeries to grant them even small gifts, but many of the most heinous villains, under the promise and pact of a malevolent faerie, originated from this clan. They are somewhat removed from the other clans, and there has been debate if they should just give up the territory on the other side of the firth to the other two, but there is significant benefit to what they do have, and so they still maintain their borders, although not as aggressively or strictly as the others. Their relationship with faeries has made them bitter enemies to Moorclan, and some of the more precocious Firthclanners have been known to sneak into Moorclan territory and save black kits left out to die. They have the traditional leader deputy structure, and the faerie pact which saves the leader is one which is similar to the traditional understanding of nine lives. If some injury or sickness would take a cats life, faerie energy heals them. As for the healer, the pact is one in which the healer communes with benevolent water spirits, and urges them to heal and soothe an afflicted cat, especially in times where herbs may not be enough, like in an infection where the water may cleanse it, or a fungal or viral sickness. Firthclan focuses greatly on an understanding of purity, and greatly values honesty and truth, and perceives kindness and caring of others in the clan to be high value.

Anyway these are my main clans that I have contributed to and devoted significant time to developing. I can always create more detail, and give more unique aspects which is why i enjoy worldbuilding so much!

Also if anyone likes an aspect or two from my clans, and would like to borrow it for their own (in combination with other unique aspects to make it new and unique) feel free to let me know. Or if you want to brainstorm for your own clans send me a message!

#Warriors #Warrior Cats #warriorscats #warriorsocs #warriorsworldbuilding #oracleclans

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kpopreactionstoruinyourlife · 7 years

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Song Girl - Part 17 - Sungjin Fan Fiction

Song Girl Masterlist

Part 17 - August 2014

Summary: one of those nights with friends where you fail at badminton.

The heatwave had broken, so almost everyone had gotten together that night to enjoy it. Ella, Amanda, and Brian were going back to school in just two weeks and the city had been too hot for any of them to do much more than stay in glorious air conditioning.

“So I say that we have to play Badminton.” Jae said, hoisting the bag of shuttlecocks and rackets higher on his shoulder. He spent their first two minutes of the walk to the park getting shit for bringing it.

Brian rolled his eyes, not making another comment because he was eating the street food he’d just gotten with Wonpil.

“Just don’t let El have a baseball. I had a bruise of the laces for two weeks the last time I tried it with her.” Amanda said poking Ella.

“I’m still getting over who you never said anything to me about baseball in the year I’ve known you when you’re actually into baseball.” Sungjin said, gently tugging her hair while she rolled her eyes.

“My dad keeps updating me - it looks like the Nats might make it to the playoffs.” Ella said, unable to keep a big grin off her face.

“Your babies!” Amanda teased.

“Who cares?” Jae said as they reached an open badminton court.

“Rude.” Ella said bluntly, sticking her tongue out at him. Jae didn’t care as he focused on getting the Badminton gear out.

“Are we doing teams?” Sungjin asked, his arm draped over Ella’s shoulder.

“Yep, you and me captains and I choose first.” Jae said handing a racket to Sungjin.

“You’re up to something.” Brian said tossing the wrapping off his food.

“Yep,” Jae said handing Sungjin three rackets. “Ella, you’re with me.”

Sungjin tried to keep his displeased expression off his face.

“I’ll go easy on you.” She said with a smile, kissing his cheek while she passed him.

“Right, somehow, I’m not convinced you’ll be too much of a challenge. I know your weaknesses.” He whispered bopping her nose to make her laugh.

“You’re on.”

“I wouldn’t make that bet. Badminton and baseball were the only sports she was any good at in PE.” Amanda said.

“Wonpil.” Sungjin said and the other boy approached with a smile taking his own racket. Brian had wondered off to get a drink.

“Amanda,” Jae said and she nodded, moving over to be with Ella.

“Brian, you ready?” Sungjin said handing him the last racket.

“Yep,” He said with a big smile. They were all happy to be outside and letting loose a bit.

“I won’t go easy on you,” Sungjin said to El from over the net. She got an evil smile.

“Don’t distract my player!” Jae said waving his racket between their faces.

Sungjin was not prepared for the events that were about to transpire.

By the time the three games were over, everyone was ready to take a break to get something to drink and rest. And Sungjin was ready to forget just how devilishly elated El looked when she surprised him with her badminton skills.

“Why am I still finding things out about you after all this time?” Sungjin said while they stood in line at a bubble tea place.

“People are very complicated.” Ella said, using a napkin to pat away some of her sweat.

“Am I not supposed to know you better than anyone?” He asked, half teasing.

Amanda snorted. “You’ll never know her like I do. We are the real power couple.” She finished with wrapping her arms around Ella’s shoulders, the two of them laughing.

“And I’m finding things out about you; for example, you are bad at badminton, and are finding it hard to believe that I am better than you.”

“Ok, but you say yourself that you don’t even run.” Sungjin said, just making her roll her eyes.

“Just because I don’t run does not mean I can’t run. Besides, there’s not that much running in badminton.”

“Dude, just accept we’re better than you. True blue.” Jae said before devolving into a rap until Brian flicked his arm.

“Does everyone have what they ordered?” Amanda asked while handing out the drinks.

Once they sorted that out, they headed back to the park. This time they didn’t move toward the sports areas but just picked a grassy area and spread out blankets before lounging down on them. Ella and Sungjin were on the first, Amanda and Jae the second, and Brian and Wonpil the third and Brian was lying back, looking like he was about to fall asleep.

“So where is Junhyeok tonight then?” Amanda asked, resting her arms on her knees.

“He had a date.” Sungjin said, accepting Ella’s silent invitation to rest his head on her thighs. She automatically started twisting her fingers in his hair.

“If he can get her to be his girlfriend, we’ll never hear the end of it.” Jae said after he made the required gagging sound at Ella and Sungjin.

“Oh yeah, he’d just gloat that he’s got someone and we don’t.” Wonpil said in a low voice. He was busying his hands in the grass.

“Surely you can find someone.” Amanda said and Jae snorted.

“I’m still struggling to read Korean.” Jae said.

“A Korean girlfriend is a good way to learn.” Brian said without opening his eyes.

Sungjin didn’t say it was probably a good thing they didn’t have girlfriends. If they were going to debut, they’d have to break up - it was best to minimize the number of casualties.

“Have you been secretly working to make my Korean better?” Ella whispered, curling his bangs around her finger. He smiled, reaching up to trace his finger over her nose.

“I could always understand your Korean.” He replied.

“So… how’s that research coming El?” Jae asked, pulling at the grass.

She froze for a moment, not wanting to say she likely had less than a year left in Seoul.

Her freezing didn’t escape Sungjin’s notice.

“It’s good. Only have a few more courses left. It’s nice not to be teaching right now.”

“Speak for yourself. Teaching English can be like pulling teeth.” Amanda groaned, flopping back on the blanket just as Sungjin sat up, sliding over over to sit next to Ella.

“It’s a bastard language.” Ella said bluntly, making Jae and Brian chuckle while Wonpil and Sungjin gave her a strange look. “You haven’t heard this rant either?” She asked Sungjin, who shook his head.

“Are you hiding all your ranting interests from me?” He asked, and she shrugged.

“It’s for your own good!” Amanda said loudly.

“This one is short. Basically English is a bastard son of Germanic with Nordic influences raised by the French with rules from Latin.”

For a moment, he was left to wonder how he’d found her. A girl who could rattle off stuff like that as if it was nothing. A girl who would turn to him just as he was looking at her, and smile, or make a silly face, or lean over to kiss him, or giggle when he leaned over to kiss her. A girl who listened to every lyric, every worry, or sit in silence if he didn’t have anything to say, fitting perfectly in the curves and nooks of his body. A girl with a brilliant mind, and passionate heart. A girl who was a little socially inept, blunt, and awkward. A girl who’d whisper ‘I love you,’ every night, or text it in the morning, or coo when he whispered it to her. A girl whose walls he watched slowly crumble. A girl who could think and talk far faster than him. A girl he was incredibly lucky to have.

“Good god, what is your brain?” Jae sighed, with Amanda agreeing.

“I listen to a lot of podcasts.” Ella said with a laugh.

“You must have that minimal brain plaque that Einstein had.” Amanda said, reaching over to tap Ella’s head.

“Wait, your brain gets plaque?” Jae said jumping up.

“Their more like a plaque-like film that builds up in the brain as you age, and when they studied Einstein’s brain, or maybe it was Edison, anyway, whoever’s brain, he didn’t have it and neurologists think that might be related to why he was able to be so prolific with research into his later life.” Ella said, speaking quickly.

“Can I borrow your mind for my classes?” Brian asked, propping himself up.

“Really, it’s just stuff like that, weird stuff, that sticks in my head. Please stop…” She trailed off, not knowing how to describe it. She didn’t like when people called that much attention to her mind. She’d spent more than a decade as the freaky smart girl. She’d rather that be behind her.

“So how does memory work?” Jae asked, addressing both Amanda and Ella.

“Depends,” Amanda answered lightly.

“There’s many theories and constructions; working memory, information processing, and attentional theory...There’s a lot of sides to it.” Ella finished.

“So exactly how complicated is the brain?” Wonpil asked.

“It’s either one cubic millimeter or one cubic centimeter, whichever one, within that space there are more neural connections than starts in the universe.” Ella said, moving her hands around.

“Shit, and that’s all this old thing can handle.” Jae said patting his head.

“And it’s getting late.” Sungjin said checking his phone.

“We do have training in the morning.” Brian said stretching and getting up.

“Did you enjoy your cat-nap?” Amanda asked and Brian chuckled, rolling his shoulders.

“I enjoy most naps.”

“NASA determined an ideal nap time is approximately twenty-six minutes, would should approximate half a REM cycle, and they believe the ideal temperature to sleep is approximately sixty-three degrees F.” Ella said as she and Sungjin stood.

“See? This is the kind of random conversations we should have been having when we met instead of ‘oh I can get your brain scanned.’” Sungjin said, ruffling her hair.

“But that makes such a good story!”

“No!” Jae said loudly. “That is not a good story.”

“What would be a good story?” Amanda asked as she helped to fold up the blankets.

“I don’t know, you hit him with a spit ball, he spilled coffee on you, something besides brain scans. Do you have much I worried about your ability to function socially after that?” Jae said looking at Ella with a desperate look.

“Hey! That’s offensive! I got you to be my friend, didn’t I?” Ella said, a pink coming into her cheeks.

“I think it’s fitting. At least for them.” Wonpil said, more quietly than Jae, but it was enough to saite Ella’s growing bruise to her ego.

“Every couple is weird.” Amanda said. “I got together with my last boyfriend after I hit him in the face playing badminton.”

“Ok, I am so glad that didn’t happen.” Jae said.

“And it wasn’t worth it to get that towel all bloodied - he was an asshole.” Amanda continued.

“I have no idea how you ended up with a misogynist.” Ella said, nodding with her.

“I repeat; Asshole.”

“How was he a misogynist?” Jae asked.

“He wanted me to do everything for him, all the ‘women’s work.’” Amanda said, her lingering frustration and annoyance with that guy evident in her voice and in her face.

“Plus, he always tried to shut her opinions down - maybe it was the whole obedient Asian girlfriend stereotype?” Ella said in a lower voice just to Amanda, who shrugged before nodding.

“And the benevolent sexism…” Amanda sighed before she shook her head. “Let’s not get into your rant on that.” She finished, taking her own turn to ruffle Ella’s hair.

“Oh my many raging feminist rants - secret ingredient: wine.” Ella sighed wistfully.

“Earth to El, Korean please?” Sungjin said, giving her hand a squeeze. Neither of them had even noticed they started speaking in English.

“It’s cool, they’re just have a feminist bonding moment.” Jae translated, patting Sungjin’s shoulder.

“And a moment to bond over previously dating assholes.” Ella finished.

“Ah,” Sungjin said nodding along, just accepting he might not be able to fully understand exactly what had transpired right in front of him.

“Anyway, this is where I will leave you. I’ll see y’all later.” Amanda said, bowing down toward one street after they exited the park.

“We’ll go with you, we’re heading down that way.” Jae said heading down with her, followed by Wonpil and Brian. “See you in the morning bro,” He added, saying bye to Sungjin before Wonpil and Brian said their own to the couple. Just before they headed in separate directions, Ella jogged over to hug Amanda goodbye before returning back to Sungjin.

“You seem particularly wired tonight.” Sungjin said after they weaved through a minor crowd without speaking. She laughed, sliding her hand into his.

“Nothing gets me fired up like feminist frustration.” She said squeezing his hand. “But I think it’s really that I’ve just been taking a break to re-focus back on stuff that I enjoy. That tends to give people energy.”

“So, in the interest of knowing more things that I apparently didn’t, are you politically involved?”

“Interesting way of phrasing of it, but yes. It is hard to be politically involved here but living so close to DC back home, it’s hard not to be. Very liberal, lived in a very liberal bubble, very feminist, very incapable of understanding certain aspects of conservatism.”

There was that word again. Home. But she wasn’t talking about Korea, or even him, she was talking about the United States. Somewhere thousands and thousands of miles away from Korea, away from him. A place like that, so far away, was admittedly the last place he wanted her to be calling home.

At the same time, he’d heard her use ‘home’ to refer to him, Seoul, Korea, her apartment, and the US as a whole, or even Nationals Park.

“And these are values that you want me to share?” He asked after a moment.

“I wouldn’t marry someone who didn’t share those values. But I wouldn’t be with you for months if I didn’t think you did, or at least mostly did. Feminism alone is deeply misunderstood and there might be a cultural element at play. I just want you to respect me and support my views and passions, even if you don’t actively hold them. I certainly don’t expect you to hold them in the same strength, passion, and firmness that I do.” She said, her brows knitting together as she spoke. “Does that make sense? I might be talking too much. I’m not a man-hating feminist, but I tend to have a certain distaste with men who hold that stereotype. I really am talking too much.”

“It makes sense. I think that’s fair. I don’t really have much of a politically active side.” He said and she chuckled.

“I pretty sure I only developed mine because I lived so close to DC.” She said just as they arrived to her apartment.

“I had something I wanted to ask you.” He said while they stopped in her mailroom.

“Shoot,” She said, flipping through envelops.

“Why did you tense up when Jae asked about your research?” He said in a low voice. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer but it had peaked his curiosity.

“Oh…” She said slowly, dragging out the word to formulate her response. “It’s just that...we’re about halfway done with everything…” She trailed off, hoping he could put the rest together without her having to say it.

Once the research was finished, the research team, including her, would pack and return to their university back in the United States.

She took a moment before she looked him in the eye again. When she did, he couldn’t help but notice the sad shadows coloring them.

“Glad to know I’m still the best at killing the mood.” He said with a hollow laugh. She gave a weak smile. He knew she’d only stay until her work was done; he wasn’t enough of a draw to make her stay - she would need more than just him and he was still hoping to debut. It’d be easy to avoid breaking the dating ban she was back in the US.

“I plan to come back, for my doctorate.” She said in a soft voice.

That would be enough hope for him. She always followed through with her plans.

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notanicequeen-blog · 7 years

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Constructive Criticism, and Not Being That Guy

Hey folks. I'm Elsa, and I am not an ice queen. And today I'll be talking about a slightly sensitive topic. 'What is that topic?' you may be asking. Why don't I just get on with it? Why, oh why am I talking to myself? Sadly, only that first question is actually going to be answered.

Criticism! Or, more specifically, not being a raging dick about it!

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I am not good at taking criticism on the things I write (though that same quirk has never really existed for things I've drawn, largely because I've never really considered myself an artist). Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm mean to people who critique me (though I have gotten a bit snippy if it's painfully apparent that the critic just missed something). Instead, I just… avoid looking at critiques. I'll get a notice in my inbox saying I got a comment on something, and trust me, I'm going to drag my feet and fret about it before I ever manage to actually read it. I have, in all honesty, recruited a friend a few times to go read comments for me, to tell me if they were positive or negative.

As I've gotten older and more accustomed to sharing my work, I've gotten better about pulling up my big girl panties and getting it over with, but don't think that means there isn't any trepidation. (Trust me, I was terrified to post my 'people can write about whatever they want' post.) In my case, this attitude hasn't hurt my abilities or stunted my improvement, since for me critique can be helpful, but it's not going to be my primary method of learning, because I learn best through emulation. But for some people, a fear of criticism can hurt their abilities or stunt their improvement.

But why is that? What makes criticism so scary? I mean, yeah, for some people it's just a matter of not liking to be told they're wrong, or wanting to be the best. Some people just don't want to admit that they could improve, and some people have very brittle egos. But there's more to it than that.

A lot of people just… aren't any good at offering constructive criticism. I don't just mean that they aren't helpful, though. See, that would be annoying, sure, but probably harmless. No, what I mean is that they're assholes about it.

For whatever reason, there seems to be a certain breed of person who takes it as a personal affront whenever they find something that they don't like as much as they think they should. As if the world is supposed to please them at all times, and when that doesn't happen they start pulling their pigtails, stamping their feet, and throwing a tanty.

If you call them on it, they'll say they're just offering criticism and tell you you're being too sensitive, but that isn't the case. They aren't helping. They're screaming in impotent outrage because something in the world reminded them that the universe didn't spring into being to cater to them.

Don't worry; I have a few examples.

Not criticism: "Is it supposed to be a wolf? Because it really looks like shit."

Criticism: "Try to look up the anatomy of wolves. You're on the right track here, but the snout is too short and the legs are too long, so it looks like it's trying to turn into a cat."

Not criticism: "Oh my god this is SO BORING."

Criticism: "The pacing is slow and the characters lack distinction. Cut out some of the fluff and make dialogue a bit more distinct and you'll improve a lot."

Not Criticism: "Were you singing? Oh. I thought you threw your cat down the stairs."

Criticism: "Your pitch is all over the place. Record yourself and play it back so you can hear yourself and get an idea of where you're going out of tune."

And so on and so forth, you get the point. Criticism isn't fun to read. I know that. Everyone knows that. It doesn't even have to list any of the good things or be polite, though that's a perk if it happens. But criticism, when it's done right, is at least helpful. It isn't insulting.

So if you find yourself displeased by some sort of media, just… take a moment to read your comment before you submit. Consider if it's something that would leave you feeling offended if someone said it to you, and if so, ask yourself, "Do I really wanna be that asshole?"

#writing advice #constructive criticism #writing tips #writing #blogging #Elsa's Talk Time

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