Behind Every Fanfic Update, There Is A Writer Being Turned Into THIS As They Await Your Reactions

Behind every fanfic update, there is a writer being turned into THIS as they await your reactions

lemme tell you i am so fucking tired of angsty vampires. its enough. 

give me a newly-turned twenty-something vampire who hears about their newfound immortality and is like “thank god,” then proceeds to invest in some promising startups and fucks off to take a nap for two decades

give me a vampire thats only the tiniest bit phased at the blood diet because “eh, i tried paleo a while back and it was just as weird”

give me a vampire with self image issues who never has to avoid mirrors again because - bingo - no reflection

give me a genderqueer vampire who finally has an answer when someone asks their gender. “are you a boy or a girl?” “i am a vampire.” “but whats in your pants?” “fangs.” 

best of all, give me a vampire chick who is so stoked about being nocturnal because she’s never been able to walk alone after dark before and it’s nice to be able to walk her friends home and know theyre all safe with her

“hello,” the dark lord said, “i need a library card.”

“everyone needs a library card,” the librarian said brightly, sliding a form across the desk. “fill this out.”

the dark lord produced her own elaborated plumed quill from the depths of her robes and scrawled her name in handwriting that was completely illegible but seemed to whisper the secrets of the dark from the blinding white page. “yes, but i need mine in order to take over the tri-kingdom area.”

the librarian’s polite smile barely faltered. “funny, the last dark lord to try that didn’t bother with a card.”

“yes, and do you see that fool currently ruling our kingdom? no. of course not. utterly ridiculous, to attempt to take over any size country without a library card, much less an intermediate-sized one like this.” she accepted the thin plastic card with a gracious flourish of her gloved hand.

the librarian, adding the new card’s number to the database, privately agreed, but chose not to say anything.

the librarian balanced the pile of pulled books under one elbow and held the list of call numbers in their hand for easy consultation. “intermediate spell casting for grades three and four,” they murmured, running fingers along the peeling spines until they found it. “willing to bet that’s sorrel’s request.”

they fit the large, paperbound book under their elbow and moved on, checking the list again. “magical creatures encyclopedia, L through M. that’s jackaby trying to finish the entire set by midsummer.” they would get that one last to carry it around the shortest amount of time.

“next — the complete guide to raising the dead.” they paused in front of the row of shelves with the right call numbers. they could guess the requester of that one too, but knew better than to say it out loud.

the return slot thunked loudly as it swung open and closed, having swallowed the returned books with a wet gulp.

“good morning,” the dark lord said pleasantly as she looked up from sliding her books in — or as pleasantly as “good morning” could sound when it was uttered by a voice that sounded like gravel being chewed to pieces by the jaws of a large monster.

“it is, very,” the librarian said crisply, conjuring a clean handkerchief for the still-slobbering return slot.

the mouth just visible under the dark lord’s enormous cloak hood curved into a scythe’s blade smile, but she said nothing else.

“did you enjoy your books?” the librarian asked, since she wasn’t moving and there were no other people waiting (most likely because of the dark lord standing there).

the hood nodded up and down. “extremely. especially the taped lecture by doctor dramidius ardorius of the dark arts institute.”

“well, we have many more taped lectures. i especially recommend the one on the healing powers of tea.” they tilted their head in a now get out sign. the poor steam-powered self-checkout contraption would get overheated if people were too scared to check out at the front desk.

they didn’t really expect the dark lord to take the recommendation seriously, but the next day they noticed the cloaked, hooded specter glide out the door with the taped lecture on magic-infused herbal teas tucked between a CD of dark chants and a step-by-step art book on drawing occult symbols.

“you give good recommendations,” the dark lord said with a shrug when the librarian raised their eyes from the front desk’s computer to the shadows of her hood.

the librarian wasn’t sure what to say. “you seem to take up quite a lot of my time.”

“i’m only a simple library patron,” the dark lord replied in a saintly voice that resembled a dragon coughing up a partially digested house. “do you enjoy mermaid song?”

“yes. you can find the library’s collection in the CD section over there.” they looked pointedly back down at the computer.

“i hear there’s a concert on the shore tomorrow evening.”

“perhaps we’ll get a recording of it.”

the dark lord continued taking out books on various unsavory topics. the librarian continued suggesting books on healing, positive thinking, and community service. the dark lord seemed more amused with each visit. her smile was almost charming, when you got past the long, sharp teeth.

the librarian was trying to go about their usual morning ritual of pulling books that had been requested the night before, but the dark lord wouldn’t stop making faces at them from behind gaps in the shelves. she seemed to find it hilarious. the librarian hadn’t decided yet if they were amused or annoyed.

“ooh, look at this,” the dark lord said, pulling a sturdy but beaten up board book featuring a werewolf mid-transformation on the cover from the shelf. “this was my favorite when i was just a little menace.”

“somehow i’m not surprised.”

the dark lord tucked the book into the ridiculous basket made of a large skull that floated alongside her. “didn’t you have a favorite picture book when you were little?”

“Barker the Sentient Book End,” the librarian said promptly. “i screamed for it every night until someone read it to me, long after i’d already memorized each page.”

the dark lord cooed, sounding like a cross between an owl and something eating an owl. “adorable. i knew you had a little monster in you somewhere.”

the librarian crossly debated denying being a monster at all or pointing out they had actual kraken blood in them.

they should have guessed how close the dark lord was from how good her mood was, but it wasn’t until they arrived at work on monday that the librarian heard the news.

“the newest dark lord managed to overthrow the faeyrie monarchy last night. something about combining traditional herbal spells with a newfangled mental magic based on the power of willful thinking… or something. the news reporter mentioned the use of mermaid song in a mild kind of mind control, i think? i wasn’t listening. the good news is, our budget stays in place.”

the librarian contemplated hurling the can of bookmarks across the room, but concluded that it would be both unprofessional and unsatisfying. they settled for aggressively stamping returned, only slightly saliva-covered books with red ink.

the phone clicked loudly. “public library, how can i help you?”

“by taking my offer,” the dark lord said, slightly hesitant voice like a rock slide that wasn’t sure it was ready to slide. “the royal library in the capital needs a new head librarian.”

“why’s that?” the librarian spun in their new swivel chair, tangling the phone cord while they were at it, thinking they wouldn’t want to leave so soon after getting it.

there was a cough like the ocean spitting out a new island. “erm, hmm, last one got… eaten. tragic. these things happen when you’re very, very small, you know.”

“so i’ve heard.” the librarian stretched the phone cord and watched it bounce back. “well, i’m happy where i am.”

“well.” her voice was more disappointed than they’d expected. “it’s a very nice library, you know. large selection of mermaid song in the CD section.”

“the royal library is part of our system. i can request any materials from there that i want to be delivered here.”

a pause. the dark lord had not considered this. “well, maybe i’ll take the royal library out of the system.”

“you wouldn’t dare disrupt the workings of our very intricate library system set up at the dawn of time.”

“maybe i would!”

“no.”

“fine. i wouldn’t.”

the librarian swiveled some more, wrapping the cord around with them until it ran out of give and spun them in the other direction. “would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”

“yes,” the dark lord said, voice too surprised to resemble anything in particular. “i can travel down meet you tomorrow morning.”

“don’t you have things to do?”

they could sense the shrug from the other end of the line. “i’ll move the capital to your town. i can do that, you know. i’m the supreme ruler of the tri-kingdom area.”

“yes,” the librarian agreed, un-spinning to return the phone to its cradle. “just don’t forget who gave you the library card.”

Okay okay okay. So I’ve seen Star Trek: First Contact about a hundred times and I can’t believe I never noticed this.

So first contact with the Vulcans happens, right? The Vulcan ship lands…

Ooh look an alien. Pointy ears!

He offers what we as Star Trek fans recognize as the traditional Vulcan greeting.

Zefram Cochrane tries to copy…

Haha he can’t do it.

So he of course offers what he knows to be a traditional greeting, namely a handshake.

And ah yes, what a wonderful moment. Two cultures are exchanging greetings, learning about each other. It’s awesome.

Until you remember that Vulcans kiss with their hands.

So basically, this Vulcan offered a nice polite “how do you do” and Zefram Cochrane offered smoochies.

I really hope this came up in conversation later.

Reenactor throws a spear at a drone

Sometimes i think about the idea of Common as a language in fantasy settings.

On the one hand, it’s a nice convenient narrative device that doesn’t necessarily need to be explored, but if you do take a moment to think about where it came from or what it might look like, you find that there’s really only 2 possible origins.

In settings where humans speak common and only Common, while every other race has its own language and also speaks Common, the implication is rather clear: at some point in the setting’s history, humans did the imperialism thing, and while their empire has crumbled, the only reason everyone speaks Human is that way back when, they had to, and since everyone speaks it, the humans rebranded their language as Common and painted themselves as the default race in a not-so-subtle parallel of real-world whiteness.

In settings where Human and Common are separate languages, though (and I haven’t seen nearly as many of these as I’d like), Common would have developed communally between at least three or four races who needed to communicate all together. With only two races trying to communicate, no one would need to learn more than one new language, but if, say, a marketplace became a trading hub for humans, dwarves, orcs, and elves, then either any given trader would need to learn three new languages to be sure that they could talk to every potential customer, OR a pidgin could spring up around that marketplace that eventually spreads as the traders travel the world.

Drop your concept of Common meaning “english, but in middle earth” for a moment and imagine a language where everyone uses human words for produce, farming, and carpentry; dwarven words for gemstones, masonry, and construction; elven words for textiles, magic, and music; and orcish words for smithing weaponry/armor, and livestock. Imagine that it’s all tied together with a mishmash of grammatical structures where some words conjugate and others don’t, some adjectives go before the noun and some go after, and plurals and tenses vary wildly based on what you’re talking about.

Now try to tell me that’s not infinitely more interesting.