Tired Creature.

Call me a contestant on Hell's Kitchen that is being yelled at by Gordon Ramsay because I'm cooking up some Shit.

Making a fic about this, but to get to the existential horror we are going to have to go through some regular horror first.

Lots of people depict ascension to godhood in cult of the lamb as a horrifyingly dehumanizing thing. There are some cases where the lamb completely loses themselves or even becomes something more akin to a force of nature rather than a person. This is often foiled very well with Narinder learning how to be a person and enjoy the world around him. It results in the potential for a very interesting plot where the lamb is doomed by the narrative while Narinder can be saved by it. It does beg the question however:

What if they say no? What if they decide the story doesn't get to end that way? What if they break divinity over their knee and pull their still-beating happy ending from the open chest of the narrative? What if they never stop fighting for that life they never got to have, even if it is against the very thing that saved and enabled it? A narrative that seeks to doom them against a lamb too willful and stubborn to let that happen.

It's not something I've experienced much myself, and I am hardly a historical scholar, but I can imagine how genocide or oppression can hollow out a culture and leave the survivors with only the worst parts of it. How they only remember the way their people would run and fight and hide. How they only remember the jackboots in the streets, the insults hurled their way and the friends left to die. How no one remembers the way they celebrate because they haven't done so in so long. How no one remembers their stories because the ones who told them are dead and their books burned. How cruelty strips everything away and much of what is left must be cruel in kind.

But they still sing. They still dance. And they do so because joy is stronger than those who would see it stamped out. Because they are still here, and no amount of hate can change that.

Thinking about lambs, whose culture was joyous and loud and vibrant. Lambs who had a dance for everything and a song to match. Lambs whose caravans could be heard marching melodies across the planes. Lambs for who even a combat was done in step to a waltz.

Thinking about The Lamb, who only knows the mourning songs. The Lamb, who only remembers the dances that require a blade in their hands. The Lamb who whispers sad melodies as they walk hostile lands. The Lamb whose only connection to their lost people is in the way they would spill blood.

The Lamb who sings and dances anyway, because while everything else may be gone, they still have this.

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I did it again, but the cat this time! For whatever reason, Narinder is always harder for me to draw. I suppose I'll just chalk it up to him being a bastard.

Artists are: @stychu-stych , @theshepherdshound , @bamsara , @aveloka-draws and @ane-doodles .

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons - Fandom, Fantasy - Fandom Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Summary:

Travelers may often find themselves in strange places, and places may often find themselves with strange travelers. This story is the latter.

Adventuring duo that's an artificer and their little wizard child whose first instinct when encountering a problem is to set it on fire and any implication that this is not the correct solution is taken as a challenge.

Shout out to this post for being labeled as mature? Why you may ask? No idea. Maybe Tumblr just doesn't like him.

I did it again, but the cat this time! For whatever reason, Narinder is always harder for me to draw. I suppose I'll just chalk it up to him being a bastard.

Artists are: @stychu-stych , @theshepherdshound , @bamsara , @aveloka-draws and @ane-doodles .

Well, you know what I think!? No??? Me neither.

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons - Fandom, Fantasy - Fandom Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Summary:

Travelers may often find themselves in strange places, and places may often find themselves with strange travelers. This story is the latter.

#the answer I got is more detailed than I could ever hope #good writing

I found your red star fic and binged the entire thing over the course of, like, a week and loved every second of it. I read on with abject horror as Shera and Messar quickly became my favorite characters, despite knowing exactly how their tail would have to end. Their death was utterly heartbreaking by the way. You made me cry at work, so thanks for that.

Do you have any lore or character bits about the twins you want to share and, dare I ask, will they show up again later in the fic?

Haha, sorry I made you cry at work! If it’s any consolation, I cried a teeny bit writing their deaths. :’)

I do have a bit of twin lore stashed away! Here it is:

Shera and Mesar are nicknames. Their full names, only really used by their parents when they were in trouble, were Sheratan and Mesarthim.

They, like Hamal, loved to sing. The family could harmonize pretty well when they were together. Both of them wanted to make sure Hamal learned the songs that were passed down to them from their parents, as it was an important aspect of their culture in the old days.

Both of the twins gave up on the idea of romance early on in life, since they knew they would be always on the run and needed to prioritize Hamal. That being said, both of them were gay. Shera was exclusively attracted to other women and Mesar to other men. Neither ever got to act on this, however.

Shera prayed to The One Who Waits every single night, hoping her devotion would help Hamal when the time came.

Mesar liked to dance. Shera did not. Mesar didn’t let this stop him from forcing her into it every so often lol.

As one might imagine, some days were rougher than others. Shera often took refuge in meditation, whereas Mesar preferred walks through the wilderness. Knowing their fates wasn’t always easy, but they both did their best to cope with it without worrying Hamal.

Both had chores they preferred doing. Shera enjoyed foraging whereas Mesar liked to mend clothes. They divided up work based on who liked doing what, and this prevented a lot of fighting.

There were, however, still siblings and very much children themselves at points. When they did fight, the usual go-to strategy would be to sit on opposite sides of the camp and ignore each other while they cooled off. This also ended up working pretty well as it gave both of them a chance to think about the others’ perspective before finding a solution together.

Shera instinctively knew the exact moment Mesar died. She “felt” it, in a sense, and decided then to make sure her final stand mattered to some degree.

As for if we’ll see them again…the wedding is scheduled for the Blood Moon in hopes they’ll visit. Perhaps we’ll see them again! ;)

They’ll also eventually pop up in the Cowboy AU I’n writing. In that universe they’re both doing well, living their best lives!

Thanks so much for loving these two. I didn’t expect to get so attached to them when I first started this fanfic series, and I’m glad others like them as much as I do! <3