#but i sometimes just have phases of desiring the horrors

[radicalrobotz]

i like hungry lamu but he is going to be the next freddy fazbear in the kitchen for me

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Wednesday's new court mandated therapist is having her keep a journal of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday finds this to be a complete waste of time and decides instead to use it to record her observations of her unusual roommate Enid Sinclair. Wednesday POV.

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Entry 15

Current Moon Phase: Third Quarter 🌗

I fear that my love for Enid has only driven me further into the depths of madness. I tried explaining this to my therapist but she seemed oddly fixated on the fact that I confessed my love for Enid. There were many unnecessary clarifying questions following my proclamation. ‘You are saying that you love her more than packmates?’ Yes. ‘That you love her romantically?’ Yes. ‘And you understand that you love her romantically?’ Yes. ‘You acknowledge and accept that you are in love with her and not in a platonic way?’ Yes. She appeared to be in a state of disbelief. I reaffirmed that I love Enid romantically, sexually, intellectually, emotionally and any other way there is; and that it’s driving me insane.

My thoughts of her are all consuming. When we are together I think of her, when we are apart I think of her, even when I am asleep I think of her. I desire nothing more than to see her smile. My mind hyper fixates on finding ways to achieve this goal. I almost constantly feel sexual arousal when we are in physical contact and even sometimes when we are not. I have died numerous times beneath the werewolf’s tone and sculpted body and often wonder if I haven’t merely become a spector; yet the madness craves ever more.

With my therapist being most unhelpful I was faced with the horrifying prospect of turning to the only other I knew who also suffers from such all consuming thoughts of their lover. My father seemed rather taken aback when I contacted him via the crystal ball. It physically pained me to share my affliction. I can at least take solace in the fact that my mother wasn’t around to hear my confession. Father took a moment to compose his thoughts before responding to my plea.

‘But little viper… What is there to be fixed?’ He asked slowly.

‘Is this a jest?’ I said, narrowing my eyes. ‘I clearly stated that I am losing my sanity to- to this loba magnífica.’ My mind began to wander simply by mentioning her.

‘What Addams would desire sanity?’ He posited with a sigh. I shook my head to clear it.

‘This is not how I intended to lose my mind.’ I argued.

‘Ah, but as an Addams we have little to no choice in the matter once such an affliction has struck us.’ He said cryptically.

‘What do you mean?’ I said frowning. ‘What affliction?’ It was at that moment I saw my mother enter the room.

‘Afflictions you say?’ She asked as she joined father at his side.

‘It is of no importance to you, mother.’ I stated. She raised an eyebrow before sharing a look with father.

‘Our little storm cloud is finally suffering the ‘family curse’.’ He said solemnly, yet I caught him wink. Mother could barely conceal her smirk.

‘How terrible.’ She said, caressing father’s cheek.

‘Family curse? Elaborate.’ I demanded as I crossed my arms. I had no time for their tomfoolery.

‘I’m afraid it’s irremediable.’ Father said seriously. My eyes widened in horror.

‘I don’t understand…’ I whispered.

‘This curse has been in our family for generations-‘ He began.

‘Then why am I just now learning of it?’ I said with some indignation. They shared another look.

‘To be fair, we worried you wouldn’t inherit it.’ Mother answered. Before I could speak, father proceeded to explain.

‘The Addams curse, our curse, is that once our soul has found its one true mate we become inexorably bonded to them. It is a bond so deeply tied to our very being that we would simply perish if unable to express our love. Our souls become so utterly tangled with theirs that if they die they pull our soul with. No Addams has ever survived a second longer than that of their lover’s.’

‘Impossible.’ I said with disbelief. ‘That would contradict Grandmama’s continued existence.’ I pointed out. Father let out a heavy sigh.

‘Mi madre y padre, your abuelos, loved each other very much but they were not soulmates.’ He explained delicately. ‘The curse only affects those who’ve found your soulmate.’ I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.

‘So how do I know if I have contracted this terminal affliction?’ I asked.

‘Mon cher…’ Mother took over. ‘Two souls that have loved so deeply and fought so passionately to find each other time and time again have a very powerful reaction to one another. They carry pieces of each other’s past lives and lend each other immense strength once reunited. This reunion is impossible not to notice.’ I opened my eyes again and allowed them to wander the room. After a moment or two of thought I responded.

‘How can I be certain-‘ I began but Mother interrupted sharply.

‘Wednesday, how much stronger have your visions grown since rooming with Enid?’ I felt my blood rush to my face.

‘I did not inform you of who-!’ But once again she cut me off.

‘And when was it that Enid completed her first complete transformation under the full moon?’ Mother continued vehemently. ‘Did you not find it suspicious how you both became stronger within each other’s presence?’ I had no words to counter her. I frowned and tried to rationalize another plausible explanation.

‘It’s natural to-‘ I tried but it was evidently no use.

‘Would you prefer to live the rest of your life without Enid by your side? Or perhaps to see her take another as her lover?’ Mother asked. I was temporarily struck dumb by such callous questions. I pounded my fist against the desk as I rediscovered my voice.

‘How dare you insinuate-!’ I was too incensed to speak. ‘I love her!’

‘That much is obvious, mon cher.’ Mother said as her face softened.

‘So Enid is my soulmate and thus I am suffering from a familial generational curse.’ I summarized for clarity. Father nodded. ‘How do I regain my sanity?’ I demanded.

‘You don’t.’ Father said rather cheerfully. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose as I tried to remain patient.

‘Is it truly so wonderfully dreadful?’ Mother asked. I blinked.

‘My only thoughts are of her, or how to please her, or gain her affection, or-‘ I trailed off. They did not need to know the full depths of depravity I had sunk. ‘It makes it most difficult to focus on other things.’ I concluded. Father nodded knowingly.

‘Ah, well, that improves with time and when you learn to reframe things.’ He said reassuringly. I looked away. This call had been incredibly unhelpful. I bid my parents farewell and got up from my desk to pace as my thoughts wandered back to my packmate turned lover.

‘Willa!’ I heard the most melodious voice call. My body became weak as if her voice was a poison. My heart joined in the madness as it raced with excitement. Enid had returned to our dorm and was holding something behind her back.

‘Mi amor.’ I couldn’t help but utter in relief. I strode towards her at once to share our customary greeting. The feeling of her lips against mine was like a powerful narcotic. My brain had evidently rewired itself to provide an overwhelming rush of dopamine anytime I was in contact with her. The kiss broke and Enid caressed my cheek with her free hand.

‘Guess what day it is?’ She asked with an eager grin.

‘Thursday.’ I said promptly. ‘Or were you wanting the numerical day of the month?’ Enid stared at me.

‘Uh, no.’ She said with a slight giggle.

‘Is it a nondenominational holiday?’ I asked, glancing at the calendar.

‘I guess you could call it that.’ She responded as she slowly pushed me back towards her bed. My pupils dilated. All thoughts fled my mind like a flock of startled birds. Enid clearly wished to be amorous and I would surely receive the honor of dying beneath her once more. She bit her lip as she watched me shiver in anticipation. The back of my legs hit her bed and I fell backwards onto it.

‘Do you give up?’ She asked with a grin.

‘I will gladly submit to you, mi loba.’ I said breathlessly. I could feel my cheeks burn at such a shameful confession. Enid’s face flushed pink though she unmistakably looked pleased.

‘Oh! Um!’ She awkwardly revealed a bouquet of black roses from behind her back. ‘It’s almost our one month anniversary.’ She informed me as she held out the bouquet. I propped myself up to accept the offering. I was surprised to see a mix of not only roses but simple thorny stems as well.

‘I didn’t know what you’d like so I got both. Well, I mean, they don’t sell just like the stems so I cut the flowers off of some of them. B-because when I visited your house last summer I saw the headless roses everywhere and-‘ She trailed off, twisting her hands nervously. ‘Do you like them?’

Fortunately, I was well versed in Floriography. Roses, their meaning being a declaration of love, passion, and romance. Black roses, meaning death or great change. Barren stems… If there is a meaning it eluded me. Perhaps the number of stems was some sort of clue? 11 roses with their heads and 13 without. 11 signifying that she considers me her greatest treasure. 13 signifying eternal friendship.

Enid was clearly trying to send a message but what was she trying to say with this arrangement? I had limited time to ponder the possibilities as she awaited my answer. Love, death, passion, treasure, change, romance, and friendship. I tried to put the pieces of the message together by rationalizing each symbol. There had certainly been a great change between us and I had died countless times beneath her superlatively magnificent body. She had reciprocated my declaration of love, passion was certainly not a scarcity, and there were moments of romance. Friendship… perhaps the beheaded roses were meant to symbolize the death or change in our relationship from mere friends / packmates to lovers. That seemed the most plausible. Finally, and most clearly, she considered me her greatest treasure… I set the roses and stems aside and took her hands in my own.

‘Amor.’ I began. ‘Mi amor.’ I amended. ‘I adore them and I adore you. I too consider you to be my greatest treasure.’ I pressed my lips to her hands. ‘But I am afraid I have been most uncouth and brought you no such gift. However, should you provide me mercy for my faux paus I promise you I shall return the gesture tenfold.’ I looked up into the werewolf’s eyes pleading for her forgiveness.

‘Aw, Wednes…’ She sniffed as her eyes began to water. The grin spreading across her face eased my worry that I had offended her. She sat down beside me and pulled one of her hands free to play with one of my braids. I held my breath as her fingers trailed down it.

‘Hey, could I um, ask you something?’ She said, biting her lip.

‘Anything.’ I replied at once.

‘Would you uh, maybe, consider undoing your braids?’ She asked sheepishly. I blinked. ‘You don’t have to!’ She said quickly, raising her hands. ‘I just haven’t seen you with your hair down and I-‘ Her words died as I began to undo the left and then the right.

A mix between a soft whine and a grow rose from her lips. I caught her eyes and saw something wild and untamed lurking behind them.

‘Is this satisfactory?’ I asked. ‘It is truly the least I could do.’ A clawed hand reached out in response.

‘Willa.’ Enid snarled like a starving animal as she ran her fingers through it. She crawled onto my lap facing me as she buried her face in my hair. While she was preoccupied inhaling my scent I began unbuttoning my shirt. I wanted to feel as much of her against my skin as possible when she inevitably dominated we were amorous. I slid off the garment and cast it aside. Without thought, my hands slipped behind my back to unclasp my brassiere. I hesitated and my head was suddenly pulled into Enid’s bosom.

‘Willa.’ Enid purred as she stroked my head with one hand as the other ventured down my body. I wrapped my arms around mi amor and inhaled her familiar scent. I could feel my intelligence draining as I melted into her.

‘W-Willa?’ Enid paused as her hands explored my exposed skin. She pulled back to look down at my semi-nude form. ‘Wednesday.’ She started huffing as she released me and frantically began unbuttoning her own shirt. She slipped off my lap as she struggled to remove her clothing. I became numbly aware that my hands were pulling down my skirt. The wild look behind Enid’s eyes only intensified as I soon sat before her in nothing but my undergarments.

My mind rapidly degraded as the werewolf pounced upon me and held me in her clutches once more. Our bodies soon became tangled to the point of becoming one singular mass. Claws dug into my flesh and a set of powerful jaws clamped down on my neck. I remember guiding the werewolf’s hands to most intimate places as I pleaded for her touch. Only a thin veil of fabric separated my werewolf from me. As she initiated the heavy petting at my request I felt myself slip into carnal desires I did not know myself capable of.

After recovering from the numerous deaths I suffered at Enid’s very capable hands my higher thinking returned to me. I still felt rather doltish and fought to stay conscious. However, exhaustion lay upon me like a heavy blanket or perhaps like a very satisfied werewolf, pulling me towards slumber. I was keenly aware of the many bruises and contusions that littered my body as I shifted. A mixture of blood and sweat was causing me to stick to the bedsheets.

‘Amor…’ I panted.

‘Wednes…’ Her response radiated with warmth. I inhaled sharply as her hands delicately ran over my skin. I could hear her quiet whine of concern. My eyelids continued to droop. I let them fall but for a moment. However, much seemed to happen in that brief moment. As I came to I felt Enid gently and deliberately pressing her lips to each and every superficial wound. I peered around blearily and noticed several colorful patches adorning my skin. I frowned and rubbed my eyes. Enid had evidently bandaged me while I was unconscious. While I did not care for the lurid pastel colors I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

‘How are you feeling?’ Enid asked as she ran a hand through my unkempt hair.

‘Like I have been mauled by the most beautiful and formidable werewolf I have ever known.’ I said with contentment as my eyelids drooped once more.

‘Is that? Is that a good thing? I-I promise I can be more gentle!’ She said quickly.

‘Cara mia, please do not deprive me of such pleasures.’ I said as I propped myself up and pulled her into another customary greeting. As my lips left hers I fell back upon the bed. ‘Mi amor.’ I whispered as sleep fought to take me once more. ‘Te quiero con toda mi alma.’ Those haunting cerulean eyes were the last thing I saw before my heavy eyelids closed like the curtains upon a stage. ‘Voy a soñar contigo.’ I felt the werewolf pull me into her arms and cuddle me close before I slipped into unconsciousness.

[mamamittens]

My spooky event has launched!

Very excited to see what y'all come up with! Already very creative ways to interpret my set up for what you can request (positive)!

Anyway, I just had a fun idea, perhaps I'll actually do something with it idk

So, I was thinking about those ghost romances and how they're always so damn tragic. I mean, it's either that or it's a horror story and not the actual end game ship lol

Mostly because of the whole "Can you realistically date someone who can't die when that's all you can do to rectify the disparity--eventually you will grow old and nothing changes a dynamic like literal time itself".

So, picture this, Thatch and Izou purchase a nice place outside of town. Just for the two of them. It's an old building but it's been well taken care of and renovated a few times by various, short term owners. One of those "Oh, this is so nice and cheap--black mold or ghosts?" Kind of situation.

And it's not black mold.

Yeah, a few folks have died, starting back in the late 1800s.

They're not phased in the least by the ominous history or reputation and settle in.

It doesn't take long for shit to start happening.

Stuff getting moved. Doors closing or opening on their own. Footsteps at three in the morning. Fun stuff like that.

After a while they can't pretend nothing is happening and start loudly demanding answers.

All the

"Show yourself!"

And

"Who's here with us?"

Mostly from Thatch cause he's been binging ghost hunting shows. Izou just wants his makeup to stop fucking disappearing.

"Well, at the moment, just me."

Thatch screams startlingly loud and high, stumbling to the floor.

They're in the living room and there, settled neatly on the love seat that came with the house, is a woman. She's faintly glowing, almost translucent. Colors washed out.

Dressed in a white nightgown with a loose dress robe tied neatly at her waist. Dark curls braided down her back. One bare foot and the other hidden in a worn slipper peaking out from beneath the lace trim. She looks tired and slightly apologetic.

"Terrible way to meet, I know, but unfortunately the dead have only a few talents--change not being one of them." She grimaces, adjusting thick glasses on her nose. "And yes. I'm dead. No, I'm not fucking with you. Yes, this house is haunted. No. I did not move your things... Actually, I did move your keys yesterday, but you dropped them on the floor and nearly kicked them under the stove--in my defense."

"...You don't look dead. Well, aside from the ethereal... Whatever you have going on." Izou points out. She sighs, pulling aside her dressing gown, revealing a bloody stab wound to the heart. "Ah. I'm... Sorry. Wait, if it's not you, then who's been fucking with us?"

She shrugs.

"The others. I'm the first, technically the oldest. But I'm hardly an authority. Got two kids--different times but they get along quite well-- a war vet, a couple, and a rude bastard. My bets are the kids or the bastard. The couple.. keep to themselves. And the war vet prefers to watch."

Izou grimaces at that.

"Watch? You don't mean...?" She snorts.

"He's more concerned you're communists, actually. No desire to see you 'fornicating' with a few slurs thrown in. Passed in the fifties." She sort of apologizes with a shrug. "I'm Nikia by the way."

The other ghosts don't usually show themselves. Thatch finds that offering cookies keeps the shenanigans to minimum. Nikia preferring to watch TV with them or read. Quiet company for whoever is home.

Sometimes someone tries to come over specifically to "call upon the spirits" but the boys staunchly turn them away.

They discover that Nikia's death is considered a mystery, her body never found. The kids were both accidents. The vet died of a heart attack. And the couple carbon dioxide inhalation. They usually only start acting up if the fire alarm battery dies, fittingly. Otherwise it's just the kids and Nikia who regularly do anything interesting.

Naturally, they treat their unexpected house mates as family.

Shockingly, the couple are the first to move on after a big family dinner. Thatch left place holders for their 'house mates'. Apparently they always wanted a big family and being included gave them that last push.

The vet went as quietly as he 'lived' after Izou finished setting up his gun collection. Having found peace in seeing the tools of his trade treated so reverently but respectfully with full awareness they were weapons. A world where such things could be decoration rather than defense soothing him into the light. And probably a few "era appropriate reassurances mixing with blatant slurs and racism that's kinda touching if it didn't make you wince to hear it aloud".

The kids disappeared after a very lovely and well decorated Christmas with stand in toys for them to play with. They still kept the toys on the shelves for them, despite the kids having moved on.

Then it was just them and Nikia.

They'd grown close by this point, all three of them. And they were a little nervous about her status in the house.

They didn't want her to go. She was a wonderful companion in an otherwise quiet and too-large house. But there was an undeniable temptation in what could never be.

She's completely intangible. Touching her feels like dipping your hand in icy fog. Only the hazy sensation of her nightgown. The barest breeze where her fingertips lay.

It's not healthy, this "if only" relationship they have.

It is shocking that Thatch is the first to bring it up.

"When are you moving on? Is there something we need to do to... Bring you peace?" He asked hesitantly in front of the fire one night.

Nikia looks at him. Glancing at Izou who seems conflicted by the question. She smiles softly.

"...You already know. I..." She cleared her throat, tears clinging to her lashes. "I liked my peace. My solitude. At the time, it was rare. Unheard of for a good woman to want to be a spinster... Some people took that personally. But I never wanted to be alone like that. Where he must have left me."

She looks out at the woods.

"...you look half dressed... You heard him coming. You ran."

"... I did. Thought I lost him. But, like a rabbit and hunting dog..."

"He found you."

"I lied. When I said the dead can't change. It's just... So limited. The best I could do was hide the knife." Nikia informed them gravely, pulling aside her robe. The stab wound now decorated with the hilt of a fine dagger, bearing a bloodied crest. "He must have buried me with it. I still had both shoes when he killed me."

They spend a month with metal detectors trying to find her.

When they do, they dig her up, finding her decomposed corpse. Knife sliced between her ribs. Skeleton draped in silk and cotton beneath the tangled roots of a gnarled tree.

The cops are called and she's finally put to rest. The knife identified as belonging to a wealthy family at the time with only one suspect with sufficient motive. Her case, closed.

They find her ghost sitting on her tombstone.

She looks so tired.

"I'm sorry for the trouble."

Izou sighs heavily, lowering a bouquet of roses alongside Thatch.

"It was nothing."

"... If it was another time... Would we still have been friends? If we met between the stacks in a library or in line for coffee, instead of like this?"

"We'd be more than friends." Thatch swore softly.

She smiles. Her features warm in the setting sun as she fades away.

They're upset for weeks afterwards. Drinking to what "could have beens" and more.

Until they're dragging out by Marco and Ace under their father's orders, his worry palpable even through phone calls.

Thatch resolves to buy the sappiest romance novel he can to wish fulfill his way out of another hangover.

He reaches for a second hand copy of a book only for his palm to settle over cold fingertips. Startled, he steps back, an apology on his lips.

Only to see a familiar face looking up at him sheepishly. Large glasses low on her nose with pale blue eyes and curly hair died a rich, indigo hue.

"Oop--Ssssssorry. Coffee? I mean, would you like to get coffee with me?" He asks breathlessly. "I'm Thatch--my partner is Izou, by the way, over there." He gestures to the other section, raising his voice just so. Izou glancing back and doing a double take.

He's quick to come over.

"H-Hi, are you new here?" He asks.

"Yeah, just moved in, actually. Not really into coffee but... I'd love to meet up? Make new friends, maybe?" She asks nervously.

"It's no trouble--like, at all!" Thatch reassures quickly.

"Yeah, we'd love to get to know you!" Izou adds in.

Neither of them are sure how this is happening, but she smiles and they know it's real. That crooked smile all too familiar, making her eyes squint and nose wrinkle and flair as she chuckles. Throaty and soft.

This time, this time it'll be different.

It will be better.

[emblazons]

Thinking about Glawen choosing a relationship with Astarion in my current run-through has been a trip—in part because I built this whole world for him and (despite loving Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach for myself the most)....Astarion seems surprisingly fitting.

Glawen is a relatively young half-elf, though certainly not young by human standards; he prides himself on maintaining the youthful idealism most full-humans have in their mid-twenties (especially his fellow nobles), where they think the world is theirs to conquer—which is compounded by the fact that he grew up relatively wealthy and has never wanted for anything. Glawen has lived a good life, chose his life path based on nothing but his own whims, & offsets his bits of snark with a primary love of the histories, fighting, and an affection for the wilderness he got from his elven mother.

Now though—here he is. Parasite in his head thinking about how to best go about stopping what he finds out is the end of goddamn world. Trying to help people best he can, but mostly feeling a bit overwhelmed by the weight of taking a hardline 'heroic' side, though he thrives on learning about people, their backgrounds, their faiths, & absorbing it like a little sponge. Glawen works hard to be as fair as he can to everyone, regardless of their pasts—coming from a house of nobles, he knows diplomacy is part of the deal if you want people to keep from each others throats all the time. It's just how he is.

But then: Astarion. A wildcard in the night, someone who says the snarky, hilarious things that come to mind sometimes (but that Glawen would never say aloud). Someone unafraid of his love of the finer things (Glawen was always taught never to flaunt them) who embraces his hedonism and sensuality without a care in the world, and who Glawen finds himself drawn to despite himself...even after he finds out the man is a vampire.

Astarion is gorgeous, and so it doesn't phase him when he realizes he's being more kind—and more attentive to—the most flamboyant of his camp. It's nice, letting loose and laughing at things he would usually keep quiet about—and Astarion is unafraid to say anything, which delights his (secretly a little) chaotic heart more than he ever dare admit to the more hardline members of the party. Adventuring with Astarion means finding the humor in the macabre, poking fun at what is too serious...and letting yourself be a little rude, as a treat. He needs some of that. Look at where being compliantly self-serious got him—trapped on a Mindflayer ship and shuffling across every corner of Faerun for a cure...and then a mission he still isn’t sure he’s cut out for.

Still, it plainly shocks him when that selfsame man—his amusement and delight during this long parade of new horrors—asks to indulge his pleasure after they defeat the goblin camp...by making it clear he wants Glawen to come to bed.

(Glawen knows in the back of his mind that this the first time he's clearly been seduced—he should have known Astarion, a long-since-turned vampire, noticed his attention—but right now, given the current circumstances, he's down for anything. When will a man like him get the chance to indulge himself like this again)?

So, he gives in. He indulges the basest desires of his own hedonism, and finds himself rewarded with a delightful night...and the sight of an infernal poem carved into the back of his 'darling' that Glawen mulls over in the back of his mind for several days.

If he’s honest, what he’s seen nags at him. His recent experiences with Astarion are a tiny prick in the back of his skull when there are momentary lulls during their rests, when he gets lost in his own thoughts, or when he ranges ahead alone to assess their wilder surroundings. He often thinks of carving on Astarion's back, the conflicting feelings he has about it being written in infernal...and the way he feels about what he's done, knowing his now-lover clearly has a conflicted past...and how indulging his plainest carnal desires has done nothing to lessen his fondness of Astarion himself.

"Its not serious," Glawen thinks to himself when Astarion flirts with him every free second they have for conversation. “You did this knowing it wouldn’t be, and there’s no way he’d be serious about someone as naive as you. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

It’s not that he feels strange about it being so casual—he’s had other lovers before, proximity-and-circumstance partners in his early 40s (after his human father died, when he was feeling sad, reckless, and full of displeasure at his own noble birth—the scar that never fades across his nose is a forever reminder of that) and even one “committed” partner fresh into adulthood, when he thought a marriage might best serve his family’s interests—so the first couple of times he goes to bed with Astarion, divorcing his feelings from his body isn’t so hard. Besides...it almost seems prudent to keep it casual given that they might change to mindflayers tomorrow, and so much of the world (for the party especially) is steeped in chaos. Right now, making complex romantic plans feels nonsensical.

Only, every time he ends up just talking to Astarion, there is always...fondness. The genuine kind, as their true familiarity grows and he learns what torturous things Astarion endured—the way he is free in word only, and hides behind a shield of hedonism the way Glawen hides behind propriety. It’s entrancing, the way Astarion’s desire to see himself freed from Cazador—freed by any means necessary—bleeds into his own view of the world; it gives him the strength to stand up to his own companions for what he wants, whether that means refusing Gale’s obvious (albeit fascinating) magical advances…or denying a head demon, Raphael, straight from the nine hells access to his mind…or the parasite writhing inside of it.

— tbc

[nebulacollege]

*runs in a circle like a feral creature* Would Edmund be the type to read Edgar Allen Poe books in class to look smart or is he more of a horrific fairytales type of reader?

+

Anonymous asked:

Do the boys have a favourite book? Which genre do they love reading?

Woah, a question that implies that I read enough books to answer that!! I wish, Anon 😭 But I’ll try to satisfy your curiosity to the best of my abilities.

I combined these questions together since both of them are more or less about the same topic... but for once, I’ll start with Edmund.

I think Edmund would like both of those things unironically. He doesn’t have a need to flex in front of his classmates, he probably doesn’t even think he’s smarter than everyone else (shocking, I know), but it could just be due to the fact that he doesn’t know them very well... yet, the year has just started. Back to books: anything creepy, anything horrific, anything macabre is his go-to, so he’s going to enjoy both of the options you mentioned. He’s not really there for a deep commentary about something, he wants to get spooked, he wants to see some new ideas and thoughts he’s never seen before, and he wants to find something that might actually be true and real despite the bizarre nature of these stories or even fairytales. His edgy side is definitely happy about this, and hence it’s his favourite genre overall, even though a ghost story, an eldritch horror, a detective story with gory descriptions of its murders by a serial killer, or a horrific fairytale are not exactly one genre. Now, if you want him to look smart in class, go with something written by Oscar Wilde, Balzac and such. He feels very smart enjoying the satire. As for his favourite book, no idea lol He probable could name a couple of titles, he has more than one favourite book, but nothing comes to mind as being “Wow, Edmund would’ve been so into it” right away.

Niall is another person who enjoys reading the satire, especially the one which criticises the elite, so he would actually... bother Edmund if he saw him reading something that he’s into as well. Niall especially likes simple, easy to read books, the ones that can entertain him. Things like “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame”, “Fathers and Sons”, “Botchan” and others that have a very clear humorous narration (Niall wouldn’t like “Lord of the Flies”, for example, because it’s too dark and depressing)? He’s drawn to this type of literature, but he doesn’t read it very often. Because there’s something he likes much more, and it’s biographies of famous people :) People like Alexander the Great, Augustus, Caesar, King Arthur, Napoleon, Genghis Khan, Tang Taizong and such. And then I remembered that I wanted to make the Nebula college located not in our universe, so he probably reads something about similar people lmao But you get the drift – the way they rule, conquer, plan and strategise is his jam. He’s so obnoxious... Niall doesn’t read this stuff very often, but he had phases (especially in his childhood) when he really fixated on one of the “cool” political figures and made it his entire personality until he got bored of it. But his passion stayed, and now he has a better and deeper understanding of all those figures and he doesn’t really idolise them as much as he used to, plus he pays much more attention to people who surrounded them and stuff. He also likes historical books in general, I think.

Ned is not exactly known for his reading tastes... he mostly ever reads non-fiction. He reads stuff related to his studies, he tries to read a lot of economy-related books and sometimes gets distracted by things that analyse society more than market. He’s both somewhat interested in it and it’s his genuine desire to understand ~the market~, but at the same time it’s so fucking boring that he falls asleep a lot of the times, so it takes a lot of grinding for him to get to the core idea of those books. Other than that, he only reads textbooks, and the entire world of fiction and art is not something that he considered worth of his attention. Which is a pity, because I think that he’d immensely enjoy grand Bildungsroman novels, which tell an entire life of a character. It’s both like looking at someone’s life and living it at the same time, which Ned would find fascinating on its own, and then it’s peeking into someone’s mind. My guess is that he would enjoy a main character who’s either a lot like him and proven wrong during the course of the story (or when characters from a story throw challenges at his beliefs, he’d like to know how to counter that lol) or who’s depressed, nihilistic, but at the same time very different from Ned’s own rigid views. He doesn’t like infantile or dumb characters, the ones that act irresponsible. Watakushi Shosetsu is also a genre that Ned would like, since it’s very similar to this type of novels, but the line between fiction and reality in Watakushi Shosetsu is very blurry. His favourite book is definitely the one from any of these genres, the first one that shook him to his core.

I asked Ryu about his thoughts on Liam, since Liam obviously reads non-fiction a lot: botany, science, biology, medicine, fashion (esp back in his childhood, so he knows the history of fashion more or less + has an eye for stylish things because he used to stare at pictures a lot), and things about our planet in general, he’s that one encyclopedia child that spent tons of time looking at photos and stuff. So what on Earth would he read as fiction? Detective stories :) It suits him so much it almost hurts. He loves when the author asks him “Can you guess who the killer is?” and he plays this little game in his head every time he’s reading the story. So yeah, he’ll gladly take a whodunnit, howdunnit, and any other mystery he’s offered to solve . He 100% read all of Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie stories (although Niall and Edmund also did). His favourite book would be the one where he failed to solve the mystery and considered the explanation smart enough to provide him with clues on why he failed – his criteria is rather strict, so a lot of times he was disappointed by the author’s slyness and the lack of a writing talent.

[twst-drabbles]

Twst cast in a daganronpa or corpse party-esque setting?

Man, my two guilty pleasures. Well, actually I have many guilty pleasures, seriously I binged so many horror games and anime. Ask and I probably heard or saw it. Well, unless it's popular. I tend to not ride the hype train for some reason until long after it fell off.

Anyways, prepare, this is a long one.

Okay so the essence of danganronpa is, obviously, the killing game, the ultimate talents within and the crazy circumstances that have to pop out for that to happen.

Anyways, Crowley is obviously the mastermind with the rest of the NRCS being helpers of sorts. It's certainly a killing game in that you can escape once you killed someone and not get found out, however I will change it where picking the wrong person does not result in having everyone else killed. It just gets that person picked executed while the killer gets to go free. The rest live, but they have to live with the weight of being wrong.

The reader was originally supposed to be the first easy kill on the account that you're the only person without magic. But, of course, that isn't the case and now Grim is here too, a random straggler who's not supposed to be here. Crowley, rather than kicking the cat out, decides to let him in, but takes away his voice so he cannot speak. Taking away his memories would take too long.

So say Riddle does murder someone and gets away with it by having the blame be placed on poor Deuce after he killed Ace? After he wins, Deuce is killed and Riddle gets to walk away. When the next phase of the killing game comes around, now you have an added threat to Night Raven College.

And by that, I mean there's now an overblot creature that periodically roams the campus that you have to do your best to avoid lest you get killed. The queen of hearts phantom is here, with her Riddle fully absorbed into her body, of course nobody would know this used to be Riddle. That's about all I have for danganronpa. If anyone wants to add to it, be my guest. I would love to hear.

Now, as for corpse party, that one's easier. Crowley is basically a demon in here who desires nothing more than to be the headmaster of a fun magic college, and so makes his own pocket dimension made with this vision. Of course, this space can't sustain itself on his power forever, so Crowley has to take in more and more people, using that coffin and mirror to bring in more magically infused people in to feed that space.

This space has been here for quite a while, as such, there are many, maaaaany spirits. Like, our main student cast is the only ones left alive by this point. The reader is either someone who was accidentally pulled in here or is a spiritually sensitive person that's trying to figure this place out. Either way, they're such an odd element that Crowley himself came out to interact with you. He may get attached. He may end up making this space worse because of this attachment. Who knows.

The classrooms are never in the same place, the ghosts and spirits here range from neutral to plain hostile. The food can sometimes be edible but you have to be careful of what you eat can you may accidentally become a cannibal. Either way, death is everywhere and you must be careful.

Using magic here feeds this place and gives it a more stable shape. As such, when you're chosen as a dorm leader, you are required to use a lot of magic in order to keep your dorm safe, lest it suddenly loses it shape and consumes all the poor souls within. You're not allowed to camp out inside the NRC campus, you will be kicked back to your respective dorm. You can camp out in other dorms.

This, of course, stresses the dorm leaders out and eventually they overblot, which was the entire point. Crowley wants these dorm leaders to overblot because not only does it feed the dorm, it also feeds himself.

And Grim, well he's here by accident as well. He was starving and had every intention of eating your spirit, but ends up consuming some of the hostile ghosts within this space and Grim comes back to his senses. Crowley lets him stay here cause he's cleaning up the place. Too many spirits here and he doesn't want to expend energy to kick them out.

Aaaand that's all the thoughts I have.

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Gene slowly, albeit hesitantly, walked out from his hiding spot and headed towards the three men. “Hi dad, pops.” Gene waved with a sheepish expression. He felt like he was a child again getting his hand caught in the cookie jar. “Gene, what are you doing out here?” Carl asked, sounding perplexed and almost wanting to scold his son even though he was an adult now. Gene sighed. “Look I’m sorry I followed you here and acted all sneaky. I just…got worried about you two acting secretive about something…especially pops” Gene explained although he muttered the last part in a quiet tone. It was still loud enough for the two old men to hear. Carl looked confused at first while Matthew, he seemed to be pondering Gene’s statement. After a short while, Matthew’s eyes widened with shock and horror as he now understood what his son menat. “Gene, I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way again.” Matthew apologized with sincere regret. Gene held up his hand. “It’s fine dad. I should be sorry. I know you have changed from how you were in the past. Just…sometimes old habits die hard.” Gene spoke in a relenting tone. Matthew nodded with a solemn and sympathetic look towards his son. He turned to Carl who still looked puzzled and now concerned about the conversation. “Gene was referring to the last time I was acting sneaky and suspicious, which was right before the massacre.” Matthew explained to Carl. Carl’s eyes widened as he now understood the gravity of the situation. “Oh I understand.” Carl said in a quiet tone as he looked to Gene with an apologetic and sympathetic expression of his own. Corbin meanwhile decided to interrupt this “sad” moment before it got too sickeningly sweet for him. “Well with your little hide and seek game out of the way it's now time for us to properly meet. Put it there kiddo.” Corbin explained with a grin as he held out his hand to Gene. Matthew glared and Carl was holding back a growl at how close Corbin was to their youngest. Gene looked at him with confusion and caution. “I’m sorry who are you again. I was spying on you all yes but I had no idea what you were even saying to each other. All I saw were the expressions you all had along with  being surrounded by some type of strange darkness for a while.” Gene admitted. This caused Corbin to frown as he now looked annoyed at Gene. Corbin let out an exaggerated groan. “Ugh fine. I guess I have to explain things again.” Corbin exclaimed as he rolled his eyes. “Okay so long story short. My name is Corbin and I’m your grandpa. I’m also a demon stuck in an immortal human body that can’t die unless I break the curse. The only way I can break this is by learning how to feel love without magic which is near impossible since I am a demon. Oh also Matty agreed to help me break my curse in exchange for helping his grandkids learn how to control their powers and not grow up with the trauma he had.” Corbin hastily explained. His grin had now widened with amusement at the jaw dropped expression Gene had. “W..what?” Gene stuttered out as he was still too stunned to fully process what he had just heard. Corbin playfully shook his head. “Oh don’t look so shocked kiddo. It explains your behavior over the years perfectly. Why do you think you guys never had an issue with killing or maiming corrupt people after the matter? What do you think was the reason for that biting phase you had all those years ago. It's all because of the demon blood that is flowing in your body right now as we speak. That’s what has been making you violent, aggressive, and wicked all this time. I can tell right now that you took more after Matthew in that area than you have realized, even without inheriting the powers of a demon, you still inherited the drive and viciousness of one. Do you honestly believe that all your viciousness and desire for crime came from that pesky rodent attached to your brain? I mean come on really..” “THAT’S ENOUGH CORBIN! LEAVE GENE ALONE!” Carl shouted with fierce rage. @dualnaturedscientist

Heart of chaos

A year had passed since the B.E.A.W Labs organization had fallen. Since all the events had taken place. Becky being taken along with Bob. The poor girl being experimented on by a cruel scientist who had no love for anyone but himself. Matthew had broken out of the facility with her, Carl and Steven. Gene's true identity being revealed along with losing his Dr.Two-Brains persona. Shocking revelations unfolded. Betrayals and redemption. Things had calmed down significantly since but that didn't mean life had been dull. It certainly wasn't for Fair City. Especially with the villains, heroes and its eccentric inhabitants livening up the city. Becky had been making a wonderful recovery. Though she still wasn't at her full recovery Becky was still making so much more progress than the year prior. Gene still had identity issues, dealing with the loss of Squeaky. Though he didn't go through it alone. The still mad scientist had his family and friends help him through everything. Matthew and Carl took up residency within the city. A house that wasn't too far from their sons. Life in this place was definitely lively and peaceful in comparison to the hellish place many innocent souls were imprisoned in. Matthew was less exhausted than before. Relaxing within the living room in his son's house, watching whatever was put on the television. Matthew felt his eyes beginning to droop. Sleepiness hitting him out of nowhere. He simply allowed himself to doze off, not fighting it. Knowing that he was safe there. It wasn't until he felt weight on him that Matthew opened his eyes. Usually a dog or cat would be the cause for this but Matthew met many eyes. Fluffy had snuck into the house yet again. A small warm smile spread across his facial features, patting the spider on its head. Fluffy leaned into Matthew's hand, making soft happy noises. It was funnily cute to him. Though he understood as to why Gene was so afraid of him. Even Carl was squeamish around the giant spider. “Aw, who's a good boy? You are! You're a good boy!” Matthew couldn't help but baby talk the arachnid. He looked up, wriggling his chelicerae in response. As to say ‘Me! I'm a good boy!’ He chuckled at that, giving Fluffy gentle scritches. It was like a huge puppy in a spider's body. Though the peacefulness was interrupted by a sudden shout. “NO! WHY IS IT HERE AGAIN?!” Gene was in the doorway of the living room. Looking quite terrified at the huge arachnid. Fluffy instantly moved around on Matthew's lap to look at Gene. Excitedly jumping off of the supervillain's lap in favor of his son. He bolted right for the mad scientist, causing him to yelp loudly and make a run for it. “SOMEONE KEEP THAT ABOMINATION AWAY FROM ME!” Matthew gave a small laugh. “Can't help but feel abit rejected there.” Archie, who was quiet until then, responded. “I know that feeling.” This caused Matthew to jump up startled. “Don't do that! I'm old. Also I could accidentally blast you.” Archie blinked in confusion. “You didn't notice me? I came in with Fluffy. He got loose and snuck into the house. I just came to bring him back before he got to Gene. Too late for that now.” Archie frowned. “I can't help but be jealous at how much Fluffy loves him. Though Gene is terrified of him. That spider just won't listen to me when it comes to his favorite person.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “You want me to help you?” Matthew was being genuine with his question. He didn't want his son dying of fright from the giant arachnid. “That would be greatly appreciated. I have to take him back home. He can't avoid taking his medication this time.” Matthew got up, stretching first before doing anything else. This earned him a strange look from Archie. “What? I said I'm old. If I don't stretch I'll pull a muscle.” The hero shrugged. “Let's go get him soon. I have to look after Charlotte as well.” Archie always had the brightest smile when Charlotte was brought up. Either by him, Sunshine or anyone else. It was sweet. “Alright, alright.” They were completely unaware of an enemy observing them. Waiting.

Miss Power growled in frustration at the display she was witnessing through a window to the Boxleitner or rather the Woods household. A display she thought was very disgusting. How badly the alien conqueror wanted to charge right in their and obliterate everyone in her sights. She couldn't do her usual tactics and tricks right now, not after what she learned after coming back. She was still ticked off after that little alien brat Wordgirl and her parents dupe and tricked her into leaving the planet in defeat. There was no way she could go back to her planet and face her people with such a shameful stain to her otherwise brilliant record. Fueled by revenge and hatred, Miss Power spent her time preparing, training, and waiting so she could exact her revenge against those who wronged her, against the little hybrid girl and her freak of a family that humiliated her. Sadly when Miss Power and her loyal sidekick Colonel Gigglecheeks did decide to return, they were not prepared for the recent changes that had happeend in their absence. Miss Power did not care much for this Darius person or B.E.A.W labs, she had seen those like them a dime a dozen before on other worlds. The alien wished she could have congratulated the person who tortured and dehumanized Wordgirl and her sidekick. If it was up to her, Professor Ross Moran would receive high honors among her people for his actions. She did give her condolences at his unmarked gravestone. While the recent trauma Wordgirl and her sidekick have suffered gave Miss Power an opportunistic advantage, the alien conquerer unfortunately could not risk using it especially with her grandfather around. Miss Power was amazed at hearing about the past and recent exploits of Maddrix the Malicious. She was shocked that someone so bloodthirsty and powerful was the father of that scientist who used to have a mouse brain attached to his skull as well as a weird cheese obsession. To her disappointment, Miss Power could clearly see the man was too human and had regretted his actions in the past. Actions that would have made him highly respected among her people despite him being human. Still Miss Power wasn't going to risk striking back while that old coot was still alive. Age did not always equate to weakness according to what she had been taught. Even though he was old, Maddrix was clearly still powerful. It was likely that her and Gigglecheeks would wind up dead by the man's hands before they could claim revenge and victory. A chittering sound snapped Miss Power out of her musings. She turned her head to see her sidekick give her a concerned look. He chittered again and asked 'So what are we going to do?' Miss Power smiled and scratched her sidekick's head which he enjoyed. "Don't worry Colonel Gigglecheeks. We'll get our revenge soon. We just need to learn more about Mr. Malicious and what weaknesses he might have so we can use it to defeat him." Miss Power cooed. She then took her sidekick and flew off without anyone being the wiser. Miss Power was brash and bold and could be tricked sometimes, but she was no fool. The alien conqueror learned long ago that the best way to win your battles was to be prepared and know your enemy more than they know themselves. Carl sighed with relief and slight exhaustion as he sat down in a comfy chair. He had just finished sweeping the floor of his and Matthew's home. Now all he had to do was sit and relax until his husband got home. Carl wanted to try a nice 'mom and pop' owned restaurant that one of Gene's friends, Chuck, had recommended to the man. Carl had been itching to get out and do something more and more recently. If he had to be honest, he was getting bored. In the past, Carl had his job and work as a scientist to keep him occupied along with spending time with his husband and kids. Unfortunately after his 20 year imprisonment, Carl couldn't step in another official science lab ever again without a severe anxiety and panic attack @dualnaturedscientist

[karkatenjoyer]

what your favorite homestuck character says about you

egbert: wow… ur trans gener??? thats so cool. you have a steel-trap mental reservoir of memes and inside jokes, many of which are so niche that only you understand them. shitty movies are your greatest comfort in this world and you kind of know they’re shitty but why must a movie be “good”

dave: you kin dave. you’re kind of embarrassed about liking popular things (homestuck and dave himself included) so you pretend you like them ironically. you have adhd and struggle to do basic household chores. when you see animals you make their animal noise back at them

davesprite: same as dave but your desire to root for the underdog is stronger. you may have grown up in the shadow of an older sibling. or you understand that big-ass wings and sword through the chest is just good character design

jade: you are probably a furry. you are also probably autistic. you went through a phase in the early or mid 2010s where you only wore floral and botanical prints. you genuinely enjoy reading nonfiction reference books. you’re an optimistic sweetheart

rose: you constantly feel like you’re afflicted with divine madness. you like to take things apart to see what makes them work, metaphorically or literally. you are a lesbian. you have mommy issues but you’ve kind of forgiven your mother for causing them

jane: you read nancy drew, junie b. jones, and/or geronimo stilton as a kid. you like cooking and/or baking. you genuinely enjoy logic puzzles like sudoku, crosswords, cryptograms, etc. you’ve either been a camp counselor or would have been a great camp counselor

dirk: you’re an intj. you want to be intimidating but you’re actually extremely awkward and earnest. you read theory. you are very self-critical. you vivdly remember tumblr eras that others strive to forget

hal: same as dirk but significantly more of a rascal plus you have a deep attachment to 2001: a space odyssey (or just sentient bot characters in general)

jake: the hope aspect means a lot to you. you daydreamed throughout all of your classes as a kid (bonus points if this was a symptom of undiagnosed neurodivergence). you probably were/are an adventure time or jojo’s fan

roxy: you play dnd. you have a plethora of blorbos. spell check is turned off on your phone and it shows. there’s way too much on your plate but you would never dream of taking care of yourself before your friends (i love you but c’mon!!). 

aradia: either you want a goth gf or you are a goth gf. you have an interest in witchcraft and/or esoterica. you’ve been through periods of deep depression but you’re ultimately a cheerful and outgoing person

tavros: there is approximately a 90% you’re transmasc. you’ve always used fantasy as an escapist coping mechanism. you’re shy at first but buckwild and super fun once people get to know you

sollux: your sense of humor is very dry. you like bees. you had internet access from too young an age. you’re an extremely reluctant pseudo-babysitter to your friends. you wanna take a nap so bad

karkat: you have numerous and wildly contradictory karkat headcanons. you love to consume media, and you also love to eviscerate the media you consume. you deal with a constant sense of crushing guilt by ceaselessly trying to better your understanding of things, sometimes at the expense of self-compassion. (also you’re soooo epic…. karkat hivemind rise up)

nepeta: you are an autistic catgirl who lives in a cave or you want to be an autistic catgirl who lives in a cave. you definitely read warriors as a kid. you have a kind heart but a very strong stomach (metaphorically speaking). you say :3 and “nya.” you are the backbone of society

kanaya: you generally have excellent taste but your spotify is a fucking mess. you’re a fan of horror movies. you drank coffee in middle school because it made you feel grown up even though you didn’t like the taste. you’re almost certainly autistic (that could be true for a lot of characters tbf but space players are especially autism coded)

terezi: you’re going through a moral or existential crisis at all times but you’re probably laughing about it. as a child you were definitely either a weird girl or weird-girl adjacent. you listen to hyperpop. there’s a good chance you had a life-altering Girl Friendship with your vriska-coded crush

vriska: there’s a good chance you had a life-altering Girl Friendship with your terezi-coded crush. you feel like the villain in your own life, whether or not you actually are. you crave attention, and it troubles you that you do. you feel kinship with pathetic women (affectionate) who cause problems for fun. or, alternately, you are a close personal friend of andrew hussie’s, and you bully minors on twitter

equius: you think he’s funny. or, you started out thinking he was funny, and then became genuinely emotional about how warped his psyche was at such a young age and how much he cared for nepeta. 50/50 chance you’re passionate about some form of dirkquius

gamzee: you think clowns are neat. you remember when gamzee was a sweet little fella who just wanted to share miracles with his friends and you feel genuine (and warranted) disgust at his treatment in the latter part of canon. you might have religious trauma. you really just wanna have a fun time

eridan: you listen to mcr. you used to be a harry potter fan but now you’re non-binary. you feel a connection to the ocean because it is tempestuous and unknowable. you feel a connection with robert pattinson for the same reason

feferi: you tend to be an idealist. empress!fef fascinates you, and you probably prefer to conceptualize her as morally gray despite her good intentions. you’re into eldritch horrors and also cute little knickknacks. you probably had a steven universe phase

i might come back and do the dancestors too because you dancestors fans are very distinct!! 

[dungeon-meister]

Motivation

Any character creation guide will suggest you give your characters a motivation. This is good advice, I don't need to repeat it. However, what kind of motivation you give them can have a very big impact on how you play and how the story carries out.

I struggle a lot with being a reactive player, making reactive characters, and those two things feeding into each other. This is also something I've noticed with other players and the dreaded silence at the table; the DM has just established a scene and wants to give the players a bit of time before laying down a hook, the players have entered a narrative down point and the DM is waiting for something to trigger the next phase, or everyone said they just wanted to rp for a bit, but no one's talking, no one's instigating, no one's moving anything forward. Is there more than one issue at play in these scenarios? yes. Are there more scenarios than presented that are applicable? yes. but lets say that you, as a player, want to make sure these don't happen. my advice is to give your character 3 distinct motivations:

Long-Term Motivation this is generally what most people think of when discussing character motivation, it's connotation if you will. A long-term motivation is what your character wants to accomplish with their life. This is important, especially to more conceptual characters you flesh out as you play, but unless you're chasing that hashtag trillionaire grindset it can feel awkward or flat to have this be your character's only driving force, while without it a character will feel aimless or not grounded in the story

Mid-Term Motivation a mid-term motivation can be difficult write, especially when writing both a long-term and a daily motivation. This motivation should have some crossover with each, and depending on how complex your character is will often be the bridge between them. While a character will rarely be noticably worse for not having an explicit mid-term motivation, having a mid term motivation will make a character feel very real with established wants and desires. As I will elaborate later, it's okay to go light on this one because of the structure of D&D, and roleplaying games in general

Daily motivation the daily motivation is what we deal with most in our lives, what will push the game forward, and what most players tend to not consider when writing their character because they don't think of it as a 'motivation'. Generally, a character's most obvious personality traits will affect their daily motivation and it will change frequently, while sometimes a daily motivation is pursuing a mid-term or long-term motivation and other times it will be that your character woke up wanting an omelette but life has kept interrupting them and now their just powering through a basement of rats controlled by an awakening demon king so that they can get the money and buy the eggs. It's a good idea to write a recurring daily motivation for your character that you can fall back on or hold in tandem with a rotating one, because if you find yourself without one your character can feel bland and struggle to interact with the world in front of them

As I am a very big proponent of picking up what the DM is putting down for the sake of the game, even if it doesn't perfectly fit your character, these motivations will often become secondary to story plots. The core narrative will usually replace these motivations to an extent; making it to Phandalin is a daily motivation while plundering the depths of the Tomb of Horrors is a mid-term motivation. it's rare for a campaign to have a premise that is a long-term motivation and if it does, it will require a skilled DM to pull off well because of the scope of the narrative. I find that most campaigns are built on a mid-term motivation that once succeeded can be swapped for another one or built on for a longer story.

And of course, don't think you need only one of each or that each needs the same amount of care or depth. In real life long-term motivations are usually vague, unrealistic (or very realistic, but believed to be too lofty to actually pursue), or not explicitly known. Daily-term motivations sometimes don't happen or gradually morph into mid-term ones as life piles up. Having more desires, ones that are both grounded and ridiculous, complimentary and contradictory, convoluted and simple, realistic and ridiculous, all add to your character and give you more room to work with when playing them

[olderthannetfic]

I've been following the various conversations about fandom friendship for a while now and it's made me want to get up and actually put myself out there to make it happen for me. Do you have any tips for finding smaller local fan events? I mostly only know of the big nationally-known conventions like ComiCon and the PAX conventions.

--

Fanlore often lists the dinky slash con type ones. You may have to do some research to see what's still running and what's dead.

Escapade Con is one I attend, for example. (Los Angeles, partly online this year, end of April 2022, but usually around February.)

We're voting on panels right now. The proposed ones are things like:

Age Gap: The Ultimate Taboo

"With fandom reaching more mainstream audiences, a new Worst Trope has arisen: any pairing where one character is more than three years older than the other. (I can hear you laughing. Stop that.) Let's talk about how this came to be "the worst" of fanfic tropes, exchange horror stories about the attacks on people who write or read it, and brainstorm ways to deal with this kind of schism between "old" and "new" fandom communities."

Scales Are Sexy

First vampires, then werewolves, now... tentacled fish-men? What's appealing about the monstrously different, and what does this say about how the socially acceptable expression of sexual desire changes over time?

(Personally, I think last time's "Fantastic Bits and Where to Find Them" monsterfucking panel was a better title than this one, but hey.)

Old con panels can give you a sense of the con's vibe. Are they salty and funny? Are they a bit more gentle for the sensitive?

--

The very best success rate is a kind of con experience I haven't had in years. This is when the con is a small, fan-run one, the con is new (in its first 5 years, say), and you yourself are around college age with lots of other people that age also looking for new friends at the con.

The minute you go to a much older event or you're in a different phase of life, things feel harder. I know that feeling of being out of step with other people your age. Oh look, everyone got married 5 years ago, and now our lives have diverged. What do? etc.

This is not an insurmountable barrier, just an emotional pitfall to be aware of. You do have to put yourself out there a little more if it's a con of people who've known each other for 30 years.

--

The LJ era produced a bunch of cons, lots of them now gone. The Tumblr era also produced cons, but I'm not as familiar with them. No, I don't mean the hot mess that was Dashcon. I mean the little fan-run Sherlock cons and such. If you're in a big fandom, there might be a little con for your specific thing.

There's a very old Kirk/Spock con that's still running and an old Starsky/Hutch one. There are more recent Sherlock-focused ones. Looks like 221B Con is actually coming up on April 8th in Atlanta.

On the online end of things, there are cons like Fujocon that not only bring people together during the con but tend to funnel them to various discords after. If you like discord communities, attending events can be a way to find some.

--

For truly local and not $$$, I'd see what kind of geek meetups happen in the nearest big city. Some things, like the SCA, are more organized and easier to find. Fanfic-related meetups exist in some places, but not as consistently. Some people meet up to write their Yuletide fics together (in October/November). Sometimes, you can find meetups like that through some online fandom thing. Lolitas (people who wear that Japanese fashion) have meetups some places. So do anime nerds. If you don't find something fanfic-specific, you might find something for some flavor of geekdom you're into and/or that would have a good chance of members who also like fic.

Some of the oldschool geek subcultures and venues can be pretty white. (And that goes for the ones that make big protestations about social justice as much as for the ones that say nothing.) They're not necessarily bad, but it's just something to keep in mind if you haven't gone to geeky events in person before. Local anime meetups tend to be a little more ethnically diverse than the SCA in my experience.

One can always start some kind of meetup oneself. Meetup.com and Facebook seem to be the two big places people do it. It could be something like fanfic writers' club where you meet at a cafe to work on your stuff. (So if people don't show up much, you can at least work on your own stuff at said cafe.) Pick a place super convenient to you or a place that has some kind of geeky theme if there is one around.

--

Of course, all of this is my perspective based on the US. It's going to be different if you're somewhere else (but I'm presuming not given what you mentioned).

[frosted-night]

Do you have any headcanons for cast as humans? I mean as a human au. (If this is too big of an ask thats fine)

BOY DO I

Let me just get my tome out n read y'all the lore I've made for no reason.

Jack

Left home after graduating to join a caravan and traveled across the country. He came back home after his parent's sudden deaths. He didn't want to leave his brother to deal with the estate by himself.

He still has his van from his adventures and he wants to paint it again to symbolize his new phase in life. It still has living accomdations inside it and Jack has little desire to change it.

He has a few tattoos, such as a hurricane symbol on his neck and a snowflake above one of his ankles. Jack also has a few ear piercings he did himself and he's surprisingly good at it.

If Jack isn't driving he travels by longboard. He had a skater boy phase but it payed off since he can still do a few tricks here and there.

(Sometimes I see human Jack either as cis or trans. It depends on how im feeling. A trans Human Jack post will be seperate from this one)

He's a skilled forager and grower since he had to do that as his years as a nomad. Jack wouldn't claim he's as skilled as Aster but he can be a runner up behind him.

Jack never had a solid relationship on the road. It was very fleeting feelings but he didn't seem to mind. Settling back down at his hometown had reawakened some buried feelings though.

He's fairly well known in his hometown for being a mischievous bastard in his teen years and his past with playing on the local hockey team.

Jack would describe his aesthetic as a love child of punk and free spirited hippie lifestyle.

He has unmedicated adhd

He's 6 or 7 years older than his younger brother Manny and it can make their relationship a bit strained. These days they are trying to mend it while taking care of their parent's old home.

His hair was originally brown but he bleaches it and dyes it white these days.

Manny (Mim)

He's one of the youngest in his friend group, beating Tooth by a few months.

Manny is the 2nd shortest, Sandy being the shortest.

Jack leaving home wasn't easy for him and after a while Manny fell out of contact. He regrets it to this very day but never stopped thinking about his big brother.

He has Thalassophobia, a fear shared with Jack, and Pitch teases him endlessly about it.

He's a natural blonde and his mom used to tell him that he got it from his dad's side of the family. Manny has yet to meet any of his extended family for some reason.

Cleaning out his parents house of their things was one of the hardest parts for him and would have been impossible if his friends didn't help him. (Jack coming home really changed the game too.)

He was a fairly average kid but had a streak of being kind of mean in school. It lasted until high school but he still carries that silver tongue between his teeth.

Tooth jokes about how often Manny visits the local aquarium and he deflects any guesses she makes. North knows Manny is crushing hard on a employee there and has a code word for the guy, "Ocean Man". Aster hums the song whenever he feels like he can poke fun of Manny.

His occupation is working at a pre-school/daycare. He's shockingly amazing with children and has considered a teaching position there but he has yet to decide on it.

Manny has been called a "night owl" by all his friends since his productivity increases when the sun goes down. Thats usually the time he gets to work on all the cleaning he's missed.

He currently lives in his childhood home with his brother. Thankfully their home was paid off by their parents so they just split the bills, but they have considered getting a roomie to help with the expenses.

His dream is to have any kind of a pool in his backyard but he has to wait til the finances balance themselves out.

Pitch

Was the newest person in the group before Jack joined. He's also one of the oldest.

His occupation is a horror novel writer and lives off of coffee even when hes not crunching to meet deadlines.

Pitch fights with insomnia but Sandy convinced him to start taking medication to help him sleep. He got kind of sick hearing Pitch make quick meals at 3am and tripping over his cat.

He has a cat named Onyx and he has that backpack with a window on it that he can put Onyx in. Onyx likes it very much and if she knows hes leaving somewhere she sits by the backpack and stares at him.

Halloween is when he's at his strongest. If he feels like it, he competes with North on who has the best decorations. Jack gave Pitch the idea of using dry ice and its a feature he brings back every other year or so.

He's one of the tallest people in the group, only coming a few inches shorter than North. Contrary to people asking him, he was never into basket ball and was was in the military for a period of time.

Pitch was living a hermit life until he was adopted into the group. With his wife long deceased and freshly dumped, he softly considers it a saving grace that everyone accepted him.

Katherine

An aspiring writer, she currently works at the neighborhood library. She finds it really relaxing since its sat right by a river bed.

She tries not to bug Pitch too much but on occassion she asks him to beta read her works. His criticism and tips energize her to get her works out there ten fold. Kat really wants to write fantasy, a little romance and a lot of kid's books.

Her favorite task at work is reading to kids. Shes an animated storyteller and the kids eat her antics up.

She was great friends with Jack when they were growing up but she followed his antics on a few of his accounts online.

She listens to a lot of rock music and punk pop due to North's influence when she was growing up. He's taken to her to her first concert and she treasures the merch and memories.

She gets around by bike because she hasn't gotten her lisence yet but North gives her lessons on the weekends. Kat's become a local cryptid because everyone has seen her whiz past on her bike at least once though.

A child(Jamie) she read to got her into cryptids and now she eats up any lore she can. They like to infodump on each other when they have the time.

This is post is long enough golly gosh. If y'all are interested i can post the others but for now take these samples. (The Hockey player Jack hc n ex military Pitch hc were influenced by a lovely fic written by my friends over at @bunnimew. Their fic is Surviving On Twinkies And Hope and i highly reccomend it)

[tloujm]

Part XXVI: Giving Grief

Author’s Notes: This is the first chapter I’ve posted in months (literally since April). I don’t know if this is a full comeback. I have a few chapters in the drafts that need to be edited and formatted for posting but after that, I still plan on continuing the series bc my plan was always have a long fic. With no new content after part II of the game was released, my interest in the fandom waned but was always there. Now with HBO creating a show based off the game, as well as me being apart of the Pedro Pascal fandom, I think I will soon become more consistent in posting as new content gets released. I will say that at least half of what appeals to me for Joel is Troy Baker’s voice and while I love Pedro’s voice too, I know it won’t be the same. I still think Pedro will do the voice justice bc he can do a damn fine country accent as seen in the movie Prospect on Netflix. If you’re a fan of his and have Netflix, please go watch it!

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Summary: You and Joel reconcile and bond over Ellie and Sarah. 

Ship: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Joel waited for you to come home. He paced back and forth in the kitchen switching from holding the card and setting it down on the counter. He was eager to talk to you about this new revelation partly because he was nervous to have the other conversation with you. After a while of calming his nerves down, you still hadn’t come home. The sun had set an hour ago and Joel was ready to throw on his boots and go looking for you. 

Just as he laced them up, the front door opened. You walked in and immediately stopped because his body blocked you from walking in the house further. 

“Going somewhere?” You asked as you slid past him. He was a grown man and could do what he wanted, but the thought of him leaving to go do other things before the issue between you was resolved upset you. 

He reached back down to unlace his boots. “Not anymore. I was ‘bout to head out and find you.”

“Why?” You asked dryly.

“I’d been waiting on you to come home for a couple of hours. We gotta talk.”

“You’re right, we do. I was helping Wendy walk the kids home from the daycare; that’s what held me up. I’m here now, though.” You leaned against the back of the couch and crossed your arms. The stance you took reminded you of what Joel would do.

He walked into the kitchen and came back. “Kiddo made this for us.”

You took it in your hands. “When did she have time to make this?” He shrugged. Your fingers brushed across the drawing of the hat before finally opening it. “Oh my God.” She looked at you for a split second before looking back down at her signature. “Her name has been ‘Ellie’ the whole time.”

“I know.” He commented. 

“She never said anything. All of us have asked her.”

“Technically, she still hasn’t spoken her name, but I guess she wasn’t ready for that.”

“She wasn’t ready to let anybody in.” You said. He nodded in agreement.

“Until now.” He walked up to you and pointed to her name on the card. “She’s doing so good, this Ellie. I can only try to imagine the horrors that she’s seen out in the world before she came to Jackson, but whatever happened out there, it led her to us. I’m...It’s just nice to see her opening up to this place.”

You understood what he was trying to say. “Yeah, I’m proud of her too.” You walked past him and into the kitchen to hang the card on the refrigerator. Joel followed. This time, his arms were crossed.

“(Y/N), I meant it when I said I was sorry back there. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t have said it.” You rebutted.

“I was upset with you because I expected you to react the same as me when Ellie climbed up that T-Rex, but I don’t want a carbon copy of myself. I love you and want to have a family with you because you are wise beyond your years, confident even if you don’t always think so, responsible even for things that aren’t your responsibility and most importantly, you’re level headedness. Where I have a tendency to lose my cool in certain situations, you are guided by this calm...patient sense of will that I envy.” He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, giving you the opportunity to say something. Seeing that you were still soaking in his words, he continued. “You’ll be a great mother. I saw it in the gentle way you juggled all those kids at the daycare. I saw it in the way you took care of Ellie the first day she came here. You’ll see though, if it’s meant for us to have a baby, how difficult it is to stop worrying. It didn’t stop when Sarah....even when I tried to push those feelings away. It doesn’t stop. I know she’s not her, but it’s hard for me to just stand by and watch her do something that could hurt her.”

“I wasn’t standing by, or at least that wasn’t my intention. I wanted to give her space. She’s so delicate, or maybe that’s my problem. I shouldn’t treat her like she’s some glass figurine. I just wanted her to grow comfortable with us by trusting her. Believe me, it wasn’t easy for me to do when there was nothing personally for me to go off of, but then I thought, she’s lived out there for God knows how long by herself. She’s not only seen things but has been able to survive things. It’s hard to see how clever someone is when they won’t let you in, but I knew she had to be to have made it this far. I get it though. I’ve never been a parent. I can only sympathize with your worries. I can not empathize with you until I’ve been where you have. I’m sorry too. I could have found a way to give her space without allowing her to be in such a dangerous spot. You must be disappointed in me.”

He moved up to you and placed his hands on your shoulder. “I’m not. Look at me. I’m not disappointed in you. She was both of our responsibilities earlier.” He brought you into a tight hug. “You’re right, she is smart. She felt comfortable enough to show a side of herself that no one else has seen. You know why? ‘Cause she felt safe around us. Despite the grief she put me through, it was nice to see her so happy.”

“I know it was, wasn’t it? I can’t believe she jumped though! I didn’t think she’d go that far.”

“At the end of the day, kids will be kids. It’s not an excuse to slack off on raising ‘em, but there's just a certain wild and carefree nature that every kid has. It’s instilled in their DNA or somethin’ and then it fades away as they get older, about the time their back starts to ache.” Joel chuckled as he explained. He kissed the top of your head before pulling away to get a good look at you. He made a face as if to ask if you were ok. You nodded. He took your hand and pulled you into the living room. You sat down next to him. “She reminds me of Sarah sometimes. Ellie’s about the same age as her. She ran me through the ringer, raising that one.” He chuckled at the memories. “I wouldn’t trade it in for the world, being her dad, but you shoulda seen the amount of grief she put me through. Especially being a single parent.” He wiped his hand across his face, letting it linger along the length of his neck. “One time, she snuck off to some skate park when I told her no. She was in this skateboarding phase. I bought her a customized skateboard for her birthday and she would practice using it up and down the driveway. She had barely learned that little flippy trick when she asked me to take her to the skate park. I told her no because it looked like it was for experienced skaters. I wanted her to practice more first. To say the least, she was mad at me. She told me she was staying after school for the science club, but she really went to the skate park with some friends. By the time I figured out where she was, I found her lying in the grass, holding her arm in pain. Turned out she had a hairline fracture in her...radius?” He pointed to the bone on his arm. You nodded that it was in fact called radius. “I grounded her for lying to me, but sometimes I wonder if I should have taken her to the park. I mean I’m no expert on skateboarding, but at least I could have been there to supervise; make sure she wasn’t on one of those tough looking ramps.”

“Did you ever take her skateboarding after she healed up?”

“After the cast came off, she switched interests to soccer. I installed a shelf on one of her walls to hang the skateboard on. Better that than being stuffed under her bed. Soccer was her life though. She made new friends from the team, won titles, learned tricks with the ball. Me and Tommy were regulars at her games. I was...am proud of her.”

You smiled as you envisioned his memories. “Did she give you grief with that as well?”

He nodded in an exaggerated way. “Oh yeah, but I’m sure I used to give her grief too.” You lifted your eyebrows with desire for him to elaborate. “I may or may not have argued with the coach and ref on a few occasions regarding plays.”

“You never dated any of the soccer moms?” You teased.

He scoffed. “Most of them were married and the ones who weren’t, I sent Tommy’s way instead. He wasn’t mad at it.” The two of you chuckled. “I did flirt with a few, married or not, so I could get my hands on some of their homemade baked goods.”

“I was under the assumption that soccer moms made food for everyone.”

“They did, but I still wanted a few more cupcakes for the ride home.” He admitted as you laughed. “Listen, I had a busy life. I didn’t have much time to hone my baking skills, so it was nice to be able to have homemade cakes and cookies for a change.

“Well, if you wanted cookies, that’s all you had to say! I can show you how to bake right now.”

“It’s late.” He reasoned.

“It’s never too late to feed your sweet tooth.” You rebutted as you pulled him back into the kitchen.

[persepholline]

I've read that article about the romanticization of the Darkling and while I absolutely understand people who are pissed off/sad and I agree that it's shitty, I find LB's attitude towards Darkles stans very funny in a "girl what are you doing" sort of way because it's so petty like I've never heard of a bestselling author writing a portion of their fans into their books as a crazy cult before, it clearly hit a nerve

I'm new to the fandom but the feeling I get is she wrote something problematic ten years ago and became very embarrassed about it afterwards so she turned on the fans that liked it as a way to absolve herself. Especially since fandoms in general have become a lot more focused on discussion of what constitutes healthy/acceptable relationships to write about. And in a way I get it I had a huge Twilight phase in high school and afterwards I was super embarassed about it because of how problematic and cringe it was. But now with distance and more maturity I'm able to both still see why it was problematic and also why I was drawn to it (mostly the very unhinged representation of female desire) and like...it's really not the end of the world and no it never made me believe that breaking into somebody's room at night to watch them sleep was actually ok in real life lmao. This feels so obvious to me but apparently it needs to be said.

(More under the break this is turning into an essay, I've been thinking of this a lot recently)

And of course it's good to have these discussions about how historically romance tropes have echoed social dynamics of men's shitty behavior being romanticized and excused. But these days they often are so simplistic and focused on chasing clout that they become this weird new puritanism and moral panic about oh now women are reading novels it's going to make them hysterical or something

So you have these weird assumptions that you can't like a character and also be critical of their actions, or enjoy certain parts of a character and not others, or wish they were written differently and like them more for their potential (which I'm sure stings a bit for an author lol) - it assumes that if you like a character it means you would approve of their actions in real life, or that people just stupidly reproduce whatever they see on TV. That tendency to treat fictional characters like real people is the thing that actually worries me, to be honest, because it indicates a lack of distance and critical capacities regarding how stories are used and received. But people - fans and authors - are so scared of being called out as problematic and harassed for it that they're going to shy away from any nuance.

And yeah I think that it's good that standards of what constitutes an ideal relationship are evolving and becoming more feminist and communicative and all that and we definitely need more of that. But not all fiction has to be aspirational! Sometimes you just want to read about fucked up shit, because it's cathartic or fascinating, even healing at times because with fiction you are absolutely in control and can choose when to close the book. Toxic relationships in fiction can have an appeal specifically because they go to extremes of feeling that we don't want to go to in reality, in exactly the same way as horror movies or very violent action movies - which I don't see a lot of people besides fundamentalist Christians argue that they turn you into violent psychopaths (and that feels very obviously sexist). And for women, who are often taught growing up that love is the purpose of life, the "saving someone with your ability to love" can be a power fantasy in the same way that being a buff superhero who saves the day with their capacity for incredible violence can be a power fantasy for men. Still doesn't mean those women are going to fall in love with actual murderers or that those men are going to start beating up people at night. And love is scary, and weird, and weirdly close to horror at times, with all the potential for loss of self and being vulnerable and overwhelming feelings and potential for being horribly hurt and it should be possible for stories to explore that without anybody screaming about how this is going to Corrupt the Youth or something

And I mean I get it LB wanted to write a cautionary tale for teenagers, but it just did not work for reasons a lot of people have already written about - the fact that the Darkling is the leader of an oppressed minority and is the only one with a real political agenda to end that oppression in the first trilogy, the fact that he helps Alina come into her own power while her endgame LI is someone she keeps herself small for, that she's shamed for wanting power after growing up without any, a generally very wonky conception of privilege, and a lot of other stuff with yucky regressive implications to the point where stanning the villain actually feels liberating and empowering which is a surefire sign that the narrative is broken (unless it's a villain focused story lmao). But of course that Fanside article makes almost no mention of the political dynamics, it's all about interpersonal stuff which is an annoying trend in YA, there are those massive events happening in the background but it's made all about the feelings of the hero(ine) ; war as a self-development quest (which is kind of gross). Helnik is kind of an example of this too - I like them, I think they're fun ! But Matthias spends a big part of the story wanting to brutally murder Nina and her kind, and he mostly changes his mind because he finds her hot. Like you don't feel there is some sort of big revelation that his entire moral system and political framework is completely rotten ; it's all better because of feelings now.

As a teenager that kind of sanctimonious bullshit would have annoyed the hell out of me ; I read those books in my early twenties and I found the ending so stupid I wouldn't have trusted any message or life lessons coming from them. And I liked reading/watching dark stuff as a teenager, as a way to deal with the very intense inner turmoil I was dealing with - and I turned out fine ! Meanwhile I've seen several times women in very shitty relationships being obsessed with positive energies and stories ; they were so terrified of their life not being perfectly wholesome they ended up being delusional about their own situations.

Like personally I think the Darkling is a compelling, interesting, alluring character and also a manipulative, murderous piece of shit and that Alina should get to punish him (like in a sexy way) - but he's also the end result of centuries of war, oppression and trauma and reducing that to "toxic wounded boy" feels kind of offensive ngl ESPECIALLY since the books don't offer any kind of systemic analysis or response to oppression beyond "the bad guy should die" and "now the king/queen is a good guy our problems are solved!!!!"

In Lives of the Saints, we see how Yuri is abused extremely badly and almost killed by his father, and so when his father dies when the Fold swallows Novokribirsk, he thinks the Starless Saint has saved him. Later in KoS/RoW he's turned into this fanatic who explains away all the Darkling's crimes. The other followers talk about how the Starless Saint will bring equality for all men. Then the Darkling comes back and actually thinks his followers are pathetic, which feels again like a very pointed message to his IRL stans. Which is absolutely hilarious to me. Like oh no, if he was real he would not like you and think you're pathetic ! Yeah ...but he's not. Real. Damn right he would not like the fics where Alina puts him on a leash. I'm still going to read them. What is he going to do about it, jump out of the page ? Jfjfjjdhfgfjfj

Anyway I think the intended message is "assholes will use noble political causes for their own gain and to manipulate people" and "being abused/oppressed is not an excuse to behave badly." Which. Sure. But that's kind of like...a tired take, honestly ? A big number of villains nowadays are like this ; either they've been bullied as kids, or they're part of an oppressed group, or they have "good ideals but too extreme". This is not surprising because a lot of mainstream heroic narratives present clinging to the status quo as Good and change as chaotic and dangerous. And like sure in real life people often do bad shit because they're wounded and in danger. But if you want to do a story like that, you have to do it with nuance, talk about cycles of violence, about how society creates vulnerable people to be exploited, about how privilege gives you more choices and the luxury of morals, etc. The Grishaverse does not have this level of nuance (maybe in SoC a little bit but definitely not in TGT). So it kind of comes off as "trauma makes you evil" and "egalitarianism is dangerous" and "if you're abused/oppressed you're not allowed to fight back". And ignores the fact that historically, evil generally comes from unchecked privilege.

I guess my point is that there are many things I like about LB's writing, she knows how to create these really exciting character dynamics, and the world she has created is fascinating. But these stories are not a great starting point for imparting moral lessons. And her best characters tend to be, at least in canon, the morally grey ones. I hope one day she'll be at peace with the fact that she wrote the Darkling the way she did and leave his fans alone but in the meantime I'm just not going to take this whole thing seriously I'm sorry

[aurabird]

Desperation

What does one do when your own memories are your weakness?

You forget even if it costs you everything you know.

Sausage has no other options left.

Not gonna lie, this one hurt me emotionally to write.

Tw: Mentions of cruelty and memory wiping (consensual). As usual though its not super graphic

Link to Ao3

-----------------------

Sausage ran through dense foliage of the jungle in a panic, not caring about anything else other than just getting far, far, away from Mythland at all costs and sticking to the treeline so that he didn’t risk getting too close to the Lost Empire.

His lungs burned, his legs ached, his body was screaming at him to stop and rest. But he couldn’t rest, not now, not after finally managing to get control of his own mind. He...he didn’t know how long he’d be lucid like this, he didn’t know how long it’d be before he was imprisoned within his own consciousness and forced to watch as it used him to do horrible things to his friends...his family.

He was there when Xornoth tortured Fwhip, watched as the demon inflicted pain on the man he had come to call a brother in attempts to corrupt. Veins of crimson pulsating under the Count's skin in branching webs.

He was there when Xornoth played mind games with Gem, trying to break her spirit, trying to get into her head and control her to.

And he was there when Kathrine begged for mercy as the iron shackles burned her wrists and ankles due to her fae blood while the demon laughed at her misery and suffering, trying to crush her will so she’d surrender and join him willingly.

The amethyst roofs of crystal cliffs came into view, a ray of hope in the darkness giving him the adrenaline he needed.

He dodged the magic fired at him by the guards, he should have known that she’d put out the command to attack him on sight. He didn’t care when a warning beacon was lit, he didn’t care that he was currently the most wanted person in the empire.

Sausage ducked and wove between trees and buildings, hid in hollows and overhangs as he scaled the mountain leading up to the Head Wizard’s tower. He couldn’t get caught, they’d kill him if he was.

The mountain peaks were cold and sent a shiver through him, his warlock attire not designed for the freezing temperatures. Still, he pressed on.

By the time he reached the giant door he collapsed on his knees in exhaustion and knocked weakly.

Please...please let her have heard it...

Warmth hit him as the door opened and he was met with Gem standing in the frame. Her face was a mix of different emotions; confusion, shock, fear...hatred.

“G-Gem...h-help me...please...I don’t know...how long I have...before...it...”

He didn’t have the strength to finish his plea, collapsing forward into the snow from exhaustion. His instincts were telling him to go to sleep and rest, but he knew that the moment he closed his eyes that he’d next wake up not himself.

Time moved slowly for him as he struggled to stay conscious. One moment he was on freezing snow, the next he was on a couch before a fire.

Something was pressed to his lips and Sausage drank what was offered to him; the burning, bitter-sweet taste of a strength potion going down his throat before beginning to take effect.

“Sausage? Sausage can you hear me?” Gem asked, worry yet caution in her voice.

"I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry!” he recited, his voice cracking, “I didn’t want to free it! I never wanted to free it! I just...I just wanted...I just wanted to have SOMETHING, some kind of power to call my own! It...it promised me I would if I helped make it stronger and...and by the time I realized it was lying to me...it already could take control of my body like a puppet!”

“Sausage...it’s alright, calm down. Deep breaths, in and out.”

He followed the instructions given to him and slowly, his panic died down, he could think clearly...he could think for himself.

That is when he noticed that it wasn’t just Gem in the room with him, Fwhip stood at her side, his expression a mix of different emotions.

“Better?” Gem asked, he gave a nod in reply. “Ok, good. Care to explain what exactly is going on?”

Sausage told them everything. How Xornoth took advantage of his nativity when it came to magic and his desire to have power of his own. How sometimes he had control over his body, and that other times it was all the demon’s influence. Sometimes he just wasn’t in control at all and under possession.

“...what do you want me to do, Sausage?”

He sighed, “It uses your memories and emotions against you through manipulation, that’s how it takes control.” his gaze met hers, desperation burning in them, “Gem, it can’t take control...if I have nothing for it to exploit.”

Horror and realization filled the duo’s eyes, “Sausage...” Gem breathed, “You...you realize what you’re asking me to do?”

He nodded, “I do, and the very thought of it terrifies me. But if it means keeping you all safe...I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”

“One Hell of a sacrifice, Sausage.” Fwhip stated bluntly.

“Gem, Fwhip, I’m tired and I want to sleep; but the second I close my eyes it will take control again and next time, it won’t give me a window to escape from. Please, do it for me.”

He saw Gem was on the verge of tears, “You know there’s no other option.”

Silence.

“What...do you want us to tell you when you wake up?”

“Anything that cannot be traced back to Mythland. Keep me from going there at all costs.”

“We promise, Sausage.”

“Thank you, Gem, Fwhip; for everything in this life, even if I may never remember it...and everyone else too. Tell anyone you know you can trust that I’m sorry”

That is when the wizard launched herself at him, embracing him in a hug, Fwhip so following suit. One final hug as family.

“I’m ready. You can do it.”

Gem backed away from him and grabbed her spellbook off the small desk near the couch. Her eyes and the amethyst on her staff glowing brightly as she began to speak.

ᒲᒷᒲ𝙹∷╎ᒷᓭ !¡∷ᒷᓵ╎𝙹⚍ᓭ, ᒲᒷᒲ𝙹∷╎ᒷᓭ ↸ᒷᔑ∷ ℸ ̣ ᔑꖌᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒲ ᔑ∴ᔑ||, ᔑꖎ𝙹リ⊣ ∴╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ ᔑꖎꖎ ⎓ᒷᔑ∷

A beam of purple light shot from the focus of the staff like a beacon, the beam phasing harmlessly through Sausage’s forehead.

Like the sensation one would experience as they died, he watched with a sad smile as his life played before him in fast forward, going through every memory he had up until now...

...then, darkness. Blissful, welcoming, darkness.

===========================

Translation for the Galactic:

“memories precious, memories dear take them away, along with all fear”

[pappydaddy]

The Three Sailors (s.h./r.b.)

  A/N: This is the requested platonic imagine with Steve and Robin. This one I played around a bit with so I hope you enjoy!! Sorry it’s a bit short, I thought this would be pretty funny. PS. Sorry for the wait, school is demanding, sheesh! Anyway, thanks to the lovely anon who sent this in! Everyone, keep them coming, I love hearing what you guys want to read💛!

I said that I would post this tomorrow a few hours ago, but I had sometime before I went to bed so I’m posting it now! Also, it wasn’t specified what pronouns to use, so I used my default (she/her) like I outlined in my Request Rules! If you want me to change them to your preferred ones anon, let me know!! 

pairing: platonic!steve harrington x platonic!fem!reader x platonic!robin buckley

show/movie: stranger things

requested

warnings: none, this is just an all around cool fic with some humour. 

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- not my gif -

If anyone tried to come up with a single thing Y/N hated more than her job, they would be hard-pressed to do so. So hard-pressed that they might even fry their brain. It wasn’t that she wasn’t thankful for the job, no, it was the ridiculous sailor theme. First off, the stupid hat and uniform made her want to shrivel up every-time she put it on - hating the dorkiness of it. Second, the damn cheery tune that played all day every day and had even managed to appear in her dreams, Steve (her co-worker) had to hold her back from ripping the speakers out. But the thing she hated the most? The stupid greeting she was required to say.  She dreaded every shift, having to drag herself into the parlor despite her immense desire to burn the place to the ground. An arson charge is better than having to put up with that torture.

  Arriving at her shift, she was met by Steve and Robin, who looked equally displeased to be there as well. “There she is, our little ball of sunshine,” Robin greeted sarcastically. Y/N only grunted in response, shoving the swinging door open. Robin and Steve followed her into the back room, having no customers whatsoever since it was still early in the morning. “Don’t you look happy to be here?” She continued her sarcastic remarks, smirking at the grumpy girl. 

  “I would rather be throwing myself off the cliff into the Quarry right now.” She made her displeasure well known, begrudgingly pulling the dumb white cap over her hair. 

  “Don’t say that,” Steve gasped in fake horror. “I can’t go on without the light of my life.” 

  She shot him a glaring look before adjusting her navy socks. The shrill sound of the bell placed by the cash interrupted the co-workers followed by the sound of Y/N’s most hated customer: Erica Sinclair. Robin and Steve shared a look behind Y/N’s back before facing the girl. “Gee, Steve,” Robin spoke up. “Since we had to open and Y/N had two full hours before she had to come in, I think it’s only fair that she takes the first customer of the day! Don’t you think?” 

  Y/N sent a warning glare at Steve who looked between his two co-workers with a lopsided smirk on his face. “Don’t you dare or I’ll yank that pretty hair of yours out, Harrington.” She practically growled, her eyes narrowed. Steve didn’t look phased by her intimidation tactics. 

  “Sorry, Y/N, I think I lost my scoop back here when we were opening-” 

  “Bullshit! I see it right there-”

  “Robin, can you help me find it while Y/N serves Erica?” He cut her off, looking over at Robin as Erica slammed her hand down on the bell repeatedly, yelling out for someone.

  “Of course I will, Dingus. You’d probably look right at it and not see it if I don’t help,” She smiled, looking to Y/N, she shot her a fake sympathetic smile. “Better not keep Erica waiting.” Y/N let you another growl, grabbing her scoop she had washed before she left the night before and stomping out to the front. Steve and Robin didn’t even bother keeping their act up, instead of following their agitated friend. 

  “Ahoy, Sailor! What can I get you for your voyage of flavour?” Y/N drawled, trying her hardest not to quit right in that second. Erica scowled up at her, her arms crossed with her hip jutted out. 

  “’ Bout time you showed up, sailor girl.” She sassed before letting her eyes scan over the flavours that she knew off by heart. They were the same flavours she saw every single day she was in here. She acted like she was trying to figure out which one she’d order, but everyone knew she was just going to request her zillionth free sample. 

  “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll be sure to bring that up with the ship Captain.” It physically pained her to say these things. Erica hummed, stepping back in front of the cash. Y/N braced herself for the request she knew was coming. 

  “I want to try the Seafoam Mint.” She barked. Y/N plastered on a fake smile. 

  “You tried that yesterday. In fact, you’ve tried all the flavours,” Y/N spoke in the nicest voice she could manage, blinking as she tried to hold onto the last shreds of her sanity that were quickly fleeing out of her grasps. “A medium cone is only a dollar, a small is seventy-five cents-” 

  “Nu-huh,” Erica butted in, her hands gripping onto the counter in front of her as she leaned closer. “I want to try the Seafoam Mint, not buy the Seafoam Mint.” 

  “You can’t have another sample, that’s not how it works,” Y/N explained tiredly, cursing every higher power out there for putting her through this hell. “You sample something, you like it, you buy a cone.” She pointed to the three sizes of cones available, ignoring Steve and Robin trying to hide their amusement. 

  “I can have as many free samples I want, the customer’s always right, or did you miss that lesson in sailor school?”

  “I also have the right to refuse service to anybody-” 

  “And I will report you to corporate,” She dropped the threat so effortlessly, assuming she had won. “Now get my free sample.” 

  “I’ll get you a free sample alright you little-” 

  “Chop, chop sailor girl!” Erica clapped her hands rudely. With a glare, Y/N swiftly grabbed a sample spoon, lifting the glass to the cooler. Dropping her eyes to the bucket of seafoam coloured ice cream with chocolate chips sticking out of the smoothness of the frozen treat, her mind rattled with all the curse words she could think of. 

  As she reached down to scrap the red plastic spoon over the top of the half-eaten tub, she could feel the cold rolling off of it. “Here, one sample of Seafoam Mint,” She extended the spoon out for Erica to take. The young girl nabbed it from her hand, downing the speck of ice cream in no time. “Could I get you a cone of it?” 

  “No, I’m not feeling ice cream right now, maybe later.” She smirked, shoving the empty sample spoon into Y/N’s hand. Turning on her heel, she left the dumfounded girl standing at the counter. She let out a screaming groan, violently throwing the used spoon in the trash by her feet. 

  “Oh, look, Robin,” Steve exclaimed in fake amazement. Y/N slowly shifted her glare to look at Steve who reached into his scoop holder to grab his scoop. “I had my scoop all along!”

  “I hate you both.” Y/N rolled her eyes, breezing past them to get into the back room once again. Steve and Robin shared a look and a laugh, following her once again. 

  “You love us.” They spoke at the same time, shrugging.

[thedreadvampy]

ok so this trip down memory lane kind of leads neatly into what I was wanting to talk about last night (even though it’s past 4am again oops)

which is the gendered nature of queerbaiting and of bi/homophobia

like last night @silly-slacker-person and I were talking about Glee and about how like...the Brittana relationship started with the improvised line “if having sex was dating, Santana and I would be dating” and how that fits into a Pattern

where queerbaiting with male characters is about emotional intimacy but They Can Never Kiss Or Touch Sexually, queerbaiting with female characters is...weird.

queerbaiting with female characters is often almost the inverse of queerbaiting with male characters. female characters will kiss on screen, touch constantly, and even actually have sex with each other, but the story will still regularly insist they’re straight. and romance is off-limits. emotional intimacy is withheld. it’s always waved away with being a performance, or an experiment, or a thing they’re doing because they’re horny and don’t have a boyfriend. 

and think about how often queerbaiting with women involves maneuvering them into a situation where they kiss onscreen but in a purely performative way (the example that springs inevitably to mind is Veronica and Betty in Riverdale - images of them kissing were all over the marketing for the show, and in reality they kissed as part of a choreographed performance in-story - I can also think of several examples where it’s as part of a game, a dare or because their boyfriends tell them to/to titillate their boyfriends) or like...it’s not technically Queerbaiting but how often women specifically are made bisexual but only in a teehee coy ‘it’s sexy when girls kiss’ way.

whereas queerbaiting with men is an “I love you...bro” or a quiet moment or a point of emotional intimacy and them touching remotely sexually/romantically is seen as the Proof Of Queerness, which writers will often shy away from committing to

it only tends to become A Canon Queer Thing when men express physical/sexual intimacy (kissing or sex)

it only tends to become A Canon Queer Thing when women express emotional/romantic intimacy (dating, “I love you”s, or monogamy)

and I feel...Some Kind Of Way about this and how it slots into the experience of exploring your own wlw identity. how women are still assumed to be and treated as straight even if they’re regularly seeking/having sex with other women unless they a) reject men utterly or b) enter a monogamous relationship.

and it feeds into something I’ve thought about a lot over the years which is how thoroughly gendered the experience of bi/homophobia is (not in terms of how you identify but in terms of how the -phobe is reading you)

like ultimately it comes down to the idea that men define sexuality

all sexual contact with women is overridden/negated by sexual contact with men. women aren’t given the same power to define sexuality as men.

which means that if you are a man who kisses/sleeps with men even once, you are gay

if you are a woman, kissing/sleeping with a man even once will make you straight

so sexual contact between women isn’t threatening the way sexual contact between men is. however gay a woman gets you can always walk it back in the eyes of heteronormativity. but if a man Goes Gay even a little bit that’s his identity set in stone however many women he goes on to sleep with/date.

and ultimately not to be crass it’s about The World Revolving Around Men’s Dicks. literally. so much of the gendered construction of homo/biphobia is about a patriarchal society unable to comprehend the concept that you could sleep with a man and be unchanged by it. sex and sexuality has been framed so universally for so long in so many cultures as a matter of male power and that is so definitional to homo/biphobia and to mainstream ideas about sexuality.

and that means that homophobia and biphobia are very shaped by your perceived gender in relation to your attraction

gay men are threatening because male sexuality is seen as such a powerful, shaping force, that the mere presence of gay men could be enough to shape the sexuality of men around them. this horror of Being Turned Gay this utter distress at the fragility of heterosexuality is so foundational to the way homophobia is upheld and expressed. it’s vital to heteronormative masculinity to distance yourself from gayness by any means necessary, to violently reject gayness, because even slight contact with male sexual or romantic intimacy has the power to redefine you.

whereas a lot of lesbophobia rests on the idea that it’s a deliberate rejection of men, and a temporary one - you’ll find the right man. sex with a man has the power to change you. and because of that relationships between women aren’t seen as meaningful in their own right. like a lot of cultures prohibiting sex between men treat sex between women as a natural, expected adolescent experiment, or as irrelevant as long as you also fuck your husband. it isn’t threatening to heteronormativity to kiss, fuck or love women, until you say this is real and it matters. Then it’s threatening because you’re being mean. You’re saying the Not Serious Not Definitional relationship of women loving women is powerful, more powerful than the Defining Power of Man Dick, and that’s aberrant, and it’s also kind of seen as...childish? silly? like you just Don’t Understand that women loving women isn’t Real Attraction. you can’t define yourself through sex with women! they’re not men! women are defined by, they don’t define!

and as a bi woman who largely dates bi men, I’m particularly interested in the gendered nature of biphobia

bi men are assumed to be “really” gay and in the closet

bi women are assumed to be “really” straight and performing attraction to women for male attraction

and that brings us full-circle to glee

see Ty and I were talking about the two really offensive stories in glee which affected us as bi teenagers

he was talking about the story where Blaine says “I think I might be bi” and Kurt tells him “bi guys don’t exist, bisexual is just a label for closeted gay high schoolers”

I was talking about the story of Finn outing Santana, which is a CLUSTERFUCK. but aside from the outing, thinking about how everyone canonically knew that she was sleeping with Brittany but she was only put in danger when it was named as a queer love. like that she was still understood as entirely straight and Doing It For Attention even when holding hands, kissing and fucking another woman, as long as she didn’t call it love or a relationship.

and I’ve talked to a lot of other bi people about the experience of being a bi teenager and almost everyone who was read as a woman as a teenager speaks to doubting the veracity of their attraction to women, to being treated as an attention-seeker looking for male attention or someone going through an experimental phase. and I think that’s usually how we talk about biphobia. as being assumed “a straight person looking for attention”. but the experience of a lot of people of narratives about bi men are a bit different and so the experience of bi teenage boys is really different. for girls/”girls”, queerness is something that has to be constantly asserted and proved. for boys/”boys”, it’s straightness that has to be proved. even if you mostly date girls, if you ever like. kissed a boy at a party or expressed attraction to another guy then people assumed you were gay and your attraction to women was fake.

and the throughline isn’t comphet it’s. I guess...comp-liking-men. it’s the assumption that attraction to women is a shadow of attraction to men. it can’t possibly compete.

I have often expressed, often to girlfriends I just had sex with, my fear that I’m appropriating queerness by laying any claim to it. like they look at me like I’m an idiot but later they’ll tell me the same thing. and that’s a fragility that assumed-male queerness just doesn’t have. male heterosexuality is so fragile that anything straying even slightly away from it is seen as Deeply, Threateningly Queer. female heterosexuality is so default that queerness has to CONSTANTLY fight for any space against it - even glancing in the direction of heterosexuality is enough to negate queerness. if you sleep with a man, if you even express the opinion that a man is good-looking, you’re Straight Now. they’re mirror images of each other and ultimately yeah it really comes down to the expectation of male power 

and also kind of...the irrelevance of women’s feelings in sexuality? the construction of all sexuality (including heterosexuality) as Male Desire and Female Acquiescence - historically society tends to not give a shit what women want, feel or love as long as they have sex with their husbands and don’t run the risk of having another man’s babies. it honestly like, not to get all Straw Feminist on this but it comes down to the subjugation and dehumanisation of women. a woman in patriarchy is an object owned and used to serve a function and a relationship that doesn’t threaten the ownership or affect the function (you’re still having sex with him and he still knows your child is his) isn’t a threat. women aren’t owners, they’re owned. if you say ‘actually I belong to this other woman and not to you’ it becomes a threat. if you start refusing to be a wife or a sexual partner or a mother it becomes a threat. but “passionate friendships” and schoolgirl experimentation weren’t just tolerated but sometimes actively encouraged as long as you still fulfilled your function as a wife fully. like you can fuck other girls before you get married - that’ll help you learn to Do Sex without having you Tainted By Another Man. you can keep a live-in mistress as long as you understand that your husband will always take precedence - that way you can have those pesky emotional needs met but you won’t cheat on him with a man and cuckold him. it’s only when you say This Is Queer And This Matters And We Matter that it becomes a threat. when she starts mattering as much as him. when you don’t marry men but devote yourself to women. now you’re Failing In Your Function. obviously this isn’t how it’s framed now but like. these ideas seem to me to have a direct throughline to the ways queer women are recieved now - as either Basically Straight or as Aggressive Rejectors Of The Normal.

idk it’s 5:30 am now I should sleep. but. this is such a rich topic I could talk about it forever.