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evilminji · 6 months

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Gold can be exchanged for goods and services (o.o )

Pariah's Keep probably has a shit ton of Precious Goods from various places.

Danny is become King?

If Danny becomes King... then the Zone will somewhat obey him. The Crown and Ring could EASILY tell him where the next natural portal is, where it opens up, and for how long. How many there are. Could probably make a few.

Probably WAS supposed to be making them. Consciously. But, well, Coma(tm).

Would probably count as Kingly Duty to filter and collect. Clean Ecto goes out for souls that remain, a Gateway home for those that wish to LEAVE, so forth and so on.

Effectively, being The Grim Reaper. You don't CAUSE Death. You just guide the way home. If folks so choose.

And that's neat! Horrifying, but neat! And Danny can TOTALLY see how it would eventually drive him completely breakfast cereal fruity nuggets! LUCKILY, he's got a vaguely bro's/Mentor thing going with the ghost who has ALL OF POSSIBLE TIME flowing through HIS head! So Danny should be Gucci!

The headaches suck though.

But WHAT... to do with all this Gold and valuable Space Goods? Most of these aren't even recognized currency on earth! Like the Shells. You could buy a mansion with one of those... on the right planet. On Earth? Pretty paperweight. Hmmmm >.>

Wait.

WAIT!

<o> *points to top of head!* CROWN! It can? Predict and make PORTALS!

Portals lead any WHERE and any WHEN!

Gold... can be exchanged for goods and services. He remembers, holding a gold brick, about to eat so, SO much pizza.

But WAIT! I hear you wondering! Surely, you mean? Within his past? The history and region of space he knows, right? Ha ha :) Nope! Cowards.

Danny is on the alien otter's planet, trading those sweet, sweet Shells for some snacks no human could eat and a shawl for his sister! He's hiding, badly, behind a food stall in the Martian market place. Hoping future hero J'onn Johnes doesn't notice him.

Lying to the Space Cops, bout where his untraceable Space Money came from, on an alien trading satellite. The Green Lantern's not buying it. Oh noooo >.> sudden Fright Knight. Looming Menacingly by the loading doooocks. Everyone's upset! Definitely not related to him! Better go check on that! :) *gets the heck out of dodge* (my king. Please stop using me as a distraction.) (No promises)

But! It's all fun and games? Until your human friends get sick. Like... REALLY sick.

And then you suddenly remember time and space mean nothing to you. One 15 minute flight that way, two doors, a quick flight of stairs, and a literal child's play place slide? You could be in the 32nd century.

That disease is AT BEST, an unpleasant afternoon, there.

Here, your friend could die.

You trade a student two Spanish dubloons. They have no idea what they are. Just like the look of them and know they're real metal. They walk into the pharmacy for you. Don't question your "social experiment paper" lie.

You're back in less then an hour.

The screaming argument about ethics and mortality lasts hours.

She still takes the medicine. Gets better. Won't talk to you for months. Because why does HER life matter more? Why bend the rules for HER? And you can't bring yourself to say what pulses as Truth from both Crown and Ring.

You could because she didn't Matter. Time... would not notice, nor change. She was in no way pivotal to the flow of history, must one more ant beneath its unrelenting march. Mattering only because those who love her CARE. Because one or two little things might change for the better.

But it takes the shine off of it, a little.

Being able to go to the FUTURE. Watch movies and see aliens and humans alike in the crowd. Read books and dance to songs from people who won't be born for hundreds of years. Eat snacks from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Or the early BCs!

And that's BEFORE other time travelers clock him as That Shopping Guy. The one who keeps popping up... buying things. For what? Unknown. Probably dinner. Half the time it's food. Trinkets. Once it was a really, REALLY nice goat. (His aunt was THRILLED.)

It probably drives Bart crazy. Because NO ONE knows anything about the guy? Everyone just universally goes "oooh yeah! HIM! Yeah, he sure does Exsist(tm). Very... present and exsistant." Like that's not CRAZY! He has so many question. So Many! What is he even BUYING!? Why? Is there an order? Or is he winging it?!

*pulls out list* he needs ANSWERS!

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #thinking with Portals AU

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keiwook · 11 months

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LIVESTREAMS WITH ZB1

pairing zb1 x idol!reader

genre mostly comedy, maybe fluff ? reader is in zb1 🤝

warnings mentions of food/drinks in hao and hanbin’s

notes hi anon, thank you for requesting ! i didn’t want this to be romantic as idol life is,, something.. but still, i hope you enjoy this ! 🫶

masterlist<3

— zhang hao

you’re playing drinking games

and before you ask, no. it’s not actual alcohol

you mix up the most unhinged drink combinations

like soy milk + tea + mountain dew 😃

the drink literally has particles in it

you play the ‘of course’ game and it turns ugly real quick

“you know that i’m better than you at everything, right?” zhanghao says, feeling proud

“of course! zhanghao.. you know that hanbin loves me more, right?” a smirk tugging on your lips that zhanghao so desperately wanted to slap off

loses the game because of that and has to chug down every drop (he’s ok tho i think)

“you’re lucky we’re live right now.”

— sung hanbin

since he was a barista, you guys are making drinks

he teaches you some tips and tricks but it’s more complicated than you think

his drink is so much more visually pleasing than yours although you both followed the same steps 😭

like pretty gradient colors that blend well together

but it’s expected cuz he’s a professional

you do a taste test

and his drink tastes like heaven 👍

you offered yours to him and he tries it

ngl, you were nervous about his opinion

“uh, it’s definitely a new experience.”

— seok matthew

some kind of crafts live

where you both are making those bead bracelets

you make ones for eachother and also the other members !

and matthew is all like ‘oh, you’re gonna love what i made for you’

he’s so proud of his creations

and at some point he accidentally spills every bead onto the table 😭

and you both take a look at eachother like 😐

and it becomes quiet for a whole 5 minutes as he picks everything back up

after that, you both continue making bracelets for the other members 🫶

“jiwoon hyung likes this color, i know him better than you!”

— shen ricky

painting live

you guys are making paintings to hang on eachothers walls

it’s actually pretty chill with ricky 👍

but then he accidentally splattered some paint onto his designer white shirt

his honest reaction to that: ☹️

but its okay, he can just buy a new one. maybe get a car too while he’s at it

since ricky is really good at arts

you wanted to paint him smth nice too

so you just put your autograph onto the canvas

he loves it tho and keeps it in his room 😔

“i can sell this!”

— park gunwook

workout stream

it was actually supposed to be a live for gunwook and matthew

but matthew had to do smth else

so you offered to accompany gunwook instead !

gunwook shares his workout tips and you just nod and agree

you both share your workout routines and people make articles abt them 🫢

‘zb1’s gunwook and y/n workout routine: is it effective?’

oh and you also get thirst trap edits bcuz of this

flaunting your muscles and abs and stuff idk 😭

“do you guys wanna know the secret to my godly physique?”

— kim taerae

from the content we have now..

it’s 100% a karaoke live

wbk he loves singing and he wanted to invite you to ‘taerae show #2’

has his anpanman guitar, ready at hand 🤝

you both have a blast singing and taerae becomes main rapper at some point

he’s so immersed in the ballad songs, he prolly starts crying for effects 😔

biggest hypeman

like he’s all ‘OH MY GOD WOAHHHH’

and he also harmonises w you

don’t be surprised when you get a compilation of ‘y/n and taerae: 5th gen main vocals’

“100 points?! i’m so good!”

— kim gyuvin

q&a stream

answering fan questions and basically fan service

“is a butt one or two?”

gyuvin actually thinks about it for a second and is like “oh my god.” 😭

it got too confusing though so you continued reading the comments

someone asked what he did today and he started thinking

“uh..” “sorry, i forgot.” you joke, making gyuvin stare daggers to you 🫢

he looks back to the screen

and with a wide smile he said

“i’m sorry zerose! i think we have to end the live here. thank you for watching!”

— kim jiwoong

makeup stream

where you do his makeup

and he’s giving you those eyes yk 👀

the comments are going crazy bcuz of it

and when you do his lips, he smiles and it curves so perfectly (ahdguajskshaikahdh)

you accidentally went overboard with the glitter

but jiwoong pulls off everything so it still looks amazing

everyone loves what you did and your makeup style is trending 👍

“i think some glitter got stuck in my eye.”

— han yujin

i don’t know why but you both are face painting

but instead of face painting on yourselves, you face paint eachother

“i’m gonna make you into a piece of art” he says as he paints a streak onto your face

he stops to take a step back and look at everything from a bigger picture

and bursts into laughter 😃

you’re so worried abt what he did to you

he tries to regain his composure but laughs every few seconds

“what’s wrong? what did you do?” “nothing! i made you look very.. cool.” 😁

and then you look into a mirror and you look like shrek's offspring (yes, you get turned into a meme)

“this is my best piece yet! should i leave my signature too?”

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yunskies · 2 years

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◟𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄!

pairing — park sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis — Sunghoon deems himself to be quite a private person until one time when its way past midnight in their dorm's kitchen with you and the presence of his dormmates in the next room only gives way to realising temptations he never would've thought he'd possess

cw/tw — mdni. smut, established relationship, exhibitionism (not extreme), reader is called pretty, sweetheart, baby, princess, good girl. unprotected sex, mentions of food, a little fluff

word count — 1.7k

a/n — this was initially supposed to be a little drabble intended for an ask i received a while (months) back but ya girl very evidently has a hard time keeping things from getting carried away + also the first thing i've written over here after the span of months so the edges are a little rusty, my apologies </3

hope everyone is in good health and having an amazing day! sending hugs your way <3

"Are you sure you don't want any?" your voice ringed through the dimly lit kitchen, eyes lingering upon his tall frame as he skimmed across the narrow space.

"oh I'm not hungry at all, baby, besides I'm pretty sure you're gonna love this, 's a secret recipe"

Contrary to what meets the eye, Park Sunghoon is the softest of lovers you've ever had the chance to know. soft— in the way his fingertips linger upon your cheekbones a little longer after every kiss, soft in the way he ruffles your hair to see you smile, and in the way he subtly tries to slip in your favorite things into conversations to see your eyes light up.

Soft in the way he allows himself to be vulnerable and soft in the way he gets up way past midnight to make you pancakes cause he notices you shuffling uncomfortably in your sleep. one similar occurance brings you to your current position in his dorm's kitchen.

"careful or i might just take you for my personal little chef at this point" your feet swayed back and forth from where you were seated at the counter, the sweet lovesick smile never making its way past your lips as you notice his face distort in a look of amusement.

"Yeah? why don't you pay me a little extra for being so devoted to my job at 3 in the morning, princess?" he titters, accidentally dropping an empty utensil with a loud clutter, coaxing light laughter out of you.

"sunghoon-! my brother in christ, what could you possibly be doing there in the devil's hour?" Jay's tone laced with feigned irritation catches you by surprise, a small light emerging from the crack of his room's door as faint laughs and shouts followed right after.

"its his hour then, let him work" jake replies with a snicker, and you furrow your eyebrows at sunghoon in confusion.

"video games" he shrugs, "they go on till early morning these days- i won't understand" he rolls his eyes at his best friend's lame attempt of insult, a giggle breaking out of you, heart melting at how adorable he looks with the little pout gracing his lips.

"aw c'mere my pretty little chef, time for me to pay you back for your service" you coo, stretching your arms wide for a dramatic effect but he runs to you regardless, capturing your waist in his hold as you slide your arms around his neck, pulling him into a fervent kiss.

His lips are soft against yours. quiet yellow light from the ceiling falling upon his perfectly carved features as you feel yourself getting weak at the very tip of his touch. The warmth of his palm sits feebly at your waist, the thin material of your shirt– his shirt that you were wearing, barely serving as a barrier.

Your fingers grip on his soft locks as he plants fluttering kisses all over your jaw before he takes his sweet time, cascading down agonizingly slow. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, sucking on the skin of your neck as the soft graze of teeth makes you whimper.

"hoon- ah wait" you gasp for air, making him halt in his tracks. "do you-do you want us to go back to your room–?" you question, feeling light in the head as he looks up at you with cheeks flushed red. staring at him expectantly for what felt like the longest time, you figure it was going to take him a while to muster a reply- until it clicks in your mind.

"wait, it can't be– you actually like this here, don't you?" your voice low in his ear as you watch him suck in a breath, eyes barely meeting yours. your hand treading ever so slow from under his shirt to the material of his sweats, hovering right above where he wanted you the most.

"now, look at that" you palm his length over the fabric of his pants, a little flattered at how terribly hard he was under your touch.

"you didn't tell me you were into this, baby" you whisper, slipping your fingers under the waistband, a breathy moan escaping his pretty lips.

"i- please" his voice breaks into a plea, sweetly melting into your hand as you slide his dick out from the painful confines of the fabric. with the tip so pink and leaking, you try so hard to not sink down to your knees and take him in your mouth right then.

"please what, baby? you'd have to be more specific than that" you tease, slowly pumping his length in your hand as he bends forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"princess, please, i need you so bad" he musters out, voice low and laced with desperation. There was something about him being so needy and bending at your every will, that made you so terribly weak, you wanted nothing more than to take him right there.

You hook your fingers under his chin, making him meet your gaze before crashing your lips upon his. He's quick with his hands as they slide your shorts off with ease. strong arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you close till you're seated at the very edge of the counter. His gaze, hot and burning as he gently spreads your legs open.

Your demeanor starts wearing off, face growing warm as you follow his gaze that was directed at your soaked panties, sticking to your core. A low grunt leaves his mouth, pointer finger tracing your clothed wetness ever so slowly, making you whimper weakly under his towering frame.

"seems like you want this just as much, don't you?" he whispered, leaving you no time to form a reply as he slides the material to the side, dipping a digit into the warmth of your folds before bringing it up to his mouth, tasting your arousal.

"so fucking sweet, princess, all for me, isn't it?" you nod weakly at his words, mouth dry as you wanted nothing but for him to do something as you looked at him with pleading eyes, mouthing a little 'please' that made him crumble almost instantly.

He positioned himself at your entrance, taking his time to rub the head of his cock upon your sensitive clit before pushing himself into your warmth in one swift go. A loud moan breaks out of you, but he's quick to press his lips upon yours, drowning your whimpers in the warm caverns of his sweet mouth.

"sshh, sweetheart, can't have them knowing, now, can we?" he mumbles lowly, making you aware of his dormmates who were wide awake in the room right down the hall. You could still hear their muffled laughs and occasional strings of muttered obscenities, realizing you weren't the only ones there.

"oh who're you lying to, hoon? you'd probably like that very much" you huff out, content as you watch his cheeks glow a warm pink, with thrusts not as strong as before. You take his silence as a cue to go forth,

"Your friends could walk in anytime and find you buried deep inside my cunt, doesn't that sound scary? oh wait, it just turns you on more, isn't that right?" you whisper, attempts at riling him up working quite effortlessly as you feel his length twitch inside of you.

His face burns red out of embarrassment but he can't stop thrusting his hips into yours, your warm and soft insides too pleasurable and inviting for him to not want more of you— all of you.

"f-fuck you feel so good, princess" he groans, trying his best to not be loud.

You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of it as his cock stirs up your insides, rubbing against your spot ever so sweetly. You whimper in your place, impatiently rutting your hips into his as you feel him reach so deep inside of you.

"feel so f-full, hoon, d-don't stop please" you moan, almost crying out as you feel his hand travel down to your pussy, rubbing deliberate circles on your clit.

"yeah, princess? always so good to me, fuck, i want everyone to know who you belong to" you feel your walls clamp down on him as those words leave his mouth, wetness running down your thighs as his thrusts reach deeper, making you bite down on the tender skin of his nape to keep your screams at bay.

"so pretty, look s'fucking pretty taking my cock like this" he grunts, and you feel your legs give out as the pressure building in your abdomen gets too much to take up.

"w-will cum, hoon, can't t-take it" you cry, but it only results in him rubbing your clit faster.

"jus' a lil more, yeah, sweetheart? wanna cum together"

With that, he takes hold of one of your legs, hooking it behind him as his thrusts get sloppier. essence leaking out of your wet hole as your walls convulse around his thick length spreading you open.

"b-baby i can't anymore, fuck-" you moan, your voice raspy and high, with no more regards to keeping it down–how could you, when he was fucking you this good?

"let go, princess, been s'good, such a good girl" he whispers, barely making out words as he moves inside you for a last few times, before you feel his warmth filling you up.

You rest your head against his chest, body shaking weakly at how hard your high has hit you, until you notice how eerily silent it is inside the house.

You look up to find Sunghoon already facing your way, cheeks pink and mouth slightly parted, as if the words were right there, sitting at the very tip of his tongue.

"do you- do you think they heard us?" you question, even though the answer was quite evident whether sunghoon said it or not.

"no baby, i'm sure they must've gone to bed already" he states, trying his very best to sound as convincing as he can, but failing regardless.

"you're just saying that to make me feel better, i can see right through you" you cannot help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips, drinking in his pretty face as if he's the brightest this place has ever made.

"not at all, such little trust you bear in me, beloved" he feigns hurt, hand clutching his chest as if its the most terrible deed you could've commited in the history of human race.

"you're so dramatic" you roll your eyes playfully.

"you love me"

"you're right, i do"

"and you were right too, I'd do anything to make you feel at ease" he admits, eyes filled with nothing but warmth and sincerity, looking at you like you're the most inestimable part of the universe that his hands have ever had the chance to hold.

"i am so in love with you"

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen suggestive #enhypen scenarios #park sunghoon x reader #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #enhypen imagines #kpop drabbles #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen heeseung #kpop imagines #jake smut #jay smut #sunghoon scenarios

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ms-scarletwings · 6 months

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On Defective Irkens

“It is theorized that Tak may also be an Irken defect because-“

“Say guys do you think Skoodge is defective? He did a thing he wasn’t told to do once do you suppose-“

“Service Drone Bob's contempt for the Tallest is extremely abnormal, even for most defective Irkens…”

“Hints of the comms officer being a defective are seen when-“

Ohhh mauling the fan wiki writers grr biting biting thrashing and then turning around to the rest of you before I’m done, you bet, for I have sat and listened for over 12 years of leaps and speculations of this sort and now I’m now one of the ones who gets to have what the cool kids these days call a hot take on the matter.

By the end of this I’M going to bring up and expose who I actually think may be the only other defective Irken(s) in the show besides Zim, whom I’m aghast I haven’t seen anyone suggest before.

But before anything else, I want to front one preassumption center and loud.

It took me a long time to guess at why very few people can ever seem to get on the same page of what it actually means to call an Irken defective. Implicitly, the bulk of what we are given is that something can be wrong with a member of this species, and Zim is our prime and singular clear example of that. So there’s a ton of trying to find patterns between Zim’s behavior and that of other Irken characters. Weirdly (to me), a lot of people have, in their efforts, chalked the status up to a sense of rebelliousness or insubordination- a defectiveness in the manner of D&D illithids, stomping out disloyal break-aways from the collective hive mind with punitive wrath. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a cool concept, and it’s definitely closer to my opinion at least than the comparisons to real life mental disorders or disabilities. Not knocking the comfort or the enthusiasm, obviously.

From my view of the canon, I hope it’s at least apparent to other fans that “defective” isn’t some empirical measurement or status to Irkens. Look at the way they determine the defects from normal society. IRL, if I have a faulty device on my hands, there’s some way out there to tell me in a clear cut fashion if there’s a problem and what exactly it is. If it’s code, it can be scanned and debugged. If it’s mechanical, something can be seen, fixed physically. Most organic health problems are only different in the complexity of the matter, but the entire purpose of medical research is to come close as we can to bridging that gap. In Irk’s people, that line is rapidly becoming one long smear of wet chalk. I’m going on like this because if defective paks were akin to hardware actually being damaged, as Purple had put it, it doesn’t make as much sense that they are neither “fixed” nor given real, concrete diagnostics. The only way we know of that the aliens are tested in a since on this merit is by existence evaluations. And existence evaluations are anything but empirical, impartial events. They’re worlds more political and cultural than clinical.

Digest the terms we keep seeing all around the concept: Innocent, justice, trial/evaluation, Judgementia, these are terms of judicial courts and moral weight and sentencing. In effective practice,

Irk labels defects by what one does, not by what one is.

Yet, defection is presented as if that’s not the case, and there are reasons for that. Reasons that reinforce the current power structures and promote what its leadership has decided is healthy for the broader society. When Zim was merely re-encoded from invader status to food service work, it was a more secluded evaluation, presumably done on Irk. His only seen witnesses then were the Tallests and the single control brain dishing the judgement. His existence evaluation, on the other hand, rings more similarly to the IRL historical practice of literal “show trials”. Show trials were something that existed way less for the actual crimes of the accused and so much more for their audience, which, show trials are always for an audience. Three main points about them off the Wikipedia cuff:

• Typically, the defendant of such has already been determined to be guilty (oftentimes of completely fabricated transgressions), and the trial serves mostly to make a massive public spectacle and warning of the accused.

• They tend to focus on retributive punishment over correction. The disproportional brutality and lack of mercy is often the point.

• Their goals are propagandistic in nature, and there’s many notable examples to be found in the history of Nazi Germany, the USSR, and in witch trials across the world (because it was never just Salem).

A formality? Well, that much they couldn’t have more brazenly admitted to. Retribution? There’s hardly a more absolute punitive sentence I could craft up over obliteration PLUS Damnatio Memoariae. And as for the degree of spectacle, I will let you make your own observation here.

Believe it or not, the part where my comparisons along this line end with Existence Evaluations is that their standard for taking place isn’t actually this cartoonishly oppressive one that some fans try to make it out to be. In “The Trial”, Zim was not having his data read for some binary is/is not determination… he was having his experiences and actions interpreted by how much damage he has done against the Armada. He said it himself, that hotseat is reserved for criminals. Likely outright traitors and maniacs. Those who have given cause to alert the brains to a genuine existential threat to their civilization and who have repeatedly failed every opportunity given to redeem themselves.

Defective doesn’t just mean “different” to Irk. We’ve hardly seen an exploration of what the median Irken example even is, because the more we see of any one of these characters, the more they show us their eccentric uniqueness and will. Yes, Irkens are authoritarian; yes they’re over-militarized; yes, they’re a supremacist breed aligned under one ruling military… but listen, they are not literally The Borg, or illithids.

The biggest victims of this government itself are those races it colonizes. Average civilians on the other hand, they get to largely enjoy all the vices and pains and indulgences of hyper-space-capitalism. The height-ocracy may limit their opportunities, but even the lowest drones among them are supposedly hired into their positions in return for wages. Irkens are pretty selfish, but in a rugged individualism sense. It’s a dystopia of atomization instead of collectivization. If everyone had agreed that “defective” had anything to do with arrogance, free will, or an ability to feel one’s sense of self worth, no one would ever be pointing to Skoodge as a possible example. That guy’s the poster boy for what it means to be a “tool” in the derogatory sense. I’m not forgetting that he technically never even left his job. He was fired and more or less forced into hiding, and he’s still not even that perturbed over the whole thing.

Moreover, it also takes some extreme acts of harm to justify such a trial. Real harm- not rebellious attitude or even disrespect to authority. The control brains and the tallests alone get to define that threshold, and neither Tak’s/Zim’s insubordination nor Bob’s audacity concerned them enough for a ticket to Judgementia. In fact, they really don’t seem that bothered at all by deserters and those that abandon their encoded function. Tak is likely to be merely the responsibility of her janitorial squadron, the same way that enforcing Zim’s banishment was the responsibility of his Frylord. Because Irk actually does have standards of justice and layers of bureaucracy to work within when it comes to dealing with true malice. Small fry problems are for the lower rungs of the ladder to handle, until they become a higher priority by necessity. Incompetency alone isn’t a crime, either. The go-to punishment for failure in one function is demotion to a lower position. These are the only Irkens formally not allowed to change jobs, making what they do a kind of communal service or forced labor sentencing. Remember how Tak’s motivation for leaving Dirt wasn’t solely dissatisfaction with the grunt labor? Remember how she kept justifying her actions by the logic of fairness and setting things right? Not to mention how she fully made the Tallest aware of what she was up to and how her plan was well crafted enough to probably work out exactly like she wanted. Tak is utterly as loyal to the empire and competent as any invader. She was genuinely just dealt a shitty hand, and her response to it is at least understandable.

She even went to great lengths to identify and specifically target Zim and to use a planet that otherwise had less than no value to the armada’s operations. She is a great foil to Zim, but I can’t see how she’s any bit defective, only full of rage that she was screwed over by the actions of a real disgrace to their species. Genuinely destructive cases like Zim are an incredible rarity. Such a rarity that I can only guess it took this long for him to go to Judgementia because his degree of dysfunction outright baffles the system. It also would appear that it’s an event of such significance that it can only be set into motion by the command of the ruling Tallest. By murdering a couple of them, and then being a clown show for a couple more, he inadvertently bought himself some time.

And the crazy thing to remember here is that Zim doesn’t even understand that his actions are an existential threat to the Empire- that he IS a whole supervillain to his planet. This is how effective Irken programming and the education plugs are. They’re supposed to do 99% of the work of setting up the population, even the lowest drones, for not turning out like traitors to their kin in the first place. ALL of them grew up on a steady diet of the same drip-fed propaganda and essentialist ideology as their most militant soldiers. So I can see the logic behind the conclusion that the only explanation for criminals in their society must be outright brain damage or corrupted data… and I’m not gonna lie I do openly headcanon that the latter case is exactly what happened to bad egg Zim.

The limits of only having the one example in him notwithstanding, I’m anything but against theorizing about who else could be “worthy” in the Irken sense to also stand before those brains, playing sweaty advocate for the worth of their continued existence and all. I just don’t see it in Bob, or the Comms officer, or any other invader. Tak, there may be some hypothetical ramp to that end, in her future, but as things are right now, I only see a candidate that has become comfortable right in the control brains’ biggest blind spot of all. See, eggs don’t always have to crack in order to go bad. Sometimes, maybe they just spoil. Sometimes, I believe just the right conditions and time can turn them downright rotten.

Dramatic musical flourish, please.

I forget whoever said the quote “Power doesn’t corrupt, It just exposes who people really are”, but I’m a huge fan of the fact that they did. In my opinion, it’s less about power itself and more about a complete lack of accountability that allows the weakest and most toxic seeds to really fester in a seat of authority. Indeed, we all know that there is something pathetic, and vapid, and cruel floating around The Massive’s bridge. I am saying I’d call Red defective, but I couldn’t be certain enough with myself to say that Purple’s largely the one carrying a lot of fault. His greatest sin is his negligence and enabling his companion. whoever we can say shoulders more of the blame, they have been running this horror show as a joint unit, so they will both bear the guilt. Without a doubt, these two are terrible- popular maybe, but terrible leaders. Like, more responsible for the near ruin of their home world and species than I can even pin on Zim at this point. By almost every measure once you hold them up to Miyuki’s and Spork’s barely few moments of would-be screen time, they’re the worst Tallests for the Empire we’ve ever known. It’s too bad that they have no one over them we know of to flag them for an existence evaluation, because I am assured that the real orchestrators of the Armada would be disgusted to look over their track records since they took power.

I mean, what can I remember just off the top of my head?

- Full awareness of Zim’s blackout-causing history before the beginning of Operation Impending Doom I and not keeping a close eye on him, removing him from his position, or keeping him away from the homeworld’s WoMDs

- Overseeing the shipment of faulty equipment to Invader Tenn (even if the packages had not been switched, the Megadoomer still had a potentially fatal flaw), and then presumably NOT giving her urgent guidance/assistance to avoid being captured by native hostiles

- Showing an egregious amount of immaturity and frivolity when making logistical decisions, such as the flight path of the Armada or how conquered planets are utilized

- Repeated abuses of their standing, trying to extra-judicially get rid of subjects over the pettiest reasons (if they had the formal authority to just vaporize Skoodge, Bob, OR Zim on the spot, they wouldn’t need to come up with convoluted and indirect methods that they only hope kill said targets)

- Upon Zim returning to them from his banishment: not sending him back to Foodcourtia and not refusing to humor his wishes to larp as an invader

- Oh yeah, also granting Zim at least some invader tech and allowing him to leave Conventia in what I assume is a ship he could have only stolen

- Still not dealing with Zim with extreme prejudice in a timely fashion after the events of Backseat Drivers from Beyond the stars, or investigating enough to find out and deal with prisoner 777

- HAVING WAITED THROUGH ALL OF THE ABOVE BEFORE SENDING FOR ZIM’S EXISTENCE EVALUATION

- Spending the bulk of their reign so far dicking around in space and gorging themselves. Seriously, Red showed us one act of proactive competence… and it was in order to fix a mess that they allowed Zim to get them into. Not to mention, the Resisty got away from that scrap after thoroughly humiliating their flagship.

Red, and by extension, Purple, are the almighty, Tallest threats to the entire Irken project of galactic conquest, as much as Zim would have loved all the credit in the universe. By what they’ve done, and who they are. He might be damaged, but them? There’s some defective moral character if I’ve ever seen.

#invader zim #iz #iz theory #iz headcanons #tallest red #tallest purple #iz tallest #iz the trial #defective Irkens #long post #scarlet talks about things #Tallest slander

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itsahotminuteinbetween · 8 months

Text

Aaaand at last the long awaited chapter 7 that I've been hoarding from yall for a lil while! There's just a little buildup here, so not terribly essential, but I think it was important to write anyway. This sets up the next chapter, so be aware of that...

And as always, I must invite my esteemed guests @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, @laegume and @andyssilly to the lil slumber party. (If anyone else wants to be tagged just lemme know and I'll put ya in the next one!)

Anyways, on with the show!

Word Count: 3075

The tension from this morning melts away pretty quickly once the kids show up. You’re dragged into a tea party, sipping air from a plastic cup with your knees tucked into your chest to fit you while you gossip to the children about Mr. Teddy Bear’s newest escapade in an overly-posh accent.

That feeling from earlier creeps up on you again, the phantom constrictions in your chest tightening, and you hardly have time to mask your sharp inhale and wince when a hard shock runs up your spine, warning you of what’s to come. The kids seem worried for a moment, but you cover up your reaction with a dramatic tale, urging them to ‘banish’ you to your station to save them from the wretched demon possessing your immune system. It’s not really that type of illness, not the sort they can catch, but you’ve always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic, and your performance does the trick.

You regret not bringing your medicine today, but Sun had warned you not to, and he was effectively the boss. It wasn’t so bad anyway- just a bit of soreness, nothing terribly noteworthy. Worst case scenario, you could take a pill from the Daycare’s little pharmacy cabinet and make it through the day. And maybe call your brother as a last resort, but you refused to bother him unless it was an emergency. For now, you’ll just wait it out.

Snacktime is announced, and you wheel out the food, standing to the side as your stomach decides to make its hunger known. Did you have breakfast before you left? You don’t know. You didn’t think to pack a lunch (you never do) and your clock-out time wasn’t soon enough for you to placate your hunger. You stare at the contents on the table and remind yourself that it’s not for you, it’s for the kids, and Sun is right there. You return to your work station and attempt to read your book, but the words can’t seem to stay in your head.

By the time the lights go out, the pounding has sharpened, and you’re hardly able to move your legs without some ache in your bones. It’d probably be best if you left the daycare to check yourself over, which you neglect to tell Moon before he even gets his chance to do his little routine. His faceplate tilts to the side with a little click, and you’re out the door before he thinks to say anything.

—---------------------------------

Moon blinked. That’s…new. They never take a break during naptime.

The only reply he got from his brother was a subdued hum of agreement.

—------------------------------

Your slightly unbalanced speed-walking comes to a halt a good 20 paces from the Daycare as you realize you have no idea where you’re going. You’ve never really been through the Pizzaplex aside from heading to your post or to Parts & Service, so you only knew two or three routes in this maze. Well, and the DJ’s arcade, but you only know the directions there from the entrance, not the Daycare.

Maybe you could find your way from Parts & Service? Last time you’d been, the STAFF bots led the way…

Scratch that. You knew one route.

Lovely. You can’t say that you’re particularly thrilled to do more walking in your state, but you suppose there’s no time like the present to get further adjusted to your workplace. There was a restaurant around here somewhere, right? Even if their only dish was pizza that tasted like cardboard topped with soggy oatmeal, food was food, and it was better than nothing. If you could only figure out how to get there.

The irony of the fact that you have to go find the Map bot and ask it for directions is not lost on you.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Luckily, you don’t have to look far. It just so happens that one is conveniently stationed around a corner at some random attraction. You approach it awkwardly and tap it on the shoulder, offering a small, unsure smile. “Hey, I was wondering if you, uh…if you could spare me a map?”

You swear the stoic face of the bot in front of you practically lights up, and you can feel the beaming smile it gives you in spite of its static expression as it shoves a map into your hand with the vigorous and insistent mantra of “Take a map! Please take a map!”

You struggle to suppress the little laugh that bubbles out of you upon seeing its excitement, and you comply with its wishes, shooting it a much more relaxed smile and thanking it before it wheels away to the next set of customers.

You examine the map eagerly thrust upon you. Apparently there are several dining areas, one for every floor. You don’t have much time to explore, though, so you choose the closest one to you: the FazPad.

After twenty minutes of running around in search of the elusive location, you’re finally able to find and order something from the somewhat overpriced menu with the help of the employee discount. Ordering a Moondrop curry seems fitting considering your position, though you pray Moon doesn’t somehow find out about it. You poke at the bright blue dish that you’re pretty sure is supposed to be edible. It isn’t half as bad as you expected, surprisingly. Shame you couldn’t say the same for its namesake.

Speaking of the lunar menace, you have maybe half an hour before naptime is over, and you refuse to be late. You’d seen them when you were tardy, and it was not pretty. Your mini check up would go pretty quickly, as you were confident it wasn’t anything problematic.

Another ten minutes is spent trying to find a bathroom (you do not want to go back to use the one in the Daycare while Moon’s still out unless absolutely necessary). You lock yourself in a small stall and lean against the door to look yourself over, fingers gently pressing into your legs and lower back with hesitance. You cringe slightly, lips thinning into a line. You hate when this happens, but it should pass eventually. With any luck, you’d be able to go to work and avoid the worst of it. You’d just have to be a little more mindful of your limits.

This probably wouldn’t end up like last time.

Satisfied with your conclusion, you make your way back to the Daycare. Naptime was still in session and you were anticipating a trick upon your return.

—----------------------

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing as you gasp for air, shooting up from the mattress and breathing heavily, your eyes dart around your room, relaxing when you spot the familiar dark silhouettes of your belongings. There’s just enough moonlight from the window for you to make out details. Your hand flies to your chest almost instinctively, as if to verify that your heart’s still pumping, you’re still alive, still here.

You’re awake now.

Once your initial panic dies down, you become acutely aware of three things.

The first is that it is very hot, almost unbearably so. Sweat clings to your form as perspiration runs down your forehead. You can hear the AC vents pushing out air, but it doesn’t help cool the burning in your core that spreads through you.

The second thing you notice is that the shirt your hand is clutching tightly is your work uniform. You must’ve blacked out after coming home from work. As usual, you don’t remember that.

The third thing is the feeling of bile rising in your throat, and it swiftly surpasses the first two observations. You stagger to the kitchen sink on numb legs and lean heavily against the kitchen counter, retching violently. You’re still shaking by the time you can manage to lift your head out, forcing yourself to hack and spit the rest out to flush out the remaining fluids choking your throat. You hazard a glance at the sink before washing away the blue chunks. Figures. You’re never having Fazbear’s trademarked trash again.

You navigate back to your room to brush your teeth and rid the foul taste of vomit from your mouth, cranking up the AC on the way to bed. You toss the thin cover aside and adorn your pajamas, waiting for sleep to claim you and take you from this awful feeling. Something nags you in the back of your mind, warning you that it’s only about to get worse before you’re dragged under, in and out of consciousness as the night progresses.

Your alarm blares some time later and you fumble to turn it off. Little shit doesn’t know you’ve been up for the past hour. You bite back a groan. While your stomach had thankfully settled overnight, everything else has hit you full force.

It’s official. You’re Sick.

Or at least, that’s what the shit feeling leads you to believe.

You make a weak attempt to sit up…only to immediately crash back down again. An involuntary cry of alarm rips from you at that sharp pain that lances through your spine. It’s so much worse than yesterday. You shake your head and force back tears. It usually doesn’t get this bad. It usually just stops at your lower back.

Still, you have a job to do, and you’re not letting a little thing like this stop you.

Your things are shoved into your bag, work clothes thrown on. You hesitate but decide to bring the pills anyway. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep talking, but Sun yelling at you is nothing compared to this.

You’re out of the apartment before you even remember you forgot to pack a lunch yet again.

—---------------------------

The attendants can't help but notice that something seems…off…about you.

On the surface level, nothing has changed. You still walk into the room and greet them, still write your reports and go along with Sun’s demands and Moon’s antics. But there are little things that tip them off, like the small limp in your step or the naps you’ve begun taking more often when the lights go out.

Moon notices your bag has lost some weight. The usual thought and care packed into it is absent. Extra clothes and books are left behind, with only your phone and laptop inside. You’d also taken to bringing those pills. He’d given up on lecturing you about it when all he got was an affirmative that was immediately broken the next day. The lunar AI assured him they were harmless, but it was still off-putting.

Your emails, they noticed, had also become more succinct and to the point. Not that it was a bad thing: you tended to ramble in great detail, even in the simple notes. Lately, though, they found that it was missing something.

Take your recent Maintenance update, for example. You’d apparently noticed the issues with their joints and filed a request for Parts & Service. You always notified them a day or two in advance prior to an appointment. This time, however, they did not receive your normally well-written email. It remained polite, of course, but it was clipped, curt.

Unexpected.

And it wasn’t just your work suffering, either. Your usual excitement when playing with the children was absent. You were tenser, got tired more easily, frequently taking breaks and hanging back to catch your breath.

No, the change wasn’t too great, but it was there, and it was starting to get a bit out of hand. You’d pretty much been glued to your desk for the last two days. And while you weren’t really required to do much else besides your updates, it still felt…wrong.

It didn’t matter, though, they reasoned. If you weren’t feeling good, you’d take a couple days off and they’d be done with it. They’d have enough leverage in addition to your recent slacking to get rid of you.

They…did still want to get rid of you, Sun reminded himself. You had flaws, flaws that could not exist in their perfect system, flaws that had to be eradicated to maintain order.

It was better for everyone that way.

______________________________________

You rub your eyes, slowly scanning your ID at the clock-in station and fighting back the dark edges in the corner of your vision. You hadn’t been sleeping well as of late, and it was starting to take a toll on you. You didn’t dare to call in sick, however, remembering all too well your coworkers’ reactions when you’d returned from you unexpected time off.

Granted, that was a special case, but they didn’t know that.

It’s not like you knew what had been going on at the time, anyway.

You stroll into the Daycare as usual, bag slung on your shoulder and a slightly less enthusiastic greeting on your lips. Your routine is interrupted when without warning, a dizziness crashes into you and leaves you with spots in your vision. They do not clear this time when you try to force them away. The room spins, and your knees buckle under you, causing you to lurch forward. You brace yourself against the wall and hiss at the sudden burning ache of your muscles.

As quickly as it came, the feeling withdraws, pulling back fast enough that the dizziness multiplies instead of lessening. Once the room soon stills, you pull yourself back to your feet, sitting down at your desk and getting to work like nothing happened.

Just as well that no one saw.

You’re in the midst of writing another report when your phone goes off. You take a glance around to make sure that Sun isn’t watching and open them. There are three messages waiting for you. One from your brother asking how you’ve been, one mysterious letter from Fazbear, and one from…

Ah.

You skim the last one and dismiss it. The first two are received with greater excitement, something you haven’t felt in a little while. You respond to your brother with your trademarked ‘I’m doing just great let’s talk about something else now’ and read Management’s reply.

Hello, Fazbear Employee,

We have received your request for funding for greater literary material. After careful consideration, we have decided to approve your proposal. You are required to send a list of materials you wish to purchase. Please remember that any liabilities and/or repercussions faced as a result of this project will result in immediate termination of your contract.

Thank you and have a Faz-errific day!'

Your exhaustion and illness is momentarily forgotten as you squeal and bounce in your seat excitedly. Oh, you already had a dozen titles running through your head that you were certain the kids would love. You’d already compiled a short list a few pages long in your notebook, you’d have to copy it and send it over as soon as possible-

Aaaaand there was that ever so familiar voice piping up in front of you and instantly dashing all your hopes and dreams. “Oh? What’s got you oh-so chipper this morning?”

You swallow down that instinctual feeling of being doused in ice water and manage to maintain your smile. “Management approved my request for buying more books!”

“I’d been under the impression you’d been doing so already..” he remarked dryly.

You ignore his comment, showing him the email and forgetting who you’re ranting to your boss in your excitement about this new opportunity. He takes the device and reads the email himself before responding in an odd voice. “Management didn’t send us an update about this…”

“I just found out myself,” you shrug, not noticing the subtle glare shot at you. “I already had a few titles in mind, but I’d be more than happy to get your opinions on them. The kids are gonna be so excited to get some new stories for naptime, and I’m sure we could-“

“There’s nothing wrong with what we have now for naptime,” he cuts you off, a second, darker undertone layering his voice briefly. His eyes flash red for a split second.

You blink and hastily amend yourself. “Right, sorry, I just meant that it’ll be nice to have some more variety, that’s all. We could probably find some stuff for you guys, too, if you wanted. I’m sure Moon’s gotten tired of children’s books by now.”

The attendant says nothing for a while, remaining eerily still, and you turn around to see if he’s still there. There have been some times where they’ve slipped away without you noticing. How they did so was unknown to you considering the many bells hanging from their frame. “Sun?”

The lights cut off abruptly, and the raspier voice returns, drawling sardonically with a hint of mockery. “Awww, you would do that for meee?” He clasps his hands together and flutters his ‘eyelids’ in a show of sarcasm.

“Hi Moon,” you greet him without missing a beat, shutting your laptop and rummaging through your bag for that notebook of yours. You normally brought it, but maybe you’d forgotten it again. You seemed to be doing that a lot lately…

A blue arm shoots out and grabs yours, promoting you to look up at your assailant’s glowering gaze.

“We don’t need your handouts, certainly not from the likes of you,” he hisses, squeezing your wrist tighter for emphasis.

You manage a nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and lightly tugging at your arm to signal your desire for release. “R-right, of course, sorry, I just thought-“

“We aren’t interested in the thoughts of a mere worker.” His grip does not yield, the silicone masked metal hand like a shackle. You briefly recall Monty’s harsh bruises (time) before. You don’t want another limb to stop functioning right now. That would really suck.

He leans in to speak, privately relishing in the way you try to lean back with an inkling of fear. He grins sharply. “Y-“

A knock at the door startles the two door of you, earning a growl from Moon and a shuddery exhale of relief from you.

He sends you one last loathsome look before the lights flicker on and Sun attends to the new arrival. You release another sigh, rubbing your now sore wrist. Another ache added to the list.

And with that, a new day has officially begun.

As optimistic as you’d like to be, you’re pretty sure you know exactly where it’s going from here.

———————

Aaaaaaaand that’s a wrap! Sorry for the long wait everyone, hope it was worthwhile and I’ll see you all in the next one!

#sorry to bother #don't mind me #wtsds #where the stars don’t shine #fnaf sun x y/n #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf moon x y/n #fnaf moon x reader #me posting this while dying internally at the prospect of finally figuring out how on earth I'm going to write a f*cking argument #i suck at dialogue guys it's my weakest point #rgggghhh but it must be done....

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life-in-the-garden · 4 months

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A Spell Bottle for Big Al

This spell is dedicated to my boyfriend @mikk1n, who introduced me to the world of Walking with Dinosaurs and its various sub-series. The BBC walked with dinosaurs so that Prehistoric Planet could run.

outdated illustration of an allosaurus from Dinosaur National Monument, by the United States' National Park Service

Anyway...

This spell calls upon the power of the Allosaurus jimmadseni specimen identified as MOR 693—however, this fossilized creature is more commonly known as “Big Al” thanks to an imagining of his life’s story being told via a BBC television program in the year 2000. (The Ballad of Big Al was a Christmas special for the popular Walking with Dinosaurs series, and it can be watched legally on the Internet Archive—part one is here and part two is here).

Big Al’s bones currently live in the Geological Museum of the University of Wyoming in the United States (see his exhibit here), but when re-watching his story with my boyfriend late at night I was struck by the depiction of his life. Although I’m not happy with a multitude of the narrative choices that the writers made—my ire is primarily directed at the massive time skips of multiple years and the overall rushed brevity of the story—what really stuck with me was how realistic it felt.

Now, I’m not talking about the depictions of the dinosaurs or the quality of the practical and special effects; science and technology have marched steadily onward since the year 2000, and what we know now puts our prehistoric knowledge from 20+ years ago to shame. That can’t be helped. What I’m really saying is that so much of Big Al’s depicted life was spent searching for food, failing to acquire it, and ultimately dying of starvation… because of a broken toe. Yes, he was an apex predator of his era, but the show is very careful to point out how much his life teetered on the knife’s edge of his physical prowess as a predator—although he healed from a variety of injuries and illnesses throughout his less than a decade of life, ultimately Big Al was brought down by a broken bone that developed a fatal infection and rendered him unable to hunt.

While Big Al failed to reached adulthood, that doesn’t mean you have to do the same thing. This spell is designed to create part of the spirit of Big Al into an animal ally (if you’re not from an indigenous culture that incorporate usage of totems or spirit animals, please don’t use those terms) to aid you in your own efforts toward continuing to survive whatever troubles currently plague you.

Method

Now, the sky’s the limit for what you can ask Big Al’s spirit for help with. However, my own witchy intuition (aka UPG) says that an allosaurus isn’t going to understand a school/university assignment well enough to be able to help you with it. Their knowledge predates algebra. On the other hand, I’m sure theropod dinosaurs (Big Al among them) were incredibly smart in much the same way modern corvids are, so your own UPG might differ on this point…

In other words, make this spell your own! What follows is just one way that you can request aid from the spirit of Big Al; this one is designed for (since Big Al died with an infected fracture) remembering to take your pills.

You will potentially need…

1 empty pill bottle

Pebbles, beads, or crystals of some kind that are small enough to fit inside the pill bottle

Sealing wax (your choice of color) or liquid glue

writing supplies OR 1 carnivorous dinosaur toy, ideally a small & cheap one

Instructions, such as they are…

(This is the boring part.) Put the containers for the pills you plan to consume in a place where they are prominent enough that they won’t blend into the background. If you have a lot of different pills to take and want help remembering the instructions for them, keep a piece of paper nearby (or make a note on your phone) with notes for what pills you are supposed to take at what time + any additional helpful information.

Cleanse the empty pill bottle, the pebbles/beads/crystals, and (if using) the dinosaur toy. You can cleanse with whatever method seems best to you—personally, my favorite method is via candlelight.

(This is the less boring part.) If using the dinosaur toy, have the toy preside over your pill bottle(s) that actually have pills in them. This toy is the embodiment of your animal ally. You can set this up on your altar if you use an altar + want to keep your pills there, but it’s not necessary. If not using the toy, use the writing supplies to draw a picture of a carnivorous, bipedal dinosaur on a piece of paper—this will go under your cleansed (and soon to be filled) pill bottle as the embodiment of your animal ally.

Put some pebbles, crystals, and/or beads into the empty and cleansed pill bottle.* Put the cap on and shake it a few times—or more than a few times, if that’s what feels right to you. If you enjoy verbal incantations, you can say one here; it can be as complex as a full-length sonnet in iambic pentameter, or it can be as simple as “amen” or “so mote it be” or what have you.

* Note: as weird as it sounds, I don’t really care about crystal correspondences in my personal practice; they are just pretty rocks to me. Therefore, I’m not going to tell you what crystals work well in this spell. Follow your intuition!

Once you’re satisfied with the pill bottle, seal it with wax or glue and keep it in a place where it’s hard to ignore. Ideally, this place will be right next to the dinosaur toy, or if you’re not using the toy then atop the piece of paper with your hand-drawn dinosaur. Shake the pill bottle full of pebbles, crystals, and/or beads every time you need to take your meds; for me, the rattling sound is part of the ritual and helps me remember to go over to the medicine cabinet and take my pills with breakfast.

And that's it! I hope Big Al and this spell inspire you in some way. If you have helpful medication of any kind, please remember to take it!

If you enjoyed this spell, please consider tossing some spare change toward my ko-fi. As a poor university student with an abusive home life, every little bit helps me get a few centimeters closer to moving out + pay for food and veterinary expenses for my cat.

#witchcraft #witchblr #witches of tumblr #magic #haven's original spells #spell bottle #pop culture witchcraft #pop culture magic #dinosaur #the ballad of big al #cw animal death

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sothischickshe · 4 months

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Hi! For the Get To Know Your Fic Writer asks: 24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

Hey, ty! 😘😘😘

Idk if this was definitely the worst, but one that stuck with me as well intentioned but not super helpful was 'make it smellier' & the kinda cliché examples which came with.

sensory detail can def add important texture to scenes, and smell in't necessary primacied (at least in my here-now) the way say sight is, so it's a good one to make sure one considers, espec bc of its supposed association with memory.

that said, mentioning that the garden or perfume or dog smells of rain or bergamot or aniseed is, i think, kinda equivalent to saying the table is red or television loud. including sensory detail is dandy, and can be evocative, but often just gets done in this basic way, particularly re smell where ingredients or flora or whatever get listed, so this task can be crossed off. smellier writing can be v interesting where it relates to memory ('the garden smells of manure and honeysuckle, like her childhood one and she thinks abt xyz again') or establishes detail ('she always wears xyz perfume' / 'the room still smells of xyz perfume and he knows she must have recently been here; he has the killer's identity') or almost becomes a kind of metonymy, where a character or setting or situation can be referred to without name or similar allusion bc the(ir) smell/s have been established.

i don't find smell to be an easy thing to describe without nouns, maybe this is a limitation of english, or of mine (or both!). but i do find often in fiction such nouning can be overused, to the point of almost parody -- i don't know that i believe every random character has this super strong nose where they can identify the full bouquet of items included in their lover's toiletries! ofc how much this might bother you is going to relate to pov, but i tend to prefer stories with tight rather than omniscient pov, and certainly consistency abt this. specific pov + smell can be used to great effect, where it makes sense that the character has a strong sense of smell (much like painter pov describing visuals and emotionality in terms of brushstrokes, or a cook character tending to break others' personalities and situations they encounter etc into amounts of composite 'ingrdients') e.g., with the protagonist of the novel perfume who is a super-smeller, or dog-pov (like one of my fave gg fics, the goodest boy), but unless your characters have some reason to display such skills, it can kinda take the reader out of the experience i feel.

so rather than listing smells (or indeed other ~sensory deets), i think sprinkling specifiers in (e.g., 'the red table' as opposed to 'the table', espec if there's multiple tables and you wanna be able to refer to this important one!) but not letting descriptors overwhelm can be useful, but specifically with nouny smells, if it's not in service of establishing evocative scene or character deets (or yummy food mmmm), maybe the actual smell isn't that important. maybe what's more important is the (pov) character(s)'s relationship to it: so rather than 'his shampoo smells of xyz' it's 'his shampoo smells of x, which she loves cos it reminds her of mama's flowers and y which she's never liked but finds pleasanter on him and z which she can't identify, and wants to ask him about but is certain she'll never find the courage' or even simply 'his shampoo smells pleasant' or more interestingly 'his shampoo smells as pleasant as his hands feel', 'his hair smells different, something fancier than the familiar citrus, he must have changed shampoo now he's moving up in the world and she hates the reminder', 'he smells different now, he must have changed something, she hates this highlighting of how everything's altered, hadn't realised she'd memorised his scent' 'he smells exactly the same, it's as comforting as her mother's soup' etc etc etc etc etc etc etc

Ficcy asks!

#ty!!#writing #on writing #smells #writing advice #ofc tumblo has decided to break sfgfgfhfhfh

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goat-yells-at-everything · 11 months

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Had a semi Karen moment at Walmart today.

I'm picking up some meds and this worker in a reflector vest comes up and tells me that Rosie has to go in a cart from now on. I'm like, what?????? He goes "its the new policy. All dogs gotta be in the cart with a pad in it. Its cuse people are allergic to dogs."

I'm like... what???? Thats not... thats now how this works????? She weighs 60+ pounds??? How the HELL am I suppose to lift her into a cart?!

He replies, "well, thats our policy now and if you can't follow it then she can't come back in here." And he just fuckin walks away?!

The kid at the pharmacy counter is just as confused as I am.

So I finish and go up to customer service. I tell the girl "I'm really sorry but im probably gonna have a Karen moment" then explained what happened. She looks at me like I've got 2 heads and im about to go off if she says the same thing he did. Legally they CANT make that required. Not by the ADA. Its an undue hardship on the disabled person and ive got receipts to back me up that I printed and fucking laminated and keep in my wallet.

But she just looks at me and goes "who the hell told you that?!"

So she takes me to her supervisor and we explain it all again and SHE looks at me like I'm nuts and says "what??????"

Long story short, no. Thats NOT the policy at Walmart.

The new policy is, IF you have a small dog that you DO put in a cart (like a pet or esa or even an SD that doesn't need to be on the ground to do their job) then you need to have some kind of barrier between it and the cart. Food and safety put that into effect cuse of people with allergies and the fact our Walmart has fresh food.

It is NOT that a person with a disability has to hoist their 60+ pound dog into a cart to go shopping.

Someone got their ass chewed out and, y'know, I ain't sorry. Fuck him for giving me an anxiety attack for no reason except that he's ignorant of policy/possibly on a power trip.

Another supervisor, i think she's one of the store managers, saw us a bit later and she always comments on how cute Rosie is when she sees us but this time she does a quick screech to a halt and goes "oh hun! I wana say how sorry I am about what happened. I'm gonna make sure this is addressed with everyone so it doesn't ever happen again. You know you and her are ALWAYS welcome here. You ever have an issue again you come find me and I'll raise hell, ok?"

Love people who stand up for our service dogs.

#goat yells at ignorant fuckers #service dog #Rosie pupper

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anony-mouse-writer · 2 months

Text

“How are you doing?”

- cost of livings increasing

- everyone i know is miserable at their jobs, spanning at least 4 broad range fields (ie, retail/food service of any kind, engineering, and ‘works at computers in a capacity beyond microsoft word/excel’) largely due to managerial or company based incompetence or greed

- planets on fire and it looks like the ppl who have the power to change that dont want to cuz theyre greedy bitches

- theres like three social media platforms that arent teeny tiny and theyre all shit and actively getting worse in ways that are profoundly effecting and blindingly stupid

- multiple fights in the past half decade trying to convince people that my job is not something a computer should have

- the same people who tell me that my work is very good and i should monetize it (i am thanks) think that computer work is either just a fad that will pass soon or the just something i should accept and do not see how these conflicting messages might be frustrating

- theres a globally televised genocide happening and like half the ppl who are supposed to stop that are funding it

- KOSA and other internet censorship laws continue to get closer to passing

- “woke” is increasingly synonymous with “anyone who has basic human decency” according to several major governmentally active political parties

- casual and “just common sense” transphobia is now at an all time high as terfs are told that outright killing trans kids is frowned upon and they should try bullying instead

- food prices are so high but i have to eat

- increased social pressure to shun anyone who isn’t spending all their energy being loudly upset at the above issues and/or dying due to the above issues

- companies have more rights than we do and the government would save them first in a crisis. this is “normal” and “fine” and giving a fuck about it is also “woke liberal shit”

- our best hope for a new shitty fire hazard apartment building going up is that the rich bitches everyone hates for building their houses in ‘thats gonna fall down dumbass’’ zones decide to fight for their ‘view’

- pandemics still happening. they dont even stock masks at stores consistently anymore

- my landlord still hasnt responded to our request to fix the flickering kitchen light we have been told we are Not Allowed to try fixing ourselves

- kids are increasingly fucked over by a system that was already failing and is now failing worse due to covid-related fuck ups

- school districts are pushing to graduate kids on time despite the Actual Fucking Plague these kids had to live thru

- speaking of, kids are apparently largely not taught basic computer literacy because they can just teach apps instead

- or any kind of internet safety oh my god. i have had to personally teach every child ive met for the past two years under the age of 15 to not to tell strangers online their full government legal names. i was on roblox for 30 seconds and watched two separate children half dox themselves

- its february and i kinda miss the sun

“I’m doin’, thanks! Hope spring comes sooner than later tho haha.”

#im so fucking tired yall #i think i need to up my meds again #op #vent post #im reasonably certain most of my issues rn are exacerbated by the last one #but im so tired

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intersectionalpraxis · 3 months

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Hi, you made a post including screenshots of several twitter posts. I was doing research on the UNRWA, and it seems that countries have pulled funding due to an accusation that some UNRWA employees were connected to Hamas and the attacks that happened on October 7th. The suspension of funding does not seem to be related to the ICJ's ruling, as one of the twitter posts in your post stated. I included a screenshot of the post I'm talking about. I'm not trying to embarrass you with this ask; I'm just letting you know that some of the info in that post seems to be wrong. A lot of people are reblogging it, and I just wanted to try to stop accidental misinformation from spreading.

Here is the statement I made following the post:

I want to be clear that severely cutting off humanitarian aid to any civilian population around the world because a resistance group -which has been labelled a terrorist organization by an occupational force and its' imperial supporters of mass genocide -because this said 'terrorist' group had members allegedly 'apart' of the October 7th, 2023 attack... is a form of COLLECTIVE PUNISHMENT.

Denying basic necessities to Palestinian people -from the lack to inadequate access to food, water, medical supplies and treatment, electricity and fuel for months now -has already been/remains a crime against humanity that the IOF has rampantly been committing.

The UNRWA is supposed to provide health care, relief and social services -and involves itself in emergency responses during times of crisis, and so much more... so by cutting funds because of what I mentioned above, you're effectively saying ALL Palestinian people are terrorists who must be punished when they have done NOTHING. And any person who reduces this to a mere 'coincidence,' you are surely missing the point here.

Noga Arbell, a former Israeli official and now head of right-wing Kohelet Foundation said the UNRWA is a threat to the IOF and stated "It will be impossible to win this war if we do not destroy UNRWA"

I have nothing to be embarrassed about, nor is this post spreading misinformation. The IOF Propaganda machine has lied consistently these past four months and has often blamed Hamas for things they haven't had evidence for. I will always be accountable for the information I present. I will address it and make changes if I missed something, or I will add more to the original post for nuance and further explanation.

You may be entitled to your opinion, but it doesn't erase the fact that this defunding is going to kill more Palestinian people.

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vulpes-fennec · 1 year

Text

The Fae Equality Initiative (Ch. 1) 🌊

Summary: Tarquin, High Lord of the Summer Court, has sent ripples of shock throughout Prythian with his plans to eliminate discrimination against Lesser Fae. When the Night Court is invited to send a delegation to Summer Court, Elain Archeron can’t wait to show everybody what she’s capable of on her first official Inner Circle assignment. Little does she know that Tarquin has also recruited Lucien Vanserra’s assistance…

Read: AO3

“The Summer Court, by decree of its High Lord, Tarquin, abolishes the use of the terms ‘High Fae’, ‘Lesser Fae’, and ‘minor Fae’ to identify Fae folk within the Court, effective immediately.”

Feyre’s voice rang loud and clear as she read the announcement to the rest of the dinner table. A resounding gasp arose from Mor, Cassian, Azriel, and Amren. Even Rhysand’s violet eyes grew wide with shock.

“Cauldron,” Mor said quietly. “Tarquin’s finally done it.”

“Varian didn’t tell me about this at all,” Amren hissed, taking an aggressive swig of wine and getting up from the table.

“Sit down, Amren,” Rhys stated coolly, but with simmering dominance. “If this decree is valid, then none of us should be winnowing into Summer Court brazenly. It could be chaos over there.”

Amren sagged back into her seat, silver eyes fuming. “I suppose now is as good of a time as ever,” she grumbled. “With Koschei gone and no external threat to Prythian.”

Elain took a calm sip of her water. She’d seen this exact moment in a vision two months ago: her family’s shock at Feyre reading from a paper stamped with the Summer Court’s seal. The vision didn’t reveal precisely what was so shocking, and Elain had anticipated something worse than social upheaval.

“Wait, there’s more,” Feyre’s blue-gray eyes darted across the page. “The Summer Court enshrines every Fae individual to equal rights; to equal protection under Court law and civic participation; to equal treatment in the public and private areas, service, and industries regardless of birth and background.”

“Sweet gods above,” Cassian muttered. “Not that this is a bad thing, but Tarquin is going to have his hands full for the rest of his life!” Tarquin. Elain hadn’t ever met the High Lord of Summer, though she knew he was young by Fae standards.

Nesta, who was busily shoveling down potatoes and chicken after a long day of Valkyrie training, finally looked up at her mate’s voice. “What’s happening?” she asked around a mouthful of food. Three-year old Nyx sitting next to her chortled at her chubby-cheeked face.

Rhys rolled his eyes, much to Feyre’s chagrin. “The majority of Prythian society is divided along High Fae and Lesser Fae lines,” he explained. “The Lesser Fae are often discriminated against, reduced to manual labor for the High Fae overlords. High Fae like us,” he added with a grimace.

“Not Az and me,” Cassian grinned lazily. “Though we are the exception, not the norm.”

“We aren’t supposed to be using the terms Lesser Fae and High Fae anymore,” Mor pointed out to Rhys.

Now it was Cassian’s turn to roll his eyes. “Only in the Summer Court, Mor. Though I wonder what you all will be called now. At least I can still call myself Illyrian.”

Across the table, Azriel’s shadows swirled around his contemplative face. Azriel. Who was now happily mated to Gwyneth Berdara. Elain sighed inwardly, picking at her food. The match was not a great surprise, considering the two were Carynthian warriors. Elain loved Gwyn. She loved who Az became when he was with Gwyn. But how they managed to fall in love with each other while being complete opposites only underscored her stagnant mating bond with Lucien Vanserra. How was it possible that Elain—who had been primed for the most advantageous marriage when the Archerons were still human—was the only single Fae at the table?

“I’m surprised Tarquin didn’t consult with you before making such an announcement,” Azriel’s quiet voice snapped Elain out of her self-pity. “Considering Velaris has integrated the High Fae and Lesser Fae in its society for generations.”

“Probably because Hewn City is quite the opposite,” Mor muttered. “Now if only my idiot father would croak—”

“Well, it says here that Tarquin is inviting a delegation of representatives from each court to convene in Adriata for discussion and collaboration,” mused Rhys, peering over Feyre’s shoulder at the letter. “So he’s simply being fair by waiting for everybody’s input. Feyre and I shall discuss this in detail later. But for now, a toast to positive change.” Resounding agreement echoed around the table as the family raised their glasses.

***

Winter was always hardest on Elain. The gardens were pitifully dead, the nights were long, and she was always freezing her ass off. Today, she’d baked orange spiced cookies, babysat Nyx, organized the River House library, and played a game of chess with Mor. It was nice, but dreadfully dull.

Elain had just slipped under her thick blankets when someone knocked on her door. She hastily put on a robe before calling out, “Come in!”

Feyre’s golden brown head peeked in. “Hi,” Feyre smiled, looking more like a younger sister than High Lady with her unbound hair and pale blue nightgown. Elain sat down at the edge of her bed, gesturing for Feyre to take the reading chair. “Rhys and I were talking about the Summer Court delegation,” Feyre started. “We’ve decided on a group of five: Emerie and Balthazar to represent Illyrians; Nikon, a male Velaris councilmember; Melanie, a Hewn City seamstress; and one High Fae representative.”

Elain nodded along. Tarquin’s announcement was almost a week ago, but the buzz was still going strong. Nuala and Cerridwen were gossiping nonstop with friends in other courts. It seemed the High Fae nobility in Autumn, Winter, and Dawn were simmering with displeasure, preparing themselves to squash any notion of Fae equalization in their territories. Elain wondered if those courts would bother sending any delegations to Tarquin.

“Rhys and I thought you would be a good fit for the High Fae representative.”

Elain blinked. “Me?” she squeaked in shock. Not Mor? Not Amren, or Nesta? Me?!? Did I hear Feyre correctly? Her visions did not reveal this development to her.

Feyre’s eyes grew wide. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, you don’t have to! But we thought it would be a good opportunity—”

“I accept,” Elain said quickly. She sat up straighter. “I accept,” she repeated, more confidently this time. Her head buzzed with excitement. My first Night Court assignment! After years and years of waiting for court-official business to fall into my lap, I now have the chance to shine!

Feyre regarded Elain carefully in the dim faelight. “Elain, I know that you…haven’t gone out of Velaris much in the last few years. I worried that the task at hand would be too big of a shift, too significant a responsibility too soon…but Rhys insists you are more than capable.” Of course Feyre doesn’t think I can do it, Elain thought bitterly. I don’t blame her, when she was the one who took care of us in the cabin. And now her sister was her High Lady, taking care of an entire court.

Feyre squeezed Elain’s hand in reassurance. “I’m not underestimating you, Elain, but I’m just saying…I had—have—” she corrected herself, “a steep learning curve as High Lady. I don’t want you to feel the same way in politics. If you’d like more responsibilities, we can start you off with smaller tasks.”

More responsibilities? More like ANY responsibilities, since I’m left out of every Inner Circle meeting, Elain couldn’t help thinking. She knew that Feyre couldn’t break into her mind (“sleeping garden of flowers” was what Feyre called it, whatever that meant), but it didn’t stop her sister from accurately reading her mannerisms. So she plastered a bright smile on her face. “Don’t worry, Feyre,” she assured cheerily. “I’m the co-director of the Velaris Garden Association. If I can preside over squabbling gardeners every week, surely a diplomatic visit to Summer Court would be doable.”

Feyre smiled back. “I know. But you’re not just a co-director of a garden association, Elain. You have spent the last few years interacting with all citizens of Velaris just as much as I have. You have the compassion and grace that is desperately needed during this transition. And you may be High Fae now, but you were human, once.” Her voice softened at the last sentence, knowing Elain had taken longer than Nesta to come to terms with her new life.

“I can handle it,” Elain said, more to herself than Feyre. I won’t let Feyre and Rhys down, she promised mentally. I’ll prove my place, my role in this court. “What can I do to prepare?”

***

Adriata was stunning. Elain could scarcely believe her eyes at the city nestled along the curvature of the half moon bay, with the shimmering Summer Palace rising out of an island. A turquoise sea stretched before her, broken by sleek ships of varying sizes. Glorious sun warmed her body, tricking her into thinking it was a mild summer’s day and not the dead of winter. It wasn’t Elain’s first time seeing the sea, for she’d often waved goodbye to her father as he sailed off with his merchant fleet. But it was different—sharper—with her Fae senses.

Emerie, Balthazar, Nikon, and Melanie were similarly overwhelmed. Amren had winnowed them in one by one, muttering something about “spending time with Varian before he gets swamped with work.” The short female had disappeared to find her lover, leaving the Night Court delegation standing awkwardly on the Summer Palace’s landing platform with their travel bags. Nikon’s light blue skin seemed to reflect the sky as he turned in awe. Melanie’s large, bat-like ears angled and twitched at the distant crashing of the waves. Balthazar and Emerie stretched their amber wings, basking in the warmth.

Elain wanted nothing more than to admire the view for the next hour, but a Summer Court entourage was swiftly walking in their direction. And everybody was looking at her expectantly. Me?? Elain’s mind sputtered to a halt. Why not Nikon, who is an actual city councilmember? Or Emerie, who is leading a Valkyrie legion? I’m the youngest, most inexperienced Fae here!

It was obvious who Tarquin was, pure power emanating from him. Tarquin’s power was different from Rhys and Feyre’s: it was warm, effervescent, and silken like water.

But Elain felt dread: Feyre and Rhys had explained how they’d stolen half the Book of Breathings from the Summer Court. The blood ruby fiasco, the attack during the war. Feyre even privately told Elain of how she regretfully manipulated Tarquin’s affections for her during their visit. “Be on your best behavior,” the High couple had warned the delegation.

Tarquin was getting closer. The male’s rich brown face solemn, his turquoise blue eyes regarding the Night Court delegation carefully. “Good afternoon,” he greeted them. “My name is Tarquin, and I am the High Lord of Summer Court. Welcome to Adriata.”

Come now, she chided herself. Feyre and Rhys may have messed up, but I can still make a good first impression! Elain curtsied deeply, just as her mother had taught her to. “Adriata is very beautiful,” she murmured demurely. “My name is Elain Archeron, and the Night Court thanks you for your invitation.”

Tarquin’s intense turquoise gaze was assessing as he looked at her. He must be comparing me to Feyre. I wonder what he thinks. Elain leaned into the blush heating her face with a smile. Usually that softened the males. “It is my pleasure,” was all he offered in return.

“My name is Emerie.” Emerie took a step forward and held out her hand for Tarquin to shake. He gave her a firm handshake back, a bit surprised at her boldness.

“The Carynthian Valkyrie,” Tarquin responded kindly. “It is an honor to meet you.” Now it was Emerie’s turn to blush. Tarquin continued to individually greet every member of the Night Court delegation, everybody equally star-struck in his presence.

“My staff will assist in escorting you to your suite,” Tarquin said, hands clasped behind his back. “We have a welcome dinner at 7:30 in the evening, in the Great Hall. Feel free to explore or rest up in the meantime. I shall see you all then.”

The tall doors to the palace swung open to reveal a wide corridor and bustling scene of servants and courtiers. A series of large windows to the right provided a scenic view of Adriata’s harbor. The wall to their left was a lovely mosaic of lilac-colored mountains that stretched down the corridor. Elain followed the High Fae servants carrying the delegation’s travel bags down several halls and winding staircases.

Melanie—or was it Emerie—audibly gasped when the servants opened the door to the suite. Melanie immediately glanced at the High Fae servants with a look similar to shame, schooling her delicate features into neutrality. Elain cocked her head, taking mental note of that.

Elain vaguely wondered if Tarquin had given them Feyre and Rhys’s old suite. There were four rooms and two bathing rooms connected to a central living space. “Where would you like us to place the bags, miss?” the servants asked Elain.

“Oh!” Elain glanced around awkwardly, realizing the servants had only addressed her. Despite them carrying everybody’s cases. “You can just leave them on the floor for now. We can sort them out. Thank you for your help!” She also noted how one of the female servants gave Balthazar and Emerie a curious look. Probably because she’s never seen an Illyrian before, Elain mused. It was only when the servants left that her peers finally relaxed.

***Tarquin***

Tarquin did not really think Feyre and Rhysand were serious about including Elain Archeron in the Night Court delegation until he saw the female with his own two eyes. She shared some familial resemblance to Feyre, in her nose and brows. But Elain possessed none of Feyre’s cunning, and her brown eyes were warm and soft, unlike Nesta Archeron’s icy blue.

Tarquin knew the other courts were nosy as hell. Inviting the delegations were more for his benefit than theirs: he would solicit feedback from various Fae and win them over, leaving them inspired to champion the same causes back home. For that to be successful, the delegations had to have considerable influence in their home courts.

Tarquin sat in his personal study, eyeing the return letter from Feyre and Rhysand. “High Fae representative: Elain Archeron” was written in clumsy letters. According to Varian, Elain Archeron was a Seer. Sweet and kind. Partaker of domestic activities. A good friend.

Tarquin frowned, adjusting the lapels of his shirt. Feyre and Rhysand would not have sent Elain without reason. Elain may not have any political power in the Night Court, but she still had the ear of the ruling couple as their immediate family. He would not repeat the same mistake of underestimating an Archeron.

Advocating for the Fae was difficult. For the longest time, Tarquin had viewed codifying equal treatment as the pinnacle of success. He’d painstakingly forged alliances with fickle council members and garnered support from Fae organizations. The law was one thing. Changing Fae perspectives was another. Summer Court nobility had been in an uproar the last few weeks over these changes. And while the majority of the formerly “Lesser” Fae heralded his efforts, there were many who were skeptical of his ability to keep these promises. This storm would be the greatest test to his leadership yet.

His eyes settled on another letter on his desk. “Greetings, old friend. Thank you for your invitation, and I gratefully accept. Looking forward to seeing you and the good work you’re doing in three week’s time. Yours, Lucien.”

Fuck. Tarquin groaned. Lucien Vanserra and Elain Archeron were mates that had been dancing awkwardly around the bond for the last few years. And neither of them knew the other was coming. It would be in bad taste to send one of them back home. He already had to restructure his court’s society and host a multi-court delegation…and now he had to deal with an ill-fated mating bond? Not good, this is not good at all. This conference better give us some good ideas, Tarquin thought grimly as he rifled through the letters on his desk. I need all the help I can get.

Read: Chapter 2

Notes: Hi everybody, thank you for reading! This work is definitely meant to be fun, but I will still be exploring serious topics that are hugely relevant in our real world. Like, the romance is not that deep but the analogies to our current societal issues are taken seriously. Because this is a work of FICTION, I’m thinking of setting up some sort of landing page/Linktree (?) that will have links to books and progressive organizations. I’ll add the link to the chapter notes once I have it figured out. If you’d like to suggest a resource, please message me!

Some things important to me don’t transfer well into this story (like Prythian is practically feudalism? Trying to world-build a classless, moneyless Prythian is wringing my creative juices dry, so I’ll have to leave it as is). I also don’t do activism for "work" (not part of a non-profit/NGO, though I’m a POC woman and environmentalist trying to learn and grow), so if you have any suggestions from lived experiences/activism work, I’m all ears.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #tarquin acotar #summer court #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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aelaer · 1 year

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🔫

Another whump icon prompt filled! And this is the last of my pre-written fics before my first poll, so now I *have* to work on figuring out how to write Loki...

Also a fill for @badthingshappenbingo! The bad thing happening to the protagonist is pretty light, *but* it's still a not-terribly-fun thing, so I figure it works out.

I was trying to write something else for this for ages (read: almost 3 years), but it never came out the way I wanted it to, and I still had this ancient prompt to fill so I figured I'd try not to make a huge story out of it and just do some writing exercises to get back into it. And the normal stuff wasn't working so I flipped the angst on its head to something a bit more BAMFy. Still a bad thing happening though.

The MacGuffin here is pretty simple but hey, it works.

Lightning Before The Thunder Rating: Gen No pairings

On occasion, Doctor Strange still had to do mundane, normal-people things. He still needed to buy food and even magic wasn't quite as effective as the dry cleaners two blocks away for his suit, whenever he needed to wear it for whatever occasion presented itself.

Today it was the bank. The New York Sanctum still sat in the city it was named after, which meant that every year property taxes were due. And sometime between the Blip and now, the automatic payment to the city on the Sanctum's bank account stopped going through despite nothing changing, which meant Stephen had to go talk to someone to get it fixed. He figured it'd be easier to do it in person than try to navigate the menus in the bank's phone system and never ending hold times that characterized every customer service center after the Blip.

Despite his rather unfortunate infamy that came with his involvement with the Infinity Stones and the last battle against Thanos, he wasn't recognized nearly as often as, say, Tony Stark or Steve Rogers once were. In casual wear people rarely recognized him, and it was only once he gave his name that recognition lit up in stranger's eyes. He was thankful for the relative anonymity.

Stephen wasn't sure if said anonymity was a blessing or a curse when four armed robbers stormed the bank five minutes into his appointment. On one hand, they may have shot him for it if they thought he was a threat.

On the other hand, maybe that would have meant that the security guard wouldn't have been shot.

Each second of calculation felt like a minute. He could go immediately on the offensive and attack them, but their guns were pointed at clerks and patrons as they shouted for everyone to get down. They had already shot someone and the man was bleeding heavily.

He had a life to save first. He needed to play doctor—and hostage—before he could do anything else.

Stephen crawled to the security guard even as the robbers shouted orders across the building. He shed his outer shirt and pressed it against the security guard's bleeding shoulder. When he cried out in pain, one of the gunmen turned to him.

"The fuck you doing? Get on the ground!" He turned the barrel at him.

"I'm a doctor," Stephen said, voice even. He'd certainly faced worse, though he was really regretting not bringing the Cloak with him. "Let me help him."

The man hesitated, but another spoke up as he addressed the majority of the people by the counters. "Stay on the fucking ground and y'all live, right? Just stay there. No phones!"

That seemed to be enough for the gunman focused on Stephen. "Stay there," he ordered.

Stephen complied. Underneath his blood-soaked dress shirt he silently applied subtle healing magic to constrict blood flow from the wound, the glow barely going through the cloth. The security guard frowned at what would have been an unusual, warm feeling.

"What…"

"I'm a doctor," Stephen repeated. The blood flow was slowing down. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge the situation. Once he heard sirens outside and the gunmen were separated, he could act.

The security guard winced. "Is it—supposed to feel like that?" He glanced at his shoulder with a grimace that twisted into a confused frown as he caught some of the glow from underneath Stephen's shirt. "What the—"

"My name," he cut him off, words soft yet sharp, "is Doctor Stephen Strange. Do you understand?"

The man's eyes lit up in recognition. His gaze went beyond him to the action in the background. "Can you—can you help—"

"Everything will be fine," Stephen reassured him. "Just concentrate on breathing."

"Hey! No talking!" It seemed one of the robbers noticed their whispers. Stephen glanced up to see a gun being waved in his general direction, which was more annoying than frightening if he was to be entirely honest. Then again, his line of work had rather desensitized him, perhaps to a rather alarming degree. He wouldn't be able to get a shield out fast enough to stop a bullet.

Hmm. Were there spells out there that could? Probably. It was physical damage, so those that held against that may hold up.

His silence seemed to appease the gunman enough to get him to back off—or maybe it was the sirens finally at the building. Good. It would take a couple minutes for them to set up a perimeter, then he would act.

Stephen's chance came soon enough. The gunmen were split now with only two in the main foyer, and one of the two was wandering to the far end of the room to peek down the halls. Great.

He moved the security guard's hand to his wounded shoulder. "Press as hard as you can," he muttered. When the man did so, Stephen slipped his sling ring out of his pocket.

The first gunman was out in a blink. With one gesture Stephen tore the gun from the man's hands, scattering it to the other side of the bank. In the next the man fell through a portal that deposited him on the stairs of the building outside with barely a second to shout.

Still, his buddy heard the brief commotion, which worked perfectly for Stephen. He came from around the corner at a quick walk. "Jerry?"

That gunman suffered the same fate as Jerry.

The bank employees and clients were staring at him now, naturally. With the other two robbers in the back room, Stephen felt it was safe enough for him to stand without anyone else getting hurt.

"Stay there," he told the other hostages. "I'll be right back." He strolled his way into the back where the other two robbers were.

They weren't even facing him when he approached. Disarming them and placing a portal under them almost felt like cheating. So it wasn't even two minutes later that Stephen was back in the front of the building. "All four of them have been deposited outside," he said to the person that looked like she was a manager. "Call the authorities and let them know it's only civilians within the building now, and that we need an ambulance."

At her startled nod, he went back to the wounded security guard to see how he was holding up. "Medics will be here soon," he told him. "You'll be just fine."

"Thank—thank you."

"Don't mention it."

As he heard the front doors open a few minutes later, Stephen realized that he probably couldn't just slip away as he would have preferred to after giving the paramedics a summary. The civilians would definitely point his way, which meant he'd have to talk to the police.

Ugh. There went the rest of his day.

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: hostage for macguffin #mcu #stephen strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #prompt fill

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starberrywander · 9 months

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(CW: Rant. Ramble. Long post. Frustration. Anti-capitalism.)

I was on an alt account so I don't have the post but I saw this post by a pro-capitalism blog that really bugged me and I wanna talk about it. I'm paraphrasing here so bear with me.

They were responding to a tweet (I think) where someone said something to the effect of, "why can't we have guaranteed housing and food (or maybe it was healthcare)?" And basically they were just being generally frustrated with capitalism which, mood.

Anyway this capitalism enjoyer responded basically, "We can't have free things because that means no one is getting paid for it and that's just slavery."

And I mean, bro. Two things. One; when people suggest this they are usually saying that they want these services to be funded with tax money, their tax money (Not that you can choose where only your tax money goes. Every choice of tax spending has to include everyone's money because, idk, someone decided that's how it was supposed to work I guess.). The people providing these services wouldn't be "slaves" any more than teachers are "slaves." They would be government employees and they would be paid with tax money. It's "free" not in the sense that no one is paying for it but in the sense that its not coming out of your pockets. Free in the same way that toll-free roads and public K-12 schools and libraries and parks are free. I mean, its coming out of your paycheck but that was gonna happen anyway because taxes are required. If you are required to pay taxes as your obligatory contribution to society, why is it so absurd to want those taxes to go toward things that are important to you? Toward things that would benefit you? Like, y'know, a guaranteed standard of living? Isn't that the entire purpose of having a society in the first place?

And two; Hypothetically, in a society that functioned differently, guaranteed standard of living would be a form of compensation. Like, money is not the only way to reward contributions. If, hypothetically, we treated the jobs necessary to societal functioning (Construction, food production, public safety & security, education, etc) the way we treat jury duty where you can just be called in to complete a task and contribute, would that be so bad? It would eliminate the need for taxes in many ways. We may even be able to abolish them altogether. And the compensation would be the guarantee to access everything you need to survive. I personally would prefer it that way. Of course this comes with the assumption of a few structural things around it:

This system is voluntary. If you don't want to do these jobs you are not forced to. It is simply a prerequisite for accessing the guaranteed standard of living for yourself and your household. If you choose not to participate you cannot access these services and will have to be self-sufficient, either living in the woods or on a farm (as capitalists often suggest people do if they don't like the system) or survive in a capitalist system like we already have except probably with less regulations and more of the free market that many capitalists want, because there are already systems to account for people's needs. In other words, there is a guaranteed standard of living but if you want to access it you need to contribute your labor to the tasks needed to sustain said standards of living. Otherwise, you just go back to the competitive, profit-driven, capitalist market. That makes both systems fully voluntary and gives people an actual choice (something that realistically doesn't exist in capitalism, despite capitalist claims to the contrary).

It comes with explicit rights and protections such as not being required to work more than a certain amount of hours per week (40, probably), having a consistent work schedule or knowing when you have to work a certain amount ahead of time, not having your access revoked due to circumstances out of your control (such as injury or illness), and the guarantee that household members who cannot work (such as children, the elderly, and the disabled) can access the resources they need through your contributions. And anything else necessary to make sure it isn't abused and that people aren't being treated like slaves (obviously). I mean, aside from the fact that they can leave at any time without punishment.

It comes with a guarantee or goal to access any available automation technology to lighten the workload. This would likely be done either through volunteers manufacturing the technology or through contracts with production companies in the capitalist side of things. Maybe things such as producing extra crops for a few years to give to the company to use for free in exchange for the technology, or volunteering to test and gather data for new automation technologies to give to the company in exchange for keeping the tool when they are done. The exact details would depend on the specific situation, but there would be some method to implement automation. The goal of this, ideally, is to get to a point where the only required job is technological maintenance and being called in is rare, so everyone in society is guaranteed a standard of living with very little contribution needed, giving them more freedom to pursue their passions or spend time with family.

This system provides the basics of living. Any luxuries such as movies, video games, amusement parks, social media access, etc. would still require you to pay for them. You would have to participate in the capitalist economy to access more than basic needs, unless someone in your community was super passionate about, like, creating music and played their pieces for people in their free time. Or something like that.

And yeah, I know this almost certainly has flaws that would need to be worked though. Some that could be addressed simply though people voicing their concerns and problem solving around them, and others that we wouldn't really know about until they happen which is, y'know, normal and expected for any new thing that happens ever. We can just course correct and tweak things to solve problems that arise. Unfortunately people today (Well, maybe always. idk.) are really bad at respectful and constructive conversation so I guarantee if someone does disagree their response will be a slew of condescending insults and mockery rather than anything genuinely constructive or open to mature conversation.

And like I get that capitalists would probably hate these suggestions for various reasons but this sounds like a dream to me. I want to live in that world. I would gladly work 40 hours a week or more for literally $0 just to guarantee that me and my family's needs are met without the stress of budgeting and without having to worry about recessions or theft or debt or anything of that sort. That is all the payment I need.

And I recognize that not everyone is okay with that which is why I am imagining a world where people's precious capitalism remains intact and people have the choice to participate in whichever way is most fulfilling to them. Some people are passionate about their jobs and feel fulfilled by the capitalist system and y'know what good for them. I'm glad they're happy. I don't wanna take that away if I can help it.

But for me its miserable. I feel trapped and depressed and even though you could argue that technically I don't have to participate, "technically" isn't reality or practicality and I want an actual choice. I know not everyone on this site is American but for those who are; isn't this country supposed to be all about freedom? Why do I not even have the freedom to choose what economic system to live in? Why is capitalism being forced on me when I want nothing to do with it? Why can't those of us who are currently unwilling participants in capitalism have the space to do things our way? Why has this system been set up in such a way that the only way to escape the grasp of capitalism is to destroy it?

Because that's the thing, I don't care if capitalism exists as long as its participants are making the choice to stay and they have an alternative option. You do you. There's nothing wrong with liking it. The problem is when it is forced onto other people. That is the only reason I want to destroy it; it will not give us the fucking space to live differently. It does not allow people to live outside of it and when you're trapped by that against your will of-fucking-course you'd want to destroy it. If capitalism would give people the damn space to have other economic systems in peace I would have no problem with its existence. I wouldn't want to destroy it. It would be live and let live. But capitalism is writing its own death sentence by forcing itself onto people who are becoming increasingly fed up with its bullshit every generation.

When the only way to have a choice is to destroy you, sooner or later you will be destroyed. If the only way to be free to live as you like is to overthrow you, sooner or later you will be overthrown. If you keep stepping on people's toes and refuse to stop, sooner or later they will snap and you will get what's coming to you. That's how I feel about capitalism right now. Suffocated. At the mercy of the whims of people I will never know and who will never know me. Sick and tired and ready to lose my shit on this damn system. I feel so helpless and the only way I can feel any semblance of liberation and freedom is by getting as far away from capitalism as possible, which is usually illegal because of course it is and I don't wanna spend my life in a cell being treated like worthless trash.

I don't wanna be lazy, I wanna work hard on my own terms; for and in a community of people I care about. A community where we treat each other like family and support each other. I want to spend my days supporting, producing for, and working with my loved ones. I don't want to spend 40 hours a damn week working for the benefit of someone I will never know to create results I will barely see while me and my loved ones are barely scraping by. Even the system I suggested above isn't ideal, but at least its better than what we got now.

Like, I come from a long line of farmers on both sides of my family and hearing both my dad and my grandparents describe farm life just sounds like a dream to me. Like yeah, you're working basically the whole day but you're doing it for yourself, on your own terms, with the people you love. What could be better than that? I know its not everyone's cup of tea but damn if only I could have that. Farming isn't even like that anymore in many cases. You can't just dedicate your life to surviving off the land and all your own food because you have to pay fucking taxes just to be allowed use the land and probably deal with bs regulations depending on where you are. Which means you are going to have to worry about making not just enough to sustain yourself but enough to make a profit so you can pay the bills that you can't get out of even if you aren't participating in the damn society.

And yeah, its doable. I intend to live as close to that life as possible as soon as possible. But damn its irritating as hell and it feels like bullshit. Because capitalism has to stick its grubby little fingers into everyone's business and I can't just live in peace.

I did not consent to this. I am not okay with this. I want my freedom. REAL freedom. And if you think I'm being whiny and dramatic, too bad. I have a right to express my opinion and my feelings and these are my feelings. Yes, I can technically live a decent life and I can find ways to meet all of my needs and I can get by but that's not the issue. But the issue is not whether or not I can survive like this or be physically okay under capitalism, because I very much can and I am aware of this. The problem is whether or not I am okay with being subjected to this system. Which I am not. I can survive, yes, but I cannot get any fulfillment or joy from this life. Maybe its something about how I was raised or maybe its in my nature, but regardless I am not built for this type of life. I am strong. I am tough. I am hardworking. But I am also miserable. It feels like this is eating away at me and no amount of optimism or material gain can ever change that. I am not okay with this. That is the problem.

There is no one size fits all solution and this size certainly doesn't fit me. Its so damn inflexible and demanding. We need choices, choices that capitalism does not offer. I hate it here. No amount of force, no amount of advice demands to "work harder" or "suck it up," and no amount of willpower and optimism will ever change that.

#capitalism #anti capitalism #socialism #communism #anti imperialism #rant #universal healthcare #anarchism

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