#kranchmas

[waveridden]

delightful discovery of the day: the kranchmas tag on ao3 has been canonized into “lofi server’s kranchmas event” that’s right baby kranchmas is blao3 canon

[belindasays]

SO MUCH LEFT TO RECOVER

15k words // M // blaseball

a fic about allan kranch, former host of the daily blaseball block on wohw (“where toledo watches splorts”)

written for #kranchmas

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33661330

[waveridden]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The stadium intercom flips on, and a voice booms out, “Rogue Umpire incinerated Hiroto Cerna!”

Allan waits. Per knows there’s a next part to this sentence. Someone will be a replacement. There's always a replacement. But nobody is moving.

(Allan Kranch joins the Boston Flowers. It's less exciting than it sounds. 4.2k, cw for incineration. Merry Kranchmas!)

[waveridden]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

500 words about Cannonball, Kranch, and a conversation over breakfast.

[waveridden]

u did chef kranch now u gotta do ⭐️ for syrup kranch or he’ll feel left out

AHSKLDHF here is god's honest truth about syrup kranch. i used to do flash fiction stuff way more than i do now, and i decided it would be fun to do it again, the night before kranchmas. so i used a random word generator and clicked it until i landed on "bottle of honey," and decided i would rather do something with syrup bc the flowers and mechs both already have a bee person.

and then i spent. fifteen? twenty? minutes writing, and sort of hashing out the concept as i went. (we make a lot of jokes but "guy who got turned into syrup because the maple trees liked him" is like...... idk i really like the idea ashdklfhs unironically i would revisit syrup kranch) and then once i had a draft i checked the word count and it was exactly 500 and i was like. okay! no editing. this is perfect. and that's the story of syrup kranch

[waveridden]

🌟!

is anyone else feeling................... kranchy

i had a weirdly hard time coming up with an idea for a kranch backstory but of all things i was sitting with my family watching the friends reunion (i have never seen friends) and thinking about 1) child actors 2) the idea of being like. washed up. the idea of looking back at your life and thinking the best of it is over.

i pulled a lot of inspiration from the movie chef with jon favreau, where jon favreau is the titular chef who has a meltdown at his restaurant because of a negative review and ends up buying a food truck and going viral and figuring his life out. (that movie rocks, by the way, jon favreau actually trained to cook for it and all the food looks INcredible.) and i was just thinking about like. quieter explosions. not with a bang but with a whimper. losing everything and nobody bats an eye because that's just what the restaurant industry does.

and that's where ollanta came from! the idea of an everyday tragedy, in a very niche realm of the world. i would love to go back to per one day, maybe after i've whittled down some of my giant fuckin' list of things to write. as you might glean from the other kranchmas fics, we do have kranch/smithy as an extant ship, and i have a weird smithy take that i'd love to do one day

[shadowofmoths]

merry kranchmas !! here’s my allan kranch (also posted to ao3 (right here!)) shoutout to lofi who took a goofy character joke and made it into some fantastic kranch content! check out the collection on ao3 for all the kranches you could ever want :)

[id: a drawing of Allan Kranch, depicted as a cowboy with pale skin and long dark hair in a loose, low bun. He is wearing an orange-tan cowboy hat on his head, and a grey domino mask on his face. He smiles widely and proudly, with one hand pushing up the brim of his hat. He is wearing a red bandanna around his neck, a warm brown fringed vest with purple accents, a purple button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his upper arms, and grey pants. His free hand is clenched in a fist, and overlaps a dark tan banner that reads "Wanted: Allan Kranch" in old Western calligraphy. Behind Kranch are sage-green cacti, with bright pink flowers growing out of them. His face and skin are shaded dramatically in shades of light purple.]

[leonstamatis]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Most days, Allan comes to see them. It’s a surprise the first time. And the second, and the third, and the fourth. It’s a surprise to turn around to find him standing in the doorway with his ring still hanging broken on the chain, and it’s a surprise every time the smithy tries and fails to fix it.

And then, sometime around the seventh time – or maybe it’s the eighth, or the twelfth, or the twentieth – it stops being surprising. It’s normal, or at least unremarkable, for Allan to come and sit on the floor with his back against the smithy’s workbench, water seeping into the hardwood.

(An introduction to Allan Kranch and the Smithy. Part of the Kranchmas event!)