#and it being about mortality. and choice. and dreams. yeah yeah i fuck with it.

[mythalism]

Dude yeah Solas going back to the prison is so dumb to me. Like I assumed before seeing Trick’s post they he and the inquisitor were going into the fade itself to where he sealed the dreams or whatever. But instead I’m going to take my wife to my divorcee empty ass apartment where the ghosts of my past call me a wet loser? What?

JHGKEJRGHKERJHGKREJGH no ur right. i think it genuinely only works when you look at it from a mythological story perspective rather than the two of them as individual people... which is interesting because their whole stories are kind of about how they lose themselves to the myth that surrounds them... so i think its supposed to be the ultimate conclusion of that.

they are at once both finally free of the burdens of the myths and expectations that follow them as the dread wolf and the herald of andraste because they have left the mortal world that forced them into those roles and stripped them of their personhood, but they have also completely submitted themselves to those roles by submitting to the logical conclusion of the myths that they could not escape. for the dread wolf, it is earning his redemption through his willing submission to his own trap. its the logical, full-circle mythological conclusion to the trickster who trapped the gods, now trapped for eternity himself (allegedly, he will prob eventually break out... even loki gets his freedom during ragnarok...). for the inquisitor, it is andraste's herald finally sharing andraste's fate, choosing to leave the mortal world behind to ascend to the golden city alongside the god that she loves. both (presumably, for a lavellan) have tried to reject the myths attached to them over and over and over, but in the end they choose them willingly, and that choice at once binds them to those myths forever while simultaneously freeing them from the burden of them. its giving oedipal greek tragedy of attempting to outrun your fate and it finding you anyway, just when you thought you were finally making your own choice, but with a hopeful and bittersweet spin. its actually fucking insanely brilliant when i think about it this way it makes me genuinely foam at the mouth.

however the major caveat to this is i do not think this is presented nearly clear enough in veilguard. the only reason i am able to create such wonderful, deep meaning from this is honestly because my bachelor's degree is in literature and i literally have formal academic training analyzing storytelling. and it took me like a week to actually sift through all this in my brain and go back and sift through lines and images in the game to support my analysis. it should not take that much work, it should have been more clear. because yeah, the first time you play it it absolutely feels like your girly pop lavellan is making the WORST, down-bad delulu decision of her life while the rest of the world is screaming GIRL DUMP HIM!!!!!!!! and im not suggesting im smarter than anyone for looking at it “the right way” or anything like that. im saying that i think in order to get the meaning from it that the writers intended, you have to look at it through a very specific literary lens, and that is something that most people are not going to default to… because why would you? the story should lead you there on its own. there shouldn’t be a niche prerequisite to enjoying the ending. a few more lines about people made into myths, much like those we got throughout inquisition, could’ve helped facilitate this. they did a great job of hammering in the regret and choice themes to the point it was like beating a dead horse with a stick. and there are a few good lines that kind of give this vibe (“you’re not JUST the inquisitor, right?” “they call me the dread wolf, what will they call you when this is over?” “there is no fate but the love we share,” a codex from felassan about solas being forced to play into the dread wolf persona, etc.) but they probably could’ve added a few more to talk about mythological apotheosis and choice in the context of fate rather than just in the context of regret, and it would’ve helped at least a bit.

so i fully understand peoples discomfort with the ending as a result. i think it’s a logical conclusion to come to based on how the story presents itself. however im pretty confident that this mythological vibe was tricks intention, based on a lot of their comments about their writing process and inspiration for solas, and the way they have written him overall. @corseque has a lot of amazing posts in her solas tag that talk specifically about the very deliberately mythological way that weekes wrote solas, and i think this is essential context for understanding the ending that the game simply does not sufficiently provide. it also definitely invalidates a lot of people's perceptions of not just their inquisitor, but the solavellan romance as well. however i hope me blabbing about how it can be absolutely brilliant when viewed through a specific lens might help people feel more at peace with it <3

[storywestistrash]

when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers or moots (positivity is cool) 💕

ooh thank you for the ask <:) i love being asked questions and im so honored you thought of me for this one! in no particular order, here is a taste of my mildly embarassing music taste:

[tnsophiaonly]

"Thy should learn its place."

"It is beneath me."

The Creator scoffed at an annoyance, the fact that someone dared to use her gene blessed to mortals for their own advantage?! Out rageous! But her connection to the realm has been disconnected from Celestia thyself. They dare challenge their Creator?

Challenge accepted.

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Liar Reader. SAGAU. Cult AU. Impostor-ish AU. OOC. Manipulator Reader.

—e—r—a—w—a—n—U—

The same looking figure as you was talking to Kujou Sara. Really unfortunate.

So the plan to avoid characters at all causes, yeeted to Celestia.

What do you do?! What do you do?!?!

Wait, just go back to where you are and leave with your boat!

You were about to walk away when...

"Halt! Show yourself, intruder!"

Kujou Sara commanded and took out her bow and put the '(S/M)' behind her as a sort of protection.

Well. Shit.

You walk out of your hiding place and despite the fact that Kujou Sara dropped her weapon a little bit, you could feel her guard is still on.

"State your name and purpose!" Kujou Chic- Sara demanded. Geez was she always this loud? Man her vocal cords must hurt, her own issues meh.

"Akeldama Kagema, I am an adventurer. I came here for a commission." You lied smoothly, keeping up a facade of a serious and hardworking.

Kujou Sara eyes you up and down. 'Strange, why do I feel a divine like aura on this stranger...?' Kujou Sara thought quietly, unbeknownst to her guard dropping.

(S/M) chuckled awkwardly, gaining your and the yokai's attention

"So, Kagema-chan, what exactly is your commission?" Wow. No formalities? Straight up -chan and comfy? You keep up your facade.

"I had to take care of a hilichurl camp." You lied explained. (S/M) seemed skeptical of your answer, "Just a hilichurl camp? That's your only commission..?" Clearly she knows nothing about the Adventurer's Guild does she..?

"Only in Kannazuka. I still have other commissions on other islands of Inazuma." You cleared things up.

"Ohh! I get it!" (S/M) sickly sweetly said in false fascination.

"By the way. Kagema-chan, I noticed that you're bruised and your clothing doesn't really seem adventure-like!" Perceptive people suck but are also hot. "I am very aware of my clothing choice but it's the only clothing choice I have. But it didn't cause a hindrance or whatsoever." You lied replied professionally.

Before (S/M) could speak, Kujou Sara unconsciously cut her off. "I'll patch this stranger. I can't trust this stranger to be anywhere safe with you (S/M). You are after all an oracle and the only person that's personally connected to the creator. You should visit the Kamisato Estate for some early discussions regarding the festival and ritual for the creator."

"Ohh yeah!" (S/M) says in realization, and her face turns red, 'Ayato...' She thought quietly. She then faces the both of us and bows down. "May the Creator guide you!" She says in a hurry and runs away.

Oracle? She- she already took the role of an oracle? Fuck! Now what're you going to do... Maybe just act like an adventurer? Yeah...

You were thinking deeply, unknown to your surroundings of someone watching you. "Akeldama, is there something wrong?" Finally formalities! Kujou Sara asks in either suspicion or worry.

"I'm fine. I was just shocked about the news of an oracle..." You clear things up. Kujou Sara nods, "I totally understand you, I, first, did not acknowledge her, until, I felt myself being awakened." That was just a coincidence, or was it?

Awakened? What does she mean by that..? "Ah.. you don't seem to have a vision.." Does she mean pulls?

"It's when shooting stars in the sky get a color of gold or purple which will give you a connection to the creator. It's like wishing for fate." Kujou Sara explained. So it is pulls.

"Ah. Now I'm kind of envious of you vision holders. Getting your own personal connection with the creator sounds like a dream come true isn't it..? It almost feels like, she'll give you everything to just get you all acolytes a connection to the creator hmm? It's a really really special deal.." You became out of character from your facade.

Kujou Sara's eyes widen at your statement, she's never thought of it as that special as you do. It's as if she's not pledging her utmost devotion to The Creator! You're right.. the probably only reason The Creator hasn't awakened every vision acolytes is because they might have been growing weaker in the other world and that's why she sent an oracle now because she wanted to see what we personally feel. Oh she apologizes very much, does she need to sacrifice and do something about it?!

You hid your smirk. Kujou Sara seems bothered... Guess your statement got her mind to chicken in.

Now you just wonder what challenges you'll face at the acolytes you haven't awakened yet.. you'll find out soon.

This chapter is short for a reason 😔. 1. I couldn't do anything until next week to see what lies beyond the poll.. and also because I didn't want to write for others in this specific chapter.

I'm so sorry for being lazy ig 💔

Anywho. VOTE IN THE FIRST PART NOW CAUSE THE DEADLINE IS NEXT FRIDAY!!! Just know that the most popular given mask has its own ability that'll help you out in future conflicts!!!

Taglist: (?)

@khalhaimdad @yourlocalstranger123 @undecidingfate

[fluffypotatey]

I MISSED THE LIVESTREAM PLEASE TELL ME EVERYTHING will it ever get posted in full!?!?!?!

i sense the answer will be “no repost of the live stream” since he hasn’t reposted the others

HOWEVER!!!!! THE MUSIC IS UP NOW :DDDD

BOTH THE THUNDER SAGA AND THE RE-EDITIONS OF TROY & CYCLIPS SAGA

bur omfg bro the livestream

JORGE FUCKUNG SMILED WHEN POLITES DIED I WILL NEVER FOGIVE

THE ANIMATIC FOR SURVIVE THO!!!!! THAT ANIMATIC WAS SO GOOD AND BRUTAL

THE RENEWED EDITIONS OF TROY AND CYCLOPS SAGAS ADE SO GOOD (imo Cyclops saga sounds sO much better)

HE FUCKING CHANGED FHE TEMPO OF SURVIVE TO MAKE IT SOUND MORE TRAGIC

EUYLOCHUS DID OPEN THE BAD OF WINDS AND I FUCKING CALLED IT

The opening of Act 2 was so fuckung cool, but it makes you believe Ody is dreaming and then you think “wait, what if this is a flashback” and then WAIT NO ITS SIRENS!!!!

Ody was so sexy in Different Beast. idk something about him giving into his ruthlessness™️ and letting go of inhibitions (FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN), being unapologetic about it is just….🥵 i mean…no yeah i did mean that

Scylla 😍 idk who voices her but it’s so fucking gorgeous. and the animatic with her killing Ody’s six sacrificial men was just 😍 idk i might have a problem

MUTINYYYYYYYY

HEART WAS TORN INTO SHREDS

never have i ever felt like I was screaming at ghosts more than when Eurylochus, starved and parched and on the ropes of desperation, slit the throat of the blessed cows of Helios

and then Zeus coming in to nail the coffin by giving Ody a “choice” on who to punish. something something the Greek gods’ exception to the rules are when they deem it fun to play with mortals. something something Ody refusing to be Athena’s tool merely made him a tool for any god to play with since his champion status was revoked (what, who said that?)

ANS THEN HE ENDED IT WITH THE TRAILER

tTHE THUNDER SAGA TRAILER WAS THE ENDING ALL ALONG

ANS FHEN JOGE GOES “and there ya go!” WITH A CHEERY SMILE AS IF HE DIDN’T JUST STRIKE PSYCHIC DAMAGE ON ALL OF US

he’s lucky he’s a cutie pie :T

also the ending melody of Thunder Bringer reminds me of understale. this just a random thought but one that popped into my head while listening

[smallraindrops-blog]

Phobetor being the largest in the family a n d being a copy and paste of Y/N got me fucked up.

Imagine like, Theseus, seeing who he thinks is Y/N in the distance and marching up to demand a battle since his Father keeps rejecting him. However, the closer the he get the bigger Y/N gets, yes he tall but not that tall, and he's never seen Y/N in so much black, and oh god, that's not Y/N. That's his spooky ass son Phobetor staring straight at him.

Theseus probably complained to Zagreaus during their next battle about how the Nightmare Fiend tricked him and how he plans on getting back at the Godling for scaring him. (Phobetor is confused as to why Theseus wants to fight, lasttime he was in Elysium, he was visiting his grandfathers.)

Omg anon, ‘spooky ass son’ got me rolling on the floor. 😂 😂 Unfortunately for Phobetor, this kinda thing happens to him a lot. I hc that he and Odysseus meet at some point and it went like this:

Odysseus (visibly pale but trying to keep his cool): good gods, I thought Y/N got bigger. My lad, what the hell did your parents feed you?

Phobetor: …Food?

Odysseus: yeah that would do it, huh?

Here u go have a fun little short. I hope you guys like teenage Phobetor. I place him at the mental age of 16/17 here.

~

Elysium was beautiful as always, the fields were quiet and peaceful with the gentle rustle of grass. The river lethe drifted on, the mist trailing over the rocks. It was one of Phobetor’s favorite places.

if he was a mere shade, he certainly wouldn’t mind settling in here. 

He shifted the box of goods in his arms, all gifts for his grandparents. Dad had given it to Phobetor before shooing him out of the home, lecturing how he needed to visit his grandparents more.

With a grimace, Phobetor did have to admit it had been a while. His duties had increased and time had slipped away from him. 

Maybe he should offer to treat them to lunch, he mused as he went down the beaten path. Phobetor won’t be able to join since every time he had gone to the marketplace he caused a panic merely by walking in. 

He winced at the memory of making a sweet old lady pass out when he picked up her dropped bag of food for her. He still felt bad about that one even though his family had assured him it wasn’t his fault.

It was so faint he wasn’t sure if he actually heard anything, then it came again. it was his father’s name and Phobetor sighed when he realized what was happening. He twisted around, spying a blonde shade in the far distance. 

The man was very loud, his voice carrying over Elysium.

Whoever this was, he was not the first nor would he be the last to mistake Phobetor for his Father. There had been an unpleasant run in with Lord Ares when the new war began.  

“ -you coward!” The shade called out, getting Phobetor’s attention once more, lifting his beefy arms as he gestured wildly, still ranting. Phobetor kept his eyes locked on the man as he vanished the box away. It wouldn’t do for the gifts to get damaged.

Lost valor, impotent, heights.

The sensations, the weight of the shade’s fear bloomed on his tongue like fine wine. None of the fears were unusual but his mouth watered at the taste anyway. Darkness shifted around his chest, little sharp claws digging into his stomach, pleading for a meal. 

Phobetor ignored it. This wasn’t the time or place.

“You own another battle and as the champion of Elysium-“

Champion?

It clicked suddenly. This must be Theseus.

Phobetor glanced past Theseus, hoping for a glimpse of the infamous Minotaur that haunted countless mortals’ dreams and huffed when he realized it just was the shade.

Theseus stopped, staring at Phobetor with narrowed eyes. Phobetor met Theseus’ stare, keeping his own expression polite. Then Theseus’ blue eyes widened. He didn’t move nor did Phobetor for a long moment.

Phobetor decided he had no choice but to meet Theseus part way, anything else would be rude of him. He vanished for a moment then reappeared right in front of the Champion of Elysium, looming over him.

Before he could greet the shade, Theseus stumbled back, his skin gone a pale gray. Without missing a beat, the shade promptly turned around and took off.

“Ah.” Phobetor realized that he might have gotten too close to the shade. Personal bubbles and all that. Phobetor watched in mild amusement for a moment then cupped a hand around his mouth.

”I shall inform my father you wish to battle him, Great Champion of Elysium,” His voice echoed ominously over the landscape. A few nearby pink butterflies froze in the air before dropping dead, vanishing in a burst of pale light.

“Oops.” Phobetor muttered with a guilty glance toward the burnt grass, summoning the box once more. He resumed his walk, humming Morpheus’ newest song to himself.

He hoped Grandpa and Grandfather had some treats for him. Maybe some hard honey.

~~

“Looks like his highness found us.” Father commented, holding up his hand as a sign to pause their fight. Phobetor rocked on his feet, watching as the prince of the underworld ran up toward them.

Out of all of his uncles and aunts, Zagreus was Phobetor’s favorite. 

He never seemed to mind him or the fear and panic he caused. One time, when the family was staying at the House of Hades and he was very small, Uncle Zagreus had taken him on an escape run.

Although Zagreus did get chewed out by Phobetor’s parents afterward when Zagreus died and left Phobetor alone. 

Uncle Zagreus was grinning when he made it over, his sword on his shoulder. “You should be aware that Theseus got his eye on you.”

”Me?” Phobetor blinked, pointing at himself. Father lifted an eyebrow, quietly waiting for Zagreus to explain.

”Yup. He kept calling you The Nightmare Fiend and blaming me for some reason.” Zagreus laughed, slapping Phobetor on his back. “Good job!”

”Why me? I was just visiting Grandpa and Grandfather.” Phobetor glanced at his Father who merely shrugged.

”Who knows with that fool.” Father grumbled. “Just ignored him. That's what your Grandfather and I do.”

”Or you could fight him, I would pay good money for that. Tell the others I said ‘hi’. ” Zagreus said before he took off.

Phobetor mused over it, thinking about how Theseus had run for his life during their first meeting and decided it would be unkind to scare the poor thing like that again. 

[liliallowed]

What if the shifting mound (princess) and dust sans met or switched places. All I think about is them.

tbh I head canon dust as more of a long quiet and the chaotic/destructive nature of the player as the shifting mound bit yeah it does also feel funny to swap dust next to the princess in the worlds!

first of all... the script would break. obviously. and maybe dust somehow ending up in that world actually breaches the constructs design if either player or dust interfere cuz the two sleeping gods are not supposed to have any visitors.

if the princess and Bird boi end up in the Undertale universe? that'll be more likely. since aus tend to be more lenient with outcodes than a literal god prison.

the meeting circumstances aside, when faced with the choice to save the world and kill an unknown entity, dust ironically... couldn't care less!

if it's not his world? so what? he doesn't care for the humans that'll die. and he's no savior. let it die! he'd turn around and walk away... only to end up back at the road to the cabin.

it's going to trigger him. and it WILL TRIGGER his reset phobia BADLY.

"fine. if this place INSISTS? he'll just get it overwith and then leave."

he won't do it for the world but he WILL do it if he feels trapped.

once confronted with the "princess" he gets a sense of sick familiarity from her. not HER personally but her KIND. like being faced with a powerful being veiled in a weakened shell and a humanlike vessel.

not

another

fucking

anomaly

he's going to bash his head against the wall with an annoyed groan. he's also probably going to stab the talkative crow that follows him around and kill him on the spot.

(rip narrator)

then he's going to ask what she wants, and how this world works and HOW MANY TIMES they've already had this conversation before. he won't bring the blade, he has plenty of weapons to work with. (and the knife brings bad memories.)

the princess would first think he's a grim reaper or something... them she'd question his sanity...

oddly enough? it doesn't FEEL like he's lying and it FEELS like something is familiar but not him. not her other half. not her... missing parts? something outside of the construct. her mortal vessel would be concerned, a bit scared and maybe even get a bit aggressive and defensive... but he doesn't KILL her. he can pin her down and interrogate but he WON'T kill her because he fears it'll end up resetting.

the shifting mound itself would be EXTREMELY intrigued... and probably instantly just take him away to ask stuff curiously about the outside or if he knows how to get out. she'd ask for so many new possib- /STAB/

yeaaaah no. he's dealt with time bending people before and he ain't afraid to collapse the entire world for the sake of pissing them off. if he has to use the ol, special attack of literally doing nothing to bore the anomaly to death? so be it!

she'd see the contrarian ego and the stubborn ego in him, but also the broken ego from quiet and parts of her own other vessels.

so familiar yet so completely different. this vessel was sharpened like a fine blade to fight. yet damaged in the process.

refining iron again and again till something broke. something dud this to him on purpose. it wasn't an accident.

she knows that feeling through her adversary vessel but doesn't relate to it deeply. she can't understand it from a mortals perspective. because to her all that pain is simply just an experience or a fleeting dream.

it's not real. nor will it ever be. she's a god. she wouldn't know.

also she'd probably try looking where the hell her husband/mortal enemy vanished to.

she's not sure if she can direct her branches to open a path to dusts universe since it's not just hopping timelines or multiverses.

it's hopping entire DIMENSIONS. two completely different stories.

meanwhile:

player: YOU SUCK AT THIS YOU NERDASS BIRD!

quiet(stubborn):SHUT THE FK UP YOU EIGHT GRADE SYNDROME LOSER WITH A GOD COMPLEX I WILL KICK YOUR ASS EVEN WITHOUT MY GOD POWERS

player: COME AT ME BICH I ALWAYS COME BACK!

quiet: I WILL ALWAYS COME TO BARGAIN!

player: YOUR LV ISN'T EVEN ABOVE FIVE YOU WHIMP!

quiet: WTF IS LV!? (*angry bird noises*)

[the two immortal anomalies get along well]

[hiperacid2]

still thinking about this w scaratrophe and i might elaborate before the thought gets lost hhhhh fuck it more utc its mostly lore about my self insert but i need to spit it out feel free to skip or not read its looong and mostly about my self insert specifically

soooo weve seen how powerful most vision holders are right, ningguang literally floating over the jade chamber and protecting the whole harbor, diluc makes a literal giant bird of fire and so on, right? tldr at the end

this is literally a bomb drop lol but my self insert is from khaenriah/enkanomiya born in the former, dad not biological, they originally flew from there and lived in yashiori before the cataclysm (yeah im immortal, not by choice tho), because of uuuuuuuuuuuh things... i got a pyro vision and learnt from the gokaden how to wield a polearm

also my affiliation is with the abyss💀💀💀💀 loyal only to abyss aether, ties with the fatui because pierro keeps insisting i should join their cause but also on a leash because of knowing how they operate and the looming favor debt over my head and the risk i pose to them

now that that's explained I'll explain why cyberhex, thinking about the clear canon complaint between not being that connected to irminsul due to not being teyvatian + being part abyssal like childe + vision user of almost 500 years i would be a powerhouse in abyssal army. that said there will be a head on war i just know it, inevitably i would have to end up fighting my beloved who i dont quite remember. i posted a few times dreams that nahida sees in inazuma!trophe that in reality are memories that survived irminsuls erasure partially

^^ i can imagine in the peak of battle scara appears and as im getting ready to start firing i have a vivid flashback, thats why the sun -> pyro vision, freezing time -> the attack/ultimate, the rest explains itself lol the dread of having to stop and fight the one you promised to take care of, and most importantly your only home in the warpath of vengeance

^^ this is if the hit lands/i get signora'd/my purpose of vengeance is fulfilled, bc thats why im immortal, out of spite and grief mortality was no more, aided by the abyss clinging to everything

tldr is me against teyvat/celestia, only one will stand victorious but i have the misfortune of die as i remember, or remember everything as he dies and watching it. either way its angst and suffering at losing the only person you consider the one

[velvetporcelain]

yesterday the girl at the gas station said that red nails were for sluts and I said “pink is for sluts.”

hello. From the underground. From reality. I am a real person. I am a real woman.

Our brains are like an SD card. Do we get a warning when we are low on storage? Do we even recognize the warning? So many things I have forgotten. So many things I don’t want to remember. I take each memory with grace.

Every once and awhile I get the urge to look, but I refuse, by nature — not by choice. My mind sinks thinking about it , slowly slipping down my throat into my stomach. I want to vomit you from my system, but nothing is coming out but words and random feelings. Maybe this is the only way. This is the only thing that truly saves me , writing.

I thought maybe it was because I love to hear myself think. Talking is a different sense. Hearing myself think, hearing myself debate, hearing myself love. I still shake my head when the thoughts run throughout my body and I become a joker of some sort. Leaving my body in rabbit hole fashion. Stretched and fully conscious. Confident it could change any persons perspective. I am not afraid to listen to myself think, and sometimes I think a big part of mental health and wealth is taking the time TO LISTEN- I think people speaks too much time trying to quiet the mind. Yes- I do believe that the mind also needs quiet, but to me if I’m not talking? I’m quiet- while still being very loud in my head. Is that the sickness? Is that the illness? We have taught the world that thinking is the illness instead of learning to do it well, we silence it all, almost ignore it.

My position is life as a mother is extremely important. I show them how to use their mind, body and spirit together — recognizing and regulating the making of thoughts. Thinking. Fucking thinking.

—- school is not thinking, you see — it’s memorization. We are taught to conform, memorize and obey. Naturally you need these in a function society, however, as individuals we are NOT a functioning society, and we need to treat ourselves accordingly. If this makes sense- you will realize the soul crushing work it would take to completely retire the fucking brain. So yeah get the fuck out of my way, I’ve spent the last four years focused on rewiring my brain, and what are you doing? Slaving away for the white man? 👀

Middle class isn’t dying, it’s dead. Rabbit hole. Left turn. Wait a minute man you mispronounced my name.

— ha anyways — that was a landslide of thought. That was raw—- bleeding.

YOU CANNOT FIND ME ANYWHERE ELSE. ⚠️- how is that for a warning? I laugh because I believe it to be true. I embrace individuality and rewiring. I enjoy individuality and rewiring.—- and everything that comes with it. It’s only in my favor that I, me, myself believe these things without feeling the need to convince the world that I have found the way to be an individual.

I don’t want to change the world anymore, well, because I can’t. We can’t. I’ve let go of control, I have let go of my vote. I’m falling off the face of this dream world into my own and I’m deeply in love. Deeply fucking in love.

The tenderness in my hands has remained tender. I can easily recognized callused hands. And I just want to hold them. Just let me hold your hand. Please. And sometimes people aren’t ready for touch- that’s okay? Haha yeah- that’s okay. Remember that show in the 90s called touched by and angel? Yeah , I knew I wanted to be here when I grew up. A well liked, angelic woman who heals with her presence, kindness, gentleness, love, understanding, and problem resolution.

I resent the earth a bit- because it’s killing me. Not so much the actual earth but you know the one where we are aware of our own mortality. That kind.

I’m still smoking cigarettes. I know I’m consciously killing myself—- but I also each the food we sell here- I also am exposed to radioactive electronics 24/7- I drive a car(death trap) —- i drink the forever chemicals in the drinking water—- try to hope I wash the pesticides off the fruit and vegetables—

Liar. Lawyer. Mirror. WHATS THE DIFFERENCE?

I love you. I’ve gone insane again. But that’s what makes you gorgeous- your ability to be insane in the presence of raw and natural existence, life and manifestation —- all from your own brain , body, and spirit. That’s what sets you free, watering, blooming garden of many colors. That’s why they say the beast has many colors— because the beast is you. The one who lives inside you. I think that’s beautiful too.

Vienna waits for me.

-x

[dzpenumbra]

6/10/23

Today hasn't been too bad. It was a very rough start though.

I woke up after 4 hours of sleep and started having an anxiety attack immediately. An intense one, with physical symptoms... which is new in the grand scheme of things. Ever since that doctor's visit, my anxiety chest tightness and chest pain, racing heart, adrenaline feelings... that kinda stuff started coming back. Probably a result of feeling my mortality. It's a very different kind of fear than like... shame.

I've written about that here before - how interesting it is that different types of fear can actually feel different, physically, experientially. Like... the experience of fearing being embarrassed is a very different sensation than fearing being physically injured, to me.

But yeah, it was pretty rough. I guarantee it was a super vivid dream that caused it, though I didn't journal to capture it. I guarantee it was based on the RP streams I've been completely immersed in (read: addicted to). It definitely felt that way. And on days like... the past few days... I seriously spend all my waking hours with a stream in front of me. And I really think it's unhealthy.

I just... don't have an alternate form of social interaction currently. So... given the choice between working while watching a stream (where I can interact in chat) vs... listening to music for 6 hours? Or watching YouTube videos in the background? I mean... If I had people to do that with, I would drop the streams in a heartbeat. I mean that. And that's what frustrates me.

I returned to Twitch as a streamer at the beginning of the pandemic (actually a little before it...) as an attempt to share things I'm passionate about with others. The way I tell stories, the way I narrate video games, shit like that. I felt like I had a gift for it. It was made so blatantly obvious to me by others that what I saw when I played games like Rimworld was so much different from what others saw. My experience was so much more immersive and emotional, romantic and narrative. Very few people that I've ever come across have shared that ability... to connect story points from a randomly generated story game and stitch a narrative together on-the-fly. One that actually makes sense, and has compelling and relatable characters that you actually give a fuck about. Nearly everyone that I watched playing Rimworld was literally calling their colonists "Pawns" and trying to "win". And since my ability to see, experience and share the story I was experiencing was so... natural for me... and so rare... I decided to stream. To share that gift with others, so they could see what I saw.

I remember vividly that I inspired a viewer (two, actually) to buy the game. They were chasing the experience that I presented, and unfortunately were a little disappointed when they realized that... what they were seeking was the drama and everything that I was presenting. It's really hard to explain that to people without offending them. But I think at a subconscious level, they could tell, because both of them would be watching my streams and playing their own colonies at the same time (towards the end).

I guess what I'm saying is... I would feel better about streaming... instead of watching streams... if I could have a little more assurance that people were going to show up. What I'm actively avoiding right now is sitting in front of a computer and just absorbing stuff in the background while working all day. I want something at least with the option of social interaction. And with me streaming, the numbers just haven't been there. So few people, it was usually just me and this teenage kid who keeps coming by for some reason.

I guess it's kinda obvious that my desire to stream is coming back up. The downside every time is... having to "explain" where I've been. Like I fucking abandoned all these people who don't even come by my streams half the time, and who have never subbed in 4 years... XD

Here are my current reservations with streaming: 1). Making noise past midnight. The walls are thin, to the point that I actually feel a bit anxious about the volume of my mechanical keyboard at this hour. I don't want to piss off my neighbors. 2). Background stuff. I would like to either have videos or music playing while I do art streams; I need something when I work, even if I have people to talk to. I feel like that would make the most sense for where I'm at right now. And then I can do gaming streams to just... take breaks. The problem? Again... DMCA. And how to handle that fucking bullshit. Which... honestly? There are two routes... a). learn how to route my audio so that the music plays on my live streams but not on my VoDs... then my VoDs will be awkward as fuck because it'll just be silence for hours at a time with me drawing and occasionally talking or singing along to nothing or b). scrap the VoDs entirely. And honestly? Who the fuck is watching my VoDs, you know?

Those are the big ones. But honestly? It would help me a lot to start being social again. But I fear no one will show up, and I'll just sit here doing my art shit in silence for hours at a time... when I could be watching really funny RP while I work. Having music or YouTube or something to soften the blow of silence would help.

Yeah, I guess I'll look into that tomorrow. It's been on my "Side Quests" list on the whiteboard for a while now. Along with setting up a Tumblr for my main art stuff.

I feel like I've been slipping a lot lately, somehow. Like a lot of stuff has fallen through the cracks. I think it was that rough patch of interrupted sleep, honestly, and this box fan has been an utter lifesaver. I could just barely hear my upstairs neighbor walking around when I had the box fan on today, I think it masks the sound really well and the cool air always helps me sleep. But I think the sleep deprivation really fucked up my life for a while there and I'm still playing catch-up.

Oh shit, so... despite the reasoning behind it being... freaking out about my health... I started a workout program today. That's good! I've been really good about those historically, I started doing them during the pandemic - these 30 day exercise challenge things from Darebee. I'm redoing one that I did last Spring(?) when I was binging out on Elden Ring. I needed to find an exercise routine that I can do in my apartment (so I don't have the excuse of social anxiety) but didn't involve jumping around and shit because... I'm the apartment above someone. This one is "combat-based", so all those kinds of movements that would normally be jumping jacks and burpees and shit are squats and kicks instead.

In the past, the first day of these workouts has completely utterly destroyed me. They do the exercises by Levels 1-3, with each Level being 3-5-7 sets respectively... so you can take the exercise plan and scale it to whatever you can handle. And in the past? I was always Level 1. And when I first started doing them, I even struggled with Level 1 sometimes. Today? I debated doing Level 2. I honestly don't even feel sore. It's weird. Maybe all that yoga is paying off more than I had thought! But Level 1 today means... all-in-all... I did 60 squats, 60 front kicks, 60 strikes, 60 jab + cross combos, and 60 elbow strikes. And that feels like a lot for a first exercise. And I knocked it out pretty easily. So I'm proud of myself for that. I'm trying to attach it to the end of my morning yoga.

I also started with reassessing my diet. I... haven't made a ton of progress, to be honest. My therapist was harping on portion control. And I guess I could tone that down. But I legit woke up starving this morning, and that does fuck with my sleep quite often. In fact, I might get a small trail mix snack right now just to have something in my stomach to delay that hunger.

I'm struggling with the diet shit because... most of the things they recommend for healthier eating? I already eat... I don't think potatoes or onions are bad... avocados are always stocked in my house as a go-to snack or meal accompaniment. Beans usually play a role, but I could put more of a focus on those... I only eat chicken, as far as meat goes, and really not that much or that often. It's usually only there to kinda... bulk up meals, if that makes sense? Like in a quesadilla or in rice, to just add... more? I don't know how to put it. I'm basically vegetarian besides that. Even the sausage I have in my freezer that I never eat is chicken sausage. I don't eat fish... which is the one thing all the reading I did was pushing. So that kinda puts a wrench in the works.. So basically... I guess what I'm gonna do right off the bat is... cut down on butter a bit. Switch the whole milk to something less. Maybe tone it down with sour cream? But I really don't use that much... And... the ice cream has been put on hold. Besides that? I have no idea what changes to make.

But I found a list of Low-Cholesterol Recipes which had some stuff that looked good, so I'm gonna try to take this as an opportunity to try new cooking experiments. Then I'll actually look forward to it.

I can't figure out what to make of eggs though. Some of what I read said they were good, some said they were bad, some said they make no difference. Ugh. Either way, I did my "fancy Ramen" tonight as a break from the pasta, and just put 2 eggs in it instead of 3 or 4. It's pretty light for a full meal... but yeah. That's the best I can do for now. The resource my therapist gave me for fitness and dieting (specialized for nerds, which made me go "fuck yeah" =D ) is... a bit more expensive than I think I can budget right now? Unfortunately. But I'm gonna keep it in mind.

I'm trying to keep my motivation going, and use this news as an opportunity to make good changes to my life that I've wanted for a while. I just have this weird reflex that doesn't want to. Like I'm fighting myself. Like... I want to be active. I want to exercise. Not exercising is really weird for me, in the grand scale of my life. I have always been active. But man, being in the city? Where going outside feels... unsafe, to me? When I don't have a car? I have to put a lot of extra effort into making that push out the door worth it.

I guess you don't really know what you've got until it's gone, and I was insanely lucky to have such amazing nature trails so easily available to me for so long.

Alright, I think that's pretty much it for today. I just did yoga, exercised, ate food, watched streams and drew a fuck ton of tiny circles. XD I'll share the piece with you guys once it gets further along... assuming I even can... it's not even half done and it's already 2 fucking gigs!

Oh, I guess one last thing. I had this thought last night... I think it was last night. I think what's fucking me up and making me so anxious is... Most of my life I have been brought to the doctors with the expectation that something bad is wrong with me. And every time (for the most part) it was nothing. Tests were negative, I was surprisingly healthy, despite not taking good care of myself. Now? I go in for a routine physical and they find unhealthy stuff. It's poetic, I guess. But I think that's why it's hitting harder. Because it's like... the first time I let my guard down... XD Also... I keep thinking of one of my teachers/mentors in college... the one that had Asperger's, whose way of viewing the world really changed the way I view art... just... in general. I've been thinking of him lately. He died of... I think an aneurism? He was plowing the driveway at his girlfriend's (my advisor) house and... he was just gone. And yeah... that's been on my mind. That hit close to home, he was like.. my favorite teacher in college, one who a lot of people would shit on for being weird and different. And hearing "high blood pressure" and "high cholesterol", even though they might just be slightly elevated? When you've seen how out-of-nowhere it can just... blink you out of existence? It's kinda lurking in the shadows around me. I can't see (feel) it directly, but I can sense that being a factor in how surreally intense my anxiety has been lately. Just felt that was worth mentioning for self-reference, it seems much more important and relevant than I've been consciously processing.

Tarot time.

Past - VIII: Strength (Overcoming fear, mastery of emotions through equilibrium and inner strength.) Present - Seven of Pentacles, inverted (A pause to evaluate the fruit of your effort.  Reflection on accomplishments made thus far.) Future - Nine of Wands, inverted (The Wounded Warrior.  Defense, guarding yourself. Suspicion, self-protection.  Need rest and recovery.)

Alrighty. We got a new one here, the Seven of Pentacles. I think I can kinda intuitively get the gist of this one, but lets dive in.

The thread starts with a card that I like a lot, one I strive for a lot in my life, but one that's always wavering for me. Strength. The lion-tamer. The state of finding a balance with your inner beast, an equilibrium between conscious and subconscious, logic and emotion. The source of this thread is that state.

What it leads to is... inverted Seven of Pentacles... which is an image of a woman presenting bread that she baked, representing an appreciation of and reflection on the culmination of past labors. This is either something in dysfunction, or is something that is presenting itself to me but I am not engaging with it.

And that leads to... a card that shows up a lot for me, both upright and inverted. The Nine of Wands. The Wounded Warrior. And I read an inverted Nine of Wands to be... stuck in bitterness, defense and suspicion. A very... the-bad-sides-of-Dr. House kinda symbol, for me.

So... my process of overcoming fear and seeking balance with my emotions... has been leading to me struggling to... or neglecting... celebrating my accomplishments. And the result of this... is that I end up trapped in a place of injury, a place of weakness and never-ending recovery. And that weakness and vulnerability... leads to suspicion, and distrust, and constantly being guarded. ANXIETY. So... ironically... my work towards mastering my emotions... has somehow resulted in me being their slave. My attempt to coexist with the inner lion, has me living with The Sahara's Finest prowling around my loft apartment every day. And the big component that is making that so? My inability (or refusal...) to recognize how much I've overcome. How much I've done. How much I've accomplished. How strong I am. How capable I am.

Yep. This one resonates with me a lot. Self-esteem, confidence, is such a huge piece to life. I really need to work on it more. So... my plan to set up streaming stuff tomorrow? That should help. The two biggest things that have helped me cultivate confidence the past several years have been streaming and snowskating/skateboarding. If I can get those balanced into my life? I think it would do a lot of good.

[gurugirl]

Tales From the Modern Incubus Part I*

Summary: Harry is an incubus hunting for a female to carry his next heir. He sniffs someone out as she's masturbating and she might just be the one.

A/N: Please read all warnings listed in the TFMI masterlist before continuing - this is dark!harry content and it's not for everyone. There could be triggering topics so please consider that before reading.

Warning: Smut, anal, making fun of religion, making fun of god, non-con sexual touching, dark humor, mentions of abortion, talk of incantations and charms, voyeurism

It’s in Harry’s nature to be a whore. He was created this way by The Almighty after all, in his own image, a perfect angel, his ancestors deceived and then tossed away to earth as if God himself didn't intend for his very essence to be that of a sexual being. Incubuses carry a long line of sexual "deviancy" and have been marked as evil by humanity. Harry finds the whole "demons are evil" mark to be funny generally because for as long as he's been around (and he's been around) humanity is far far worse.

But that's just a gripe he's had to live with for thousands of years (yeah, he's old). It's become nothing more than background noise for him. Over many a millennia he's adapted to humanity and their ways because he hasn't had a choice. As weak and stupid as people are, they are what create social standards and biases and Harry's had no option but to put up with their ever changing tastes and preferences. One day punishing and putting to death an adulterous woman is okay by societal standards, the next, it's illegal and called murder (where the murderer will then likely be punished and put to death - see how confusing that is?).

When he first started out, he'd sneak upon those asleep in the night and take what he needed from women and men (he has no preference truthfully). He'd cast an illusion incantation and make his chosen believe they were dreaming so his presence didn't seem unusual and he could avoid a struggle. Though, he used to not mind the struggles so much. Sometimes it made the encounters even more fun. But that was during a time when humanity was very primal, more animalistic and aggressive, less intelligent. Society dictates what’s good and what’s evil, and what’s thought of as evil today wasn’t always evil in the eyes of the world.

As he’s matured during his time on earth, he’s really just found it’s better to deceive the mortal rather than force them. But his personal favorite is when his pick of the night is choosing him. It gives his massive ego a little boost. He’ll be the first to admit, he’s arrogant and he’s totally full of himself. So he loves it, absolutely adores it when he’s wanted. Or when someone tells him he’s the best. Perhaps he has a tiny praise kink.

In 2022, though, finding a person to fuck every night is very easy. Humanity has become just as whorish as all the incubus (well, they've always been but it's just more acceptable to admit nowadays). Women don't mind one-night stands, men and women and everyone in between are out with their sexual preferences, and then there are all those who are experimenting and Harry doesn't mind showing them what it's like. He still uses an illusion spell on occasion when he really wants a taste of a human who doesn't seem interested (such a rare occurrence), but Harry prefers being desired.

All of that sexual acceptance and openness (for much of the world) among humans is great for Harry’s favorite hobby. It makes things really easy for him. But because he oozes sex and he’s so painfully attractive (if he does say so himself), he can go years without ever hearing a no from anyone. However, the year to find a woman to impregnate has come. Harry must seek out a fresh and fertile womb in a human female. Every 100 years (or so), this is part of his deal with the higher ups. To bring about a new heir.

He needs to spread his seed to continue the lineage of the damned and eternally tormented incubus (Harry can be a bit dramatic) but he is glad he only has this task once every century or so. It’s not that Harry is lazy. It has more to do with finding the perfect incubator for his heir. The human woman would need to be healthy, intelligent, beautiful, and willing to let the demon come into her bed and come into her… well, to get her pregnant.

His powers are indescribable. Not only is Harry as strong as any demon could possibly be (there aren’t many beings stronger than a demon in general, but an incubus demon like Harry possesses strength that is unmatched) he’s clever, sometimes tricking his victims into submission by cock, as he so lovingly calls it.

He enjoys human pussy (or ass) regularly, maybe even nightly if he has a free hour to kill. It was, after all, in his nature to fuck helpless humans as they lie vulnerable in their beds at night. He’d easily sniff out someone masturbating and go to them, seduce them further and then find himself balls deep in an already soft and soaked cunt or nice taut asshole (or even a mouth), all ready to be stretched by his demon sized prick (incubus are especially well endowed among demons and angels).

But, nowadays, all he had to do to get laid was go to a bar, or even the grocery store which he found was a great spot. Trader Joe’s always seemed to really give him the most hits. But for many a millennia he would sneak into a someone's room and assist them in masturbation and then have them convinced they were dreaming him up so his sudden presence wasn't questioned. It’s not so hard to get invited into a someone's bed in these modern times. Not when Harry looks the way he does, speaks the way he does, charms the way he does.

But for the past few days he’s been on the hunt for the perfect womb. The perfect woman. So he must work a little harder than just picking up a beautiful piece of ass for a one night stand. He’s not in a particular rush, but his time to create a new heir is upon him.

Harry was born of a human woman just like all his heirs. No, he wasn’t the original incubus but he’s old by any standard. Being born of a human just means a demon will look like anyone else to the average person. It means anyone you meet could be a demon (or even an angel) and you wouldn't know it. They feel like, look like, sound like, smell like, and even taste just like a human. Hell, sometimes even Harry gets tricked into thinking an angel is a human from time to time.

Tonight Harry is in another crowded bar scoping out the talent. There isn't much here in the way of the perfect female for him tonight. But he is noticing a particularly handsome lad across the room who keeps catching his eye. Harry himself, is fucking gorgeous and it almost doesn't matter what sexual preferences the person has, he can easily convince a straight man to take his cock down his throat or in his ass. Harry's quite convincing naturally, but he also relies on his evil gifts to get what he wants. He doesn’t like the idea that his gifts are labeled evil by humans, though. But that’s a discussion for another time.

Harry leans on the bar with his hips jutted out, showcasing his nice bulge under his well fitted pants as he keeps his eyes on the tall man across the room. He knows he doesn't even need to approach the man; the man will be coming to him. And soon enough Harry's prediction is coming into play and the guy can't help himself when he begins to walk toward Harry.

“I’m Randy. Saw you looking at me.” He puts a hand out toward Harry to shake and he takes it with a nod and smirks at Randy. Of course his name is Randy, Harry thinks to himself.

“I’m Harry. And yes, I was looking.”

The two men size one another up for a moment before Harry is speaking again, “So, what’s on the menu tonight, Randy? Anything I can help with?”

Harry wasn’t one for much small talk. Not when Randy looked like he’d enjoy a quick romp. Harry’s natural state making him feel quite randy himself. He'd rather just get down to it.

It wasn’t long before Harry and Randy were sharing a taxi back to Randy’s apartment.

Harry sat through twenty minutes of listening to Randy talk about his job and his new car. Harry tried to be polite and act interested so he bit back a yawn that wanted to give him away.

Harry just didn’t care at all. He just wanted to get a good fuck in and Randy was the hottest person at the bar tonight. And Harry could smell Randy's own need. Randy hadn't been laid in a while and with Harry's heightened supernatural senses, everything pointed to Randy being very horny and very willing.

Even once they’d gotten to Randy’s place he wouldn’t shut up. He took Harry through the parking garage so he could show Harry his new car.

There weren’t many things that could impress Harry and he knew Randy was showing off a little. It was a nice car. But Harry had enough wealth to last until the end of all time. So, a nice car and a good paying job just did nothing for Harry. He just wanted to be balls deep in Randy soon so he could feel that yummy tingle he was addicted to. To do what he was created to do.

Harry was on the verge of just taking what he wanted and speak a binding incantation over Randy so he'd shut the hell up and pull his pants down but Harry really did most enjoy it when humans gave in to him of their own will. Not that he hadn't employed the other tactics in his time roaming the earth but it was an ego boost to be desired without the need for coercion. Harry loved being wanted, being desired almost as much as he loved getting his dick wet.

And when the time had finally come for Harry to get what he wanted he was relieved by Randy's eagerness. Randy dropped to his knees and took Harry down his throat first and Randy admitted that Harry was the biggest he'd ever taken. Harry wanted to say I know but instead he just acted surprised as he always did when he'd hear that. But he loved hearing it nonetheless.

Then Harry bent Randy over his ugly arm chair and fucked him senseless. Randy was really into it too. Lots of squealing and arching of the back before Randy was coming way too fast for Harry's liking, but Harry didn't stop his hasty and deep thrusts into Randy because Harry still needed to come himself. Randy did try pushing Harry away but Harry was nearly there.

"Gonna fucking let me come or not?" Harry snarled at Randy as he continued pounding away into Randy's rear. Randy remained quiet after that and just let Harry take what he needed. Harry's large cock was a bit painful once Randy had already come as the lube was beginning to dry up a bit at the intense friction Harry created.

Harry didn't really need the lube himself. He liked the sting of the pull on his cock from a taught bum hole or even the way it felt in his own ass. Most humans did not like it, though, he came to find out. Even the most experienced of anal lovers insisted on lots of lube because going in dry hurt too much for humans to really appreciate it like he did. He'd found only a handful of humans who enjoyed that type of pain as much as he did over his lifetime.

Harry loved fucking a willing participant. He hated that most of them insisted on a condom, though. Which, Randy had. So, Harry, with his already incredible stamina and ability to last longer than a human male during sex would last even longer with a fucking condom. So, Randy would just have to put up with it since he insisted on the condom in the first place.

It's not like Harry would be getting Randy pregnant or passing on any diseases. His body didn't carry disease like humans. His body was that of an angel, in fact, and angels are as close to perfection as one can get, after God the creator of course (but Harry thinks that's debatable). Even if Harry was a fallen angel, he was still part of a lineage of angels that were the creation of The Almighty and an angel by all accounts. He was just an angel with a worldly point of view really. It was humans who dubbed him a devil. A handsome devil, Harry thinks.

So, he hated condoms but he put up with them when necessary. When Randy began to whine in agony and the tightness of his hole was squeezing the ever-living fuck out of the demon's cock, Harry finally found his own release. He rutted into Randy a few more handful of times as hard as possible, his long cock reaching deep into Randy as he dumped into his condom with a low growl.

Harry didn't stick around long after cleaning himself up to poor Randy's disappointment. He was already out the door and into the night to search for his earthly vessel, a warm spot to dump his load into and impregnate. The tricky part was getting the female to be okay with having unprotected sex, and then to be okay to keep the child once she found out she was pregnant. Now, these days, abortions were more common and he'd had yet to experience this difficult probability as the last time he had to bring an heir into existence was in the early 1900s. Abortions happened back then too, but it was quite rare.

Some of his other incubus counterparts had told tales of finding their perfect incubator only to have her later get an abortion, putting them back at square one.

Harry roamed in night smelling all of the potential. Many were asleep already this evening and he passed through like a ghost as he neared his own home to settle in the for night.

But then something stopped him. The scent of someone masturbating. A female. He knew the scent and he'd smelled it already a couple of times tonight passing through, but this one was different. This was the scent of a pure, virgin vessel. Sweet and innocent. Healthy. Fertile. Completely unadulterated but it was so potent. The female had to have been completely soaked. He could smell how desperate she was. He drew closer to the home in question and the perfume of her arousal made him feel like a wild animal. He honed all his senses in order to take in the naughty deed by the virgin female. She was desperate, but she was being very very quiet. Her heart rate was fast, he knew she was near her own orgasm. He didn’t want to miss seeing it with his own eyes so he made himself appear invisible like a ghost and entered the room of the young woman masturbating.

There she was, the sweet thing, he could tell she was rubbing at her clit but she was covered by her blankets for modesty, he assumed. He slowly plucked her blanket to pull it away so he could see her pussy up close and sniff it without the barrier of a blanket.

The girl had no idea the demon stood over her, watching as her blanket moved down her body. She was enjoying her current state far too much to notice. She’d been pent up and frustrated all day and as much as she hated to masturbate she just couldn’t hold back tonight. Her fingers ran over her clit and she dripped over herself, completely making a mess that she knew she’d have to clean up before her parents noticed, but for now, her pleasure was boiling over and her head was in the clouds with lust.

Harry fell to his knees, with a thud to the floor that the girl luckily didn’t hear, and he hovered over her, keeping his eyes on her body as she flushed from heat and stimulation. Her smell was unlike anything he’d ever taken in. He wanted a taste so bad his head was spinning. Even though he’d just gotten off with Randy, this young woman was far more exciting to him. Her face was pink, puffy lips parted, hair splayed under with her eyes closed. She was beautiful, he couldn’t deny it and her body was soft and healthy. She could give him an heir, she could be his mistress, his vessel.

A small moan fell from her lips and Harry wanted to see her breasts when she arched her back. She was wearing a t-shirt and he could see her erect nipples poking through the thin fabric but he wanted to see her. He gently pulled her shirt upward over her breasts, very slowly and when one of her breasts came into view he had to blink his eyes at the sight. He’d seen millions of breasts, but these… When he’d pulled her shirt up over both her breasts he whined lowly at the view and then looked over her tummy and down to where her fingers were working her delicious cunt.

He couldn’t help himself when he gently, softly, put a finger over her wetness that had dripped onto her inner thigh. Just a soft gentle touch so as not to make her aware. He immediately brought the nectar to his mouth and closed his eyes at the flavor and neglect he tasted. She had been neglected, pent up, frustrated. She rarely allowed herself to release but he couldn’t quite figure out why. He’d help her release as often as she liked, he imagined any other man or woman would as well.

Her breathing picked up and she softly moaned when she spread her legs further. Harry quickly unzipped his pants and brought his dick out into his hand to get himself off again. He was hard as rock and he needed to come again. He slipped two fingers over her wet cunt lightly to gather some of her lubricant and rubbed it over himself and nearly groaned at the feel. Her arousal on his cock was magical. He gently reached over her again with her fingers quickly moving over her clit and brought his fingers lower to near her entrance and stuffed just the tip of a finger into her and quickly removed his hand as she opened her eyes and moaned, looking down at herself. She liked that, he thought to himself.

With more of her arousal now on his fingers he smoothed it over his shaft and began to stroke himself. But he wanted to see if she’d enjoy more of a finger inside of her. As he stroked himself to the site and smell before him, her pussy making wet sounds at each pass of her fingers, he slowly put a finger at her entrance again. She started to shake as her orgasm came near and that made it easier for him to put a finger into her and thrust back and forth, curling upwards to drag across her g-spot.

It was so gratifying to see for Harry; this innocent girl rubbing over her clit as she’s about to come, while he slowly thrusts his finger into her without her being aware. She opened her eyes and looked down to where his hand was, but when she saw nothing she continued her sloppy ministrations and began to choke out a quiet moan.

“Oh fuuu…” she squeaked out as she began to orgasm into her hand and on his. Harry loved watching it. He hadn’t done something like this in a long time and he was unable to stop himself from touching her – there was a sense of need in him that he hasn’t felt in many, many long years. He felt quite savage at the sight of her as he began to come onto her floor and on the side of her bed. He closed his eyes and bit his lip to keep quiet. His head spun in longing and with the lingering taste of her on his tongue and the smell of her arousal permeating the air he breathed, he was ferociously stroking himself, emptying onto her bed clothes and floor.

Before she could finish coming, he had the sense to pull his finger out of her before she could be confused about the matter. He promptly stuck his fingers into his mouth as his come coated more of her rug below him, sucking her erotic syrup down his throat with his eyes closed.

He felt at ease with comfort once he’d calmed from his orgasm. He watched her as she heaved her breaths and stilled her fingers over her clit when she’d felt the similar comfort as him with her own orgasm gently fading away.

Harry wouldn’t bother cleaning up after himself. It would dry and no one would know what it was. They’d assume just a messy girl or something like that. He tucked himself back into his trousers and stayed longer to watch her as she took account of the aftermath of her mess. She blew out a breath in silent laughter and then pulled her shirt down over her breasts so they were sadly hidden from the demon’s view once again.

She sat up and he watched her hair fall over her shoulders and she leaned over to take some tissues from the box on her nightstand next to Harry. He sniffed her in when her arm got close to his face and now she didn’t smell of the neglect he’d tasted. She had her release and she was soothed by it now. He smiled at this notion. An orgasm was good for the soul. If anything, what Harry did for a living was giving back to humanity and helping people feel good.

He wished he could wipe her up with his tongue, clean her until all of her slick was down his throat and coating his insides so he could take the taste with him everywhere. Instead, he watched her wipe it off with tissues only to be tossed in the garbage. If Harry were any less civilized he'd dig into her garbage like a dog and eat her come coated tissues so her essence wouldn't go to waste in the garbage can.

He stayed close to the girl, astounded by her. She was delicate and soft, and very innocent. He wanted to hold her down and take her virginity quite badly but he also wanted her to be his vessel. His mistress. He’d take advantage of her naivety easily but he wanted her to be willing at least. To carry his child and not abort it. To want to be a mother and care for the heir until it was ready to take on its cognate nature.

She got up from her bed with her bottom bare to Harry, another superb vision, and she tossed her napkins into the trash before slipping her cotton panties up her legs, covering her bitable bum and her virgin pussy. He followed her around her room like a shadow as she went to her desk and removed a notebook and pen and then back to her bed where she sat, her lamp dim, and she reached into her nightstand and pulled out the fucking Bible.

Harry rolled his eyes and nodded. Of course. This beautiful, sexual creature was a virgin because she’d been brainwashed by the Bible which was mostly fake tales made up by delusional psychopaths and attention seekers. Even The Almighty himself disliked the content. Harry wasn’t fond of God because of what had happened to his forefathers at the beginning of time, but God wasn’t like the God of the Bible. The Almighty was God (who went by any other name of god you could imagine) for billions of years before men learned how to write and read and one day some decided it would be fun to make up some stories about the things they’d seen (delusions) and heard (made-up stories passed down from generations). It was all fake. The real story was much more interesting, darker, more magical than the Bible told of.

But here his sweet human was, cracking open the pages to a passage in the Bible and taking notes with her legs crossed under her after she’d just made herself orgasm (with the devil’s help of course). He appreciated the absurdity of the situation and wouldn’t let this little thing get in his way of manipulating and winning the girl over. He would be feeling her and fucking her and making her scream his name soon enough. He’d just need to rework some of her viewpoints a bit. He’d done it before with other devout religious humans, he could certainly do it to her too.

She sighed and then put her head into her hands and he heard her murmuring. She was praying! Harry loved to hear prayers especially when no one could actually hear them but him if he was in proximity. He loved the idea that a person was praying to God, yet the only one to hear them was a demon. His dark sense of humor played into this being a very funny scenario for him, but he was sure it would break the hearts of many if they knew the truth.

“I just feel so distanced from you, God. Why can’t I hear your voice like Amanda? Are you ignoring me? What should I do to make you hear me? To speak to me? I’m weak and I’m full of sin. Please forgive me, Lord…”

There was a part of Harry that was relieved that she wasn’t one of the ones who insisted they heard the voice of God. He was pleased that she struggled even in private to “hear” him and that she felt he didn’t hear her. Because that was the reality. The Almighty doesn’t listen in to prayers, nor does he answer them unless you are doing him some kind of favor or have something he wants. He’s quite selfish, and quite elitist if you ask Harry. So knowing she was still of sound mind gave him solace in that his heir wouldn’t be born to a fully brain-washed delusional being. Because she would be the mother to his child. He knew it now. He didn’t care the lengths he’d need to go to convince her and make her his (at least for a short time to achieve his goal).

When the girl had put her Bible away and her notebook, she climbed into her bed and covered herself up to find sleep for the night, Harry decided he’d stay in her home as she slept. He’d lie under her bed, like a monster. He would have just rested out in the open or on the couch in the living room (or perhaps a spare room with a soft bed would work too?) but he wanted to be as close to her as possible. Have her presence envelope him fully. He would have preferred to lie with her in his arms and keep his nose tucked into her neck but they weren’t at that point in their relationship just yet.

So, he slept under her bed, well, more like, lie under her bed and rested (sleep for demons wasn’t easy to come by so therefore it was not necessary but rest was quite important) while the girl slept soundly, unaware of the demon’s presence just below.

Part II

Into incubus!harry? Tip my ko-fi? 😘

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[starsfic]

Fic prompts(If you are still doing them) Spicynoodles idea where PIF and DBK want Red to have a partner and have decided MK would be a good king to rule along side and protect Red (Also they noticed their sons crush on him) and so they keep matchmaking... which is kidnapping them both and trying to set up wedding or mating or other rituals (maybe also trying to turn MK into a demon) MK and Red being so flustered.

When Red imagined getting dressed in his wedding finery, it wasn’t being shoved over his head.

“What the-!” he yelped, trying to bat away the servants’ hands. Someone grabbed his wrist and solved it down so the shirt could be placed. He had no idea what was happening. 

Red had been working on plans for a new invention when his father had stormed in and, without a word, grabbed him. Before he could even ask what he had done, his mother had appeared and had pushed him into this dressing room. Which now led him to here, being pushed in front of a mirror.

It was the exact look he had always dreamed of when he thought about his wedding. He was dressed in a gorgeous red outfit that was a combination between a qipao and suit. Somehow, during Red’s struggles, his hair had been arranged into a braid glittering with jewels. He even had lipstick on! But none of that mattered because he had no idea what was going on.

“Will someone please tell me- AHH!” Now his mother was dragging him out! “What is going on?!” he said, his fancy shoes screeching across the floor. His father’s hands clamped down on his shoulders and help his mother push him forward.

“You’re getting married.”

“...WHAT?!”

Red didn’t want to get married! He wasn’t even in a romantic relationship! There was one person he wanted to be with, more than anything, but certainly his-

“Now, now, it took a lot of time to get the Noodle Boy here!” Princess Iron Fan said, her nails digging into his wrist. “He struggled even worse than you did.”

Red froze.

“What?” They wouldn’t. This had to be a cruel joke. Qi Xiaotian was nothing like they would approve of. “You-He-”

“Is a sweet man who you have affections for,” Demon Bull King said. His hand was gentle, at least. “And is Sun Wukong’s successor and, sooner or later, will not be mortal anymore.” Red glanced back to see what could be considered a gentle smile form. “He’s a good choice.”

“Your father’s choice,” his mother said, sounding very displeased. “But it is your future. Anyway,” They stopped at a door. “The banquet will be at six tonight. Please don’t be late.”

“Wait but-”

Without even a pause, Red was shoved in.

It was dark. The door slammed shut and there was the sound of a lock. Red was left to gape at the door, trying to get his thoughts together.

“Red?” a voice called. Red blanched at the familiar voice, not sure whether to pound at the door or try and hide. “Is that you?” With that was the clatter of what sounded like chains or handcuffs.

Concern overtook horror. “Yeah, it’s me.” Red raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A fireplace lit up, casting the room in a warm glow.

It looked like his parents’ bridal chamber, a fact Red had unfortunately learned during his version of the Talk. But it had been cleaned up and seemed to be redecorated in red and orange and gold, with the coffee table filled with snacks and a cooler icing up a bottle of wine. But what drew Red’s attention was the bed.

His hair flamed up at the sight that greeted him.

Xiaotian was dressed in an orange qun kwa, matching Red’s own red suit-qipao combo, with his hair beautifully arranged and jewelry covering him. All except his wrists, where golden cuffs chained him to the bed. There was a heartbeat. He waved, the jangle of the cuffs breaking the silence. “Hi.”

“Fuck,” Red breathed out, scrambling over. Thankfully the cuffs were easily melted off and soon enough Xiaotian was free and rubbing his wrists. “What happened?!” he demanded when he was sure he was alright. “What are you doing here, Noodle Boy? What are you wearing?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” Xiaotian said. His brows were furrowed together and his jaw was set in annoyance. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like it was hurt. “I was coming home from training when your mom grabbed me and said she was sick of you “waltzing around this.” Xiaotian sighed, not noticing Red’s hair spark. “I had no idea what she was talking about.”

…he did.

He had a few ideas.

“Do you know what they’re doing?” Xiaotian said, breaking through Red’s mental screaming. “Or do you have no idea either?” He looked him up and down. “I mean, we’re in wedding clothes-”

“My parents want us to get married.” There was silence. Xiaotian’s eyes widened as he stared, clearly expecting Red to say something that implied this was a joke. “Because-” He took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you.”

Silence.

Xiaotian stared at him. “...what?” he finally said, voice nearly a squeak.

Red took another deep breath, trying to resist the urge to yell or flame up. “I have feelings for you and my parents want me to get married. Somehow they found out and decided that kidnapping you for me was the best idea, with my feelings and also your position.” Xiaotian was still staring at him. “I am so sorry that my emotions got you stuck in here. Here,” Red stepped off the bed. “I know a back exit you can go through and we can never talk again-”

“NO!” Xiaotian looked startled by his own yell but he smiled, reaching out. Red allowed him to grip his hand. His heart thumped at the gentle smile he was given. “I…I like you too.” he said, very calm. “I have for a while, I just figured-”

“Oh.”

Xiaotian nodded and squeezed Red’s hand. “Would you like to go out with me?” he asked. “Without…” He gestured to the bridal chamber in its entirety. “All this.”

Red nodded. “Absolutely.”

(Unknown to them, outside the door with their ears pressed to it, Iron Fan made an angry noise. DBK held out his hand. Still grumbling, she pulled out a wad of yuans and placed them in his hand.)

[hangezoeenthusiast]

God(hcs)

c!multiple x god!reader

notes: the reader will be the god of death to make it a little bit more spicy :). c!punz’s pronouns are he/they, i’m not sure about the others, but i know theirs. also why does ranboo take away my gender? /j

word count: 1,672

warnings: arson, violence, cursing, yelling, mention of death, voices in technos part, spoilers for wilbur if you haven’t watch tommy’s lore stream, revival for wilbur, making a religion, time travel, egg, prison, stealing, anarchy, playful name calling

Sapnap

so obviously y’all would be a great match :)

you have creative mode, so when sap would ask you to give him a lighter and tnt, you would GLADLY give it

also, can we talk about him being a nether hybrid

fire squared

like fires left and right, hide your mom and your children in your house lol /j

but besides the whole arson thing, you favor him above anyone else on the server

like if he asks for diamond blocks, well here’s a whole inventory of it, also, here’s some ancient debris and some netherite

if someone asked, you would probably grant them with poison and curses, just because you can’t be “unloyal” to snapchat 

wouldn’t be lonely anymore

Dreamwastaken

this duo is less chaotic, but chaotic enough where people avoid you

he still asks you for stuff, but most of the time, you don’t give him it because he annoys you too much about giving stuff

“hey y/n/n, can i pretty please get some emerald blocks.”

“nope bitch, get it yourself.”

but sometimes, you grant him some op shit, when it’s your good day

“because i’m being nice, here’s some diamond, now, don’t ask me again you little piss baby.”

“shut your trap y/n.”

“or what homeless teletubby, what are you going to do to a god like me?”

“you hang out with technoblade to much.”

Georgenotfound

maybe the least chaotic duo

you guys keep on relaxing and relaxing until the point where you don’t do anything

he barely asks you for anything, but only when it’s really really important, like a house or build

especially when he was building his little cottagecore house, he needed your godly presence to help

“y/n, what should the roof be made of?”

“i suggest brick, it makes it more aestheticy if that makes any sense.”

also barely any drama or tea with you guys

never arguing and never betraying each other is a must

Tubbo

also another least chaotic duo

literally help him with his bee farm, he will (platonically) love you forever

gotta be close to ranboo, that’s the rule

gives him SO much stuff, he’s a precious boi 🙄

also gotta be close to tommy, but not as much unfortunately

you help him pick out things for builds, like what material clashes with another, etc

“do you think that the wool and the netherite blocks look good together y/n?”

“nah, what i suggest is the wool with the gold, it looks perfect.”

sometiems, gotta put him in check because he gets a little ego built up

you definitely yank his horn a little too hard because of your IMMENSE STRENGTH

“OW, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT Y/N.”

“calm down sunny, you were just getting a bit over your head a little.”

Tommyinnit

chaotic duo like sapnap

snaps at anyone who annoys you and vice versa

you give him EVERYTHING, obviously except op and creative

he tries to persuade you to do something, but dreamxd wouldn’t allow it, since he is the main boss

“come on y/n, give me op.”

“no tommy, xd will kick my ass.”

“pweaseee.”

“no.”

you would DEFINITELY help him with the Big Innit Hotel, making the whole layout and color palette.

both of you have an intense hatred for ranboo, since he “stole” tubbo away from tommy

Ranboo

least involved in everything

just stay in the tundra and drink some tea, and you’re good for all of your life

helps him get netherite all the time so your boii can get the good stuff 😬

when he mines to get diamonds, he literally prays to you

“y/n, if you’re listening, please give me a 6 vein, i desperately need it for my collection of diamond blocks.”

and THERE IT IS

more than a 6 vein actually, a 12 vein

guess he needs to pray to you more

daily tea sessions, to talk about the good stuff, and NO, and i repeat NO skipping

threatening to flick water on him check ✅

Wilbur Soot

literally you spoil him

not to be angsty, but when he died and lost his last canon life, you revived him instead of Dream

now he’s practically at your knees

like he’s thinks that he owes you, but actually that’s the opposite

he was revived because you were lonely, and wanted your best friend back :(

prays to you when he goes to bed

“hey y/n, hope you’re having a great day, (platonically) love you.”

“love you too mortal.”

sometimes, to be at the peak of godness, you shower upon wilbur as gold to symbolize blessings, like zeus did before

“omg y/n, what are you doing?”

“i’m trying to bless you, shut up bitch.”

just saying, he would make a religion about you :/

Karl Jacobs

omg don’t get me started on this

first, you wouldn’t codone him going back in time

he would definitely forget your name a lot, so that’s why you hated it

“hey karl, how are you doing?”

“i’m sorry, but do i know you?”

ANGST IS TOO MUCH FOR ME

you were definitely the one to push him towards sapnap and quackity

this is also another spoiled boi

give him the entire world while you’re at it pwease

he wants a few diamonds, nope, give him a chest full of them

Quackity

why are there so much chaotic duos in here?

literally chaos times infinity

energy to the max

literally, did you take an energy drink

grants him every wish he can randomly think off

“can i get a bucket with lava and a fish in it?”

“weird choice, but ok man.”

gotta be close to sap and karl or he isn’t your friend anymore /j

helps with las nevadas a lot, and definitely tries to rig the machines so you get money

“hey big q, i got 10,000 dollars.”

“that’s impossible... y/n, did you cheat?”

“nooo 😊”

help him preen his wings, and he goes “I LOVE YOU, MWAH MWAH.” obviously in his mind 🙄

Awesamdude

definitely helps him maintain the prison

you both love setting up red stone contraptions and pistons and all that giz

“hey sam, do you know where the redstone torches are?”

“yeah, there behind the pistons in the back.”

also you helped build the prison, since he could do that by himself

“are you sure that lava wall will work y/n, your calculations seem inaccurate.”

“i’m sure sam, this will add some more security to this goddamn server.”

nerd squared lol

BadBoyHalo

wouldn’t condone the egg

you warned him multiple times to get away from its grasp, but most of the times he’ll decline

“i won’t y/n, the egg is the future.”

he still, even after all the advancements, even after everything, he tries to ask you to join the eggpire

“come on y/n, you’ll like being with us.”

“i don’t wanna be on a stupid egg side, like let me crack the egg, i wanna eat it and turn it into a omelette.”

he doesn’t like that joke :(

but before he discovered the egg, both of you were joint at the hip

sight seeing was a must

languages being thrown around everywhere, since you were the little language muffin

Punz

steals stuff from everyone

hide your stuff, because the punzo-y/n team is unstoppable

definitely they can be really stubborn and indecisive

like one day, he will be like, “i need gold blocks.” and the next, “nevermind, i need netherite actually.”

like hon, stop switching

also anarchy buddies

burning down forests and buildings are your guys’s specialty

when you give him gold when they doesn’t ask, his heart goes brrr and his brain goes, “pog pog, they’re so cool, lets hug them.”

Technoblade

now this is the most deadly duo in the entire Dream Smp

better not piss you guys off 😐

he’s the Blood God, and you’re the God/Goddess/God being of Death

so if some occasion where you need to battle someone, like Techno’s enemies, *clears throat and murmurs Quackity*, you will obviously back your boy up :)

help him with enchanting and potions and he’s set for life

also you got have to be close to the great Philza Minecraft since him and Techno are buddy buddy

anarchy squared

helps with the voices since you have some of your own

“so what you’re saying is that i need to pay attention to them?”

“yeah, when i first learned that the voices were in my head, i tried to ignore them, but that sucked. so what i did was try to distract myself with various tasks, and that sucked.”

“so what do i do, you’re saying that i should listen to them, but how do i do that when they literally shout at me.”

“just embrace it, obviously when they do their little chant of blood for the blood god, you have to ignore them.”

“you suck at advice.”

Philza Minecraft

so since both of you resemble death, him being the Angel of Death and you being the God/Goddess/God being of Death, y’all are fucking best friends, platonic soulmates if you will

death squared

watch out, because if you piss them off, prepare to d-

gotta be close to Ranboo and Techno, and obviously others who he platonically likes

he doesn’t need to ask you for stuff, he’s the fricking Angel of Death, but he will ask you to preen his wings :D

“ow, not there y/n.”

“oh shut up grandpa, let me do it.”

“I’M NOT OLD DUMBASS.”

Dream XD

two gods at once, damn there is so much chaos

left and right, you guys are noticed by everyone, like purrrr

y’all would be in some fancy shit, to show your power

you would get jealous of him hanging out with george

“why are you jealous y/n?”

“you’re hanging out with george to much, hang out with me please :(.”

gifts are a must, even though both of you have access to creative

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Resurrect Me (N.R.)

Warnings: swearing; death; Hell/the Underworld; cliff jumping lol

Word Count≈ 3.1k (yikes lol my bad)

Hecate一 the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy. Known to be an intricate mosaic of good and evil, destruction and beauty. Capable of granting wishes, summoning the dead, resurrections, teleportation, warping realities on unfathomable scales, mind control, energy manipulation, and any sorcery or magic known to the Gods. Second only to Zeus himself.

I am the human embodiment of Hecate. I am not Hecate; she merely resides in the depths of my soul and provides me guidance. We do not communicate through words; she speaks through dreams and gut feelings, and sometimes even through signs in the outside world. I have not mastered the powers she’s granted me, nor have I reached my full potential. In addition to the Goddess’ powers, I hold the basic Olympian powers, such as superhuman speed and stamina. I have no recollection of how I merged with Hecate or the life I lived before this point, and she has provided me with no answers, but I do not question her motives. 

Agent Phil Coulson came across me in my temple in Turkey. Apparently, he had discovered strange energy readings coming from the temple. When he arrived, I used the power of energy manipulation to blow the concrete off of me, and that is the first thing I remember一 emerging from underneath Hecate’s temple.

I joined the Avengers during the Battle of New York. Agent Coulson had recommended me to Fury when he was piecing together the Avengers Initiative. In the three years between my awakening and the invasion, I practiced my sorcery mercilessly and studied Hecate deep in the Greek countryside. I’ve stuck with the Avengers throughout the years, fighting every battle alongside them. Through the ups and downs, I’ve fallen head over heels for Natasha Romanoff. One would assume that with so much power, I’d be confident and have any mortal begging at my feet. That couldn’t be any more inaccurate, however. As I’ve said, I am not Hecate; I am simply the human embodiment of the goddess. And as a human, I turn into a blushing, stuttering mess whenever the levelheaded assassin is near. Consequently, there have been many years of pining, but I’ve yet to muster up the courage to ask the woman on a date.

In our most recent war, we’ve gone up against a mad titan一 Thanos. We lost terribly. Half of all living things inhabiting the universe were snapped away. I can’t help but ponder whether things would’ve gone differently if I had better mastered my powers. I potentially hold all the capabilities of the goddess of magic; aside from Zeus, I hold more power than any being to ever exist. I’ve practiced my sorcery every day for the past five years on the off chance that we ever get a rematch一 a chance to bring everyone back. I’ve improved significantly, but Hecate has been oddly quiet for the past few years. It’s driving me crazy. I know she’s still there, but she hardly provides an ounce of guidance.

And so, that is where I find myself now一 practicing sorcery in the room specifically designed to isolate me when I use dark magic. Everyone who has access to the training section of the compound knows that they should never enter this room. It is far too dangerous for regular mortals. As I warp the room’s reality, a dark mist envelops me. When it clears, the room has changed into a 50s ballroom. I look down to see an elegant maroon ball gown covering my body, and I scan the empty area. I hear a pair of heels clicking toward me, and I spin around, already panicking. In order for someone to be here with me, they would have to be an inhabitant of the location’s true reality. My eyes land upon the woman I’ve grown to love, dressed up for the event. She is wearing an extravagant light blue ball gown, and her hair is carefully done up. 

“Natasha? What are you doing here?”

“Why I came to dance with you, of course.” She steps closer and drapes her arms around my neck, swaying to the nonexistent music. Stay calm. Don’t panic. There’s no way I’m making her do this. I’m not even doing anything! Of course I’m the one making her do this, who else would it be?! Breathe in. Breathe out. My powers don’t control me. I control them. Just breathe. I can do this. I know how to do this.

As I focus on the magic coursing through my veins, a black mist envelops us, and the room returns to its original form一 a basic training room with black padded walls. I immediately take a large step back from Natasha.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Natasha?! You know you can’t come in here! I could’ve seriously hurt you!”

“I...I’m sorry. I thought you’d just be moving shit with your mind. I didn’t realize you could do...that, whatever that was.”

“That was reality manipulation. I didn’t know you were here and I don’t have full control of it, so you got caught up in it. Are you okay? Do you remember it?”

“Yeah, I remember it clear as day. I was still me and I was still in control, it was just...different, I guess.”

“Well, I literally warped your reality, so even if you felt in control, you might not have been.”

“You stopped it, though. I remember when that seemed impossible. You’re getting better.”

“Thanks, I guess.” I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. “What did you come in here for in the first place?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but Scott Lang is here. We might have a way to bring everybody back.”

“Wait, what? Holy shit. It’s happening. Okay, come on then!” I eagerly walk past her, grabbing her hand as I pass her, and we leave my training room. I realize that I’m still holding her hand as we make it to the meeting room, and I immediately drop it, clearing my throat. If I wasn’t so familiar with the sensation, then I would swear that my ears and cheeks are on fire.

<//>

We all step onto the platform in matching white and red time-travel suits. “We’re really doing this?”

“Hell yeah, we’re doing this,” Clint answers.

“Alright, then. We bring everybody back,” I say with determination. “Whatever it takes,” Steve adds.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha adds with a smirk. Before I can appreciate how beautiful she looks with the glimmer of hope in her eyes, we’re flying through a flurry of colors. Nebula, Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, and I land on Morag. We all say our respective goodbyes before Nat, Clint, and I get on a jet to head to Vormir.

<//>

“A soul for a soul.”

“What? That’s insane. Look, no offense, Mr. Bloody Tampon, but why should we just trust what you’re saying? Because you know their fathers’ names?”

“I didn’t.” I looked into Natasha’s eyes as she spoke and I instantly wish that I could replace the dull sadness with the bright hope that had filled them before.

“He doesn’t know my father’s name. If he’s some mystical being, then why can’t he tell me that?” I turned to face him as I asked the question.

“I’m afraid you are a mystery. I am meant to know everything about any being who seeks the stone, but I know nothing of your identity.”

“Hm. Seems like a load of bullshit to me,” I deadpanned.

“We need to do this. We need to bring everyone back. I’ve spent the past five years trying to reverse the snap, and now I finally know how to fix it. Let me do it.” As Natasha spoke, she grabbed both of my hands in hers.

“And I’ve spent every day for the past five years training to do this. I wasn’t just practicing sorcery and talking to dead people for fun, Nat. All I wanted was to do better一 to fix this. If anyone is jumping off that cliff, it’s gonna be me.”

“No. Absolutely not. Neither of you is dying for that stone. I’ve done horrible things these past few years. I’ve killed...so many people. It should be me,” Clint says, and Natasha and I turn to face him, but one of her hands remains in mine.

“No way in hell, Clint. And not you either, Nat. Both of you guys have families. You’re not sacrificing yourselves. I won’t let you. And you can’t stop me even if you try.” Nat gives me a questioning look as I mention her family and I speak in her head ‘I know about them, Nat. And they need you. She needs her big sister.’

“What are you saying?” I can hear the anxiety lacing Nat’s words, and it causes a pit to form in my stomach.

“I think you know what I’m saying, Natty.” 

“Then you don’t leave me much of a choice.” She shoots a Widow’s Bite toward me, but I stop it using energy manipulation without even having to lift a finger.

“You can’t beat me, Nat. Please, don’t fight me on this.”

“I call bullshit.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clint running toward the edge while we’re distracted, and I teleport in front of him, throwing him backward. I use mind control to force him to stay down. I sense Natasha running toward the edge behind me, and I teleport in front of her. I use energy manipulation to keep her in place, and I grab onto her biceps.

“I’m really sorry, Nat. I hate that I’m doing this to you, but I can’t let you throw yourself off a cliff for some stupid stone. Your life is worth so much more than that. You’re an amazing person, and your ledger was cleared of its red so long ago. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

“This is sounding an awful lot like a goodbye.”

“You can be sarcastic all you want, but I’m not walking out of this one, Natty.”

“Don’t do this. The team needs you.”

“No, they don’t, Nat, and we both know it. They need you.”

“And what if I need you?!”

“Well if that’s the case, you’ll figure it out, just like you always do. Don’t let something like this hold you back. Goodbye, Natasha Romanoff.” I kiss her cheek before turning around. I start walking towards the edge, but it quickly turns into a sprinting pace as I hear Nat screaming for me to stop. Just before I reach the edge, I lift the mind control from Clint and I release Nat, just in case it doesn’t automatically lift when I die. I push myself off the cliff, turning mid-jump so I’m not facing the ground. As I’m falling through the air, I see Clint holding Nat in his arms as her screams fill my ears. I hit the ground and everything goes black.

<//>

“Hello, y/n. It’s good to see you again.” I sat up and一 what the hell is that smell? “Ah, yes. That would be burning flesh. Welcome to Hell, darling.”

“Uh...what? Who are you?”

“Yes, I suppose I should explain, hm? I am Hecate, Goddess of一”

“Yeah, I know what you’re the goddess of. How did I get here?”

“I thought you were smarter than this. You died, obviously.”

“And went to Hell? Damn.”

“Oh, relax. Hell isn’t what the mortals think it is. This is the Underworld. All of the dead reside here. The bad people get punished, the good people don’t. Simple as that. We don’t have a lot of time, so I need to explain. I am cursed; I cannot leave the Underworld. However, my human embodiment can, and that is where you come into play. You hold all my power, and I can see you’ve been practicing, but you’ve never lived up to your full potential.”

“Hey! Rude!”

“Don’t interrupt. I didn’t allow you to live up to your full potential, not until we met, anyway.”

“And I had to die in order for that to happen?”

“Yes. I’m giving you all of my power, but I can still stop you if I ever need to. I know you don’t want to risk hurting the people you love, especially the redhead, but you need to trust yourself. Trust your powers. Have a little faith. You are a goddess, remember. Don’t let people forget it. That purple thumb is nothing compared to you, even with his colorful rocks. Your family needs you now. You must help them.”

“That’s it? Why do they need help? How will I know what to do?”

“I will always be there to help you, Y/N. You can handle this. This is nothing. You are part of me, just as I am part of you. You are my daughter, after all. I should know your capabilities better than anyone.”

“Wait, daughter?!”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Oh well, it doesn’t matter right now, anyway. You need to go.”

“Go where?”

“Home, darling.” 

The earth above us cracks open and I can hear faint sounds of fighting on the surface. I look at Hecate as she nods. Before I even realize I’m doing it, black mist surrounds my body and lifts me through the crack. I step out of the mist onto the ground and a staff appears in my right hand. I tap it once on the ground and my white suit is replaced by an all-black leather outfit that’s definitely made for a goddess. I smirk and make eye contact with the titan across the battlefield. His sickly creatures race toward me as they notice the new threat on the field. I summon an army of ghouls from the cracks in the earth. As the aliens and the undead clash, I teleport in front of Thanos.

“And who might you be, dear?” He acts confident, but I can sense his fear.

“I am Y/N, daughter of Hecate.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner. “Oh, did someone not study mythology? Hm, then let’s be blunt, shall we? I’m a goddess, ass-chin.” I throw my staff at his throat, but he catches it. He moves to swing his large sword at me, but I capture his arm in black mist. When he tries to move the other arm, I restrain that one, as well. “Well, that surely can’t be all you’ve got, hm? Pity, I thought it’d be more exciting than that.” If I were to look in a mirror at that moment, I would’ve noticed my ghostly pale skin, black eyes, and the raw power spreading through my veins like a black road-map.

“It’s not over yet, my dear child.” Before I can question the meaning of his words, an alien tosses him the gauntlet. It slides on his exposed hand, but I hold it open with dark magic. I look around and notice that the army of the undead is nowhere to be seen. My teammates are pinned down, even with the help of those who were snapped. There is a feeling in my gut and a voice in my head that tells me what I must do. I pull the gauntlet off his hand with black mist and slide my hand inside. I feel the power surging into my body. “What are you doing? That power will kill you!” Thanos sounds truly desperate.

“That’s cute. Truly, it is, but you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.” I close my hand and snap my fingers. His army fades to dust and he slumps to the ground before floating away with them. I drop the gauntlet to the ground and look around. Natasha runs toward me and throws her arms around my neck in a firm hug.

“Wha一what happened to you? How are you here? I thought you died!”

I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder before saying, “I did die. I am dead.”

She pulls away and looks at me from head to toe. “Well that explains why you’re so damn pale, but now I have so many more questions.”

“I am Hecate’s daughter, so I am technically a goddess, like her. I’m not sure if I was technically resurrected or not, but I can probably一”

She cut me off with a gentle yet passionate kiss. She pulls away and searches my eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” she admits.

“Me too,” I breathe out.

“Yeah, I picked up on that. You’re not very discrete.” I laughed and a smirk spread across her face. “As sexy as this whole ‘powerful goddess’ thing is, am I going to get the old you back? You know, the one who blushes whenever I look at her? The one who’s, like, alive?”

I smile at her and glance down at her lips as a thick black mist appears behind me. I step backward into it as her face morphs into a look of confusion. She disappears from sight as a wall of black fills my vision, and a surge of power spreads throughout my body. I fall to my knees and the black cloud disappears. Natasha rushes over and kneels in front of me. “Are you okay? What the hell was that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think I’m alive again.” I lift my head and meet her eyes.

“Your skin isn’t crazy pale anymore, and your eyes are their normal color again.”

“Sweet.”

“Cool.”

We both crack up and I lean my forehead against hers as our laughter fades.

Tony interrupts our moment of peace. “This is all good and dandy, but does someone wanna explain what the hell just happened?”

I raise my head and look at my teammates一 my family. “I kicked the purple thumb’s ass. That’s what happened.” I can feel a warm presence in my heart, and I know that my mother is with me.

“Yes, yes, I noticed. I also noticed a bunch of demons. Care to explain that one?”

“They weren’t demons...they were just...the souls...of dead people. I can summon the dead. You knew that.”

“Uh, I definitely didn’t know that.” I laugh and shake my head at the eccentric man. 

I stand up, pulling Natasha with me, and bring her into another embrace. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Natty,” I whisper in her ear before pressing a delicate kiss to her temple.

A/N: I literally had this completely finished and edited over a month ago and I hadn’t posted it yet soooooo... idk here it is

[calehenituseappreciation]

Ive seen a lot of Dream (and usually Techno and Phil too) as gods au (i have one too dw) but all of you are sleeping on the funniest option.

Tommy is the god.

Tommy.

hes the only one in that galaxy (other than drista ofc)

Just imagine how fucking funny it is like 

it would be so fucking hilarious

and tommy just doesnt tell them

so techno is just there making all these blood god jokes and jokingly telling tommy to serve him and tommys just laughing

imagine a god in the form of a chaotic 16 year old racoon gremlin just walts into your land commits arson and gets banned, only to come back with another person who he helps start a nation for drugs?

imagine how fucking funny it is

just

imagine tubbo banning a literal god from his lands and he just doesnt come back? he just plays by the rules? then goes and like sits in the corner all sad because some humans/dreamons told him to leave

ranboo, just joining the server: hi-  a chaotic gremlin god: wanna commit arson with me?  ranboo, just trying to vibe and maybe not disturb this god: sure 

Phil and Ranboo recongnize Tommy as a god on sight.

Everyone else just refuses to believe it. hes Tommy. Tommyinnit. hes just weird lol

And Drista being a fucking chaotic blood god? 

drista is open about her godhood and does not hesitate to spawn blocks

Drista finds Dream and decides she likes this small human, and dream just has to deal with it lmao.

drista and tommy are both born at the same time.

Tommy is a god of music, chaos, war and theivery (the last one bc he is a BITCH)

Drista is the blood god, chaos, deception, and theatre

okay but imagine the sbi interactions... like ig in this au tommy joins at like 12/13 years of age (in their minds) so he doesnt really grow much 

and like tommy, a literal god, just claiming phil as his father???

phil, in his house making eggs, assuming one of his sons woke up and came to the kitchen, not looking: hey son  tommy, from their couch, already deciding hes phils son now: whats up dad? phil: looks up at tommy who are you tommy: idk dad, who am i  phil: *stares at tommy for a second* eh i made extra eggs you can stay 

ASJIDGASUIOG IMAGINE TOMMY TELLING THEM HES A GOD BUT THEY THINK HES JOKING AND IGNORE HIM

everyone on the server: tommy is the youngest! tommy, as old as the universe: no im not!!!! im not a child!!!! he doesnt pout because pouting is for children and hes not a child but hes pouting tubbo: lol im older than you by a month tommy dont try to hide it tommy: im not a child!!!! techno: laughs

tommy doesn't try to hide that hes a god just its tommy

thats all the evedince anyone needs to think tommy isnt a god or powerful its like mcc hes good but only when he doesnt throw for content

quackity: sees drista written in bedrock lmao drista visited? tommy: yeah! i wrote that for her!  quackity: snorts yeahhhh sureee tommy

imagine like how fucking funny it is jsut like 

a fucking chaotic god breaks into your house androbs you makes a room under your house and decides to live in your floorboards

imagine dream like trying to manipulate tommy, and tommy a fucking anchient diety immeditly recongnizes what hes doing

but decides to play along for the angst and giggles and then actually gets mad when no one fucking cares for his theatrics

tommy, storming off to technos base to rob and build under: >:///// cant believe none of them acknoledged my  deppression 

i love that tommy stills robs everyone, he doesnt need to he can spawn in anything he wants

he just does it for the sport of robbery

JAKOGFSDOH

THE HOLY LAND

dream: im god actually tommy: thats so fucking funny lets make a cult about that :)  dream: see! look! im god! and jesus!  tommy: wheezing

imagine tommy getting stressed and letting go of his mortal form

Tommy, his human form peeling away, showing his actual form a bit: WH̸͘A͠T̷ ̶̢T͞H͢E ̡͘F̴̵͘Ù̧C͜K҉ ̶T͘͜͞E͟CHǸ͏Ǫ  Techno: HAH?

tommy just saw tubbo and got emotionally attached

Tommy, a literal god: hello Tubbo: oh hi do you like my pet bee? Tommy: you’re mine now Tubbo: im okay with this

tommy, a bored god: gives techno shapeshifting powers  techno, not even caring: changes into more human to pig-ishg forms as he wishes this is my life now ig 

phil lets tommy do fuck all in exile bc he knows hes a god hes fine

phil: IDC IF YOURE A GOD! YOU WILL DO THE DISHES NOW YOUNG MAN! tommy: grumbles but does them

phil is the only one who can control tommy

god... tommy... with star freckles... on his human form... (as well as his god one)

tommy: f̷͛͠a̵̋t̵̒̑h̸̚e̶̓͝r̸͊ ̸̐̒i̴ ̸̅̿d̷̉͆o̵͂͋ ̵̛̆ñ̸̾ő̶́t��̎́ w̶͆͘i̴͠s̵̓̈́h̸͗́ ̵̯͗f̶͋́ő̴͑r̷̐̌ ̶͝é̵̽g̸͊͂g̵̒s̷͂̃  phil: idc, eat your goddamn eggs tommy: pouts

tommy, despite being able to get supplies himself by fucking spawning them in: hey tubbo? we need supplies 

In this au ig like if a god claims you you get a mark on your skin showing that. Drista’s would be like a green crown, Tommys would be a red and white disk (white as the outer ring and red as the center) (its different enough that if you don’t realise tommy is a god you wouldnt realise whos it is) (schlatt is the only one who never had one which shoulda been a sign dude :/)

Dream has two from the beginning, everyone else has only one, well until they meet drista. (sbi have had one since they met tommy, though they dont remember the first time they met tommy)

wait what if tommy like found them all as children one by one and later kinda pulled some strings to get them all in one kingdom. (he still joined sbi through forcing phil to adopt him) 

OKAY BUT IMAGINE IF TOMMY MET TECHNO WHEN TECHNO WAS YOUNG ENOUGH TO NOT REMEMBER

tommy would hang out with baby techno and tell him stories

once he told him the story of a man named thesus

another time he told him the story of a blood god

like for example tommys first time meeting techno would be like

(for context techno lived in a shitty village and was an orphan and it was kinda a dog eat dog place, he learned how to be strong because of it)(he was young enough that he doesn’t remember this well, just like learning about the blood god and someone giving him gold)

baby techno: sighs tommy, appearing out of nowhere: oh heyyy whyre you sad? techno: jumps turning around with a knife up ready for a fight who are you tommy: im tommy! :) techno: what do you want from me! you dont scare me! tommy: whats your name! techno: i have a knife! i'll use it! tommy: of course, thats a given, but its rude not to tell people your name techno, confused: t-technoblade? tommy: smiles thats a nice name techno: so. tommy: hm? techno: why're you here tommy: i don't have a reason. im just a traveller! techno: then why hole to this terrible village! theres nothing nice here! everyone is terrible and so are you! tommy: hmmmm i dont agree techno: what are you? a child? i thought adults were supposed to know that everyone is mean tommy: mmhmm looks at the bruise on technos face where'd you get that? techno: fight. i won. i'll win against you too! so don't try anything. tommy: of course. i would never win in a fight against a blood god techno, putting down his knife a bit, stars in his eyes: blood god? tommy: grins blood. god. i think she'd like you. techno, muttering: maybe i can give the blood god some of your blood tommy: laughs yeah, she'd defenitly find you intresting tommy: here tosses techno a golden crown at techno, he spawned it in in the moment techno: whats this? tommy: a crown, thought it suit you screams in the distance tommy: huh. i need to go. have fun lil piglin. ruffles technos hair before running off towards the screaming unbeknownst to the pig the blood god was actually the one waiting for the god he met. techno: stares at the crown 

Techno found a pouch of gold in his ‘house’ later that day. he didnt know who left it but it helped him get food for that night. (he kept the crown)

okay but imagine tommy not taking the war seriously at all, and only seeing it as a squabble between mortals, Like toddlers fighting

dream: SURENDER BY TOMMOROW OR WE'LL DECLARE WAR! wilbur: FUCK YOU WE'LL NEVER SURENDER AND JOIN YOUR SMP! Tommy: how cute

tommy doesnt realise that theyre serious until wilbur dies

tommy would usually go apeshit against anyone who dares messes with his humans, but what is he supposed to do when his humans are fighting Eachother?

wilbur: fucking goes insane and dies  tommy: hey- hey can you guys let me talk to wil for a sec? everyone else leaves tommy, unsually somber: sorry i didnt help you i forgot how easily breakable mortals are tommy: this time you wont die, and i'll make it so that you dont break again, okay? tommy: brings wilburs soul out of its body and enters his mindscape ghostbur: wakes up what- where am i? tommy: hi there ghostbur: who are you tommy: i go by a lot of names all, one, you, the world, the universe, god, but you can just call me tommy ghostbur: oh okay. who am i? tommy: you're name was wilbur soot. you were the son of philza minecraft and brother to Technoblade, Tubbo and myself. ghostbur: was? tommy: well you see, you died. ghostbur: oh... well what am i then? tommy: a ghost! well actually its your choice. would you like to continue your existance or fade away with your body? ghostbur: i dont want to fade away! tommy: smiles thats what i thought you'd say stretches his hand to wilbur ghostbur: grabs tommy hand tommy: lets go home

ghostbur doesnt remember that though

he only remembers the good

tommy wont let him remember the bad, what if he breaks again? mortals are so fragile

phil realises what tommy did as soon as he sees ghostbur 

drista, painting tommys nails (there both in god form btw) (after wilburs death btw): tommy shouldn't you of all gods realise how fragile they are?  tommy: i know just... forgot  drista: sighs and nods i get what you mean, especially with the ones we found... they act a lot like gods sometimes i forgot they arent  tommy: ikr? wait- drista here gets drista's hair out of her face you were gonna get it on my nails, anyways, don't judge me. we all know if dream died you would turn him into a ghost too drista: smirks not if you do it first, we all know you would tommy: you say that as if you wouldn't fight me to do it first  drista: .... tommy: ... drista: both of us when he dies? tommy: nods tommy: anyways my turn to do your nails 

or like tommy with ghostbur like

ghostbur: i don't like this :( tommy, a worried brother and god: whats wrong? ghostbur: everyone is mad at me and i d-dont know why- why are they mad at me tommy: theyre mad at something alivebur did ghostbur: b-but im not alivebur sniffs it hurts. i dont like it. tommy: spawns in some blue here ghostbur: whats that? tommy: its some blue! it'll help you not hurt anymore! ghostbur: how does it work? tommy: see how its blue? ghostbur: nods tommy: well its blue because it sucks up all the bad feelings! it'll help ghostbur: !!!!! ghostbur: presses the blue into his chest ghostbur: !!!!its working!!!! :D tommy: smiles good

wilbur fucking died and tommy went from annoying little brother to caring older brother

tommy just wants to help his brother :) though he doesnt realise that not letting ghostbur remember bad memories isnt good

*at logsted shire btw* ghostbur: who are you? tommy, chuckling: did you forget me already ghostbur? ghostbur: i didnt forget you! i think! you're tommy! i just... you're different tommy, looks over at ghostbur: different how? ghostbur: you're not normal are you? tommy: grins whaaaaat? you think im weirdddd? how heartbreaking... my own brother thinks im weird, this is terrible ghostbur: giggles tommy: but really, don't worry about it bur. ghostbur: you sure? tommy: yeah, dont worry about me ghostbur: smiles okay! do you want some blue anyways? tommy: giggles sure! ghostbur: grins

ghostbur isnt worried about tommy

he knows hes strong

phil having to tell tommy that he cant just not let wilbur remember the bad memories

and tommys like "what if he breaks again!" and phil hugs him and tells him to at least ask ghostbur if he wants to remember and tommys like ‘fine’

tommy: hey bur? ghostbur: yeah? tommy: do you like you're memories? ghostbur: i mean, yeah its hard not to when you only remember the good tommy, quietly: would you want to remember the bad? ghostbur: w-what brought this question on tommy: answer the question ghostbur: no- alivebur was badi shouldn't want to- tommy: but what do you want bur? wilbur, silent for a moment: yeah- yeah i do. not that i like the bad memories! they hurt... but i wish i could remember tommy: ... ghostbur: hey tommy? tommy: yeah? ghostbur, with tears in his eyes: do you think they'd be less mad at me if i could remember, maybe then i could repair my relationships, what the hell am i supposed to do when i dont even remember hurting them? tommy: what if they dont? what if you break again? ghostbur, saltily: we'll maybe i'll be able at least be able to say i know why everyone hates me tommy: i know how to get all of your memories back ghostbur, looks towards tommy in shock: you do??? tommy: nods ghostbur, voice wavering: for how long tommy: since the beginning ghostbur: and you didnt tell me tommy: i did what i thought was best. i just didnt want you to hurt anymore. ghostbur, angrily: WELL THAT CLEARLY WORKED DIDNT IT? tommy: sorry wilbur, sometimes i forget how to handle humans ghostbur: what- tommy: sighs and taps ghostbur on the forehead and ghostbur does the ghost equivilent of passing out tommy: wont hide any memories this time

ghostbur doesnt wake up, instead wilbur wakes up weither thats good or bad we'll see

wilbur, waking up with all his memories: HOLY SHIT TOMMY WASN'T KIDDING phil, who was reading beside the bed tommy placed wilbur into, which was in technos house. yes he broke into technos house with a passed out wilbur. move on.: hm? wilbur: holy shit phil: huh? yeah. wilbur: wait you knew? phil: yeah i recongnized him as soon as i saw him about 5 years ago now? wilbur: excuse me while i freak out because my little brother is an actual god

it really hits wilbur that tommy is a god later

wilbur: hey tommy? tommy: yeah? wilbur: how fucking old are you? tommy: snorts of course thats the first thing you ask wilbur: well? tommy: i dont really know the exact years since years are kind of a human thing that were invented recently wilbur: they were invented thousands of years ago- tommy: but it was around the beginning of this galaxy wilbur, softly: what the fuck

tommy telling wilbur stories about different heros and villains and different humans he met during his life.

Adsjbffsg what if Tommy made himself blonde and blue eyed and white bc thats hyow the first human he met looked like asjfhsd

and just didnt change that, despite meeting new humans, its just his defult settings.

he would totally do this tho im crying.

drista just based her human form off dream because she is his sister now. he must deal with this. trying disowning me when i look like you BITCH.

thats my take anyways later might continue this

[painless-innit-colourful]

Invisible

Potions of invisibility grant the user the ability to disappear, functionally: the concealment of one’s self through magic, distilled into a draught easy to swallow. For better and worse, Tommy’s familiar with the taste.

It tastes sour, primarily. 

Looking at the ingredient list, no wonder. Nether wart and fermented spider eye. Gross. There are some things a golden carrot just can't balance out. 

It's such a disgusting taste he doesn't notice the shimmering feeling, instead focusing his attention on scraping a thin layer of translucent brown sugar-mushroom-spider ick off his tongue. Not until: 

"Tommy?" "Y- Bleh- Yeah?" "Oh!" Tubbo waves his arms in a wild arc, smile growing, before his hand collides with Tommy's arm, and he picks up Tommy's wrist. "It worked!" "What do you- Ohhh..." 

If he blurs his vision, Tubbo's fingers circle around nothing. If he looks properly, he can just about see the edges of his wrist, the lines of his shirt sleeve. "Dude, how does that work?" "Which bit?" "Clothes. My clothes didn't drink it too." "Dude, I dunno... My turn!" 

They learn to spot the tiny signs of an invisible person. They learn to disguise them. Tommy tries to tackle Tubbo and misses completely, and both of them fall about laughing. 

Call that a drug van success story. 

--- 

He sprints past it, hoping they aren’t following, panic filling his bloodstream. He chugs the potion as he runs, drops spilling down his front, staining his navy coat with off-white shadows as he shimmers and disappears into thin air. 

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

He stumbles into the shallow waters of the lake, wading - disturbing the water, too many signs, you're gonna be seen - towards Tubbo's tunnel. He takes three steps and slips under the surface, landing on his hands and knees on the tunnel floor, waiting, waiting- Where are they? 

There's the sound of an arrow seeking its mark and hitting true, and for a split second Tommy sees an arm with deft fingers and a dark blue sleeve fall over the side of the entrance, and then the body is gone and shit shit shit- 

Tommy sticks his head back out- Who was that? Wilbur? Tubbo? He feels the shimmering feeling again - "a quick escape", where are the others - and slowly drops back to the tunnel floor. 

Make a decision, what if they find you, Little Laddy One Life? He walks away, opting to live to fight another day, hoping that his friends will join him soon. 

--- 

Funnily though, while clothes disappear with the potion, armour doesn't. He doesn't know why; he's not smart enough to. And right now, as he yanks the shoulder straps of his chestplate tight, he doesn't really care. 

"Stop!" They don't stop, voices mostly drowned out by the overwhelming sound of rushing water. Dream, his face also hidden, but by his signature mask as opposed to the magic of an invisibility potion, holds his hand towards Tubbo and tells him "I need the disc." Tommy crests the wreckage of the Community House, no longer attempting to stay hidden as the water thunders down around his ankles, pulling him towards the platform in the centre. It's a bizarre version of the Pit. It’s an arena. It's a stage. 

"No!" He screams, as Tubbo takes half a step back towards the ender chest. Heads snap to his position, looking at the empty suit of armour that's just appeared beside and above them. Tubbo stutters something in quiet disbelief, and between that and the sudden attention, Tommy falters. If he took off his armour now, could he get out of there? Or would the same fate that once befell Wilbur catch him? The blame for this building is on him, after all. 

He jumps in, landing on his feet between Dream and the cabinet of L'Manberg. He is caught in the crossfire of their questions: "Tommy?" "Is that Tommy?" 

He shouts, and he screams, and he revolves like a merry-go-round, trying to keep his eyes on everyone, not trusting that his armour'll be enough to protect him from the sheer amount of enemies about. So many people hate him, he realises, it's 30 v 2. Technoblade would like those odds. Technoblade, who's standing beside him, not invisible because he went to get milk. He likes the protection; he thinks. 

They don't listen. Tubbo keeps insisting he betrayed them all by teaming with Techno, that he betrayed L'Manberg, but they don't understand, he didn't have a choice, "You don't know what he did to me in exile." Tubbo has the disc in his hands, and without having an inkling of where Dream's eyes are, he watches him consider simply snatching it from Tubbo's hands. 

"You're not gonna give him the disc." Tubbo looks at him like it's a dare, and why can't he see? Tommy's practically crying with the effort and exertion of watching his best friend betray him in slow motion, of being this close to his abuser, of being blamed for something he didn't do, of being beaten down every time he gets on his damn feet. 

"I don’t need to prove myself to you. This wasn’t me. Trust me. Jesus— for once in your life, Tubbo, trust me." Tubbo's eyes are cold, his mind made up. What happened to us against the world?  "I did trust you. Once. The first time all of this happened. And I won’t make the same mistake twice." 

There's a little moment where time stops, and everyone draws nearer like a crowd at the coliseum, and Tommy feels his invisibility ripple slightly, warning him it's about to wear off. Who the fuck cares. 

Tubbo takes a step towards Dream, and Tommy lunges to put himself between them. "Don't you dare." Tubbo's hand goes to his axe. "You betrayed me, Tubbo, you- Did you just-" Both of their eyes are on Tubbo’s weapon, when he puts the disc away, staring Tommy down plainly with his one hand returning to the axe at his waist, and the other taking out his shield. "I didn't betray you." His voice is level, all business. Okay then, Mr President.

"You betrayed everything that you'd built with presidents prior." Tommy's anger, and hurt, and frustration, and pain finally boils over, so much so that it's visible in the way he shakes as he brings out his axe. "You know what?" He bites into a golden apple, feeling its effects drown out the rushing water and the shimmering sensation of his invis. "You've got your axe up." Technoblade’s tone is surprised but light as he tells Tommy to make this decision wisely, but he’s already gone, his safety and conscience be damned. He throws himself at Tubbo, brandishing his axe as the pigman taught him, like he once practised with the brown-haired boy he’s swinging at, thinking You say I betrayed you? I'll show you a traitor. 

Poetically, perhaps, it's less like a fight, and more like a dance. They are a whirlwind - a hurricane - clashing and blocking and pushing and shoving across the otherwise empty floor. Somewhere in the gushing water, Technoblade's bloodlust has seized him, and he's gone for the L'Manbergians and the festival-goers and the unrelated parties that came when they saw the destruction, and he's scattering them this way and that, but who cares about that? 

They are not equally matched. Tommy shakes too much: there is too much of him vulnerable here, not just his mortality, something that neither invisibility nor armour can keep from being scratched and damaged. He's losing. He's quite badly losing, despite Tubbo's inferior armour and weapons and allies, and he leaps into the nearest watery wall, letting the Respiration helmet Techno made for him protect him as the water drags him under and away from his attacker. His best friend. He bites into another golden apple, his pleas swallowed by the torrent. He still hears Tubbo's shout though, permeating the water and being relayed through his communicator from wherever Techno is. 

"Where are you?" 

He pops back up, shaking and soaking wet and sees a familiar sight: an old friend, a brother - once - staring him down with death in his eyes from behind brown hair. He was wrong, oh so wrong, all those weeks ago: at once he is Schlatt, alone at the end of his days, and there's Wilbur, old pals who'll be the death of each other. No. 

No. 

"I didn’t betray you, you teamed up with the very person that destroyed us the first time!" He feels his invis shimmer one more time, and the timing is immaculate, really. Cinematic, one might say. 

"I went for the discs— Tubbo, the discs— The discs were worth more than you ever were!" "No... Wh- Th-" The world stands still, and it feels so good, it's so good to finally say it, to watch Tubbo's face fall, his shield slipping from his hand, listen to the reactions around their little arena, watch as Tubbo shuts his mouth and yanks on the strap of his chestplate and lets it drop to the floor, leaving him defenceless and open to attack and wait- no- wait- 

Mutely, Tommy’s gaze drifts skyward, and it should feel good because they know now, they know how he feels, but it's not, it's not good because that- that wasn't true. That wasn't right. 

And he looks back at Tubbo, and finally, finally, his invis runs out, and he hopes it shows on his face, that he knows he's fucked up because Tubbo looks destroyed, and a shiver goes through him because he no longer looks angry he just- He just looks sad. 

He takes off his helmet, breathing heavily from the ache and exertion, heart burning in regret. 

‘The discs were worth more than you ever were.’

How do you fix that? For one crazy moment, he considers the invis again. Turning translucent and running, back to Techno- back to Technoblade who'd congratulate him on 'moving on' and tell Phil like he was proud and probably write that line on the fucking wall, how could he be such a monumental ass- 

"Tubbo?" Their eyes meet. Tubbo says nothing. 

"Give him the disc." 

He looks bewildered, "You want me to give Dream the disc?" He says, the tiniest sliver of something they used to have peeking through, the bearest hint of kindness, and bless him, it's more than Tommy deserves. It makes him want to go invisible again. 

He smiles softly, and it can't reach his eyes, but he pours every ounce of good left in him into it and desperately hopes it's enough.

"Yeah." And because he's fucked up, because he knows they can never go back from this: "I'm sorry Tubbo." 

--- 

He's done it again, he keeps fucking up. Sam's hand is holding him down by the shoulder, firm fingers digging into him, keeping him from reaching Ghostbur. 

He tried so hard. His throat is sore from not coughing. His muscles hurt from the pure tension and adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, from his stubborn heart to the ends of his fingers and toes. He thought he'd gotten caught when he drank the potion in the waivers room, and his heart had been beating so loud that he'd thought Sam could hear it. 

Yet, they made it. But it doesn't matter, because he pulled out the axe too early, and now he's busted, and Sam's gonna kill him or Wilbur's going to come back or both, and it's all his fault. 

Every time he tries. Every time he tries to fix things, or do what's right, or have something for himself, it's taken away, destroyed and he's kicked to the ground. Every time. 

It's enough to make anyone want to be invisible.

[qm-vox]

So You Want To Play A Fairest

(Portrait of Erin Peters by cantankerousAquarius. The character originally appeared in Night Horrors: Grim Fears, published by White Wolf; catch my take on her in New Avalon)

Previous Articles: So You Want To Play A Beast, So You Want To Play A Wizened, So You Want To Play An Elemental, So You Want To Play An Ogre, & So You Want To Play A Darkling

You ever wonder, flipping through a Monster Manual for D&D, or a Bestiary for Pathfinder, why nymphs and hags are both always, always, women? It’s older than you know. Dig into the sordid history of tabletops and you’ll find sylphs that Gary Gygax wrote, Chaotic charmers who use mind control to reproduce with non-sylph men; you’ll find the legacy of the matriarchal drow, who follow a mad goddess, and you’ll find the medusae, whose sexual dimorphism is so complete that their men are beautiful and can turn stone into people.

Dredge deeper and you’ll find the tales that Gygax and his wretched ilk based such creatures off of.

You ever wonder why we assign such powerful Gender to creatures of beauty and horror?

Fairest don’t. They know, every time they wake up from a nightmare that is also a wet dream. They know, every time they get hit on at the bar and have to decide how they’re playing this. They know, every time they look in a mirror and see not their own face, but the ten thousand horrors that made it beautiful.

If you are very patient, and lucky, and kind, they might tell you why.

If you aren’t, they may show you.

This article draws primarily on Changeling: the Lost and Winter Masques, as well as Swords at Dawn and Night Horrors: Grim Fears. Other sources, when used, will be cited. It requires Content Warnings for sexual violence, sexual slavery, abuse, gaslighting, addiction, substance abuse, self-harm, self-image problems, mentions of fascists & fascist ideology, and just, so very much incel bullshit.

Bonus Material Part Two: The Seeming Part

The end of this article, just past the customary Sample Fairest, will include some additional material intended to help you select a Seeming for your character and otherwise build them up as one of the Lost, much as So You Want To Run A Spring Court included material for Courts as a topic.

Take Me To Wonderland - Fairest Overview

Fairest is the fourth Seeming presented in Changeling: the Lost and possibly the most confused about its own identity. Its sections in Winter Masques present depths and nuance that are completely absent in core, essentially making Winter Masques required reading for Fairest players in a way that no other book is - especially since Fairest keep getting written in a particular way alluded to in the Ogre article, which I will expand on later in this article. Fairest is numerically well-represented in canon and popular in the fanbase, home to many memorable character concepts, but its bones with folklore and tradition are weaker than it fronts as.

Ogres and Darklings claim an innate relationship to physical violence; so too do the Fairest claim a relationship to violence. The violence of Perception and its dark twin, Judgement; of Rumor and its mad dog, Prejudice, the violence of Lies and their merciless master, Truth. Fairest, alone among the Lost, have casual access to the resources of a society that refuses to service or acknowledge Changelings, and with access to that society comes both opportunity and temptation. To be Fairest is to wield power that many other Lost cannot, but the opportunity that power offers is a lie; a Fairest can smile until her face breaks like a mirror, but she’ll never be “sane” enough for the masses to see her as anything but a useful pet.

Life’s Lush Lips - Homecoming As A Fairest

Fairest can make the dubious claim of having the least clear memories of Arcadia amongst all the Lost, with Darklings and Beasts jockeying for second place. This isn’t to say that the experiences Fairest have are necessarily more intense or more inherently traumatic than that of other Lost, but rather that the abuse Fairest suffer is so emotional, so targeted at their perception of their selves and their situations and their self-image, that the memories which do form are inevitably colored by those emotions, coloring the dreams they have of Arcadia with both the emotional resonances they had at the time and with their later attempts to grapple with their own trauma and transformation. For many Fairest, who cannot trust even their strongest memory dreams, attempts to understand their own Durance must rely either on the word of their Keepers (and Faeries lie, oh, how they lie), or on reverse-engineering their own behavior to try and conceive of a trauma that could cause it.

Inevitably, however, some things are seared into their minds. For almost all Fairest, their Keeper is high on the list of things they remember with absolute clarity. Other facts, shattered and scattered, vary more widely. Erin Peters remembers stretched years kept in a cold, dark room lit only by her own hatred; every detail of her cell is scorched onto the back of her eyes, but the otherworldly balls her Keeper took her to blur together like food coloring in syrup. The slaves of the Candle Countess have terrible nightmares of the choices they were confronted with, the decision, offered over and over again, to become complicit in the Countess’s cruelty or to be victimized by it. Metallic Flowering from the Shining City struggle not to use drugs to mimic the rush of pleasure they’ve grown used to receiving for performing their jobs well; they also scream in terror if people touch them. A Draconic and a Shadowsoul both remember being used for the sexual pleasure of alien horrors; the one dreams of coiled scales and terrible teeth, the other a lifetime of lurking in an alien maze, tasked to perform the duties of a living trap for the “wicked” and “unwary” who had not yet shed the last vestiges of kindness.

There are no “wild” Fairest. For worse and worse still, to be Fairest is to have been defined by the inescapable and all-consuming attentions of your abuser, and it is this more than anything that other Lost so often fail to understand about the Fairest. Their Keepers heap them with reward and punishment, manipulating the Fairest with honeyed praise, godly wrath, gaslighting, neglect, withholding food, wondrous rewards, drugs from beyond the realms of earthly pleasure, and other hooks and crooks designed to make the Fairest dependent upon their abuser. It is hideously effective, and the first obstacle, maybe even the mightiest, that a Fairest faces to their escape is the simple horror and joy of being alone again. Their masters will try other tricks to keep them in place - tempting them with pleasures, horrific punishments, oh-so-sincere apologies - but before a Fairest can escape into the Hedge she must face, in her mind’s eye, the lonely flight back to the Iron Lands.

The memories that draw Fairest home often have parallels to their experiences in Arcadia. A slave in the Shining City bites into an otherworldly pastry and recalls her grandmother’s pie in its place; the bride of the Demon Lover, curled up under the sheets, thinks about the broken smile of the boyfriend she left behind at home. A Dancer remembers the roller rink where he fell in love with skating, while across the endless tides of the Fairest of Lands, a Shadowsoul holds on like grim death to years of work at haunted houses, scaring kids for fun and for Halloween. Fairest, so famous for their skill at words, struggle to articulate to other Lost why this should be so. Darklings assume it’s because these memories are less intense than Arcadia, and that the Fairest are fleeing to safety. Beasts get it a bit more right by thinking that these memories taste like home. The truth of the matter is that those memories have an intrinsic and nameless meaning; the highs and lows of Arcadia are divine, flawless, absolute, and therefore worthless. They are the proclamations of merciless gods. What draws the Fairest home, more than pain and pleasure they can have on their own terms, is the understanding that those gestures - for weal or for woe or for anything else besides - were made because someone cared about them, personally. Once they fully internalize that their abuser views them as disposable, the Fairest comes home to someone who won’t.

Three Kiths And Flowering Is One And A Half Of Them - Fairest Kiths

Yeah we’re about to be like that about it.

All Fairest can excel in the social arena; their Blessing can be used to flare almost every social roll in the game, and Fairest can never be caught off-guard in a social context (they suffer no untrained penalties to social rolls). With the sole exception of Empathy (usually rolled with Wits) and sometimes Streetwise, there’s no time a Fairest can’t fall back on their words and expect to win through or at least buy time. This is, as you might imagine, a godsend when it comes to attempts to pass in mortal society; Fairest can usually front, charm, bluff, or Manners(tm) their way through things like renting an apartment, nailing a job interview, asking their roommate to do the FUCKING DISHES, or getting stopped by a cop, but both the books and the fanbase miss something here. While Fairest are superb at active social events, they’re no better at keeping a lid on themselves (Composure-based rolls) than mortals are - and given both the nature of their trauma and the fact that they are, you know, Lost, Fairest have a lot more to keep a lid on day-to-day than the human society they’re trying to blend into. Thankfully, Fairest are pretty good at being able to politely leave a situation and go somewhere else to scream, shout, cry, or have a psychotic break, as appropriate.

Of course, Fairest can’t make something from nothing. As discussed in So You Want To Play An Ogre, you can’t win a social game someone else refuses to sit down to, and social rolls shouldn’t be mind control. All the Glamour in the world can’t make your roommate do the FUCKING DISHES if they’re deep in the throes of executive dysfunction, nor can it make the cashier at Walgreens fail to card you for wine when their computer literally won’t advance without an ID. People who are keyed up about honeyed words or whose own trauma came at the hands of manipulators and abusers might refuse to play that game on the terms the Fairest is setting, which makes it hard to, as it were, turn this problem into a nail. Lurking down this path as well is the specter of becoming like the masters who made you this way; if you get used to saying what will get people to listen to you, eventually you start seeing people as enrichment puzzles that dispense the things you want. Madness waits down that road, and it waits for Fairest with a giant spiked bat, thanks to their Seeming Curse.

There’s no pretty way to say this so I won’t: Fairest are always on the verge of losing their minds. Their curse hits them with a flat penalty to all rolls against losing Clarity, which means that Fairest lose Clarity faster than other Lost and they do so more consistently. This necessitates a balancing act with avoiding becoming heartless manipulators; Fairest must engage in control-seeking behavior in order to stay mentally well, must be able to trust and rely on people close to them, structure their lives, and anticipate important changes or they end up on the fast way down. Other Lost often don’t understand this need or the Fairest curse to begin with, and so Fairest end up in unofficial support groups for one another, similar to those run by Darklings except no one will admit it’s a support group even at gunpoint. Woe fucking betide the friend or life partner who gets between a Fairest and her “book club”, “girls’ night”, “D&D campaign”, or other excuse for this vital community support.

Fairest Kiths are...bad. They’re bad. This is the part of the article where I’m supposed to talk about thematics and symbolism and metaphor, and I cannot do that here, because they are bad. Fairest has three viable Kiths that are actual Fairest Kiths, one that’s a Beast Kith who got lost and wound up here by fucking mistake, and a pile of garbage bigger than my self-esteem problems. I’m almost tempted to only talk about those four Kiths and save myself the time but I suppose I should show the work like I’ve done for all the other Seemings, so here we fuckin’ go I guess.

Flowering - This is it. This is the Fairest Kith. If you want to roll any other kind of Fairest you must first pass the trial of justifying why you’re not playing Flowering. In theory, Flowering draws its mythic heritage from nymphs and dryads, charming flower sprites, Knights of Flowers, and the like, but in practice Flowering’s only mechanical effect is 9-again on Persuasion, Socialize, and Subterfuge with no qualification or requirement, which doesn’t just make you better at everything Fairest is good at, it makes you better when you spend Glamour to flare it too. Want to represent a biobahn sith’s hypnotic dance? Flowering works. Want to create a vampiric Fairest with a sultry voice? Here comes Flowering. The siren at the bar who smells like sea air and gunpowder? Flowering. Everything is Flowering. Even the things that aren’t Flowering are Flowering because all Fairest Kiths have a social focus, which is Flowering’s undisputed arena of mastery.

Bright One - In theory, Bright Ones represent beings of light in the vein of Victorian fey (which...ugh...Victorians), but their Goblin Illumination is, how you say, useless, only becoming vaguely useful for a total of 2 Glamour as a passive defense that took you 2 turns to set up. Anything you want to represent here can be found in Flowering and with Elements or Communion (Light).

Dancer - You know how Flowering gives you bonuses on all social rolls? Would you like those same bonuses but on 1 less skill and only on rolls that “involve physical grace”? No? Run Flowering here and give your character a Dance specialty in one or more skills.

Draconic - One of the game’s premier melee options and a Beast Kith who took a wrong turn and ended up getting a free makeover intended for someone else. Draconic in theory represents Fairest as dragons, monster girls, demons, and in general at their most physical, but that idea sorta...falls down a bit? Draconic’s bonuses are all about Brawl and all the sample Draconics are swordsmen, which might suggest to the discerning reader that someone in the office wasn’t reading their own fucking game. Draconic Fairest don’t make bad melee boys if you invest in Lethal Mien, but honestly this is Dual Kith bait; slap it on your Hunterheart or your Razorhand and go apeshit.

Muse - Close but no cigar. In theory Muses are, well, muses; figures of inspiration, mentorship, teaching, creative fire. Their Kith Blessing is strong but requires access to mortals, which is complicated and roundabout on the best of days. If you have an idea that you think is Muse-shaped, use Playmate instead.

Flamesiren - Behold, we enter the realm of Okay(tm). Flamesirens are what Bright Ones wanted to be, and their hypnotic aura is actually a pretty neat tool; with cunning you can make it a one-sided penalty, and even if you don’t it’s an interesting method of de-escalating a social or combat situation by subjecting everyone to the tar pit that is your presence. If your concept involves light and color and you’re resistant to Flowering, Flamesiren will do more than nothing.

Polychromatic - Polychromatics don’t have a lot of roots in mythology; their modern inspirations are, well, Manic Pixie Dream Girls. But they get a shout-out here for being the only Fairest Kith who can muster up decent emotional defenses; not only can they magically boost their Composure rolls (and non-Composure rolls to resist magical and mundane emotional attacks for that matter), but others get a flat penalty to Empathy rolls against them, which makes them talented dissemblers. You’re still probably better off with Flowering - in a world of passive Kith Blessings, Polychromatic’s is extra passive - but I can see this Kith passing muster, and even being worth the two dots to Dual Kith in-house.

Shadowsoul - This one’s insane. Ostensibly Fairest Does Darkling, Shadowsouls get their Wyrd to Intimidate rolls which could be the whole Kith on its own and still be worth the slot, but in addition to that they get 9-again on Subterfuge (matching Flowering and Darklings there) and access to Contracts of Darkness, one of the most powerful in the game line, as an Affinity Contract. Is your Fairest spooky? Would you like them to be spooky? Here’s your one-stop shop.

Telluric - This is a Kith made of ribbon bonuses. In theory related to stars and celestial light, Telluric’s bonuses to rolls “with precise timing” isn’t...really worth considering. Run ‘em as Flamesiren and move on.

Treasured - In theory also able to muster emotional defenses, Treasured are Fairest who are literally made into works of art. They’re Okay(tm) but in their niche are beaten out by Polychromatic with a better effect for less resources.

Playmate - The last Real Fairest Kith(tm), Playmate appears in Night Horrors: Grim Fears where White Wolf tries to sell it as Peter Pan, but its powerful team-oriented bonuses mean that Playmates are useful anywhere Muse is wanted and more places besides. The front woman of an indie rock band could be a Playmate; so too could be an idealized baseball captain, the director at your local theater, the middle manager of a sinister conspiracy, or the night shift lead at a research lab. Do people do a thing in teams? Playmate does that thing.

And She Had Huge Titties, I Mean Massive Badondadonks, Absolutely Enormous Bazoggahoggas - Lost’s Canon Fairest

Remember when I said we had to get back to this after So You Want To Play An Ogre? Now we’re getting back to this. I’m not gonna re-state my caveats from that article and I’m not really gonna go back over the bit about So White Wolf Was Run By Fucking Nazis because, in all honesty, I do not have the fucking time to restate all of that in new words. Give thanks that OPP got out alive and let’s get right down to it.

Fairest have a very consistent characterization in canon that is only really challenged in Winter Masques; the narrative put forth in Lost is that Fairest, being attractive, have an uncomplicated power which privileges their lives. Which is a rather bloodless way to describe how White Wolf kept writing and publishing Fairest as heartless abusers and manipulators getting their jollies and emotional needs met by casually destroying their fellow survivors, manipulating them through sex appeal, outright lies, cattiness, cruelty, and betrayal. Much as simply queering Ogre does not help Ogre in and of itself, queering Fairest only takes you from incel and Nazi propaganda about women into...incel and Nazi propaganda about twinks, femmes, & in general anyone with the temerity to be found attractive by straight white people.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So what do you do at your table, with your Fairest concept? Lemme open up by saying that like, Fairest qua Fairest is perfectly solid, and if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be an article here; Fairest has a lot to say for itself about feminized violence, about your personhood being reduced to a product for the consumption of others, about emotional abuse & neglect, gaslighting, and sexual assault, but the conclusion White Wolf arrives at (”Fairest have unalloyed power over mortal and Lost society and they abuse that power”) is super fucking obtuse and betrays a serious lack of concern for what the Fairest undergo. It ignores the way a Fairest’s ordeals will force her to confront her relationship to her own gender and alter her willingness and ability to be consumed, disconnect her from her former society while also isolating her from her new one, and these questions are important for you if you’re looking to play a ‘classic’ Fairest.

But that leaves some hanging questions. Male Fairest face the almost inescapable fate of “failing” maleness on patriarchal terms; even the most strapping, broad-chested, athletic Adonis of a Fairest has become a man of layered words and reflexive empathy, whose Manly Stoicism(tm) is a cracking facade at best and entirely abandoned in a more typical circumstance. Men who become Fairest thus face a second journey after their escape from Arcadia; confronting what being men means to them and building their gender identity back up from the rubble it’s become. The temptation to accept success on society’s terms is always going to be present, and it’s always going to be offered like it’s possible, but it’s a losing game for these Fairest; they simply cannot be the men that other men demand they become.

Now, the discerning and loyal reader is surely about to ask, hey Vox, where’s the butch Fairest I was promised back in the Ogre article, to which I respond WE’RE GETTING THERE but I gotta use this as a bridge to talk about something that cuts across Fairest of all genders, be they cis or trans. Lost 1e makes a lot of hay out of the idea that Fairest “are rarely conventionally attractive”, and core even provides some interesting written concepts for that...which make it into exactly none of the art. Every published Fairest is conventionally attractive for various definitions of conventional, be it as a supermodel or a waif, but that leaves the question of Fairest who genuinely are not - and, tragically, Fairest who were not, and were then made into someone more easily consumed by their Durance. You know what I’m about to say, and I know you know I’m about to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyway: all bodies are beautiful, but Fairest know well that beauty and attraction aren’t the same, and neither are beauty and happiness. All Fairest, from the roundest bear to the most wide-eyed waif, are the products of Keepers who valued their bodies in that state, and that idea is going to haunt them day in and day out for the rest of their extended lives. There is no such thing as a Fairest with an uncomplicated relationship to their body, and that White Wolf seems to think that an uncomplicated relationship is their default state is...disgusting, frankly.

Which brings us, at long last, to butch Fairest (also bear Fairest but I’m gonna stick with the one set of terms or I’m going to go mad and this will never be published), who have a complicated journey ahead of them. On the one hand, the assertion of control and ownership over their own bodies, their own identities, cannot be overstated. On the other hand, elements of those bodies are going to be completely out of their control; a nascent butch Fairest may well hit the gym to get swole only to discover that she literally, physically cannot, that she has been Assigned Dex Build At Durance. Hauling your corpse out of Arcadia with an extremely feminine appearance shaped by your Keeper might complicate attempts to present in a more masculine manner or even just to appear androgynous, and those complications can be discouraging. For those that stick to it, this journey will take them two places; one is the bared-teeth, bloody-knuckled assertion that this life is theirs and you can have it if you can fucking take it, and the other is into the ranks of the Freehold’s retained warriors, usually in Summer or Autumn, though a vibrant representation of Spring knights will make it seem as if Spring has more butch Fairest than it actually does. These Fairest are aware, or will become aware, of how much of their job involves de-escalating or pre-empting violence; a focus on Physical stats or skills is not necessarily common, but hyper-specialization therein likely is. A butch Fairest is a lot more likely to have, say, Brawl 4 (Multiple Opponents) and no other Physical skills than she is to have Brawl, Weaponry, Athletics, and Stealth, in part or in whole because her first weapon of choice is going to be an Intimidate roll.

At every turn you’re able to, challenge White Wolf’s narrative about Fairest by asking yourself what your Fairest wants, why they’re this way, what they’re frightened of, and how the way they behave relates back to these. They’re not products; they’re people, just as hurt and Lost as the rest of their peers.

Princesses And Pastries - Fairest In The Courts

Fairest have a complex relationship to the society of their fellow Lost. On the one hand, they have the same need for community, support, companionship, understanding, honesty, and material aid as all Lost; a Fairest is not magically proof against being homeless, against starving, against the dangers of existing in the modern world without things like a photo ID or car insurance, and Freeholds provide all of these things. On the other hand, the thing most Fairest fear most, even if they can’t articulate that fear, is their own power - social influence, emotional trust and betrayal, status, political power, and authority. Fairest are all too aware that being good at this game does not make them immune to it - after all, that’s the lesson they learned at the hands of their Keepers.

What follows from this is a complex dance of interactions that each Fairest in some ways has to feel like she’s managing on her own, even if she’s not (and she rarely is; those support groups exist for a reason). If you give a Fairest a doughnut in a social setting, she will lick that doughnut even if she doesn’t intend to eat it right away, solely to hear someone else say something along the lines of “well it’s yours now”. As Fairest filter into Freehold society and take up social roles at all levels of power - officers, messengers, ‘ambassadors’ to mortal society, secretaries, pledge-smiths, teachers, monarchs - their responsibilities and rewards become their doughnut. That Fairest make a big deal out of both their job and the benefits that come with it is rarely, as other Lost sometimes think, about aggrandizement or reveling in power for its own sake; it’s about the sheer relief and assurance of hearing someone say, to the Fairest’s face, that this is her doughnut and no one is going to take it from her.

Younger Fairest tend to flit between two or three Courts; their initial selection may be based entirely on friendships, Vibes, or a gut-check decision based on an initial pitch by that Court, and Fairest can go quite far even in a Court that doesn’t quite actually fit their needs. Eventually, though, those Fairest who survive their youth will gravitate towards a Court whose ideals speak to them, even if its current social order isn’t living up to those ideals. If they’re going to be condemned to live as exiles in the world of their birth, the Fairest can at least be the person she wants to be, god damn it. Fairest aren’t any more or less vulnerable to a toxic Court environment than other Lost, but they’re good at detecting it beforehand. Unfortunately they’re also good at telling themselves they can change it.

Spring - Though early Spring joiners are of course rare in general, Fairest are among those Lost who more commonly choose Spring as a first Court. Spring’s highly social focus and chaotic internal organization is almost tailor-made for the skill set of your average Fairest, but therein too lies a sense of threat; for many Fairest, Spring can remind them of their Durance, and their joining of the Court is as much motivated by fear of a powerful cultural body as it is by any genuine Desire, maybe even more so. Many such Fairest end up caught in Spring’s middle-road trap, spinning their wheels without recovering or worsening more or less until they finally die, but when Autumn can sniff out the fearful ones it puts a lot of work into cooperating with Spring to get them out and where they can be helped.

Summer - More Fairest dabble with Summer for dreams of glory, or because they want to believe in Summer’s apolitical sales pitch, than ultimately stick with Summer. Those that do stay often serve as officers, as the Sun’s Tongue or the Arrayer of Distant Thunder, and as Court sorcerers. Fairest skilled in Contracts of Separation can make for surprising Jaegers, hounding their prey down more like a private investigator or a serial killer than a traditional hunter, but while striking this is fairly rare. Fairest who stick with Summer are those who are looking for its high ideals and are often among those rare Summer Courtiers who can competently articulate both those ideals and their pitfalls without falling prey to cynicism and bitterness.

Autumn - For those Fairest who hurt others to feel safe, Autumn is waiting. The Leaden Mirror can be attractive to young Fairest because it’s easy to perceive Autumn as atomized, defined by personal relationships rather than webs of political influence, but when the Fairest discovers those webs the existence of Option Two: Resort To Violence as an acceptable tool to the Ashen Court is perversely reassuring rather than threatening. The image of the Fairest as a witch, tempting and threatening, clings to them in Autumn but it’s honestly not their most common role; Autumn employs its Fairest as rumor-mongers, the Other Woman who seems a little too familiar with your husband, therapists & counselors, oneiromancers, and ambassadors to Hedge communities. The work Autumn does is harsh on Clarity, and Fairest are especially vulnerable to that harshness, but if the Court invests the time in helping its Fairest members, the self-awareness and self-confidence it offers can be a godsend that no other Court can give them.

Winter - As the Court which is actually selling what Fairest think Autumn has - to wit, the ability to simply say “no” to all social interactions with no justification required - Winter has a strong undercurrent of Fairest membership at all tiers of its power. Fairest often end up directly involved in Winter’s money-making enterprises, and flourish as Squires and Armigers with their fingers on the pulse of the Court’s morale. Winter’s hands-off approach displays a tremendous amount of trust in its Fairest from their perspective, and the demeanor of the Coldest Court - Winter’s indifferent equality - has a potent, merciless appeal. The trap of drowning in Sorrow sucks more than a few Fairest under, but if their peers can be there for them there’s always a way back out.

This Is Not A Pipe - Fairest And Lost’s Themes

My many thanks to Izzie M for her extensive help on this section. I’m not sure I’d have been able to grapple it down, emotionally or intellectually, otherwise.

Fairest go through some intense shit, and the shit they go through can never fully be addressed, never fully be recovered from. It’s no mistake that Fairest, like Wizened, are among those Lost likely to never fully gain resolution with or from their Keeper, and this is because they embody the dark truth that no matter how much progress you make, how much you heal, your trauma has changed who you are as a person and you will be dealing with it until you die. But, as alluded to extensively above in the discussion of Fairest and gender, Fairest also embody the way in which society will attempt to stamp you, mold you, turn you into a product to be consumed or an archetype to be placed into its churning machine, and its attempts to reshape who and what you are and can be are, in themselves, a form of trauma and abuse.

Fairest deal a lot in expectations. They’re expected to be perfect victims, they’re expected to be happy (because they’re beautiful and attractive, because they can front as Doing Okay, because they have a form of access to ‘normal’ society), they’re expected to want romance and sex (since everyone else wants those things out of them), to perform emotional labor, to be available, intimate, understanding, to keep up appearances. Fairest escape the chains of their Keeper only to be clapped in the chains that extend into the eyes and minds of their peers, and they cannot move without hearing the clink of them.

Fairest are primed to represent victims of ongoing emotional abuse and neglect; sex slaves and victims of child abuse might find themselves in Fairest, as might husbands or wives of abusive partners (and boy, re-living my bullshit there was a bonus prize I didn’t want to receive for writing this article), children pushed to over-achieve (here overlapping with Elemental) until they break, pastor’s daughters and cult kids (here overlapping with Beast), and others. However, Fairest also hit their thematic stride when talking about trauma from a society that will not give you an exit. A trans person is first punished by society for “failing” to perform their assigned gender, then made to perform their new one to expectations that they cannot set, do not control, and do not consent to; such a person might easily be Fairest, as might a man breaking under the expectations of Maleness, a college student losing their mind in finals week with no one to help, or even more ‘ordinary’ sex workers expected to perform emotional and physical labor for a society that rewards their work with violence and dehumanization.

Fairest are people with complex internal worlds and they damn well know it, but the temptations to let others define them are numerous; society promises all manner of rewards for being who and what it wants you to be, for wanting the things it tells you to want, for being the kind of person who wants and does those things. To be Fairest is to know at any time you can start faking it and receive those rewards insofar as they’re actually on the table, but it is also to know, every second of every day that you’re performing that role, that it is fake. If you can’t find a community with which you can be genuine...well. You can always get more hurt, and in this way Fairest also bring another theme of Lost into focus: that the Lost owe compassion and understanding to their fellow victims, because failure to care can only hurt both them and everyone in their blast zone.

Feet Pics For Legos - Coping As A Fairest

Fairest are among those Lost who are most concerned with their day-to-day social interactions and safety rather than their immediate, very physical environmental safety. They are perhaps the Seeming most likely to live in a group setting (in an apartment with roommates or romantic partners, in a house shared between multiple households, splitting the bills in a condo, with their parents), and are definitely the Seeming most comfortable with the idea of living with mortals who aren’t ensorcelled. Indeed, Fairest don’t tend to do well living alone; even a Fairest who wants or needs a private place to be, choosing to keep a home in which others cannot lay a claim, will likely crash at friends’ places, sleep over at the Freehold commons on some pretext or another, stay the night with a lover, or otherwise have a place to flop down while surrounded by other people. Having other people - their greatest reality check - around the place helps keep the Fairest centered in the real reality, better able to pick apart the mortal from the Wyrd from their own unrelated hallucinations, and a Fairest who is isolated - or who is permitted to isolate herself - quickly begins to dissociate and may soon be incapable of caring for herself until someone can get her back into the present.

Those invited over as guests to a Fairest’s home may note a lot of concern for those she lives with. She likely schedules the event well in advance, is clear about the boundaries of those she lives with (”That’s Brenda’s room, the door stays shut.”) and in general treats her communal home with a lot of respect and love. Respecting these boundaries and in turn having her own respected is very validating for the Fairest and is vital to be able to feel safe and at ease in her own home, and impressing their importance on guests further reinforces that this is, as it were, her doughnut. While not dismissive of their own literal physical safety per se, a Fairest’s anxieties rarely center around her body being violently attacked by strangers. For those that do have such anxieties, they may choose to solve that problem by simple expedient of rooming or living with someone large and scary.

Another detail of note which is touched on in Winter Masques is that Fairest tend to seek out life’s little pleasures. Though they are not necessarily wealthier than other Lost, how a Fairest chooses to spend her money tends to follow particular patterns. Rare is the Fairest who doesn’t have clothing they like, a phone that works, a wallet or purse that can actually hold all of their stuff, and in this regard most Fairest without a special interest in fashion as a hobby in and of itself will have an aesthetic that is self-expressive but serviceable and hard-wearing, but any place the Fairest haunts, frequents, or lives in will get little touches everywhere. Fairest spend the little bits of extra money for good toilet paper, soft soaps that won’t hurt the skin, good shower supplies, high-quality razors, boots that won’t wear through - and they spend their serious money on their hobbies and preferences. A Fairest with a passion for cooking scrimps and saves to get a fully-stocked kitchen; a Fairest who likes building and connecting invests in Legos or Hot Wheels and creates elaborate environments for them. A gamer Fairest has headphones that can vibrate your constipation away and a fiber optic connection to ensure that lag will not stand between her and your doom. The reasons for this are manifold, and Lost’s canon writing suggests that Fairest seek pleasure to alleviate a desire to return to Arcadia. This is, to put it mildly, a stupid assertion; rather, the Fairest provides her own pleasures in part because it is one of the most emotionally clear ways to lick the doughnut, and in part because it reminds her that she can be happy under her own power, can seek pleasure, stimulation, engagement, without placing herself at another’s mercy - ironically making it easier to go out every day and do exactly that as a member of her various societies.

As a Fairest settles in she tends to look for “her” people, and quite often they’re good at compartmentalizing this, wearing different hats and having different feelings about those hats without feeling fake or distressed about the bare fact of that. She’ll have her personal friends and family, like her housemates, her girlfriend, maybe her mortal family, her neighbors, and then folks like her Motley (which are like her personal friends and family, but In The Know), her fellow Fairest and the Freehold broadly, her work friends and fellow hobbyists. A Fairest who does, say, sex work, thinks of herself as a Sex Worker and understands herself in the context of that broader social group. It can be a lot! Many Lost barely have a handle on being a member of both the Freehold and a Court, and the way Fairest flit to and fro between many communities, slipping seamlessly from one role to another, can be exhausting to watch - but by doing so the Fairest also builds bonds between those communities, highlights their common needs and interests, draws them together over their similarities and strengths. Darklings and Wizened get a lot of the work on the ground done, but it’s often a Fairest in the role of whistleblower, figurehead, and champion all at once.

After all, this, too, is her doughnut.

Example Fairest - Clara Belltower, Spring Playmate

Clara Belltower is a mime.

Well, no, not exactly. Clara Belltower is a self-employed porn actress, erotic script writer, and director, whose primary thing is mimes, clowns, and more broadly circuses and performance venues. She came back from Arcadia eight years back fleeing life as her Keeper’s Stepford Wife, and ran face-first into the money issues that haunt the Lost in general. What started out as a practical choice in new career - and an attempt to find and express an identity not created for her by her abuser - became a creative passion that has stayed strong with Clara and propelled her to status in the Spring Court, which retains her keen eye for decoration, direction, and theatricality in service to its high rituals and revels. Clara’s livestreams and online presence are also a convenient avenue for the Freehold to launder its less legal revenue streams, which has endeared Spring’s “silent siren” to the Winter Court and cemented her as a mover and shaker.

Clara’s ambitions reach beyond erotic miming, as talented as she is at both creating and purveying such. She has her eyes on four different strip clubs in Freehold territory alone whose owners and operators need to fucking go, and she wants Winter’s help making it happen; further, she wants the Freehold to take over operation of those establishments for the benefit of the workers. Clara’s vision is popular in Spring and has its supporters in Summer too, but the Declining Seasons have been cool on the concept, citing a need to maintain subtlety and avoid entanglements with the mortal world that might invite the eye of, say, the IRS - or mire the Freehold in a protracted war with local police departments. Clara’s passion burns with a righteous simplicity, envisioning a Freehold that is active in improving the city around it - if the cops want to throw down, bring it on! Her influence over Winter means the Coldest Court cannot simply dismiss her desires, but neither is it willing to go to war. Something is going to have to give, soon.

This concludes the Fairest portion of the article. Some additional thoughts on Seeming follow.

Bombing Your Own Position - Choosing Your Seeming

So it’s been six articles and I’ve talked about the ways various Seemings can represent responses to the things which traumatize us; neurodivergences for which society abuses us, the machinery of capitalism, violence, prison, and more. But how do you go about choosing your character’s Seeming? The obvious choice is to make a character that puts a lot of yourself at the table; to seek out a Seeming that reflects your own traumas, your own issues, your own anxieties and struggles, and then grapple with them in this fictional context. But RPGs can be an emotionally challenging medium, and you may well not want to deal with your own bullshit during your magic trauma fairy game. That’s valid!

Now, the second obvious piece of advice is to think about your proposed character’s themes and traumas and then select a Seeming from there, but this can get complicated. Many Lost players feel as if they need two Seemings, and to those players I say: no the fuck you do not. But it is true that people are messy and do not fully resolve, that the broad spectrum of the world of sorrow and loss is not easy to fit into 6 discrete categories whose creation was often managed by, not to keep repeating this point, fucking Nazis. I have found in my experience that it can be helpful, when you’re torn between two Seemings or you have a character you’re sure is this Seeming even though they look like or could be that one, to ask yourself why the character is not the other option. Why is this alluring and sensual Darkling not a Fairest, what makes this brutal and violent Wizened not an Ogre? This question naturally leads to others about their abuse and their reaction to it, and can start your momentum for writing your concept out.

As an addition, while I’ve spoken of various Seemings as being well-equipped to represent specific traumas, they don’t own those traumas. Elementals are metaphorically autistic, but there’s nothing stopping you from running an autistic Fairest or an autistic Beast instead. Rather, those Seemings outlined as being “for” or “about” certain traumas are those whose selection will make those traumas thematically central, cause you to return to them as a topic over and over by virtue of being who and what they are. Real people have complicated problems which intersect with one another, spawning new problems that are more strange than the sum of their parts, and it’s both valid and interesting to write your Lost that way - just keep in mind that it’ll still be complicated at the table too.

Van Helsing Hate Crimes - Seeming Politics

White Wolf spent a lot of time waffling back and forth on whether or not Seemings represent distinct cultural and political identities in a given Freehold, drifting towards ‘yes’ when the writers thought about the way Blessings and Curses create consistent, measurable differences between Lost of various Seemings, and towards ‘no’ generally whenever they were asked to actually outline a Lost society such as a sample Freehold or Entitlement. Some Entitlements are locked to specific Seemings, often times with little thought as to why, while other times Seeming-based power blocs are alluded to as worldbuilding elements (such as in Lords of Summer) without much in the way of supporting detail. Why should these things happen, when, how, what does the buildup of this violent fracture in a Freehold society look like?

On the whole, I have taken the stance in these articles and in my own worldbuilding that some amount of fantastical prejudice exists amongst the Lost, but that the systems of oppression have not taken root. Maybe it’s idealistic of me to view the Lost as unwilling or unable to produce internally racist power structures that create an underclass for the benefit of an appointed elite, but in general I feel as if Freeholds are too small, each individual member too precious by simple dint of being a living being in a physical body, for this kind of evil to flourish. That said, you may have also noticed that I identified two Seemings - Darklings and Fairest - as explicitly self-uniting and in some senses self-governing on the basis of common traumas that they often cannot fully explain to outsiders, and indeed community with people that understand your bullshit without you having to say it aloud - that is, those who share a Seeming with you - can be invaluable to all Lost. Ultimately, however, I want to advise against looking at Seemings the way that, say, Vampire: the Requiem looks at Clans, and instead to treat them as reactions to trauma rather than a kind of alternate racial identity.

Next up: So You Need To Write A Fetch