#<- The true heroes of this entry

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

October 1st

Happy spooky season (for real this time)! 🎃

Let’s stab some vampires!

4 a. m.—Just as we were about to leave the house, an urgent message was brought to me from Renfield to know if I would see him at once, as he had something of the utmost importance to say to me.

It’s the Mina Effect. No one can resist her Cool Secretarial Skills and Knowledge of the Train Schedule.

"Take me with you, friend John," said the Professor. "His case in your diary interest me much, and it had bearing, too, now and again on our case. I should much like to see him, and especial when his mind is disturbed."

"May I come also?" asked Lord Godalming.

"Me too?" said Quincey Morris. "May I come?" said Harker. I nodded, and we all went down the passage together.

GUYS this is not a picnic

"I appeal to your friends," he said, "they will, perhaps, not mind sitting in judgment on my case. By the way, you have not introduced me."

Renfield I love you

"Lord Godalming, I had the honour of seconding your father at the Windham; I grieve to know, by your holding the title, that he is no more. He was a man loved and honoured by all who knew him; and in his youth was, I have heard, the inventor of a burnt rum punch, much patronised on Derby night. Mr. Morris, you should be proud of your great state. Its reception into the Union was a precedent which may have far-reaching effects hereafter, when the Pole and the Tropics may hold alliance to the Stars and Stripes. The power of Treaty may yet prove a vast engine of enlargement, when the Monroe doctrine takes its true place as a political fable. What shall any man say of his pleasure at meeting Van Helsing? Sir, I make no apology for dropping all forms of conventional prefix. When an individual has revolutionised therapeutics by his discovery of the continuous evolution of brain-matter, conventional forms are unfitting, since they would seem to limit him to one of a class. You, gentlemen, who by nationality, by heredity, or by the possession of natural gifts, are fitted to hold your respective places in the moving world, I take to witness that I am as sane as at least the majority of men who are in full possession of their liberties. And I am sure that you, Dr. Seward, humanitarian and medico-jurist as well as scientist, will deem it a moral duty to deal with me as one to be considered as under exceptional circumstances." He made this last appeal with a courtly air of conviction which was not without its own charm.

I am, indeed, charmed

Van Helsing was gazing at him with a look of utmost intensity, his bushy eyebrows almost meeting with the fixed concentration of his look. He said to Renfield in a tone which did not surprise me at the time, but only when I thought of it afterwards—for it was as of one addressing an equal:—

YES!!!!! VICTORY!!!!!

"Let me entreat you, Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you, to let me out of this house at once. Send me away how you will and where you will; send keepers with me with whips and chains; let them take me in a strait-waistcoat, manacled and leg-ironed, even to a gaol; but let me go out of this. You don't know what you do by keeping me here. I am speaking from the depths of my heart—of my very soul. You don't know whom you wrong, or how; and I may not tell. Woe is me! I may not tell. By all you hold sacred—by all you hold dear—by your love that is lost—by your hope that lives—for the sake of the Almighty, take me out of this and save my soul from guilt! Can't you hear me, man? Can't you understand? Will you never learn? Don't you know that I am sane and earnest now; that I am no lunatic in a mad fit, but a sane man fighting for his soul? Oh, hear me! hear me! Let me go! let me go! let me go!"

OH MY GOD YES he truly is Van Helsing’s equal!!! Not only does he suffer from I Cannot Tell You Shit Syndrome, he also uses what I will now officially refer to as the Dracula Loop™ to evoke his own imprisonment!!!

"You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do me the justice to bear in mind, later on, that I did what I could to convince you to-night."

Well that sounds ominous. Hopefully no one immediately gets mentioned in a way that strongly parallels a character we’ve just lost in atrocious circumstances —

I went with the party to the search with an easy mind, for I think I never saw Mina so absolutely strong and well.

[Demonic screeches]

"You know this place, Jonathan. You have copied maps of it, and you know it at least more than we do. Which is the way to the chapel?" I had an idea of its direction, though on my former visit I had not been able to get admission to it; so I led the way, and after a few wrong turnings found myself opposite a low, arched oaken door, ribbed with iron bands. "This is the spot," said the Professor as he turned his lamp on a small map of the house, copied from the file of my original correspondence regarding the purchase.

Now is not the time to be facetious Abraham

The whole place was becoming alive with rats.

For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lord Godalming, who was seemingly prepared for such an emergency. Rushing over to the great iron-bound oaken door, which Dr. Seward had described from the outside, and which I had seen myself, he turned the key in the lock, drew the huge bolts, and swung the door open. Then, taking his little silver whistle from his pocket, he blew a low, shrill call. It was answered from behind Dr. Seward's house by the yelping of dogs, and after about a minute three terriers came dashing round the corner of the house.

As someone who grew up with a Yorkshire Terrier, this makes me indescribably happy. Good boys 🖤🩶🧡💛

The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor creature who was screaming away in one of the distant wards, and a low, moaning sound from Renfield's room. The poor wretch was doubtless torturing himself, after the manner of the insane, with needless thoughts of pain.

I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep, breathing so softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it. She looks paler than usual.

I have no words.

"Don't you know me?" I asked. His answer was not reassuring: "I know you well enough; you are the old fool Van Helsing. I wish you would take yourself and your idiotic brain theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed Dutchmen!"

Renfield on the other hand has many words.

"Mrs. Harker is better out of it. Things are quite bad enough for us, all men of the world, and who have been in many tight places in our time; but it is no place for a woman, and if she had remained in touch with the affair, it would in time infallibly have wrecked her."

[Slams head on desk]

If then the Count meant to scatter these ghastly refuges of his over London, these places were chosen as the first of delivery, so that later he might distribute more fully. The systematic manner in which this was done made me think that he could not mean to confine himself to two sides of London. He was now fixed on the far east of the northern shore, on the east of the southern shore, and on the south. The north and west were surely never meant to be left out of his diabolical scheme—let alone the City itself and the very heart of fashionable London in the south-west and west.

JONATHAN HOW CAN YOU BE SO SMART YET SO DUMB

"To hell with you and your souls!" he shouted. "Why do you plague me about souls? Haven't I got enough to worry, and pain, and distract me already, without thinking of souls!"

🥺

Will not mention "drinking."

Fears the thought of being burdened with the "soul" of anything.

Has no dread of wanting "life" in the future.

Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though he dreads being haunted by their souls.

Logically all these things point one way! he has assurance of some kind that he will acquire some higher life. He dreads the consequence—the burden of a soul. Then it is a human life he looks to!

And the assurance—?

Merciful God! the Count has been to him, and there is some new scheme of terror afoot!

AN UNEXPECTED BREAKTHROUGH

[Renfield] had got a scrap of paper and was folding it into a note-book.

Oh gods are we going to hear from Renfield himself??? Please say yes

The purchaser is a foreign nobleman, Count de Ville,

Count de Ville

Outside of the obvious pun I am being French-baited again… This novel truly is a Professor Layton game.

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[save-the-villainous-cat]

So! I know you did inexperienced villain with a hero that's been there for a long time but what if it was the opposite? The hero is new (could possibly be thrown a lot of work without knowledge on how to do them, pretty naive and just wanted to save everyone) and they found the villain but they're nervous and pretty awkward. You're singlehandedly saving the heroxvillain prompt tumblr and I've been reading every single one godbless

-I,A

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” The villain cocked their head and observed the hero calmly. They didn’t have their suit on, had barely anything on and yet, the hero was terrified of that seemingly normal person staring at them.

“I…sorry, this must be the wrong address,” the hero muttered. It shouldn’t have been that terrifying — after all, the villain didn’t have any weapons (the hero knew of) on them and altogether, they seemed to be getting ready for bed.

But, hell, the things the villain was able to do were beyond horrifying. The hero had done their research, had educated themselves on everything the data system had to offer. No matter how many times they updated the system, every time they read the same thing.

Weaknesses: Unknown.

It wasn’t necessarily the violence. It was the intimidation and the blackmail. It was their choice of words and how they looked at people. The villain was so incredibly careful with everything they did, it even surprised the hero how they’d come this far.

“No, you have the right address,” the villain said. The hero felt quite stupid where they stood in the living room. The window was still open from their rough entry and they considered just jumping out of it. That would have probably been the first smart decision of theirs today. “You’re that newbie.”

“I—” Their face started to heat up. The villain knew about them? The hero had made one public appearance and that had been a month ago. One. One.

“Wow. You’re impressive, detective.” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and smiled. They had dimples. “How many graveyard shifts did you work through to figure this out?”

“I…I’m arresting you.”

“Technically, you can’t arrest me and heroes aren’t supposed to say that.” The villain shook their head and tutted. “You could get into big legal trouble for that.”

The hero’s eyes widened. That sounded plausible but they couldn’t remember if it was true. They couldn’t tell if the villain was lying to them or not.

“Crap,” the hero whispered. They looked down at the ground just for a split second and then, suddenly, the villain pushed them into their armchair and got on top. Somehow, they were pressing a knife against the hero’s ribcage.

“Nononono— wait, please—” the hero begged, putting their hands on the villain’s sturdy shoulders to push them away. It didn’t really change anything, though.

Their heartbeat skyrocketed and they started to panic.

They felt so stupid. Of course they hadn’t called for backup. Of course they hadn’t told anyone about their current location. Of course they were totally gonna die on this chair.

“Mmm,” the villain hummed, satisfied by the hero’s reactions. “How did you find me?”

“Ahh— analysing your routes and mapping and please don’t kill me—” The villain chuckled softly but the hero didn’t feel any more comfortable. They were so close that the hero didn’t even dare to let out a breath.

Their enemy’s eyes were on them, studying them relentlessly. The hero could feel the warmth of their skin under their fingertips, right there where they touched the villain’s bare shoulders.

“Gosh, you’re adorable.” The villain let out an honest laugh and leaned in. They seemed to be very invested in this. “Did you put up any cameras?”

“…no, I reckoned you’d find them—”

“You’re damn right about that. How’d you do it, then?” They moved the knife and finally, the hero allowed themselves to breathe again. The villain let the knife disappear and the hero prayed it wouldn’t show up between their ribs next.

“I asked for the footage from stores or cafés…and I, uh, sometimes I spent a few hours on rooftops.”

“Mmm. Dedicated. I like that. What did you do then?” the villain asked. Their hand was still on the hero’s shoulder and their other one on the armrest of the chair. It was quite impossible to break free, especially with the villain being merciful enough to put away the knife.

The hero didn’t want to risk anything.

Besides, the hero was clearly no match for them.

“I documented everything. And then I took a map of the city and started to draw your routes…I considered the sewer system, too. I got twenty-eight different locations where you come from and disappear to regularly.”

“Why’d you choose this one?”

“There’s a supermarket across the street. I figured you wouldn’t have much time for grocery shopping. So, after a fight or something you could still get some food.”

“Is that so?” The villain’s mouth curled into a smile again. “You’re actually wrong about that but the rest is thoroughly impressive. I guess you’re very lucky. Good job.”

“Oh, I—”

“I hope the agency gives you a promotion,” they said. With their hand, they pushed loose strands of their own hair out of their eyes. “And I’m sorry we have to meet under…these conditions.”

They looked down at their own half-naked body and the hero followed their gaze. Which they regretted quickly. Their entire head must’ve been red.

“Listen, I really don’t want any trouble, well, I mean I am obviously here to catch villains, but technically you’re not…you’re technically not at work right now...right?” The villain grinned again, showing their dimples once anew.

“Are you on patrol, yet?”

“…in two months,” the hero said.

“Two months? C’mon, I can’t wait that long. How can I contact you?”

The hero blinked. Their mouth was dry. “What?”

“I can leave you a note at the library’s front desk.” They leaned in, tickling the hero’s neck with their breath. The hero’s heartbeat spiked. “Does that sound good?”

“Oh— sure?”

“Great!” The villain took the hero’s hand and pulled them out of the chair. They bumped against each other clumsily and the hero felt, once again, incredibly stupid. “Oh, give this to your boss, will you?”

They gave them the knife they had threatened the hero with. They led them towards the door and pushed them gently into the hallway.

“Wait, before I throw you out completely—” their gaze darkened only a little “—don’t put your nose into any villain’s business like that ever again. Especially when you do not have the experience yet. Got it?”

The hero looked at the knife in their hands and then at the villain.

They nodded. The villain winked.

And then the door closed.

At least they didn’t have to climb out of the window.

[felassan]

Hayes Madsen for Inverse - Game Changers: 'Corinne Busche Is the Ruler of RPGs, Conqueror of Haters'

The director of Dragon Age brings her personal journey to life in her games with a rich, messy tapestry of love, life, and romance.

[source]

"If there’s a single Dragon Age character that ever made their way to Super Smash Bros, it should be the lovable dwarf Varric Tethras – at least that’s what Dragon Age: The Veilguard director Corinne Busche thinks. “Can you imagine, in a game like Smash Bros, seeing him whip around the battlefield,” Busche tells Inverse, “You could smash someone back off the ledge by giving Bianca a good old toss, and don’t worry, it’ll ricochet, he’ll catch it. It writes itself.” Varric, always with his beloved crossbow Bianca, has been something of a poster dwarf for the franchise — a constant in a series that drastically changes between each entry. But Varric himself is also a perfect representation of Dragon Age at large. An emotionally complex character, Varric openly deals with deep trauma, but can still manage to be whimsical and uplifting. That holistic sense of character is a big part of what’s made Dragon Age so successful, and lasting. Its influence is clear to see, especially in the 2023 Game of the Year, Baldur’s Gate 3 – which heavily borrows from the world and party member design of Dragon Age games. It’s a connection that’s been pointed out by countless fans and critics — but what’s fascinating is how Baldur’s Gate 3 and Veilguard feel like they’re advancing different aspects of Dragon Age’s identity. “It’s not lost on me, and it’s not lost on the team, how important these games are in people’s lives,” Busche says, “Coming into this game, that’s a tremendous feeling of accountability and of needing to be true and authentic to what these games mean to people.” When it comes to authenticity in games, plenty of directors and developers talk the talk, but Busche is the rare game maker who delivers. From her time with The Sims to Dragon Age, Busche has always brought a deep sense of humanity to the game, putting characters first and never shying away from nuance or complexity in identity, relationships, and existential crises. It’s what makes Busche a leader in the industry, and why BioWare tried so hard to carry on the Dragon Age series’ legacy with Veilguard. But Busche isn’t finished yet. She’s come a long way in the industry and has wisdom to impart — and more projects to come."

"Varric himself is also a perfect representation of Dragon Age at large. An emotionally complex character, Varric openly deals with deep trauma, but can still manage to be whimsical and uplifting"

"The Days Before Fantasy Like many developers, Busche got her start from humble beginnings, working on a series that’s a far cry from a fantasy epic — Tiger Woods PGA Tour. In fact, Busche hadn’t planned on working video games at all, but using her digital animation degree she landed work on Tiger Woods as an environmental artist, and the desire to keep making games stuck like glue. But her love of RPGs started long before that, with some deep-cut classics like Heroes of Might and Magic 3 and Final Fantasy XII – which she argues is the best one in the series. An even bigger influence on her personal philosophy as a developer, however, was the Square Enix cult classic Xenogears. “That was the first RPG that really touched my heart, that made me cry, where I feel in love with the characters, and realize these games have something to say,” says Busche “They touch on deep socially relevant narratives through these fantasy setting and the complexity of characters.”"

"Xenogears was an incredibly influential game to developers like Busche. Its creator, Tetsuya Takahashi, went on to make the wildly popular Xenoblade franchise."

"Those specific RPGs have a lot to say about identity and personality, and that’s a topic that Busche has constantly wanted to explore in her work – how games can explore autonomy and choice. Busche has been open in the past about transitioning while at BioWare, and how much the studio helped her feel seen and supported. But there’s another vital piece of her career that directly played into Busche’s expertise with Dragon Age, and it might not be what you think. Before leading the charge on Veilguard, Busche honed her skills working on an even bigger mega-hit franchise, The Sims. For over five years she worked in designer and creative director roles. “Working at Maxis and on a game like The Sims, is an incredibly fortunate environment for a designer to really hone their craft, and the reason I say that is they’re deeply complex games,” says Busche, “You’re really exploring underlying systems that drive character behaviors, skill progression, game economies, all allowing for emergent gameplay.”"

"Busche cut her teeth on the Sims 3: Into the Future expansion."

"To Busche, games like The Sims, or even Animal Crossing, continue to flourish because of human nature, the inherent need we have to be social creatures and form connections. They’re deeply relatable games that reflect our real lives, but in a way, that same idea can apply to a complex RPG like Dragon Age — and Busche’s time with The Sims gave her a unique advantage going into Veilguard. “I love that marriage of simulation and these fantasy worlds full of rich, deep characters that feel lived in. I believe that as RPGs continue to evolve, what you’ll see is an increasing focus on that marriage between simulation and a fantasy storytelling layer,” says Busche “After all, it’s about immersion, it’s about autonomy and relatedness. These are deep common aspects between these two seemingly different styles of games.”"

"An Origins Story Dragon Age has been a lot of things over the years, an open world game, a mobile hero-collecting title, dozens of comics and books, and even a Netflix series. Fan-created works have flourished for nearly two decades – the fan fiction archive website Archive of Our Own even has over 13,000 entries for Dragon Age: Origins alone. That idea of player agency and identity is the very bedrock of what Dragon Age is built on. As such, Dragon Age has always been incredibly progressive. Origins liberally featured queer romances, and Inquisition, the third game in the series, has a whole plotline about a major side character being transgender. This allows the series to explore themes of identity and belonging in ways other RPGs can’t, and Veilguard certainly sticks to that idea. “I’m an openly queer, trans woman,” Busche says. “It shaped everything about who I am, and it’s been the source of a lot of joy, a lot of difficulty, and perspective. For me personally, one of the greatest gifts about being trans is the amount of introspection it forces upon you. You spend a lot of time deeply examining who you are, and why that matters.”"

"Zevran from Dragon Age: Origins was an accomplished assassin, but, more notably in 2009, a bisexual character."

"For Busche, great games offer a mirror that allows you to reflect on your own identity, preferences, and choices. When developing a game, Busche says she is “thinking about the role introspection plays on people in general, and how each of us go through our lives having these moments of crises, epiphanies, and those quiet moments when you’re alone. These are questions that are ripe for personalized experiences like RPGs, especially when you consider our biggest creative pillar: Be who you want to be.” To Busche and the team it “felt like the right time” to really take Dragon Age’s exploration of identity further, especially with a character like Rook that’s so molded by the player’s personal feelings and thoughts. But one of the more interesting strides Veilguard makes is allowing you to share experiences, including romances, with a compelling cast of party members — easily some of the most memorable characters BioWare has ever created."

"The Fight For Progress And Fate For Dragon Age Questions about BioWare’s future abound, especially with the team now pivoting to focus work on Mass Effect 5 — a similarly long-awaited comeback for a beloved franchise. But in the immediate future the studio has faced a different problem, a hate campaign that’s put Veilguard at the center of a kind of culture war on social media, along with plenty of hateful comments toward developers and review bombing on sites like Metacritic. “I think we should talk about it,” Busche says. “It’s hard. I grew up in a time when it really felt like we’re there to celebrate the games and to have these shared experiences, and that drive is still there. I think the discourse we see is the result of highly polarized times, and perhaps it’s a little naive. I know it’s hard when you have to ask the question, is this game for me? Do I belong here? And games are better for it when we can say yes, you do belong here.” Dragon Age is far from the only game that’s come under fire recently, particularly for inclusions of diversity, or diverse storytelling. For most of this year, Assassin’s Creed Shadows has been the constant target of a hate campaign, with Ubisoft’s art director recently condemning the backlash and harassment the studio and team has faced. The creator of the indie game Tales of Kenzera: ZAU, Abubakar Salim, has also been vocal about the “fever pitch” of racism the game and its team have received. These kinds of events seem to be happening more and more, but for BioWare and Busche, the focus is on celebrating what the team has created. “I know, and something that’s very important to me, is that games are inherently diverse when you think about the size of these teams and the specializations you have within them. When you have diverse, complex, large groups of people coming together to make something, of course, the game is going to be a reflection of those teams,” says Busche “I think we need to consider that we can make the most authentic, best experiences when we’re tying into what makes us as the developers, and you as the fans, when we can tie into those elements that make us distinctly human, and that means differences.” In Busche’s mind, not embracing the lived experiences of the development team would result in stories and worlds that feel less relatable, less alive. Game developers also need to feel safe in what they do, which ultimately means being able to see themselves reflected in their work. “We have an incredibly diverse player base, and what I mean by that is their motivations and expectations,” Busche says. “This becomes the biggest opportunity to continue that tradition of reinvention.” At the end of the day, gamers Busche believes gamers have so much in common, starting with a love for the game. “What I long for is just that opportunity for us as gamers to step back and get in touch with why we fell in love with games in the first place, and recognize how difficult and complicated and messy it is to make games,” says Busche, “To share these vulnerable experience and just approach it with a little greater sense of kindness and curiosity.”"

[source]

[tmntxthings]

一∑Moth to a Flame・゜・。

author’s notes: this is my entry for @dancingdonatello ‘s competition :D this has been sm fun and I can’t wait to read everyone else’s stories!!!

prompt: "You like them...more? Is that it? Am I the second choice?" "That's not true..." "Then choose me. Choose us."

warnings: angst, situation-ship, aged-up characters, college au, alcohol consumption, jealousy, yandere tendencies? cliffhanger

—————————————————————————

Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

~

Mutants and yokai kind alike have been out for years. So in the ‘town’ he and his brothers grew up in, they finally came to be free from the shadows. As free as heroes can be at least. They still needed to be a bit secretive on where they lived, in case of revenge-seeking villains.

But with mutants out on the surface, New York had grown accustom to them. Well, as accustom as they can be…

Donnie has met many people. He’s been able to attend college. Mostly online. But he finds the time to attend some evening classes in person. He met you. A floundering classmate in need of assistance.

Usually Donnie can find an excuse to get out of helping every poor soul that crosses his path. That’s what the professors are for. The librarians. Hell the student mentors! But with you… he just couldn’t resist.

The study sessions were long. But in the end you were able to pass, “All thanks to you Dee!!” You had cheered shoving your research paper into his face for him to appraise your passing grade. Barely passing, but it showed your improvement nonetheless.

He had been about to tease you of this. Three months of his help and you hardly grazed by?! But the thought was cut short as you pulled the papers away from his face and up you jumped.

Arms going around his neck and squealing your joy. He was frozen for a millisecond before his arms twitched into motion. His hands going around your back, holding you. That was the first time you had initiated such skin-ship.

Sure there had been the occasional touching of hands, passing laptops, books and the like back and forth. There had even been moments of playful touch, nudging his arm with your elbow for his odd choice in coffee. A tap above his glasses when he got too focused on his own work to answer your sporadic questions.

The hug didn’t last very long in terms of time. Seconds merely. But it made a lastly impression on Donnie. With the class over, you had no other reason to see him again. The prospect had Donnie fumbling to invite you out, to do anything to prolong such an ending to this blooming relationship.

“What classes are you taking next semester?” He had asked. You promised to text him the list, already having to dash off for one last exam.

He worried that would be the end.

Thankfully it wasn’t. You texted him later that evening, telling him all about the rest of your day as well as the list per his request. Unfortunately the two of you didn’t share any other classes. And it seemed unlikely for the future as well, the two of you were on diverging paths. Donnie despaired.

But you found reasons to message him. By the time the next semester rolled around the two of you were study partners, no matter the subject. Donnie would help if he could, and usually he was able. But there was a shift in the relationship. Outings to the library and other study areas changed to coffee shops. Then to your place. It only felt natural to invite you over to his.

Preparations were put in place. As were warnings “Yes, I do live in a sewer with my brothers and dad.” And “No it doesn’t reek of waste or garbage.” And “Yes there is one rat actually, my dear Papa.”

You took it all in stride. The introductions to his family went as well as they ever did. Friends. The two of you were officially friends. Donnie couldn’t be happier. With such a title he took more initiative with online contact. His messages would ramble on, sprinkled with pictures and videos.

Semesters continued to pass by and the bond between the two of you only grew. In turn, with more trips to his home, you became friends with his brothers. With April. It was just natural.

And then there was graduation. A celebration was in order. Four years, you had been in his life for four years and he couldn’t imagine it without you. The plan was to dress to the nines, and go out on the ‘town’! Drinking and dancing.

Of course, his brothers were invited as well as a few of your other friends. Donnie was no stranger to clubbing. The bar scene had become somewhat of a regular occurrence once his friendship with you was solidified.

You liked to go out. You liked music. He obliged on a few occasions to be your dancing partner and thus every time after it was his official label. Donnie was adverse to the huge crowds. It didn’t offer much room for dancing, but he’d endure it for you. With you in his arms it all seemed bearable. The music that was so loud it thumped in his plastron. The heat in the room percolating from the sheer number of bodies. Even the taste of alcohol, on the very, very rare occasion you got him to drink.

It always tasted horrible. No matter the different shots or mixed cocktails. God forbid a beer. You had pushed all sorts of these beverages on him, eyes crinkling up at him with amusement as his beak wrinkled from disgust.

Those nights with alcohol involved always ended strangely. Your touch would light him up from the inside. He’d want to hold you closer, lean in as far as you’d let him. Pull at your waist, dig his fingers into your hips during the last dance before the two of you had to part for the night. Those nights ended with kisses.

And by the next day you would never talk about them. So he didn’t either. Even as his murky memory of all other events seemed to part with clarity for how you had panted heat into his mouth. He’d flush dark green at just the thought and have to swallow the spit that pooled in his mouth.

This had happened a handful of times. The kissing. And with no communication whatsoever afterwards it put Donnie on edge. He wondered why it happened at all if you didn’t want to acknowledge the deed once it was done. He wondered about what it said on account of his own self worth for him to continue to let it happen.

To look forward to nights out. To nights you pushed a shot glass his way. To want your lips on his by the end of it all.

So with this big celebration, Donnie was expecting the same routine if only highlighted by the fact that both of you were now graduates. He’d be your dance partner. The two of you would spin for an hour or two, or however long you wanted. And he’d order himself a drink this time. One that he found slightly bearable than the rest.

Only, that wasn’t what was happening. Drink in hand? Sure. Your hand in his other? No. He was grumbling over at the bar shooting hateful daggers where you resided on the dance floor. You were dancing with Leo.

Donnie grimaced as he took a long hard sip. It was like acid in his mouth. Donnie didn’t know how much more he could take. His mind was simultaneously all over the place and singularly focused on one thing. You.

You laughing as Leo twirled you around. How wrong it felt to watch your arms go up and around his brother’s neck. Donnie was a better dancer. He knew in his soul that he could beat Leo in any category. Waltz, disco, salsa, you name it, Donnie could dance it. But his prowess didn’t seem to matter. Which only further incensed him. Why were you doing this? How could you possibly allow Nardo to take his place? His rightful role. Donnie was supposed to be your dance partner. And the only time you were allowed to dance with another was whenever he deigned to skip such an outing.

He was here. Dressed in an aubergine suit. Jacket button undone. And his black dress shirt was unbuttoned as well. Three buttons plucked, showing off too much skin in his opinion for such a crowd. But he had been feeling flirty. Flirty for someone who wasn’t even glancing his way.

Donnie fumed once more. Cursing in his mind as he lifted his drink and threw his head back. Maybe the taste would kill him. His eyes squeezed shut as the liquid poured down his throat and he tried not to gag. Bad decision.

When his eyes reopened it couldn’t have been at a worse moment. Leo was dipping you, his face leaning dangerously close to yours, his hand snug on your waist. Leo said something in your ear.

Maybe it was the lighting. Maybe it was the heat. But when Donnie saw your darkened cheeks, he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He stormed to the dance floor. Yanking Leo’s hand away from your body once you were upright.

“What’s up hermano?” Leo’s smile was grating. Donnie had to force himself not to snarl. He took your hand and pulled you after him. Leaving Leo. Leaving this place. He had to get out of here now.

“Donnie?!” You called out over the music. But you didn’t pull away. You let him lead you out of the club. Out on the sidewalk, then off to the alleyway.

“Is everything okay?” You asked once he finally stopped. When he turned to look down at you, your eyebrows were creased with worry. Lips pulled into a line. Donnie was cracking. He couldn’t do this any longer. Did you like Leo? Did you want a ‘face man’? Was he not enough anymore? Was he being replaced? The thoughts were suffocating him and he pulled you to his plastron, backing you into the building wall simultaneously.

“I’m here, but Dee you’ve gotta say something, I’m getting worried..” You mumbled into his clothes. Your arms going around Donnie’s shell, petting over his jacket. Offering him comfort. It wasn’t enough. He huffed his frustration.

“Should I go get your brother?”

It was the wrong thing to say. And this time he did snarl.

“No.”

Your hands froze. Falling back down to your sides. You’d never heard him so angry before. He couldn’t find it within himself to care at the moment. His displeasure written all over his face as you looked up at him.

“What’s going on?”

And Donnie remembered himself thinking that so many times with you. As you had took his breath away. And then again when you pretended like you couldn’t recall ever doing so.

“Don-“

He leaned down. Capturing your lips. Kissing you like you did to him. Only where you had made him breathless, this seemed to have the opposite effect. You puffed up. Bristling in his arms as you tried shoving him away.

It hurt.

He was much stronger than you. He could overpower you easily. But your push was like a blow to the plastron. He staggered back, all anger leaving him. A husk as he squeezed his fists shut, head hanging down as you berated him.

“What the hell was that?! Are you drunk?? Donnie what is going on? If you don’t fucking say something right now, I swear to god,”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back and it was enough to quiet you.

From there it was as if his mouth couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know! I thought this was what we did. I didn’t hallucinate those three times you kissed me. Don’t deny it any longer!” He was heaving, face coming up to stare accusingly at you.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line.

“You kissed me! Drunkenly, but it was still there. And I can’t forget. I can’t pretend they never happened. I don’t know how you can.” His hands were in motion as he ranted. Throwing them out with the building of emotion.

“So I thought tonight would be no different. We’d get drunk. We’d dance. And we’d kiss! I want all of that. Even though I’d do it without the alcohol.” His voice cracked towards the end. But he continued to push on.

“But you danced with him. So I went and got drunk enough for the both of us.” He felt pathetic admitting this out loud. He staggered forward, unable to remain so far apart. Despite you having pushed him away. He was just a moth to your flame. He’d let himself be burnt.

“You like him more?” He asked in a voice so low it practically went unheard. His hand came up, a finger tracing down the side of your cheek.

“Is that it? Am I the second choice?” His lids lowered in time as he ran out of skin to skim. His hand fell away from your face but he had crowded you close to the wall once more. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“That’s not true.” You exasperated. But that hardly cleared up anything for him. If that was the case then what were you doing dancing with his brother and not him? Why couldn’t he kiss you? Why were the both of you still pretending to be friends?

“Then pick me. Choose me.” Donnie pleaded. He didn’t care how needy it sounded. He’d do whatever it took. Get down on his knees if he had to. Because you had become a part of his life four years ago. Four years of a presence he didn’t know he needed. Up until it was far too late. And now there was no turning back. He’d be damned if he let you get away.

[myownwholewildworld]

WHEN THE GRIEF HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot (pt.2)

main masterlist | read part 1 | read on ao3 pairing: javier peña x f!reader (same couple as "when the moon howls"). can be read as a oneshot. summary: javi and you go back to yours after your idyllic pumpkin patch date and he stays over. you comfort him when his demons catch up with him. a/n: hiya! i OBVIOUSLY do not know what "oneshot" means??? bahhaha. this is another entry for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge because i'm just so inspired by it all and javi has me on a chokehold. i promise this is my last entry. also thanks to sweet jo because she kinda sowed the seed and here we are! any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated are most welcomed c: take care lovelies <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). very mild/veiled allusions to intimacy. post season 3 of narcos, canon-deviating as javi is not hailed a hero upon his return to laredo, but quite the opposite. fluff - they are madly in love y'all. domestic bliss. angst. a smidgen of hurt, loads of comfort. description of a panic attack and vivid nightmares. mentions of ptsd and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. nightmare before christmas is mentioned because duh. both javi's and reader's povs (that's more like it). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 4.7k divider by @saradika-graphics

Sunday, 1st November 1998.

2:53 AM.

The bodies just kept piling up in front of his eyes.

Every person whose death he had witnessed.

Every body who had been hung off bridges.

Every person who had died because of a decision he had made.

Every soul he himself had extinguished.

The innocent bystanders, other governmental agents, politicians who had tried to fight the drug lords.

The 1989 Avianca flight that was brought down by a bomb planted by the Medellín cartel. Flight 203 had reaped the lives of one hundred and seven blameless lives ―one hundred and ten, he corrected himself― just because Escobar had wanted to eliminate his political opponent, César Gaviria Trujillo, who, by a fateful twist of the universe, never ended up boarding the flight.

The pictures of such tragedy still stuck with him, burnt into his retinas like a photo negative ― every time he blinked, the colours would pour into the frame, the vision grotesque and gut-turning.

Every single one of them was a failure Javier could not elude, could no longer bury in the most godforsaken drawer of his brain. A failure that would haunt him, would become corporeal in his vivid nightmares.

With the eyes of his dreaming imagination, he could see every one of them souls in front of him ― judging him, blaming him, eyes full of hatred. Accusatory fingers pointing at him, as if it was his Day of Reckoning.

All this piteous death, all this mindless suffering ― for naught.

He had made no true, tangible difference. He had fallen short.

And he was failing all over again in his lucid dream. Unable to stop them from dying, he saw each one of them perish in front of him until a heap of foul death surrounded him.

Javier finally felt it, even welcomed it ― the Grim Reaper’s noose loosely wrapping around his neck. Then taut and firm, a tight caress ghosting his skin. There was no going back, but there was no more guilt either. A bittersweet yet soothing balance, one that could only be served by the Ghoul’s scythe.

And then Death lifted him up, the hanging rope coiling on the tree branch ― suffocating him as his averted eyes watched the scene unfurl underneath him. A snarled mess of bodies, some hands reaching up to him. He would ―should― join them, after all.

A purposeful man would have struck back ― kick his feet, unfettered from his restrain.

But he didn’t fight back. He didn’t have it in him anymore. He got exactly what he deserved.

Javier startled awake, panting and sweating from such terrible nightmare. His heart was pounding against his ribs, his breathing accelerated causing him a painful stitch. He felt his chest caving in with all the panic that had slowly but steadily built up inside him.

His reaction was so severe, he had sprung up and sat up on the mattress. All he could hear was his blood heavily flowing through his eardrums; all he could see was darkness; all he could smell was the lingering stench of death; all he could taste was his remorse; all he could touch were dead, cold bodies.

Javier bent his knees, soles against the bedsheets, and leaned forward with his head buried between his knees. Eyes closed, he had to concentrate on his breathing and slowing down his racing heart. Otherwise, the panic would only grow and grow and grow until madness took over him.

Then a soothing, grounding hand slithered under the back of his tee shirt, a warm touch against his cold, damp skin. Only at that point did he remembered he wasn’t at his dad’s place, wasn’t alone either. His strained muscles visibly relaxed without him even trying.

“Javi,” your sleepy voice prevailed over his drowning anxiety. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

He still didn’t know what he had done to deserve you, to have you by his side, strong and unyielding ― ready to fight his demons for him if necessary. You loved so fiercely, so deeply, at first he tried to fight it. To spare you.

But how could he? You were the moon that imposed the perfect cadence on his tide, calling him home at night. The moment he had landed his eyes on you and your orbits had crashed, he was a lost man ― lost to you, to your smile, to your unquivering positivity, your calmness, your ease to listen, to give advice, to help without asking for anything in return.

But how could you? Even when his grief was howling loud and clear, you loved him. Despite all his flaws and faults, his obvious defects, you saw past it all ― even past the rumours that flew around in Laredo about him. He knew you had heard all the gossip, how people talked about his fictional shenanigans with the drug lords, a willing participant in their endeavours. How he did drugs on the job and sold some of it back to the narcos. Javier had been deaf to all of it ― he didn’t care for what people were saying. Didn’t even bother to put a stop to it, because he had enough open fronts to fight as it was.

Even his childhood friends had turned their backs on him. But not you. Never you. Not even when he had shared his darkest secrets with you over a pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake. Instead of withdrawing from him, you held his hand as he had talked with a heavy heart and short of breath. The flashes coming back to him, you soothed by the mere caress of your fingertips.

You had touched his core ―just as you were touching him now―, kneaded it until it softened like clay on the hands of an expert ceramist. Javier didn’t think himself worthy of love, not after everything he had done and seen. Colombia had shattered him ― Javier had lost all hope in humanity.

The life he had sustained in Colombia had finally caught up with him, destroyed the person he had been prior to all of it. Once a womanizer, he had no longer found respite in laying with his informers. Had even quit smoking, only to go back to it a few weeks later ― the crushing anxiety pushing him back to the stale taste of tobacco. He had cut down on the black coffee too.

In spite of that, he was far from being a reformed man. He even doubted he could ever be a normal civilian. The trauma that haunted him had a tight grip on him, hefty shackles wrapping around his wrists. And his heavy breathing and sweating were a testament to his struggles.

“Javi?” You called again, your tone delicate and heartening.

Slowly Javier came out of his sluggish haze ― your palm rubbing his spine, beckoning him to come back to reality.

Lifting his head up, elbows on knees, he looked at you over his left shoulder.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, pequeña (little one).” His hoarse voice felt unlike him, so he cleared his throat.

You sat back up on the bed, your hand wrapping around his waist until the palm flushed against his tummy under his tee. You kissed his shoulder and then his lips.

“You should have woken me up earlier, Javi. I want to be by your side when your nightmares startle you. I wanna help you, I wanna be there for you. Always.” Your words tugged at his heart, knowing full well you truly meant them.

A weak, crooked smile took over the muscles of his mouth. How easy you uprooted a grin from him ― you were so effortless to love, to care for, it felt as natural as breathing.

“Old habits die hard.” Javi muttered, bowing forward a bit seeking your warm, welcoming lips.

He had bottled all his suffering up for months now, years. It was hard to let go ― one of the main reasons he had signed up for therapy.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingertips lightly stroking the sensitive skin around his belly button.

“Baby steps.” You pressed a few consecutive pecks on his lips.

Javier sighed, visibly relaxing now as his body released the tension under your attention. He then laid flat on his back again, dragging you with him until your cheek was pressed against the centre of his chest. After, you buried your face in the crook of his neck while your left hand wiped the pearly drops of sweat off his forehead before raking his untamed hair back. That same hand quickly burrowed under his tee shirt, rubbing his clammy skin ― you didn’t seem bothered by his perspiration.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, your lips brushing his jawline.

“It’s just the same nightmare I always have. I was being hung off a tree, dead bodies piling up beneath me.” He struggled to say out loud, unconsciously reaching for his neck where the imaginary noose had tightened.

Your fingers forced his to move to one side so you could kiss his Adam’s apple ― the feeling of the rope around his neck replaced by the calming flick of your mouth.

Javier closed his eyes, his bad dream gradually fading away.

“Did you fight back?” He had told you that was what the therapist had recommended he tried if the nightmare was vivid enough ― that he attempted to regain control.

“No, I couldn’t. Not yet.” He murmured; a tad ashamed of himself.

“That’s okay, Javi.” You reassured him, feeling his vulnerability, as your hand caressed his tummy. “Baby steps”, you repeated.

Javier nodded, turning his face to you so he could press a kiss to your forehead. You snuggled a bit more into his side.

“Go back to sleep, pequeña.”

“Only if you do.” You challenged him with a smile.

Javi let go of a snort, unsurprised by your stubbornness.

“Alright, let’s go back to sleep then, both of us.”

6:14 AM.

The thumping rhythm under your fingertips alerted you to Javi’s awakening. Or perhaps he had been subtle enough this time not to wake you up. His heart pumped so hard, you could count his every heartbeat. With your hand still under his tee shirt, lazily resting on the middle of his chest, your thumb traced his sternum a few times.

“I thought you said both of us?” You muttered light-heartedly, your lips brushing his earlobe.

Javi inhaled and then steadily exhaled, his pulse slowing down.

“I just woke up a couple of minutes ago.”

You didn’t know if he was lying or not, but you believed him. Every word he said, you knew to trust. The last few weeks you had unearthed the real Javi, had dusted off so many secrets and emotions, you just knew he had no need to lie to you. There was really no point.

It was weird to think that yesterday you believed this impossible. Your friendship with Javi had developed so fast, you didn’t even have a chance at confessing your true feelings for him. You thought you concealed them well, afraid of losing him ― because you rather had him as a close friend, than not having him at all. A coward maybe, but a coward with him by your side.

You had not planned to fall in love again, not after your last breakup. However, Javier was so different, so down to earth and as broken as you were, you had fallen for him before you even gave yourself a chance at love again. Perhaps you had been putting his pieces back together and thrown yours in the puzzle too ― to the point that your stitches ended where his began.

Unbeknownst to you, Javi had been harbouring feelings for you too. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought he would be the one to take the risk. You had melted at the first touch of his lips, as if that was exactly where you belonged. As if all experiences up to that point had led you to his arms. You were meant to be ― two broken soul pieces that fit together perfectly.

Last night had been the best one of your life, no doubt in your mind. Hidden under the linen, you had silently played a new version of “trick or treat” together ― where there were no tricks, but many treats. With the language of your hands, you had read the braille on every groove of his skin. He had mapped you out in return too ― hungry, needy hands making you shiver.

You could still feel the warmth, the love, his scarce yet reassuring words.

‘There are no better toasts than those made by your eyelashes’, he had told you in whispered bliss.

You smiled at the memory ― a heavy, comforting sensation wrapping around your heart, blanketing your whole being.

“What’s on your mind, cariño (honey)?”

You didn’t want to press him, just wanted him to open up if he felt the need to. Javier stirred to lay down on his side ― his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses nuzzling. The intimacy of his closeness made you swoon, but his words wore you down ever so slightly.

“Judy Moncada. Los Pepes. The CIA. The newspaper. All of it, really.” You felt the pain in his voice as your own.

You knew how hard he had worked, for all of it to be taken away so quickly, so dismissively. He had been the scapegoat, and it almost ruined him. No wonder why he took a step back and returned to Laredo.

It still made your blood boil how the town had received him, how they treated him like a pariah. But it was their fucking loss. If they were too blind to see Javier Peña for who he really was, then Javi had not really lost much. You were just glad you had not listened to Alejandra the first day you met him ― otherwise it would have been a great loss to you.

You kissed his forehead, his closed eyes ― his eyelashes tickling the fragile skin of your lips. Then you pressed a chaste peck on his mouth while he enveloped you in a tight embrace.

“Life’s so unfair, I wish I could make them see. See who you really are, Javi. But some people are too stubborn. It’s easier to believe lies rather than the truth. It’s their loss.” You spoke softly, understanding where his train of thought was going.

Javi didn’t reply ― he just kissed your neck in silent gratitude, the hairs of his kempt moustache making you feel ticklish.

“Since last night we were― uhm, busy,” to put it mildly, “I was thinking that today we can do what I had planned for last night.” You suddenly said to distract him.

You couldn’t see, the darkness enveloping you both, but you knew his brows were knitting in confusion.

“What had you planned?” He asked, curiosity staining his question.

You smiled.

“Well… Since you don’t know, it’ll be a surprise.”

7:46 AM.

“Is it really broken?” You pouted from the other side of the counter, walking around to meet Javi.

He had a handheld mixer and was insistently pressing on the button to turn it on to no avail. He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, it ain’t working. Gonna have to mix all of this by hand, ain’t I?” You laughed at his frustration, as you took the device from him to inspect it.

Yes, it was broken alright. Damn.

“I’m afraid so.” You removed the whisks and handed them to him. “Unless you’re not up to the task?” You cocked a challenging brow.

Javi scoffed, rolling his eyes and snatching the tools off your fingers.

“Please. I think I can handle a pumpkin cake.”

His offence was faked, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He quickly followed as he started battering everything by hand.

“I’m already done with the cheese frosting. So once you’re finished, we’ll leave it to bake for forty minutes.” You explained, leaning against the counter to watch what he was doing.

“And after?”

“Don’t be so impatient. You finish off here while I go look for… something.”

Javi squinted his chocolate eyes and pouted, shaking his head. He was not going to get you to talk.

“Stay here, and don’t come looking for me!” You threatened, burying a finger in his chest, before running away, smirking.

Two minutes later you were deep down in your closet, searching for the boxes labelled “Halloween decorations”. You had only planned to be in Laredo for a year, but that did not stop you from bringing with you all your seasonal décor. And All Hallow’s Eve, being the peak of your favourite season, had to be celebrated properly.

So, you dragged the two boxes out and then dived back in. On your tiptoes, your fingers brushed the rectangular box you were trying to reach for on the top shelf. But as much as you tried, you were not tall enough to get to it.

“Need a hand there?”

You quickly turned around ― Javier had sneaked behind you and scared the shit out of you.

You slapped his shoulder, and he cackled.

“Don’t do that! Almost had a heart attack!” You joked, although your heart was really pounding against your ribcage.

“Let me help with that.” He offered.

Javi easily reached for the box and took it down.

His brows touched each other when he saw what the box was. Then looked back at you with question marks dancing in his pupils.

“I think I got the wrong box.”

You shook your head no, suppressing a laugh.

“No, that’s the right one.” You curled your fingers, your palm extended towards him, asking for the box.

Javier reluctantly gave it to you.

“I don’t get it. You’re like almost two months off?”

You chuckled again, pushing the tall box to your chest as if hugging it. “Can you carry those two boxes to the living room for me, please?”

He obliged, albeit the confusion was still painted on his gorgeous face. You led the way with Javi on your heels. Once you both settled everything on the floor, you spun around to glance at him with puppy eyes and hands laced in a prayer.

“Don’t judge me, okay?” You started off, fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. It’s what my family call a Hallotreen―”

“A Hallo-what?” He interrupted you, a grin fighting its way to the outside.

“Hallotreen. It’s a Halloween tree! Like a Christmas tree, but with spooky decorations! I usually put it up on Halloween night, so it’s ready for All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day.”

You extended your arms at your revelation, as if to say, “Isn’t it obvious?!”.

Javi first looked at you blankly, and then erupted in laughter. You couldn’t help yourself but join him as he took a step forward to drape his arms around you, his comforting hands landing on the small of your back.

“God, you’re so full of surprises. I love it, I love you.” You could tell it had slipped from his tongue by mistake, because his fun expression quickly darkened.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confession. You leaned back a bit, studying his beautiful face, and tilted your head to one side while you considered his words.

“Do you mean it?” You cooed in a hush, feeling so vulnerable, so raw.

Javi’s eyes locked on yours for a never-ending minute. Then they slowly drifted down to your parted lips and nodded as he, unhurriedly, bowed down towards you.

“Yes, I do. I do mean it, pequeña.” He purred, no joking timbre in his words.

Your heart contracted and then expanded in an outburst, your lungs filling up with his minty breath as you tiptoed to meet his mouth before you hummed, “I love you too.”

When your lips crashed, the tenderness pouring from his mouth into yours soothed any lingering doubt. Although sudden, your love was true. You were not imagining it ― Javi felt the same way. You never believed in the tales of love at first sight, but now that you were the protagonist of such story, you definitely did.

The kiss naturally came to an end and Javi pressed his lips against your forehead, holding you still in his hug for a sweet moment. How you wished you could stay between his arms forever.

‘Maybe we do have forever.’ That thought made you slightly emotional. You could see Javi by your side until the end of days. With a family of your own. It just felt natural.

“Alright, let’s do this then. So we put the tree up first?” Javi asked, amused.

You laughed as you took a step back and knelt down to open the box the Christmas tree was in.

“Yeah, and let me tell you. It’s a big one. Seven feet of pure bliss!” You laughed while unpacking it, Javi soon on his knees helping you out, chuckling too.

Ten minutes later, the tree was up, and you both had started to sort out all the Halloween decorations that came in the plastic boxes. There was a big assortment of different bits and bobs, and you directed Javi to get all pumpkin-shaped trinkets sorted first.

Once you had a healthy pile, you both hung all the decorations on the tree with no real pattern. You peppered some pumpkins here and there; some autumnal, plastic leaves to make the tree look fuller and fluffier. You also had some Halloween-themed baubles ― one with a witch inside, other with a pumpkin patch, another one with a murder of crows floating inside. You also dotted some stringed pinecones around the tree.

You had been curating your collection for so long now, you had way too much stuff, and Javi quickly picked up on it.

“What are we going to do with the rest? There’s so much here, I’m starting to think you have a problem?” He joked, sinking a finger on your side, tickling you.

You chortled, trying to avoid his tickling attack. Javi grabbed you by the elbow and forced you to slam against his chest.

“Well… I must confess. If you think this is a lot, it’s because you have not seen my Christmas collection.”

His eyes widened in feigned horror, and then laughed.

“Can’t wait for Christmas then.”

You smiled at him before gently kissing his collarbone. Then you faced the Hallotreen, holding his hand in yours.

It was a masterpiece. The perfect balance of different hues ― oranges, browns, reds, dark greens and some black dotted around. It looked perfect with all the trinkets filling it.

It made you so happy, you clapped your hands before turning to look at an enlivened Javi.

“It’s just missing the final touch.” You announced as you rummaged through one of the boxes and took out the best piece of them all, presenting it to Javi as if it was the Holy Grail. “Ta-dah!”

It was a figurine of Jack Skellington, from one of your favourite movies ― The Nightmare before Christmas. Jack was on a sitting-down position, perfect to crown the tree.

“It’s a Jack tree-topper. I almost fainted when I first saw it a few years ago. It cost me $100, but it was worth every. single. penny”, you punctuated ― you would smack him if he said otherwise.

Luckily, Javi agreed with you with a pleasant hum and a crooked smirk.

“Let’s put it up then, the King of the Pumpkin Patch needs to have a good panoramic view of his kingdom.” He jested and you were so happy with the reference, you could only love him a bit more ― if that was even possible.

Out of nowhere, Javi knelt down in front of you, his back towards you. He looked over his shoulder at you, brows furrowed, when you didn’t move. Javi lightly patted his shoulder.

“C’mon, up.”

“What? You want to carry me on your shoulders?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, how are you gonna reach the top if not? That’s seven feet.”

You took a step back, gripping the tree-topper tight between your hands and let go of a guffaw.

“Nope, not happening. I’m gonna crush you! I’ll get a―”

A perfect eyebrow raised into his forehead, and he scrunched his lips, his moustache moving from side to side with disapproval.

“I said up.” His tone was commanding ― Javi would not accept no for an answer. “Come on, don’t make me make you.”

With a sigh, you let go of your insecurities and ended up sitting on his shoulders. Javi’s firm hands rested on your knees as he slowly stood up, keeping a perfect balance.

You chuckled nervously as he walked to the tree. Trying to find your own balance, you planted your left hand of Javi’s forehead. Or what you thought was his forehead, because he then complained.

“Hey, I can’t see!”

You looked down ― you had covered his eyes by mistake, so you quickly lifted your hand up and placed it on his forehead.

“Sorry!”

Javi laughed in reply. Reaching up with the hand holding the figure, you were finally able to set it down without breaking it.

“Yay! Done!”

He knelt down again, releasing your knees from the prison of his hands, and your feet finally rested against the wooden floor. When Javi got up, you both took a step back to admire such work of art.

“Dare I say myself? This looks amazing, the best Hallotreen I have ever had!” You screeched with excitement, almost jumping in place.

When Javi didn’t respond, you glanced up at him. His eyes, darkened with something deep and warm, were intently studying your face. His expression was so relaxed, so at peace, you knew the nightmares were now a forgotten memory ― at least until tonight.

Knowing you could be a balm to his emotional wounds made your heart twist with longing. You wished you could take it all away, that you could take his place and suffer it all for him, so he didn’t need to. You loved him so dearly, you promised yourself that Javi would never have to go through such trauma ever again.

He lifted one hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear ― such a loving gesture, your heart melted for him.

“What?” You asked, timid, with a nervous laugh.

“Nothing.” He buzzed, hugging you close to his torso.

The kiss started off soft and tender, a mere graze of his lips against yours. And before it became sultry and demanding, the oven’s clock started beeping.

Javi grunted and you grinned. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him to the kitchen.

9:22 PM.

“Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones an emptiness began to grow. There's something out there far from my home. A longing that I've never known…” Jack was lamenting on the background.

Javier couldn’t help but look at you over his mug of hot chocolate. You were laying down on the couch with your back against his chest, tightly gripping your mug and buried under a fleece blanket. The living room was dark, only two sources of light: one was the TV playing Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas, and the other was the string of lights wrapping around the Hallotreen.

He could grow used to this, to you. Jack’s Lament somewhat resonated with him ― there was a longing in his heart he had never known before. And that longing now had a name ― yours.

Javi had to suppress a lopsided smirk when you kept on mumbling the lyrics of the song. You knew all the dialogue, all the songs, every single scene. And he let you talk throughout the movie, because he loved listening to all the comments you needed to let out. You were far too excited ― and so was he.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. To you.

If you didn’t mind, he’d like to join you by your side.

Where you both could gaze into the stars and sit together, now and forever.

For it was plain, as anyone could see, you simply were meant to be…

[thewertsearch]

TT: You mentioned immortality. TT: Godhood makes one immortal? […] One will live forever, unless killed. The death must be either heroic or just. TT: How are those terms defined? Broadly, mysteriously, and according to the case of the individual. One may be killed by opposing a corrupt adversary and die for a just cause, as through martyrdom, for instance. This would be heroic. Or one may be subject to corruption, and slain by a hero. This would be just.

Heroic Players can die fighting 'corrupt adversaries', whereas Just Players can be 'corrupted', and 'slain by a hero'. There's a clear dichotomy here, wherein 'corrupt' God Tiers are particularly vulnerable to self-sacrificing God Tiers, and vice-versa.

I like it. It's a very mythological way for immortality to work, and it gels well with Sburb's fantasy narrative. Rose's alliance with the Horrorterrors probably marks her as corrupted, so God Tier ascension probably wouldn't grant her true immortality.

The concept is fascinatingly ambiguous, too. Morality is a controversial subject at the best of times, and allowing Sburb to judge the ethics of a Player's actions could get very tricky, very fast. There's no doubt in my mind that Sburb and I disagree vehemently about what constitutes a just cause, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.

TT: Which sort of death will you have when I destroy the sun? Neither. I'm not a god. I'm a guardian, a servant, and a weapon. I have power and knowledge far surpassing a god. But I am not one.

First Guardians are considered far more powerful than God Tiers, then. Aradia was able to get the drop on Jack, but Jack's really just a Kernelsprite imitation of a First Guardian. Scratch is far more threatening, especially since his brain isn't scrambled by dog memories.

...that said, his brain might be a little scrambled by whatever was in that HONK code. Who knows what Alt-Gamzee was cooking there.

My master can't enter this universe until I am killed. […] TT: That almost sounds like martyrdom. Are you sure it won't be a hero's death? Quite sure. My master is a very evil man. TT: Who is he? I won't tell you his name. But he goes by the title, Lord English.

About bloody time. This guy’s been sneaking around the back of the story for over two thousand pages, and it sounds like we're finally going to shed some light on this mysterious adversary.

But you must decide which objective is more important. You may decide to attempt to destroy the sun and end my life. This will neutralize Jack, who is also much more powerful and dangerous than myself by virtue of the ring he wears in addition to drawing energy from the same sun as I. He poses a significant threat to reality.

I'm still skeptical about this assertion. What could Jack's other kernels possibly offer that his First Guardian powers don't render obsolete?

Anyway - even if Jack does have better numbers, Scratch is still far more dangerous by virtue of the mind he wields.

TT: But in the process of killing him and you, I release your master, who is just as deadly? He's more deadly. But the danger he poses is sanctioned by paradox space. It is a known quantity. His very existence in a universe will mean it will inevitably be torn apart. But there are rules to his entry, and his grim procession through paradox space is rather orderly. The present equilibrium has accounted for him, and will continue to.

I did wonder if English was part of Paradox Space's natural ecosystem, charged with destroying old universes in much the same way Sburb destroys planets.

Even if he is part of Skaia's ineffable plan, I don't think that should stop us from ending his sorry ass. We might not understand English's motivations, but we do know that his plans destroy anyone unfortunate enough share his plane of reality, and countless lives have already been ruined in Scratch’s quest to bring him out. I don't really care if Paradox Space sanctions his actions - he needs to be taken down, and if that upsets the natural order, then it's time for a new natural order.

Besides, we probably don't even need to destroy the Sun to stop Jack. We have plenty of other angles to work, from exploiting his psychological weaknesses to negotiating with his slightly more reasonable deputy. Additionally, Jadesprite won't be out of action forever, and Jack can't even harm Jadesprite, due to the aforementioned psychological weaknesses. Even if she's inherited Bec's 'don't fight Agents' programing, that doesn't stop her from simply stealing his Ring. She's done it before.

Jack however is a loose cannon. He will not stop until he destroys everything he encounters.

Yeah - to be honest, Scratch, I'm starting to think you're laying it on a little thick, here. Is Jack really the omniversal 'threat to reality' that you're making him out to be?

Let's not get it twisted - I have no trouble believing that he's dangerous to individual sessions. But does he really have the juice to wreak cosmic destruction on the scale of Lord English? His battery is only as strong as a couple of universes, and he has to share it with every other First Guardian in the cosmos.

Plus, the kids can't be the only Players in the multiverse to accidently prototype a First Guardian. I'm sure it's rare, but it can't be once-in-all-the-worlds rare. There should be plenty of other rogue First Guardians floating around Paradox Space - and if they're all enormous threats to reality, then reality should already have been destroyed.

In conclusion: No, Doc. I don't think Jack Noir is an English-tier threat. And for the record, I think there's a much more dangerous First Guardian in this equation than the Sovereign Slayer.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 8 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

EPISODE EIGHT. fasten your seat belts, get ready for some turbulence, nobody panic. things are going to become fucking sad, but you're going to be okay. yay?

for a fleeting moment at the beginning of the episode you get the mad hope that alice survived - that rio is going to spare her, somehow

but the camera keeps spinning, keeps spinning, and we're upside down. this show is so good at evoking uncanny vibes with simple practical effects. not to mention the great callback to lilia flipping the room at the end of last episode. we are on the other side now, we're not in kansas anymore.

and this is of course rio collecting alice's soul, and it's where she disappeared to at the end of episode 5. I find rio's choices here so brilliant, because we know that she chooses the way she appears to souls. she is not being mean per se, she's woken alice up so gently and she's talking in a soft voice. but she looks fucking scary too, there is no questioning who she is or what she's doing here. indeed alice doesn't question her former companion being the grim reaper. it's like, rio is willing to go slow, but alice still needs to know right away that there is no escape.

alice's quiet devastation as she sees her own dead body. as much as I would have liked to see lilia walk away with her Death, I'm so glad we got alice instead. lilia died on her own terms and on such a high note. alice's story needed to take one last breath. literally.

this whole scene to me perfectly encapsulates the message of the show. beautiful, strong alice, alive one moment and gone the next, just like that. how can one come to terms with that?

words that sound mocking, but aren't. it's like accusing the ocean or the stars of being cruel. nature doesn't carry any ill intent, it simply exists.

but look what happens next. rio's smile fades at alice's despair. because rio is a willing agent of nature and balance, but also - and that's the brilliancy and tragedy of this character - rio is capable of love. she has an impossible job and she's damn good at it, but it takes a toll. she bent the rules of nature once, for the one person she loves more than the universe itself. she won't go that far for anybody else, but she has gotten to know alice, she felt true companionship with her - alice's loss is hurting on a personal level.

I've seen so many 'alice's death doesn't sit right with me' takes. YEAH, YOU THINK?!! alice's death is AWFUL. she lived all her life under this horrible curse and died one moment after liberating herself. all her hopes, all her goodness, all her potential, gone. it's MONSTROUS. it's UNFAIR.

it is monstrous that people (and children, dear god, children!) die all the time of disease, or wars, accidents, calamities. go scream at the sky about it. see if it answers back.

you died protecting someone. it's so matter-of-factly.

have you ever watched blade runner 2049? (if you haven't major spoilers ahead). ryan gosling's character, a replicant, believes he might be special, a chosen one, but turns out he was just a cog in the machine. he dies protecting harrison ford who is of course the real hero of the story. the bittersweet implication being that he didn't die in vain, that no matter how small his role in the overarching story, his life mattered and is worth remembering. but he still died alone and bleeding under the snow. it's a much bleaker message than the sweeping hero tales of old, but is not completely devoid of hope.

rio wishes to give alice's brief existence some closure, some meaning. alice died selflessly, doing something she truly believed in: isn't that worth something?

and yet. alice is still dead, all of rio's good intentions won't spare her. we do need to be kind to each other and uphold our humanity in the face of tragedy, even if it hurts like a bitch, even if it won't change a thing. be kind, if you find the strength for it. create meaning where there isn't. it's all we have in common. it's all we can do.

alice visibly recoils at rio's words. they're not enough, nothing is ever going to be enough.

and that's why I think rio had to look so damn scary in this scene, even if she's being patient and so gentle under the circumstances. her role as Death has to come before her personal feelings, that is her job and her choice.

oh, alice. my sweet alice.

lilia saw Death coming and went willingly. alice said no and cried as she stepped through the threshold. again, I am SO glad we were shown this. she wasn't as brave as lilia, but I dare you to call her a coward or to love her any less.

GOD jen's ear-piercing SCREAM. what did I just say about lilia's death being better? screw that. death is an equalizer. nobody is spared.

jen has held it together so far. eyes on the prize, no pity for anyone else involved. look at her crumble.

billy is speechless. this is the third time he has known grief in however many hours, and each time worse than the previous one. he has lost all of his innocence. and the light, the light. everything is green, it's rio, rio, rio.

remember when agatha was so afraid of Death in episode 3 that she tried to break a glass window, and everybody laughed? so funny, wasn't it?

and here she is, fucking terrified, running through green light.

and then she sees her.

your coven is shrinkiiiiiiing. oh it's so nice to finally see her with her crown. I pray and hope to see agatha wearing a crown some day.

first alice, now lilia. I love that it's so heavy, I love all the implications. it was never only about agatha trying to avoid an ex. it's what rio represents, it's what rio did to alice and lilia.

it's what she did to nicky.

except it wasn't her! she's just the ferryman! and if anyone, agatha killed alice and lilia! we just saw rio's heart ache for alice as she collected her soul! they're both lashing out at each other because they can't handle this impossible heaviness between them. agatha is being cruel because she's in pain. rio is being cruel because she's in pain. it's such a mess.

this is all I have in me tonight, fuck this show is too much. and we've just started the episode! there is a lot to unpack, the closer I look at things the sadder it gets.

go to episode 8 part 2

[hopeluna]

!! Fic Recs

Most of these are long fics or series and some of these are 18+ so be aware? But anyways, enjoy these works from absolute writing angels <33

Jujutsu Kaisen

Symptoms & Causes by @lostfracturess

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

Love Entries by @chuluoyi

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: series of episodes of your life with the strongest sorcerer throughout the past and present

men are so quick to blame the gods by @awearywritersworld

Sukuna x reader

Synopsis: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night.

wanna be yours by @nezuscribe

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

his kiss, the riot by @nezuscribe

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: the king has been struck by never-ending grief when he found out about his wife's infidelity. he has her ordered to be killed, but afterward, he is no longer the same. every night he marries a woman, and every morning he has her killed. the endless cycle continues until the night you're chosen to be his wife. instead of letting him ruin you, you tell him a story. you tell him a story that he just has to know the ending to. and so begins the story of one thousand and one arabian nights.

i'd crawl home to her by @likelilacwine

Geto Suguru x reader

Summary: the god of the underworld brings his most valued prize home at the risk of tearing the realm itself apart.

Boku No Hero Academia

@andypantsx3

Yes, her entire blog. Pls each and every series of her is god send. I cannot reccomend this to you enough!!

pretty white dress by @gaybybirth

Dabi x reader

Synopsis: You're shelving books like normal at work when a new face comes into the store. And in a small town where everyone knows each other, a new face really stands out. Especially when it's one that makes you burn in ways you never have.

FILL MY LITTLE WORLD (RIGHT UP) by @shibaraki

Aizawa Shouta x reader

Synopsis: you are employed by aizawa shouta to nanny for his vulnerable adoptive daughter eri while he’s at work. as time passes you find yourself equally smitten with them both, longing for a more permanent place in their family.

please save me by @hitoshiyoshi

Platonic!young!shimura tenko x reader

Synopsis: you save shimura tenko

Stranger Things

Not Wholly Evil by @uglypastels

Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

As you wish by @corroded-hellfire

Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: When Eddie isn’t appreciated like he should be, his babysitter feels the need to step in and comfort him.

Living After Midnight by @munson-blurbs

Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head.

Please do tell me if you want to be removed from this for whatever reason!!

[shaisuki]

— THE INTERN

ENTRY #004 OF SHAISUKI'S KINKTOBER 2023

FT. IZUKU MIDORIYA, KIRISHIMA EIJIRO, TAMAKI AMAJIKI + GANGBANG

— when multiple partners, usually 3 or more, engage in sexual intercourse with a single willing partner.

• pairing: izuku midoriya, kirishima eijiro, tamaki amajiki x chubby reader

• content warnings: foursome, dubcon, facefucking, anal, aged up characters, characters are pro.

you're the new intern at the hero agency ran by deku, the number one hero. as a part of him showing you the ropes in being a hero. collaboration with another agencies is a must and now you're standing beside him with red riot and suneater in front of you and you're one in hell of a ride.

“f-fuck!”

kirishima curses out. his eyes closing — relishing on the feeling of your tight cunt around him. “you should have brought her sooner, midoriya.” he chided. looking at the man behind you who was pounding your other hole.

midoriya only chuckles gripping your plush hips to keep you grounded for him to pound with his length and for the other underneath you to thrust his hips upwards to stimulate your pussy with his huge cock bullying inside you.

you couldn't help but let a muffle whine. mouth busy sucking off the other person's cock. making the latter moan in delight albeit shyly like he didn't still gotten used of someone taking his cock. tamaki amajiki or mostly known as suneater is moaning like a helpless animal while you choked on his cock.

it was too much. your holes being used at the same time. you can't think nor recall the events before this. thoughts muddled with the murky waters of pleasure. you couldn't think how you were put in this predicament with not one but three of the most successful heroes fucking you. all you can remember is you were still a hero in the making. an intern for midoriya izuku — deku he is to the common citizens of japan.

“collaborations with the other agencies are a must. rescuing and combat would be easier for us when emergencies are called...” the number one hero spoke to you while riding in the elevator to meet with one of the heroes in the another agency with red riot and suneater. you were given in information that three of the used to work in their school days and defeating the shie hassakai organization back in the days. that were you told and you only nod. keeping in mind what he use to say.

lucky you are someone would say and yes, you were lucky. despite the number one hero's busy schedule he managed to take you under his wing. the sole intern in his agency.

the number one hero remained to true what the Internet and tabloids had said to him. a down to earth personality, matched with his bashful look. you couldn't help but to smile looking at him. his built not matching his look and you drawn your smile before he can see it and when the doors opened in the top floor of the agency with red riot and suneater. the deal was closed with your new training unfolding in front of you — involving the men whose to be far from your reach.

now they were balls deep inside you. leaving you with no choice but to keep up with their harsh thrusting. your hands placed in the timid hero's thighs. he seem not to be bothered from you clawing his thighs while you take his dick inside your mouth. your head bobbing — up and down trying to fit his whole length whilst trying not to gag. your jaw getting a little sore but you wouldn't let it hinder you not when you're in the arms of the men who had the millions adore.

your tongue swiping the slit in his cock and with the whimper he was emitting, he is pleased — more than pleased and then you continued. running your tongue to his shaft like you it was a popsicle. his hips stuttering as he continued to fuck your mouth. the tip of his cock hitting your throat and you can't help but to tear up.

kirishima on the other hand was too engrossed with your body moving. your breasts bouncing while they fucked you and he can't help but to bite into it. pulling it his sharp teeth while he continues his assault to your soaking pussy. your round tummy pressing to his hard abs. rubbing continuously and you were so soft just like he imagined. his hands finding it's way to your back.

deku is littering your back with kisses. the creases in your skin covered in sweat is such a sight to behold. he's kind of disappointed not being able to kiss you with your mouth occupied with his senpai's cock. higher ranking or not. deku still respects his senpai and he's contented for the meantime while your asshole is doing its job well for milking him.

god. your holes were sucking them well. they can your warm velvety walls hugging them with the desire to milk them dry. it wouldn't be too long before they'll reach release but before that. they are making sure that you are properly fucked well and so — task is up.

making the new pretty girl, a hero in the making or rather deku's intern to be trained well with the ability to take multiple villains or rather cocks for them to used. you were going to be such a great hero for them.

you were too lost in the pleasure. red riot's cock and deku's were rubbing to both of your walls that you could feel their cocks almost hitting each other deep inside you. it's too good to be true and fuck you were going to savor it. you were gushing at kirishima's length at this point right now but who would care — not you were being sandwiched by two strong men and taking the other's cock in your mouth.

you could feel tamaki is getting closer to his release. his hips stuttering and his breathing getting ragged with the small whimpers and mutters of warning that he's getting close and to bring him release. you bobbed your head with your tongue wrapping around his lenght. it's almost there. almost there. and without warning he grabbed your head. pushing his length to your mouth deeper before jerking his hips upwards and shooting his load inside your mouth. the creamy, white cum of his painting your mouth white and it's too much that you can't swallow them all. the remaining dribbles in the side of your mouth as you pant. catching your breath from the earlier assault of his cock to your mouth.

you could feel another pair of hands gripping your plush hips as the sound of skin slapping each other getting louder. deku's thighs hitting your ass cheeks while his cock drill into your puckered hole. kirishima's pelvics hitting your mound from the rough thrusts of his cock and you can't help but to whine. your hands finding home in tamaki and muffling your cries with his lips. tongue swirling inside you — tasting himself on to you while you cling to him.

“'m close — f-fuck— fuck.” kirishima exhaled feeling his balls tighten and his abs and muscular thighs clenching from the pleasure building in his stomach.

“s-shit, me too—” midoriya managed to croak out. hissing at the sensation at the familiar feeling building up inside him and shit, he's so close. just a little more.

their pounding getting faster and rougher and faster. deku spreads your cheeks before deeply pushing himself inside you as he emptied himself inside you and kirishima following suit. the tip of his cock hitting your cervix that triggers your orgasm.

you can feel your insides getting warmer as their cum filled you up. both men grunting from how tight your walls are and the spasms it was making to prolong their orgasm.

deku presses a kiss to your shoulder. panting softly as he finished dumping his load inside you and kirishima praises you. whispering sweet nothings as he coaxes you while calming down from your orgasm.

pulling out their softening cocks. deku is mesmerized by the sight of their cum dripping in both of your holes. it is one of the best fucks in his life and he couldn't wait to ruin his intern again.

sweat and their scent clinging out to you. body too spent to move you were plopped in kirishima's body. he didn't mind not when your soft body pressed to him and he wished maybe he could get a time alone with you so he can ravaged you alone and with deku and his senpai, tamaki. the possibility is meant to happen again.

it wouldn't be too long for that to get their you in their hands. after all, you were trained for it. to take them, anytime they want.

it's part of the training.

[ectoentity]

So, the Haunting Heroes server did a Who Wrote That game with the theme of "wingfic" a while back. I did an entry and I liked it enough that I decided to expand on it. Gonna start posting scenes here whenever I get them done, and eventually piece it together for ao3. This first part is the intro, but the rest probably won't actually be in order.

Update Mar 11, 2024: Here is the Subscription Post

Ectoplasm Gives You Wings

(Working title)

DPxDC, T-rated genfic.

Everyone knew ghosts had wings. It was in every ghost story throughout history, regardless of culture. It was one of their defining traits, like going through walls or fading into invisibility. The unquiet dead soared through the night on birdlike wings, occasionally leaving unnaturally large feathers as an omen of impending death.

As soon as the newly-working portal spat Danny out, he knew there would be no hiding what had happened. His ghostly form came with a pair of large wings that didn't go away when he turned back human. In his ghost form, they were mostly black with bars of white near the bottom edge. The reverse was true when he was human. It was an indication of what had happened to him that he couldn't escape.

Tucker and Sam tried to play it off to his parents as a meta mutation that had suddenly appeared. They'd heard of it happening before on TV and through the internet. Besides, there were winged people in the Justice League. Danny's parents had never talked about them being secret ghosts.

Danny would never forget his parents' horrified faces as they came downstairs and found him. The way their eyes skipped over his face entirely and focused on the wings behind him. His dad frozen in place, expression slack with shock. His mom's face going from horror to determination as she set her jaw and reached for a bazooka.

Danny and his friends managed to escape them and run all the way to Tucker's house. Running was harder with a new pair of limbs hanging off his back like so much dead (hah) weight. It was clear that Danny couldn't stay here. His parents might be cranks, but once they realized the portal worked they would have evidence to prove Danny was a ghost. At least, sort of. Would they try to experiment on him, or just try to help him pass on? Danny assumed it would be the latter, but he had also assumed his mom wouldn't ever draw a weapon on him.

Tucker and Sam helped him to pack a camping backpack full of spare clothes he'd left at Tucker's, a handful of important essentials like a first aid kit, and a sleeping bag. They left for a while and came back with a cheap cellphone, a handful of prepaid phone cards, and a surprising amount of cash. Who would have thought Sam was secretly loaded?

They argued all night about where he should go. Danny barely knew his Dad's side of the family, let alone whether they'd take him in. His mom's sister Alicia was somewhere in Arkansas, but Danny couldn't remember the name of the town. Besides, he hadn't seen her since he was about nine. What if she believed Maddie over him? Tucker and Sam suggested their own family members. Danny turned them down. He didn't want to be a burden to his friends' families.

In the end, they decided that he would blend in best in a big city far away from Amity. The next day, Danny climbed on a Greyhound bus headed to the East Coast. He couldn't hide the wings, no matter what he did. The best he could do was wrap the sleeping bag around himself like a blanket. Thankfully, no one on the bus seemed to care. They all had their own issues to worry about. Most seemed content to watch their phones or the scenery instead of looking too closely at the weird kid wrapped in a big, lumpy sleeping bag.

As the hours dragged on, Danny was increasingly greatful that everyone was minding their own business. There was something else wrong with him. His hands kept slipping through the sleeping bag. Going through solid objects, like a ghost.

The plan was to find a place in Metropolis that provided resources to meta kids. But by the time the bus reached Gotham Danny was exhausted and anxious. His hands had started to go through things. What if he went straight through the bus while it was driving? He had to get a handle on this. He could always go to Metropolis the next day.

Danny got off the bus. The city around him was gray and dreary, from the concrete sidewalks up to the cloud-covered sky. It felt like the sky was too close, more of a ceiling than an open expanse. Something about it gave Danny a strangely claustrophobic feeling. He tried to shrug it off as the lack of sleep catching up to him. The last time Danny slept was the night before the portal accident. That had been well over twenty-four hours ago. He needed to find a safe place to sleep.

[germiyahu]

It is absolutely disgusting to frame Jews as "ungrateful brats" for daring to (correctly) say "nobody came to our aid in WWII" while you yourself are being an ungrateful brat stomping your feet and screaming and crying that over 400,000 Americans "gave their lives to save the Jews."

This patronizing and frankly victim blaming "community notes" on a speech made by Netanyahu is pretty damning! I smell some Hitler particles coming off of this, what about you? And we all know Netanyahu is a criminal clown but this quote:

Was not incorrect.

It says so much about how you view the Holocaust if you agree with the American (and other Allies') perspective on the Shoah. History says otherwise. The Allies only cared about the Shoah when it was politically beneficial and convenient to frame themselves as liberators and heroes.

They turned boats carrying Jewish refugees away, the USSR sank some of them, drowning hundreds. All these governments denied entry visas. The United States allowed Nazi sympathizers to hold rallies and stage protests, while normal Americans prided themselves on their neutrality (more Americans were sympathetic to Syrian refugees entering in the 2010s than Jewish refugees in the 1930s).

American (and British) forces entering "liberated" camps were often "shocked" by what they found. And yet the world knew for years about Hitler's antisemitism, the Nuremburg Laws, Kristallnacht. So not only were they aware of the danger posed to Jews, most people as well as their governments didn't care. And their "shocked" reaction to discovering evidence of genocide should tell you they certainly weren't motivated to join the war to stop a genocide!

To demand that a people be "grateful" to you for doing nothing and then helping defeat the Nazis (for your own benefit) which stopped the genocide they faced after only a paltry 6 million people were murdered... you are the real brats. Thankfully a few brave naïve Twitter people pointed out under the predictable comments things like the Yad Vashem... or the fact that so many people saying "I've never heard a Jew thank a goyim for anything!" were met with "you probably don't know any Jews lol."

The legacy of the Holocaust/Shoah to people like this is "Worship us, sanctify our names and deepthroat our cocks forever because we think we saved you." Like how dare you think Jews should forever be on their knees kissing your feet because you deigned to "end" a genocide after 80% of Europe's Jewry was gone. Your true colors show the moment any Jews ever question America's exceptionalism and beneficence. This happens a lot. If an Israeli ever says a single thing that does less than imply sunshine comes out of America's ass, a lot of the (right wing) American non Jewish Israel supporters immediately go off the fucking rails and "threaten" to stop their support.

This is the dangerous side of American Philosemitism. Because without fail, and I mean without fail, this jingoistic kneejerk temper tantrum instinct in Americans invites literal Holocaust deniers to come out of their toilets and start spewing their vile nonsense. And do you know what all of these people crying about their peepaw's sacrifice for those ungrateful Christ Killers say in response to these Nazis? Nothing.

Their support for Jews is entirely contingent on how much Jewish people kiss their asses, or how much they perceive Jewish people to be kissing their asses, and America's ass. Childish!

[thydungeongal]

Fantasy Adventure Games part 2

You know what, there's still a lot of trad stuff that I haven't even touched out there, and I would be remiss if I didn't feature some of the other, newer entries into the field. This is a continuation of this post.

So, once again, staying with very trad fantasy games:

Dragonbane by the Free League. An English translation of the latest edition of the classic Swedish fantasy RPG Drakar och Demoner, Dragonbane is a very traditional fantasy roleplaying game whose design is clearly heavily informed by RuneQuest but in its latest incarnation also owes a lot to the game structure popularized by D&D 3e (a game that still informs a lot of game design to this day). Dragonbane is, at its core, a skill-based, no-levels fantasy game, but that still has classes of a sort to grant structure to character creation and advancement. Its playstyle has been dubbed "mirth and mayhem" by its creators, and it emphasizes quick resolution and a sense of randomness. The presentation is also top notch, with art by Swedish fantasy artist Johan Egerkrans.

Forbidden Lands by the Free League. Another game published by the Free League, Forbidden Lands is a classic fantasy RPG with a focus on sandbox play and exploration in a strange, scary world. Forbidden Lands uses a variant of the Year Zero engine from Free League's Mutant: Year Zero games, a type of d6 dice pool system. With out-of-the-box mechanics for exploration, foraging, negotiations, and hunting, as well as running one's own stronghold, the real star of the show is the ready-made sandbox setting that comes with the game, begging to be explored.

Against the Darkmaster by Open Ended Games. The creators of Rolemaster, mentioned in the previous post, for a brief moment held the license to the Middle-earth setting of J.R.R. Tolkien's legendarium and produced a slightly lighter version of Rolemaster to support playing in that setting, titled Middle-earth Roleplaying, or MERP for short. While the game is now long gone, it is still fondly remembered, and in 2019 Against the Darkmaster, a game that is essentially a tribute to MERP made by long-time fans of the game, was Kickstarted. Against the Darkmaster, or VsD for short, is a game in the heritage of Rolemaster, but with inspirations taken from modern RPGs, including the officially licensed modern LotR RPG The One Ring (which is another soft recommend from yours truly). VsD is a gritty and dark traditional RPG that seeks to empower its players to play out stories of a fellowship of heroes struggling against the forces of darkness, very much in the genre of Lord of the Rings, Dragonlance, and the Chronicles of Prydain. If you want crunchy, epic fantasy with a hint of darkness, this one's for you.

Fantasy Hero by Hero Games. A fantasy adaptation of the HERO System, the system that powers the classic superhero RPG Champions, Fantasy Hero is the closest thing I have found to an engine for running a fantasy immersive sim. The core philosophy of the HERO System is that its open-ended power creation system can be used to build anything, and Fantasy Hero directs that energy towards empowering fantasy adventures. The HERO System is very crunchy, almost like a TTRPG physics engine, and it's a dream come true for a certain type of gamer. Heck, I've personally considered using it to run a fantasy sim campaign where spell research is conducted through the power creation system. It's so cool. There is a one-book version of Fantasy Hero out there, called Fantasy Hero Complete, but word on the street is that the better way to run it is using the Hero System 6th Edition rules with the Fantasy Hero 6th Edition genre supplement on top.

Earthdawn by FASA. Once officially tied to the fantasy cyberpunk RPG Shadowrun as its mythic past, due to ownership issues Earthdawn is better understood as its own, standalone game without any ties to Shadowrun these days (and even in the past the actual ties were minimal). Earthdawn casts the player characters as magically empowered individuals who direct their magic into various disciplines, so that a Warrior in Earthdawn isn't simply someone who fights: they are someone who utilizes magic to subtly empower their fighting ability. Earthdawn is very much kin to RuneQuest in how it ties its game system to its world's underlying metaphysics, while being more in line with your traditional dwarves and elves and wizards fantasy. The setting of the game is post-apocalyptic fantasy, with a demonic scourge having recently ravaged the land and people for the first time stepping out of their magically sealed vaults to explore the world. In addition to Earthdawn fourth edition, there is an alternate, simpler version of Earthdawn titled "Age of Legend," which uses an extremely simplified system based on dice results of "Yes, and..." and "No, but..." style prompts. The fourth edition released by FASA is a very traditional, crunchy RPG.

Talislanta by various. Talislanta is a classic fantasy RPG set in an extremely unique fantasy setting that promises ABSOLUTELY NO ELVES. Talislanta is a very unique vision of a fantasy RPG with a very idiosyncratic setting, unique metaphysics, weird sights, and extremely easy to learn yet deep system. The system is very simple, with a basic d20+modifiers resolution mechanic, with varying degrees of success built in, and this system is used for absolutely everything, including combat, skill resolution, and magic. Speaking of magic, Talislanta's magic system is based heavily on keywords and schools, with magic-users being potentially able to produce almost any kind of magical effect the player can imagine under the keyword system, but with certain types of magic simply being more fit to certain purposes and some types of magic not being able to produce certain specific magical effects. What's more, legacy editions of the game are available online for free.

Anyway, that's enough for now.

[elfiewhore]

Mommy domme elf story

Hello my dears and darlings! Finally, the long promised elf mommy domme story is here! Or at least, the first two chapters. As I began writing I realised that this idea had a firm hold on my mind and I want to write a slow, lewd and enticing tale. So that means this will be part 1 of ? - The first two chapters.

Please feel free to give me any feedback and/or tell me what you'd like to see next! This story is written from the perspective of the reader as the member of an adventuring party. The gender and name of the protagonist is purposefully left vague which, while it does mean some specific descriptions will be a little nonspecific, hopefully means that you can easily identify yourself in the story <3 This story is strictly 18+ and contains/will contain content including but not limited to: Humiliation, peeing, diapers, AB/DL, gfd, age regression, crossdressing(depending on how you identify), chastity and monsterfucking. All that out of the way, without further adieu I give you the first two chapters of my as-yet-unnamed story!

Chapter 1: An unexpected parting “I’m afraid I cannot continue along this path. To be quite frank you are all far too reckless. The strain it places upon me is far greater than any I have faced before. I wish you well, but I must depart.” That was the last words of your party’s healer, a priestess sworn to a god of healing. She was your last resort, having had to beg for the mercy of the church to provide her services free of charge. And she wasn’t wrong. Your party are notably reckless, charging headlong into combat without a second thought. This devil-may-care attitude had at first earned you some renown, as your bravado led to taking on the most dangerous of missions posted in the Adventurer’s guild. Slaying harpies, undead, and even a gryphon! The stuffed head of which is now resting within the guilds’ storage as collateral for your replacement arms and armour after the last debacle. Not that it was your fault, mind! You were always good. You listened to the numerous healers that had come and gone through your party. Standing where they wished, protecting them, ferrying potions. You were always their favourites, it wasn’t fair that the others always dragged you down. But you couldn’t leave either, the reputation stuck. You sent out subtle enquiries to other famous bands only to be rejected at each turn. Even the less reputable groups required steep entry fees as ‘insurance’ should they require costly resurrection magicks. Truly it was a terrible situation. And now here you were sitting in the foyer of the guild. The wooden walls of this esteemed establishment groaning under the weight of trophies and banners of heroes long past. They did little to inspire as you sat with your chin in your hands, waiting for a representative from the guilds’ treasury so that you can convince them not to repossess your equipment. “Just give ‘em the puppydog eyes. No one can resist those!” Your group had told you. And this was also true. It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t especially strong or imposing. It was useful for fulfilling your role but unfortunately led to you often being underestimated or treated childishly. Your mind swirled in a thunderstorm. Travelling without a healer was tantamount to a death sentence. Out in the wilderness, even the smallest cut could lead to a life-threatening infection. Not to mention mummy rot, lycanthropy, wyvern stings. Everyone had a role to play and you were missing one. “Excuse me. Is this the Adventuring Guild?” Came a breathy, soft spoken voice. Airy and light. You glanced up to see a woman standing before the desk, speaking to the clerk. Your breath caught for a moment in your throat as you took her in. Long, beautiful hair the colour of spun gold and braided with gems that glittered like stars tumbled down her back like a waterfall, framing the back of this curvy, enchanting figure. Every movement, no matter how small, was performed with effortless grace as she rested a staff of living wood against the desk. Atop it rested a crystal so pure one could see right through it, and silvery threads of magicked metals intertwined with the knots and whorls of the staff. Pretty (and valuable) as that staff may be your eyes refused to be pulled away from this woman. Clad in a robe of forest greens that flowed about her as if pulled by an unfelt breeze. Trumpet sleeves made of thin, almost translucent fabrics revealed pale and unblemished skin. But most notable of all, perhaps, were her ears. An unusual thing, one might thing, to focus upon. But the tips were long and pointed. 

An elf.. you think to yourself. A rarity to be sure. These reclusive, powerful creatures lived for millennia within their enchanted forests and reclusive holds. To see one traveling the world was an unusual sight indeed, for they often cared not for the affairs of men, halflings and other mortal beings. Content to remain within their own communities and spend their time plumbing the depths of the arcane and the nature of the divine, among others. “Yes this is the Ad-” the clerk stops, their eyes widening as they look up at this woman. “H-How may I.. Help you?” “Hehe! Oh please don’t be alarmed, sweetie. I don’t bite!” The woman’s voice again, a soft whisper. The susurration of a blanket being draped around you. “I’m only here to see if any parties are in need of a.. Oh what’s the word in this era.. A physiker? No..” “A healer?” Your eyes widen. That was your voice. Why did you speak? You groaned internally. Drawing attention to yourself never ended well. The figure turns, blessing you with a radiant smile. “Yes! Oh thank you!” Her eyes regard you from above as you are given a chance to look upon her face. Flawless as the rest, her eyes were a strange cavalcade of colour. At once purple, then gold, then blue as they took you in. Though no wrinkles could be seen, for elves are forever youthful, her countenance held a certain age to it. A wisdom beyond your own. You attempted to be polite, to meet her gaze. But that was difficult at the best of times and you were somewhat distracted by the revelation that her dress did little to contain a bountiful chest. The creamy pale skin stark against the deep green dress. It did not look ill-fitting, mind. Simply.. This woman’s bust demanded attention. Her ruby-clad lips draw your eyes northward once more. “My my! Let me help you with that!” She coos, in a voice tinged deeply with maternal concern. She reaches down and cups your cheek with a touch so delicate and warm you at once wish to melt into it. Your face had been rather beaten up in the last adventure, and with none to restore your vigor now you simply had to patch them up. But now the aches subsided more swiftly than they had ever before. Not just those upon your face, as the elf whispers her magic, it travels through your body. Soothing the woes of fatigue and injury. Even old wounds you had long since accepted receded before her radiance. Her hand pulls away and you can’t stop your face from following. Unbalanced, you collapse upon the floor with an embarrassed groan as you are snapped back to reality. A sound graces your ears. Like a babbling brook meets the chime of crystals. You realise she’s giggling. Your cheeks flush red as you rush to your feet. 

Her laughter stops as she looks genuinely apologetic. “I am sorry, little one. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It was simply.. Cute.” Normally being called such a thing enraged you, frustrated you. But now… It felt comforting. “It’s okay.” you mumble.

“A-hem!” a stuffy voice draws your attention. You see the stuffy mustache first, like a hateful caterpillar resting upon the craggy face of a mountain filled with debt. The treasurer. “You again. I told you before if your party cannot prove to this guild that you are capable of finding a consistent and reliable healer to prevent any further deaths we will be forced to repossess the equipment we have graciously provided! I shan’t hear any more arguments or delays! So I ask for a final time. Have you a member capable of sealing wounds and ensuring your survival?” their stern gaze pierces you and your words wither in your throat. You tried to muster some kind of response but all that begins to croak out is a pathetic “N-no..” “Now now!” A scolding voice rang out. “There’s no need for that! No matter how urgent you feel your issue may be there’s no excuse for snapping! Or being impolite! If you must know ‘tis I that has joined this worthy band of warriors and, personally, I believe you would scarcely find a better purveyor of magicks and mending than one of my people. Now unless you would doubt the provenance of my ability, I have matters to discuss with my noble companion!” It was the elf. When did- You didn’t ask her to join you?! You barely spoke a word to her. And yet here she was, standing beside you with an arm protectively holding you against her side. Your cheek presses against her soft, warm breast through the thin fabric as you are held with a surprisingly firm grip. 

Chapter 2: Mommy’s home

The elf, whom you learned was named Nimue, was true to her word. Requesting (or gently demanding) to be taken to where your group were staying to introduce herself. She was apparently a mage of great renown amongst her own people who had left the isolation of her home to travel amongst the younger races as, in her own words, she ‘missed the energy and vibrancy of youth’ You couldn’t very well say no. You needed a healer. Furthermore elves legendarily had little need for riches which was a source of great frustration for any trader that fancied trying to arrange a trade deal for their crafts. So payment seemed not to be an issue. Dutifully you returned to the house your party had purchased many moons ago. Now somewhat dilapidated, the garden overgrown. It made you well up with shame to bring such a perfect and ethereal figure to this place. But her face remained impassive as she was led inside not that the interior fared much better. Broken bottles, dust, overturned chairs. Too often had your party returned here either too tired or drunk to care about cleanliness and it had become simply a part of the decor. First to meet you were the leaders of your band. A pair of twins, one a swordsman named Krennan and the other a channeller of barbaric rage named Mithra. “Well now, pipsqueak. Who’s this you brought with yo-” Began the swordsman, only to be cut off. “I think that’s quite a rude nickname to give someone, don’t you think?” The elf’s voice came in clipped tones, her hands on her hips. “How would you like it if someone called you pipsqueak, hmm? Just because you’re bigger doesn’t mean you get to bully others you know!” The twins look stunned. Confused. They hadn’t even exchanged names and already this lady was scolding them like a schoolteacher. “Well? Not to mention the absolute state of this abode. I’m told you are the ‘leaders’ of this little group? Hmm? Well I don’t see much leading if you leave this place in such a mess!” You couldn’t help but smile, though you attempted to hide it. To see these two being taken down a peg was… Wonderful. You glanced up at this woman, this saviour and your heart leapt just a little. You clung to her side even though you technically could have left at any time. Nowhere felt safer than right here, especially after her gentle arm almost habitually draped itself around you. “Now do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?” Her voice never raised, not once. But the tone, the power, the authority. It was all that was needed. The duo mumble and hang their heads, somehow cowed by this beautiful stranger. “Now apologize.” She commands. Krennan begins to mumble but withers under her gaze. “S-Sorry for calling you a pipsqueak.” He says a little more clearly. “That’s better. Now dearies. Thanks to a certain someone here-” she announces, rubbing your arm affectionately. “-I am your new… What was the word again in this era?” She asks you. “Healer” You say back up to her, feeling an utter rush of pride that you could be helpful to her. Especially as she beams back down at you. “I am your new healer! I’ll make sure you’re all back in bed safe and sound each and every night!” Her words are accompanied with a happy giggle. “But first sweeties, I think we need to do something about this mess, don’t you? After all. Cleanliness is next to godliness! So come along, pick up a brush. No dillydallying!” She ferries you and the other two further into the house, ushering you like children.

The next few hours consisted of chores. Cleaning the house, trimming the garden, dusting every inch that could be dusted. Your other companions - A scout named Callie and a sorcerer named Ilnax, were roped into the affair with sleepy confusion. That they fucked regularly was the worst kept secret in the group and today was no exception. But Nimue had some kind of.. Allure. Power. Nothing magical, you don’t think. Simply an aura of maternal authority. You found yourself eager to please, trusting that she knew best. And before long, the house was transformed. No longer a dilapidated sty, it looked somewhat close to actually livable! “Okay sweeties! Well done! I’m so proud of you! Teehee! And now it’s bath and bedtime for all of you!” That snapped some of them out of the strange spell she had woven. “Bedtime? We’re not-” Began Callie, only to find Nimue’s smiling face gazing down at her. “I am responsible for your health and that begins with a good and consistent sleep schedule! I’m told you four are constantly staying up far too late. This won’t do, so long as I’m here you will sleep at a reasonable hour! You wouldn’t want to die because of a silly mistake you made because you were cranky, would you?” 

As usual, you were last for the bath. You were used to it. The others simply barged their way past you to take the hot water for themselves. As you stepped into the bathroom you blush as immediately you realise that Nimue is also in there, standing near-naked before the tub. You never thought you would see an ass that perfect but you could probably bounce a gold coin off that thing as silken underwear are nearly swallowed by the cheeks. She turns with a yelp, covering her bare chest but then chuckling and dropping her hands revealing perfectly pink nipples. “Oh, it’s just you! Hehe! Close the door silly.” She says with a chuckle. Your cheeks burn, not just because of her nudity but how somehow you don’t count as someone she would be embarrassed by. As if she doesn’t see you as an adult that would find such a sight enticing. But you find yourself closing the door. “It’s getting late, so I thought I would join you in the bath! That’s okay, right? No one changed the water so I did it myself and added some firestones. It should be nice and warm! C’mon!” She beckons, turning and slipping off her panties before climbing into the tub. You debated leaving, but why should you? She was inviting you in. And the water was literally steaming hot. You hadn’t had a warm bath in so long. You realise that while you had been debating internally your body had made the choice and you were already sinking into that warm, steaming water. The tub, small as it was, would only fit if you sat between her gorgeous thighs. They cushioned your hips like pillows as she wrapped her arms around your stomach, pulling you back against her to give you a hug. Her breasts squishing against the back of your head as she does so. “I’m so glad I found you, little one. This was just what I needed! Oh this is going to be a wonderful, wonderful time!” She coos, bringing some water up and beginning to wash you. Overwhelmed, you simply sit still. It was nice, finally. To have someone stand up for you, take care of you, protect you. Finally you could just relax. Just.. Relax.. “Ooop! It looks like someone’s having a bit of an accident!” She titters. Your eyes flutter open as you look down and to your utter horror you see between your legs a definite tinge of gold in the water. Did you- You pissed yourself! You immediately try to scramble out, stammering an embarrassed apology but again those powerful arms keep you still. “Shhh…” She soothes, softly petting your head. “It’s okay. I understand. You were relaxed. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” She whispers into your ear. “I’ll take care of it. I promise. But for now.. We should make sure there’s nothing else in there, hmm?” Unsure of what she meant, you simply settled back into the water as her hand trailed down between your legs. You tense as she touches your most intimate place, but quickly relax as her gentle hands slowly start to rub and tease you. “W-What are you…” “Helping you relax.. Shhh..” She whispers into your ear as she continues just gently touching you. Holding you in a motherly embrace as her delicate strokes make you shiver so sweetly. You had never been touched like this. So carefully, tenderly. Not trying to simply get you off as quickly as possible. But wanting to fill your mind with a haze of pleasure. It was overwhelming. It was everything. You settle even more comfortably against her chest, half turning to nuzzle into her breast as she holds you close. “That’s my little champion. My brave heroic adventurer! You’ve done so much, such a good job! Now just relax. Let me take care of you. Let mommy take good, good care of you now…” Those words reached your ears and swirled into your mind. Soothing all worries, caressing your anxious soul. You didn’t even realise when you felt your hips lift and grind against her hand as you cum for her. She was taking care of you now. You were hers, happily and hopelessly hers. You could never have imagined how far that would go. 

[dokidokitsuna]

O.R.C.A.’s Directory

(Finally coming back to this concept after several months ^^;)

O.R.C.A. in #re_rise doesn’t just run Alterna in the background and give you orders– it’s a system you interact with regularly as the player; a database that facilitates your adventure and keeps track of your accomplishments. It is accessed through terminals placed at key spots on each site, which you have to find, activate, and physically walk to if you want to use them.

Most of the contents of the Menu (except the Sunken Scrolls) are now consolidated into O.R.C.A., along with a few bonus features~

Alterna Archive: Basically the Alterna Logs– all the information about Alterna’s history, from creation to collapse (referencing my rewritten version of this backstory, of course). As you clear lab spaces with different weapons, earn Golden Eggs, activate terminals, collect Nostalgic Devices, etc., the files will be decrypted line by line. Basically, anything that contributes to your percent completion of the game will count towards this…so just enjoy Alterna the way you like, and you’ll eventually reveal the entire archive without too much extra effort. ^^ This story is O.R.C.A.’s gift to you; your reward for reawakening its home.

Lab Notebook: Notes written by the ‘mysterious researcher’ currently working in Alterna, earned in order from newest to oldest, so we can gradually learn what the Fuzzy Ooze is and why he made it, as well as his origin story and true identity (in his own words~). These replace ‘Log.exe’ from the actual game. Lab notes are found by reaching computers hidden within the lab spaces, kinda like the Power Egg packs. They are purposely placed in the more challenging spaces, and you must clear the space in order to take the note with you– if you wanna learn the main antagonist’s secrets, you gotta put in the work. ^^

Wellness File: Records of Neo Agent 3’s responses to the environment, once you obtain the biometric monitor in Cryogenic Hopetown (more on that later). This is essentially an account of how the player character is feeling at each point in the story– a new entry will be created after each encounter with a major character (Deep Cut, the King Salmonids, the Squid Sisters, etc.) or a particularly interesting Alterna landmark. ;)

Nostalgia Index: List of all the Nostalgic Devices you’ve collected, which Alterna citizens they belonged to, and what they used them for. The citizens’ names are redacted, but you do get to learn a bit about the different kinds of people who lived in Alterna, and connect with them through the items they left behind.

Skill Tree: Basically the same as the in-game version, minus the Hero Shot buffs– in #re_rise you don’t get the Hero Shot until you gain the Hero Gear in the last stretch of the game. Instead you borrow from weapons’ lockers placed around Alterna…meaning you can carry the weapon of your choice as you explore each site, offering you a wider variety of strategies to use on those balloon challenges, for instance. ^^ But I digress…

Camera Roll: One of the Nostalgic Devices you can find is a digital camera, and once you’ve obtained it, you can take pictures with it and upload them to the terminal (as well as your regular photo gallery, when you’re back on the surface). The Alterna Camera comes with its own special filters, and characters you aim it at will pose for you. ^^ This feature is basically just for funzies, but if you can snap a picture of that large figure lurking in the shadows, you’ll earn a special clothing item.

Messages: Occasionally you will receive mysterious messages, warning you with increasing severity to stay out of their laboratory (and bring back their golden eggs…sure sounds familiar). Are these warnings for their sake or for yours…?

Map: Even the site maps are only accessible through the terminals, they’re not available whenever. Maybe that would be a controversial choice…but I think it’d be okay in this instance, since (a) the Alterna islands are pretty small, and (b) I’ve invented a fun system that might help– the Sticker Beakons! ^^

Around Alterna, you can find Sticker Sheets with 3 Sticker Beakons each, to place and replace wherever you want on any island. They shine like actual beacons so you can use them to navigate while you wander around on foot, and once you reach a terminal you can jump to them like normal Squid Beakons. They come in different shapes and designs like the stickers from Hotlantis, and double as actual stickers you can place on your locker, once you’ve found them in Alterna. ^^

I feel like forcing the player to walk around is more forgivable when you give them something cute and customizable like this to play with. :D If you want to use all 18 Sticker Beakons on one island at a time because you’re super directionally-challenged, you can. If you want to use them to simply mark your favorite Alterna landmarks so you can jump to them easily, you can do that too. 

Maybe as a compromise, I might add a ‘Return to Nearest Terminal’ option in the Menu…but I think encouraging the player to get out there and actively explore can’t hurt. Part of my philosophy with this re-concept is to make Alterna an interesting place that the player would WANT to explore, and all these added collectibles are part of that.

[irondad-creator-awards]

Final Thanks

Some Final Thanks

With the winners announced and prizes posted, the 2024 Irondad Creator Awards are winding down for another year.

As always, we’ve had a lot of fun running them, and I want to take a moment for to give thanks.

@superherotiger created our great icon and banner again this year to add a little color to our posts and they were always ready in the team chat for advice and opinions.

@monireh89 created the most beautiful prize for our winners and runners-up and they put Hours into personalising them. We’re so grateful to them for all their work.

@ctrsara had to take a step back this year as life got busy, but they were there every day in the chat making decisions with us, giving opinions and general encouragement. They also helped me work my way around the Book@marks and Collections options when I was clueless.

@asyouleft is a true hero of these Awards. We literally could not run them without it without them. Not only do they take care of all the data entry and form creation, but they also put their own money into the Awards to pay for the website and secure voting forms. Without them we would be on Google Forms still and we all know how frustrating they are.

Final thanks, of course, go to you all. Thank you for nominating, voting, spreading the word, and being the most vital part of the Awards. Without you all, there would be no point in us running them at all.

See you all in 2025

@jadeys-world x   

[wordsmithic]

hello ! I have seen your post about greek mythology and its mischaracterization by westerners and i had some questions (im really sorry if it sounds offensive or ignorant i come in good faith). But why would a modern day greek be useful for writing about ancient greece and its culture ? Wouldnt the modern and ancient culture of greece change a lot because of the 2 millenia gap, christianization and ottoman domination ?

First of all, as Greeks and the living descendants and members of the Greek culture, we have the right to define how our heritage is presented and to have our voices heard in Greek cultural matters.

Secondly, Greeks are in very close contact with our heritage and ancient culture because we have been actively preserving it for more than 2 millennia.

We are still speaking the same language - with reasonable alterations but clearly still Greek with the same words, roots and logic. We can comfortably read and understand texts from 1000 and 2000 years ago - Koine Greek. Our customs, music, and ideas of respect for elders, heroes, important deities and heroes hold from the ancient years.

Christianity changed our religion, not our customs. Not even the structure of our temples. In fact, the anthropocentric Greek philosophy was and is part of our religion, Greek Orthodoxy.

The Ottomans made us second-class citizens and tried to wipe us out but we persisted, opening schools with our own money and surviving cultural and literal genocide.

We have a very strong archaeological sector, a ton of scholars and students who study our antiquity, and an archaeological museum in every town.

Additionally, we get educated since elementary school on the intended meaning of the myths. Since middle school (Gymnasio) we read and analyze our ancient Epics and ancient plays with graduates from classical and Greek literature studies as teachers. We also learn a version of ancient Greek, of course, from the first class of Gymnasio, when we are 12-13.

In addition, we know what happened in the years between polytheist antiquity and modern times. For most foreigners, this is a black box and they have no idea what happened to Greek culture. But we are taking exams on it.

(We study each period of our history three times during school. One in elementary, one in middle school, and one in high school). Kids who choose the Theoritiki domain learn even more and sharpen their skills enough so they compete for university entry at 17-18 years old by translating an ancient text they've never encountered before in class. (You can imagine how much study this needs, and how much consumption of ancient texts so one can prepare)

It is totally unreasonable to expect a culture to remain unchanged throughout the centuries. Not a single culture is like this. Evolution and change happens to every culture, and yet it remains a specific culture. It wouldn't be fair to deny all the ancient nations around the world the right to cultural continuation. It's just that some people cannot fathom generation after generation passing out their culture to others, but it is true in the case of the Greeks.

For someone like me who has a Greek heritage, there is an unbroken chain of Greeks all the way back to antiquity, who got passed down the Greek culture from someone else. (blood doesn't matter, just culture) The wishes, ideas, needs, and philosophy of that culture got passed from person to person, got evolved or changed based on what other Greeks wanted, or based on whatever influences were around at the time, and then got passed down to the next Greek.

In short, Greeks have this constant exposure to the wishes of the Greek people and the wisdom of our scholars early on, and the very nature of our continuous culture allows us to understand the context for many things. There are no dead Greeks you can speak to, so you can speak to the closest ancestor: a living Greek.

Scholars are also fine, of course, but when they are foreign they can have their biases or blind spots. I remember a post about Emily Wilson who translated the phrase "he is precious like my head" without taking into account how we use such phrases in Greek. To a Greek it's very obvious how this phrase is used and the context supports it. But Wilson didn't know this, so she guessed a few meanings based on a guess, guided by her own culture. I don't think Wilson's guess is better than the guess of a Greek scholar or a Greek person. Personally, I'd take more into account the opinion of the person from the native culture just because of the linguistic and cultural proximity.

Finally, in all nations, some Greeks don't care too much about their culture, but on the flipside there are many Greeks who care about it and are very knowledgeable. Both types of Greeks cringe heavily every time they see an American movie on Greek mythology, though 😂

Westerners have proven since the Middle Ages that they are viewing us under specific lends. They like to give us identities based on what they feel comfortable with, never asking our opinion or POV. So much so that when they encounter actual Greek culture they have no idea what it is. They have a separate idea in their heads and, based on that, they insist that they are the inheritors of our past. They've been calling us all sorts of names since the time of Charlamagne, viewed us through orientalist lens, sent people to loot our ancient sites again and again, called us too brown, called us too white, called us ignorant and uneducated, unable to care for our heritage, and - of course - "not real Greeks". The misconception, exoticization and sense of ownership of the Greek culture in the West have extremely deep roots.

This is a grave generalization and not directed to each individual. I'm just saying that there's history and literature just too large to ignore. No, I am not going to trust Westerners the same degree as I trust Greeks for the same reason an Indian would prefer to showcase their culture through another Indian text or person, and not by a Brit, or the same way a Native American would not trust the descendant of Spanish, German and Welsh people to showcase Native culture.