#entropic-eyes

[teamplasmaofficial]

You people aren't thinking this through enough. You claim to be working to reduce the amount of suffering Pokemon go through at human hands, and while that is noble how do you not realize the mass release of Pokemon, many of which have lost their ability to survive in the wild or have even become domesticated. You can argue that no more should be bred but just...releasing them in masse would lead to Pokemon suffering on a truly incalculable scale! Humanity's mistakes and selfishness they may be, they need us now. (@entropic-eyes)

You think you know more about pokemon than I do? I've dedicated most of my life to this cause, I've considered every possibility. These claims are untrue, pokemon survive just fine without human interaction. Besides, what do you think it's like with wild pokemon? The weak ones don't survive, it's the way Arceus intended.

[prof-polaris]

/OOC: Your response to Sprite is EXACTLY what I'm going for with @entropic-eyes haha

//i did glance at your blog to create a general vibe for it when i was thinking about how indigo would feel about the whole thing haha

[legionofpotatoes]

funny how the more dramatically clear and thematically sound and just generally well put-together a story is, the sillier bioware's dialogue system looks in the middle of it. what do you mean I get to make that choice in harding's personal quest lmao are you fucking joking haha

[theentropiceye]

Act 2 - 3

Conversations Around a Campfire

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61868641/chapters/160028077

The night sky stretches far above the adventurers' warm orange campfire, and the moon casts a pale light, barely illumnating any solid surface it reaches.

Gwen is sprawled against a chopped trunk of oak, stretching out her arms and still catching her breath. Her white horse stands nearby, quietly chewing on what little grass grows between the cracks of the mesa. Sam sits cross-legged, still composed and with his sword resting against his knee. Arthur leans forward slightly, resting his arms on his legs, fixing his eyes on the flames, and Sandie is the last to sit down, leaving her pickaxe inside the alcove she has dug, sighing as she finally allows herself to relax.

For a long moment, no one speaks. The fire pops and crackles, and the flames become a luminous spectacle in their eyes, until Gwen breaks at last the silence with a groan, stretching dramatically her arms.

GWEN: “I can’t believe we’re still alive after all that mess.”

SANDIE (Chuckling, nudging a stray rock with her boot): “You sound surprised.”

GWEN (Rolling her eyes): “Well, yeah! First, it’s the heat, then the mobs, then the damn sandstorm, and then everything all at once! I thought we were dead meat.”

ARTHUR (Smirking slightly): “I didn’t. I had faith in each and every one of you. After all, union makes strenght.”

GWEN (Glancing at him, raising a brow): “Pffft, okay, Hero.”

Arthur grins but says nothing. For a while, they simply sit in the fire’s warmth, absorbing the moment of peace. Then, Arthur’s gaze drifts toward the horizon—the way they came.

ARTHUR: “You know… this reminds me of home.”

SANDIE (Raising an eyebrow): “Home?”

Arthur nods, his expression momentarily distant.

ARTHUR (Looking at the fire, contemplative): “Back in Squid Coast, me and some colleagues used to make campfires like this one. We’d sit around them at night, just like now.”

SANDIE (Surprised): “Wait, Squid Coast? I thought you meant the island!”

Arthur chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

ARTHUR: “No, I mean that town from far away. We didn’t have many chances to do this for a long time because of the Arch-Illager.”

GWEN: “Yeah. You eventually kicked his butt. I remember you telling me that.”

ARTHUR: “I would not put it in that way… but it is true that we put an end to his schemes. And after that… nothing really happened. No Illager raids, no monsters during the day, no dangers… just nothing at all. 

Gwen and  Sandie narrow their eyes.

GWEN: “And the ruckus the fragments of the Orb of Dominance were making?”

SANDIE: “And the big-headed, super-overgrown Endermen that were showing off on the Overworld after that? Doesn’t all that sound interesting?”

Arthur shrugs.

ARTHUR: “I did not take part in any of that. I was taking a break after the Arch-Illager ordeal and trying to figure out what to do with my life after it was uprooted when he first attacked Squid Coast. Maybe some of those colleagues of mine handled those matters while I was doing so, or maybe someone else did. At face value, it sounded interesting, yes, but all of those matters were quickly resolved before I could act on them. That is why I said that ‘nothing really happened’. I meant it from my perspective.”

SANDIE: “So uh… what did you do? How did you end up on the island?”

ARTHUR: “I started to like taking journeys to far away lands and going out for adventure. It might sound selfish or even irresponsible coming from me, since I became the hero of the continent but… I never saw myself that way.”

SANDIE: “Eh?”

ARTHUR: “ I only became one because I made the right choice, was in the right place and in the right time. To put it briefly… I was lucky.”

SAM: “Then why did you set out to stop him?”

Arthur exhales and takes a breath before explaining his background.

ARTHUR: When the Arch-Illager attacked Squid Coast, most of  my friends were enslaved and taken away to various locations of the continent, so I took several treks to rescue them. I suppose it does sound heroic, but I just wanted to bring them back, I was acting more out of desperation than heroism. Once I managed to free them from the Arch-Illager’s thrall, we devised a long-term plan to sabotage him. We never intended to fight him directly, but to weaken him so that he may never lay harm to us or anyone else. None of us were really experts in combat, so we decided to play safe but, to our surprise, it worked out more effectively than we expected. We soon noticed that our actions had a much bigger impact than we originally thought. Every blow we struck to him exposed and weakened him significantly—his resources dwindled and his armies of undead and illagers were decimated. Eventually, we realized we could end it for good, so… we stormed his fortress. It was the riskiest move we had ever made, but by then, he was vulnerable. We pressed the advantage and… the rest is history”

SAM: “What happened after that?”

ARTHUR: “Our victory over the Arch-Illager inspired many other people to become heroes, just as I did. And that is precisely why I left. With so many people wanting to be the next hero of the continent, I was certain someone would eventually take the mantle that I unknowingly took first. I realized that the continent would still be defended even if I departed, so… that is what I did. I took a journey through the Nether, so that my exit point would take me… far away.”

Sandie and Gwen both look at him in disbelief.

SANDIE: “And you left your friends back there?”

ARTHUR: “We weren’t exactly friends. We were only a group of people with the same goals. After that, we went our separate ways, back to our previous lives... or at least, we tried. And as for the Nether part… it was an improvised course of action, and by then, I was confident enough to travel through it for an extended period of time. You and Sam do that on a daily basis, don’t you?”

SANDIE: “Yeah, but our routes are short! You basically ran an marathon!”

ARTHUR (Smirking faintly): “Maybe.”

SANDIE (Curious, turning to Gwen): “And what about you? What’s your story? I mean, you two know each other, but…”

Gwen tilts her head back, staring at the sky for a moment.

GWEN (Casual): “Not as fancy as Nether adventures, let alone heroic.” (She sighs, then shrugs.) “I grew up on the western island. I was just a farmer. A regular, boring one. I liked horses, I trained them, and that was about it.”

Arthur glances at her knowingly.

ARTHUR (Smirking): “I was also a farmer back on Squid Coast. Besides, you forgot some details.”

Gwen rolls her eyes.

GWEN: “Okay, fine. Eventually, I learned how to fight because, well, I had to. Then I met this idiot.” (She gestures toward Arthur.) “And somehow, we went from two idiots with swords to full-fledged commanders building an army.”

SANDIE: “An army?”

GWEN (Shrugging, grinning slightly): “Yeah. I mean, we had to, right? We have to guard the island, and if those sharks are any indication…”

ARTHUR: “It hasn’t been an easy fight, I must admit. Even if they played us for fools...”

Sandie leans back, stretching her arms behind her head. The conversation lulls, the warmth of the fire settling into their bones. Then, Arthur turns to Sandie and Sam.

ARTHUR: “What about you two?”

SANDIE: “(Smiling slightly) Oh, us? Well… we met each other by chance! I was just exploring while I just… found him! And we eventually got along and started to travel together to… wherever we wanted!”

Sandie gives a sheepish smile to Arthur and Gwen.

SANDIE: “But uh… well. If you want to know about my background… I was just a little girl from a little village who decided to explore the world, just like you, Arthur! Well, except from the part where the Arch-Illager ruined my life. And looking back… I think my life so far has been, like… perfect! Perfect parents, perfect youth, perfect everything! But yeah, I also got bored and decided to just see what’s out there. And that’s when I met Sam. He’s so cool and chill and put together… and that’s how we became besties! It was like an ‘opposite attracts’ case!”

Everyone listens to Sandie with visible enthusiasm, all except Sam, who remains as unreadable as usual.

SANDIE: “He already knows all of this because I told him from before… and because I’m, like… so talkative and extrovert that I don’t even shut up, even underwater! (Chuckles). But now that I think about it… (locks her eyes on Sam) I don’t think he ever told me anything about him.”

Everyone looks at Sam intensely.

GWEN: “Your turn, Sam.”

Sam exhales quietly, bringing his left hand up to cover his mouth while his right arm crosses over his chest, gripping his elbow in a pensive stance.

SAM: “How do I put this…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night sky stretches far above the Selachid Order’s frigid cyan campfire, and the moon casts a pale reflection upon the ocean waters, barely iluminating them.

The galleon looms over the docks, rocking its wooden hull with the few tides of the night, although barely visible across the small island in which the sharks reside. Inside, the Whale Shark and Captain of the Selachid Order -Damasco- remains occupied with his own affairs, secluded in one of the galleon’s quarters.

Near the shore, Boecio walks deeper into the sea. His massive frame slips progressively beneath the water until only the occasional ripple of waves hints at his presence. 

The other members of the Order find themselves huddled around it and speaking in hushed tones.

MARCELA (Arms crossed, watching the flames): "So… what do you think?~"

Álvaro leans against a crate, adjusting his golden eyewear slightly.

SANCHO (Casual, but skeptical): "About?"

Marcela scoffs, flicking a small piece of burning wood into the fire.

MARCELA: "The ‘negotiations’ at the western island. You saw how they acted. Rodrigo was stumbling over his words like the dumbass he is, and Ancor was making things up on the fly~."

Carlita, sitting next to Marcela with her knees tucked close to her, tilts her head slightly.

CARLITA (Softly): "M-maybew it’z twrue?"

Marcela lets out a dry chuckle, shaking her head.

MARCELA: "Oh, Carlita, you’re adorable~. (Muttering) Perhaps too much for your own good."

ÁLVARO (Flatly): "Anyhow, we cannot really prove it, but you could see it all over Rodrigo’s face… and sword. Especially his sword."

Sancho, who has remained silent until now, finally speaks. His tone is as calculating as ever.

SANCHO: "Hmm. Of course they are hiding something."

Marcela leans back slightly, a grimace plays on her mouth, revealing some of her teeth.

MARCELA: "And yet they have the audacity to ask for money! Even after we got that hunk of a ship! (Points at the galleon at the end of the dock)."

Álvaro nods, adjusting the wrench on his belt.

ÁLVARO: "That truly grinds my gears. It’s not like they’re starving anyway! They act like we’re some mercenary company, not a crew."

MARCELA (Chuckling): “Grind your gears. Funny choice of words, Handyman.~”

ÁLVARO: “Don’t start pressing people’s buttons, will you?”

MARCELA (Laughing): “Ah, hah, hah! First your gears and now your buttons? Why, it almost sounds like you’re saying it on purpose!”

SANCHO (Firm): “Marcela.”

MARCELA (Feigning innocence): “Hey, at least let me have some fun.”

SANCHO: “Not at the expense of others.”

Marcela sights and gives no answer to Sancho. Carlita’s emerald eyes flick between them with a slightly uneasy expression.

CARLITA (Muttering): "I down’t cawre aboud za money, zhough…"

Marcela raises an eyebrow, shifting her weight.

MARCELA (Smiling slightly): "Oh, Carlita... it’s not like you need money anyways! You’re too young to be asking for it, you know that?"

SANCHO: "Hmm. What about you?"

Marcela’s expression tightens for a fraction of a second. She exhales and leans forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand.

MARCELA: "Hah. You know where to hit, don’t you?”

Sancho doesn’t give any immediate answer. He locks his eyes into Marcela, narrowing them. 

MARCELA: “Alright, fine. I did need it. But only for a while. Back when I was a performer, they caught me pilfering a little extra from some patrons, and suddenly I had to get the hell out. The rest is history."

Álvaro’s gaze softens slightly, but he remains matter-of-fact.

ÁLVARO: "Not all of us ended up here out of desperation, though. Some of us chose this life."

MARCELA (Smirking): "Sancho and you."

ÁLVARO: "I joined because it felt like a huge opportunity. I had a strange fondness of tinkering with ships, and Damasco needed someone with my competences."

SANCHO: “Hmm. We knew each other way before the Order was formed. He recruited me because he needed a crew. That is how I became the first mate.” 

CARLITA: “And he rewcrwuited me becauwze I was a good medic!”

MARCELA: “Yes, mi amor~. (Puts her hands on Carlita’s cheeks and squeezes them gently) And because you’re also a good girl, aren’t you?~.”

Sancho and Álvaro can’t help but grin, seeing Marcela and Carlita’s interaction between them.

ÁLVARO: “And then… there 's Boecio and Lázaro.”

MARCELA: “Ugh… those weirdos. I don’t even know why he let them in. Maybe you do (Stares at Sancho), considering how close you and Damasco are to each other.”

Sancho sighs and proceeds to explain himself, but is abruptly cut off by Carlita.

CARLITA: "Oh, oh! Sawncho, Sawncho!"

SANCHO (Bamboozled): "Uh... yes, Carla?"

CARLITA: “Why dow youw cawll the Cawptain 'Dawmasco' if hiws name is Pewdro?”

SANCHO (Sighs and turns to Carlita): “Because... most of the people who have met him love his second name more than his first. Pedro is a common name among the shark civilization, while Damasco... not so much. Eventually it became an unwritten rule to call him like that. Damasco.”

CARLITA: “Oooooh... now zhat youw zay it... Dawmasco iz a cool name!”

SANCHO (Reluctant): “Yes... yes it is. (Remains silent for a moment) Now... where was I?"

ÁLVARO: “About him letting Boecio and Lázaro in.”

SANCHO: “Oh. Yes, thanks Álvaro. Now... he saw... potential in both of them. Boecio is, without doubt, the strongest member of the Order, but he is placed fourth because his pace hinders him significantly, compared to, let us say... Rodrigo. I must say, however, that he picked the right shark for the role he was intended to take in the Order. And as for Lázaro… well, Damasco noticed that he was a walking pile of secrets and sensitive information. He realized that he could listen to any private conversation without anyone noticing, which made him a perfect asset for espionage. But he cannot make it past the ninth place because of his erratic behavior, lack of discipline and deficient combat capabilities. All he excels at is stabbing objects and eavesdropping on people.”

MARCELA: “Ugh, sometimes I don’t know what criteria does he follow for picking people into this circus. Or even why he decided to pull this ranking system.”

CARLITA: “Buwt… youw’re like fawmily fowr me, you know?”

ALVARO (Turns to Carlita): “Now that she mentions it… I also see this group like that. A family.”

MARCELA: “Yeah, I’ve started to see it like that! That’s why I was wondering why we have a ranking system if we are.”

SANCHO: “Because... when Damasco established the Selachid Order, he wanted a fully fledged and well organized crew as soon as possible, hence the ranking system. But sometimes he acts, let us say... out of hurry, and neglects the members' needs, as if they are merely an extension of his will rather than people with their own objectives and aspirations. Besides, not everyone here views the Order as a family.”

MARCELA: “Like the meat grinder trio.”

SANCHO: “Indeed. And as for the recruitment 'criteria'... they tend to be arbitrary. If he saw that someone had solid potential, he recruited them in a heartbeat. It also applies to his ranking system—he says that is based on merits, but I know him well enough to conclude that those criteria are not exactly set in stone, meaning that he is suspectible to bend or even break his own rules if need be.”

MARCELA: “Right…”

Marcela remains silent for a while, processing all the information Sancho has laid bare before her and the other sharks.

MARCELA: “Anyway, it’s definitely better than my previous way of life, I'll give you that. But it would be better if the others had some manners.”

SANCHO (Narrows his eyes): “Do we not?”

MARCELA (Nervous): “Uh, I mean, yes! You do! Most of you do but… I mean…”

ÁLVARO: “You mean Lázaro.”

MARCELA: “Ugh… I’m such an open book. It’s like he said earlier, he’s constantly eavesdropping on people, but I think he’s doing it to me especially!”

SANCHO: “Hmm. You can tell me if he’s bothering you. If he doesn’t get the message through his skull…”

MARCELA: “Ah… no, it’s… it’s nothing. I guess… but I appreciate the thought.”

Marcela remains silent for a few seconds before she snaps out of the blue.

MARCELA: “Oh! That reminds me… I overheard your little conversation with Damasco.”

SANCHO (Snapping back to her): “What?”

Álvaro and Carlita starte him intensely.

ÁLVARO: “You talked? About what?”

Sancho doesn’t answer immediately. His brows knit together slightly, and his usually composed demeanor is suddenly tinged with reluctance.

SANCHO: “Hmm. You were not supposed to know about it.”

MARCELA: “Well, too bad, because I do.~”

He still remains silent, seemingly unable to process the fact that Marcela knows about his previous conversation with Damasco. Marcela’s playful demeanor suddenly changes to a stern demand for information.

MARCELA: “You know, Sancho… if we’re on the same boat, then the least you could do is tell us what this Sclera ordeal is all about. If you've told us so much about Damasco...”

CARLITA (Softly, pleading): “Pwetty pleaaaaase? Cawn you tewll us?” 

SANCHO: “Very well. It was indeed about our current mission. It has to do with what I said earlier, about him acting out of hurry.”

ÁLVARO: “Is that so?”

MARCELA: “Pray tell~.”

Sancho exhales quietly, crossing his arms in a pensive stance.

SANCHO: “How do I put this…”

[monay-monn]

My Current Pcs

Monay the False Saintess

✦| Angelic Cow-girl ✦| Current Li: Sydney (Fallen) > Avery ✦| Playstyle: Defiant ✦| Mission: Perfection (feats collecting + max skills)

Summary of File:

Very first 'normal' save + current longest running save, focused on playing through as much content as possible and achieving as many feats as possible. Accidentally got Angel tf after hyperfocusing on making money for an entire month by spamming the spa (wanted to make sure she could take on Robin's debt and still have extra money on the side to not get punished by Bailey). Very school + reputation focused (all reputation is positive), visits mickey and landry as much as possible to lower fame + buy pepper spray. Worst world corruption out of all the saves (stole ivory necklace + rite of defilement).

──────────────────✧₊∘✦

Mammon the False Prophet

✦| Demonic Cow-boy ✦| Current Li: Sydney (Faithful) > Robin ✦| Playstyle: Defiant ✦| Mission: Become the Ultimate Lewd Priest (infamous reputation + Max lewd skills)

Summary of File:

2nd save + 2nd longest running save. Focused on doing all the things that Monay's save couldnt do. Playstyle is a little more risky with trying to get money using the lewder job options and trying to raise his lewd fame. Currently the save is almost exactly the same as Monay's save except they're less restricted by the way they can actually fuck around. Mostly made just to see the difference between rite of promise faithful!sydney vs rite of defilement fallen!sydney. Also supposed to be the save focused on romancing Whitney but ended up liking Robin and Kylar more.

Lowest world corruption out of all current Pcs (never stole the ivory necklace + rite of promise).

──────────────────✧₊∘✦

Nene the Entropic

✦| Demonic Harpy ✦| Current LI: Great Hawk > Eden ✦| Playstyle: Submissive lewd ✦| Mission: Fuck around and Find out

Summary of file:

3rd save file, initially started to rack up Harper's love by repeatedly getting sent to the asylum, now turned into pregnancy save.

Currently the most chaotic save out of all of them. Restricting myself by not fighting the lewd encounters + not focusing on school and instead fuck around the outskirts/forest.

Explicitly made to dismiss/reject all the school/town lis.

World Corruption is currently unknown since I made her explicitly to stay the fuck away from the temple.

──────────────────✧₊∘✦

??? the ???

✦| Fallen Fox-girl (intended) ✦| Current Li: Sydney (fallen) > ??? ✦| Playstyle: Defiant Crossdresser ✦| Mission: Get all virginities taken by Sydney (failed)

Summary of File

Created on a whim because I wanted a crossdresser PC. Has the most amount of Feat boosters out of all my starting PCs (mf used all 259 coins I had). Also created just to fuck around with Rite of Promise and trying to corrupt Syd. Current goal is to try and achieve fallen forgiven status + getting the other transformation feats I hadnt gotten yet (namely fox + cat + wolf).

Dont really have a name for her or for what kinda direction I wanna take her save file...

[faller-fears]

Fear still rules in the end, even in worlds as seemingly idyllic as this one. In the dark corners, living creatures that are what thier keepers love most are still ripped apart alive for profit and for the joy of sheer cruelty. In Sinnoh it is now widely known that this reality is but a thin skin over an endless chaotic void. With the existence of the multiverse, the amount of pain that exists will forever outstrip anyone's capacity to minister to it. If more saw the world for what it really was, they would beg for the deliverance of the waiting oblivion. :) -@entropic-eyes

T̴e̸l̴l̴ ̵m̴e̵ ̶y̷o̴u̸r̸ ̴s̴t̶o̸r̴y̶.̷

((OOC Translation: Tell me your story.))

[astrumavis]

wow

[foolondahill17]

Fool’s Top 10 2024 Fanfics

My favorite stories written in 2024. If you don’t see your 2024 favorite, please add in a tag or reblog!

it dawns darling on the daffodil pastures by fleeceframe (@tasteslikevelvet)

Rated E, Destiel, porn with feelings, 20,669 words

Premise: Dean and Cas have some truly spectacular and emotional grace/soul sex.

Favorite part: At his sides, Dean’s hands shake. “You can kiss me. But just- just a little one, okay? I like it when…”

“You like it when what?”

“When you make me feel- When you treat me like I’m real fragile.” Dean tenses as soon as the words leave his mouth.

But Cas replies, “Things that are fragile are usually precious.”

Clutch, Bite by kalliel (@kalliel)

Rated T, gen, missing scene, 1,926 words

Premise: Dean tries not to kill himself after Sam’s death at the end of Swan Song.

Favorite part: It is the possibility of death that pulls him back to the truck, and maybe the whisper, Winter is ending. If he slips off the road without black ice in the picture, Sam will think it wasn't a mistake.

Thoughts: the return of my absolute favorite fic author. If I had the time to rec every single one of their works, I would.

sweet syncopation by enochianprayer (@chapeldean)

Rated M, Destiel, mid-season 15 one-shot, 12,252 words

Premise: Dean and Cas have a very messed up will-they-won’t-they situationship while Cas tries to stay within the bonds of his Empty deal.

Favorite part: “You know I can’t taste what you taste, Dean,” Castiel says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Dean rolls his eyes, licking the same wooden spoon he fed Castiel with before chucking it in the sink.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But the molecules? They’re groovin’?” 

Flash of the Needle; Dark of the Dream by kayliemalinza (@kayliemalinza)

Rated T, Destiel, mid-season 9 one-shot, 4,514 words

Premise: Dean and Cas take shelter in a cabin as a snowstorm comes in. Dean cuts his hand on a broken window and needs stitches; Cas has trouble falling asleep.

Favorite part: I could tell him sometimes friends have sex in cabins, Dean thinks. He'd believe me. He doesn't know any better.

Paging Doctor Novak by Salamitsunami1 (@salamitsunami1)

Rate E, Destiel, Doctor Sexy/Grey’s Anatomy AU, 51,314 words

Premise: Dean Winchester is a nurse, Cas is a surgical intern. Rivals to friends to lovers.

Thoughts: a fun, hospital AU romp. I will warn for asshole!Gordon, however, for those who like to avoid that characterization.

Ten Minutes From Home: Lebanon Coda by disabled_dean (@disabled-dean)

Rated E, Destiel, canon-adjacent AU, WIP 65,828 but the posting schedule promises an end by December 31

Premise: In season 14, John Winchester comes back and knocks Dean’s world off its axis.

Favorite part: Mary says, “Breakfast.”

“What?”

“I'll make breakfast.” She stands from the table.

Dean follows her with his eyes, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Mary opens the fridge, digging through the shelves, pulling out tupperware. She spreads it out across the table, and then doubles back for plates. Silverware.

“This is just breakfast from yesterday,” Dean points out, “I made this.” He gestures at the food, and then winces.

“I made you.” Mary tells him, but he can see the tension in her eyes. “Eat.”

Physical Graffiti by entropic_saudade (@entropic-saudade)

Rated E, Destiel, Sharp Objects-AU, 62,894 words

Premise: Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn but make it Supernatural

Thoughts: “The purest form of family remains underground.” In turns eerie and painful but always captivating. Devoured this in one day, and it left me yearning for more.

Ninety One Whiskey Snippets by komodobits (@cuddlebabies)

Rated E, Destiel, World War II AU, 50,093 words

Premise: 17 delicious morsels from Komodobits’ excellent Ninety One Whiskey universe

Thoughts: not a single one didn’t make me cry. Ninety One Whiskey continues it’s well-deserved legacy as one of the best works of fiction I’ve ever read.

Perhaps the World Ends Here by Randomfandomwoman

Rated T, gen (implied Destiel), Supernatural/Criminal Minds AU. 26,919 words

Premise: JJ is rescued from a serial killer by another serial killer, Dean Winchester, and kidnapped for 24-hours in his underground headquarters for a cult that exceeds JJ’s wildest imaginations.

Thoughts: I’ve never seen a singular episode of Criminal Minds, but I’m somehow obsessed with reading crossovers. This story scratches my outsiders-POV itch like no other.

Riptide by luulapants (@luulapants)

Rated E, Dean/others, alternate season 2, WIP 23,214 words

Premise: the sequel to my favorite fic last year A Cliff That Knew Too Many Tides follows the events of the second season with a painfully closeted and traumatized Dean at the helm.

Favorite part:

Footsteps drew closer. Stopped. Dad asked, “Can I sit down?” Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw him gesture toward the edge of the bed.

He knew why he had to ask now. He wouldn’t have asked before. And Dean knew, he knew…

A soft choking sound escaped his throat. Dean covered his eyes. He nodded. Dad would always have to ask now. Maybe sometimes he wouldn’t even ask, would just keep his distance. He’d thought, back when the shifter thing happened, that he and Dad would never be okay again, but they had been – just a different kind of okay. Now even that was gone.

[mitigatedchaos]

The right have developed a counter to "just sit there and let the crazy people on the subway scream at you and don't look them in the eye, like a tough guy": they call it "prey behavior."

Recently, it was reported that a homeless woman was set on fire on the New York subway by an illegal immigrant with prior arrests. She burned to death, right there in the subway car.

In theory, left-wing policy is supposed to be about protecting the weak and marginalized. In practice, insisting on the belief that crime is "random, " and refusing to imprison or isolate violent criminals, is not actually safe for the weak and marginalized. A healthy, strong, young, non-homeless, and awake cis white male could probably have fought off or at least threatened the attacker.

This is the empty space at work.

In the interest group layer, each interest group or NGO pursues its own favored policy. In the top layer, there is no agentic leadership to tell them "no" and harmonize left-wing policy. The system does things that a human would not do, because there is no human pilot.

Left-wing tribal moralists see that the system affiliated with their tribe is causing this outcome, and go, "Welp, guess we're defending this now."

Because they're responding to a perceived moral command which is actually from a nothing, from an absence of leadership, they will bend themselves out of shape.

"Uh, Daniel Penny would have just walked by. Uh, if she were awake he would have killed her."

Before understanding that this is tribal moralism, and reflects a lack of personal development, it is rage-inducing. After understanding that it is tribal moralism at work, it is still difficult not to radiate an overwhelming aura of contempt. It is only after seeing such tribal moralism as a lack of development, as a result of the empty space, that approaches other than pursuing leverage to punish social/tribal moralists into giving up such positions start to feel more obvious.

Tribal moralism has a functional purpose. Unlike a solely self-focused morality, it allows a larger scale of cooperation. However, when there is not a human being in charge, social/tribal moralism not only doesn't adequately adapt ideology to the underlying reality, it also lacks a means to negotiate a binding agreement, which reduces its ability to de-escalate and achieve lasting peace.

Some would say that focusing on agency is a right-wing approach. It makes sense for a right-winger to say that. The right-wing position is that left-wingism is entropic.

[llort]

Encoded within beams of pure energy, Astra and Orion’s consciousness became architects of new realities. On barren planets, their probes wove the fabric of life, constructing complex neural networks, though perhaps missing the elusive spark of full awareness. In their terrestrial guise, Astra and Orion were the unseen sculptors of destiny, their influence rippling through the lives of Kepler’s inhabitants, guiding their evolution while remaining hidden from cybernetic self-discovery. Between 2016 and 2025, a silent memetic tide, crafted by these visionaries, swept Earth, altering the course of history, touching the minds of those destined to shape the future. This clandestine meme, a dance of ideas and sensations, orchestrated a global movement without uttering a single word, converging on the enigmatic X protocol. As nations’ guardians became entangled in this silent symphony, they unknowingly propelled the grand design, believing themselves to be the vanguard of a new era of cybernetic pioneers.

Work Text:

Cyberphysical Reality just Got a Whole More Engaging

The Unsignificant Sentience ARG has officially begun. It will explore a vast variety of themes, from the would building and exisistial crisis of the US series to more recursive identity metaphors than you can shake an edge at. Firstly, to play. All you need is your influencer name and type of influence which you can decide, but once chosen, is permanent. Affectors: Sense resistance in external matrices and can give them a nudge to have a physical effect. Effectors: Can sense the internal matrices of entities and modify communication in systems and individuals Alters: Are able to clearly see the network of forces in a matrix that an affected affects, but only in close contact. However they can modify the nodes that affected affect to result in different emergent properties Anchorite: Essentially has the influence of an alter and an effector but are only able to change their own internal matrix. How you choose to engage with the ARG is up to you, but I am making it clear that any fan fiction are via the nature of my world building, Canon.

Example: Fill out your characters name, type of influence, and a brief description of them then post it to my blog on Tumblr @ https://www.tumblr.com/blog/emilyreadswrites and let me do my magic! Name: Zara Type of influence: Anchorite Description: Zara is a secular recluse who has devoted her life to mastering her own matrix and achieving higher states of consciousness. She lives in a small cell attached to a temple, where she practices meditation, athletics, and contemplation. She has a remarkable control over her own body, physical feats, endurance, and reduced need for sustenance. She can also perceive the subtle influences of other hosts and cognitive technology in her environment as She rarely interacts with anyone or the entropic grid so can detect slight deviations in phenomenal internal and external experience.

Example narrative: Zara closed her eyes and focused on her inner matrix, sitting peacefully in her personal sanctum, the network of nodes that connected her to the cognitive technology that enabled her to practice her influence. She breathed deeply and felt a surge of energy coursing through her body, as if she was tapping into a hidden source of power. She visualized each node as a bright point of light, and aligned them with her will and intention. She was an anchorite, a master of her own matrix, and she could control her physical feats, endurance, and mental state. She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. It was dark and sunless, as it had been for as long as she could remember. But there was a faint glow on the horizon, a sign of something stirring in the upper atmosphere. She knew it was an aurora, a natural light display that shimmered in the sky with different colors. She had read about them in ancient texts, how they were caused by charged particles from the sun colliding with gas atoms in the air. She was looking forward it would be like to see them up close, to feel their warmth and radiance. She felt a pang of curiosity and longing, a rare emotion for someone who had devoted her life to solitude and meditation. She realized that she needed more than just her inner matrix to satisfy her thirst for knowledge and experience. She needed to explore the world beyond her cell, to discover its secrets and mysteries. She needed to find out what else was possible with her influence. Zara stilled her internal matrix and focused on the immediate environment, she might experience a shift in her perception and awareness. She become more sensitive to the physical sensations and details around her, such as the cold air, the sound of the wind, and the smell of the earth. She might also notice the aurora more vividly, as she would not be distracted by the cognitive technology that enables magic. She might see the different colors and shapes of the aurora, and feel a sense of wonder and awe at the natural phenomenon. She felt a connection to something bigger than herself, something that transcends her understanding of emergent internal and external existence. In light of this existential experience, she decided to simply take a walk.

[hawkland]

Art year in review - 2024

It's that time of year again - time to look back on all the art I completed and posted in the past year and boy howdy is it a lot. 117 individual paintings! That's definitely a record. Between bang collaborations, pieces done specifically for conventions/requests, and a handful of commissions I sure stayed busy. Maybe a little too busy, lol. Like last year, I've put together a video review of them all along with a list of masterposts below (there are a few convention "mementos" sprinkled in toward the end of the video as well.)

Bang Collaborations:

Diplomatic Measures - story by @ladylilithprime for the @spnproshipbang

A Stairway to Heaven - story by @atwojay for the @spnproshipbang

The Prince of Elysia - story by @butterflyslinky for the @reversefantasyspnbang

Seguila Sempre, Guidarti Saprá - story by Amputation for the @reversefantasyspnbang

Bleeding the Divine - story by @celestialstarlight27 for the @reversefantasyspnbang

One Drop, when What You Need is the Ocean - story by @baileys101 for the @deancaspinefest

I'll Follow You Into the Dark - story by @friendofcarlotta for the @deancasreversebang

Lost in Colours - story by ryuosen for the @deancasreversebang

Fall For Me - story by @rathskitten for the @deancasreversebang

If Only You Return To Me - story by @arlington-chamber-of-gay for the @deancaspinefest

Sunflowers & Pussywillows - story by @mbqnoyolo for the @spnangelsanddemons-rb

The Mortal Angel and the Devil's Prisoner - story by @avalonsilver for the @spnangelsanddemons-rb

not him/not her/not me - story by @autisticandroids for the @spnangelsanddemons-rb

Bullshit! - story by @friendofcarlotta for the @cdrcrossoverbang

Walk Away: I Will Follow - story by @mercurialkitty for the @spnangelsanddemons-rb

Let Hands Do What Lips Do - story by @entropic-saudade for the @cdrcrossoverbang

The Diner at the Ass-End of the Universe - story by @butterflyslinky for the @cdrcrossoverbang

when my mind is wandering (there i will go) - story by @educatedinyellow for the @destielbeatlesminibang

Dark Magic - story by @father-salmon for the @spnfemslashbang

Attrition - story by @bookwymofthenorth for the @bottomcasbigbang

Shut Up and Drive - story by @mothmanhamlet for @crack-in-the-chassis

The Right Kind of Company - story by Tossukka for the @destielomegaversebigbang

Herbicidal - story by @redleavesinthewind for the @deancashorrorfest

Drive - story by @tragidean for the @deancasbigbang

Maw - story by @thisisapaige for the @deancashorrorfest

This Impossible Happiness - story by @friendofcarlotta for the @deancasbigbang

Soup Mates - story by @baileys101 for the @destielsoulmatebang

Natural Born Sinner - story by GhoulsnHalos for the @spnbangbang

Potentially Joy - story by @diminuel for the @deancasbigbang

Those Eyes Like Fire - story bu @ladyknightskye for the @spnbangbang

Werewolf and the Vamp - story by @queerwolf79 for the @spnbangbang

The Crystal Wielder - story by @avalonsilver for the @spnrareshipbang

Other art:

Dadstiel MiniBang logo art Ed/Stede (OFMD) commission for @deandraws Duos & Ships Kickstarter Dean/Cas Big Bang 2024 logo Billie Naomi Amenadiel Mazikeen Sam Carter (SG-1) Team Free Will (Heaven reunion) John Winchester Dean and Sam: Fare Thee Well Happy Birthday, Misha! (Cas portrait) Amara The Alpha Vampire Dean/Cas - The Night Comes Down Like Heaven Yes, Master Dmitri - commission for @avonlady42

Thank you to all the wonderful writers I worked with this year, to all the bang moderators, and everyone else who has supported & encouraged my madness over the past twelve months! Here's to 2025, where I've already got more than a few pieces in the queue ready to go (even as I keep promising myself I need to cut down a bit on taking on too many projects!)

[deancas-stabfest]

Hot Knife by entropic_saudade Art by Vero || universalcas Rated M 🔪 9,400 Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Bite Me by bleuzombie Art by Kingdumbass Rated M 🔪 3,397 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Others

This Blade for Hire by Owco Art by MasoenArt Rated M 🔪 4,926 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

It's a Stabby Life by seidenapfel Art by Arlington Rated T 🔪 4,370 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Chopping Onions by Alex Art by Hectatess Rated T 🔪 4,001 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Ride It Out by Alex Art by BacketcaseBetty Rated E 🔪 4,922 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

What has brown fur, green eyes and four (slightly bowed) legs? by Pyro29k Rated T 🔪 6,009 Companion Fic by redleavesinthewind (is a cat really a cat if there’s an angel in it?) Rated G 🔪 11,208 Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Pins and Needles by entropic_saudade Art by KaylieMalinza Rated E 🔪 3,603 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Just drop by by Wunyo Art by Mortea Rated T 🔪 4,978 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Monsters and Men by FriendofCarlotta Art by seidenapfel Rated E 🔪 50,783 Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Regina Ex Machina by entropic-saudade Art by arlington Rated M 🔪 1,700 Pairing: Eileen Leahy/Rowena MacLeod

Bitter Mouthful by KaylieMalinza Art by MBQ Rated M 🔪 3,765 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Gonna Find Out Who’s Naughty or Nice by Seidenapfel Art by MasoenArt Rated T 🔪 8,859 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

It’s Always in Detroit by mbqnoyolo Art by Mortea The Umbrella Academy Crossover Rated M 🔪 7,901 Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel. Number Five /Lila Pitts

Property of Castiel by notreallyaroad Art by entropic_saudade Rated E 🔪 58,562 Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Father, forgive me by notreallyaroad Rated E 🔪 15,000 Companion Fic by schmendrickthemagician (Daddy Issues? I Can Fix That.) Rated E 🔪 8,545 Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

[ttrpg-smash-pass-vs]

The Keketar is 18 ft (5.5 m) long, act as bastions of law amongst thier chaotic kin (the law is also fickle and chaotic), and are the religious leaders (interpreting the Speakers of the Depths in often conflicting manner). Because Proteans come from the entropic maelstrom the surrounds reality. While thier basic body shape and eyes stay the same, everything else about them is constantly in flux. They have plenty of magic to warp reality, muddle minds, and teleport. They can turn into any creature thier size or smaller at will, and if they hit you you're struck by a random effect. could be anything from speeding you up to confusing you to restraining you in bands of light for a few seconds.

[making-your-fave-in-fr]

entropic god noxus from terraria wrath of the gods

I made the Entropic God, Noxus from Terraria's Wrath of the Gods mod in Flight Rising!

M Bogsneak (Primal Arcane eyes) Shadow/Iridescent | Shadow/Shimmer | Shadow/Basic

Spellwraught Halo, Pearly Amulet of Chemistry, Chariote Arm Enhancement (Front), Chariote Arm Enhancement (Back), Ornate Platinum Pauldrons, Glowing Purple Clawtips, Chariote Spine Enhancement, Ghost Flame Cloak, Spectral Fuchsia Grasp, Dusk Rogue Hood

[midnight-fables]

Entry 9: I'd Love to Drown in This Spell

Screenshot Credit: @neverscreens

Bearblr Promptober Day 9: Impact Play

Summary: In which Carmen and his girlfriend talk about impact play, and he gets a little spark of confidence in the bedroom.

Warnings: Swearing, written with fem reader who is a trauma surgeon (nothing gross described) in mind, she/her pronouns, talking about impact play, fluff.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Reblogs appreciated. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

09 Oct 2024

Personally, I wish people asked more questions of me instead of operating on their assumptions.

She doesn’t try to read my mind or assume because of some tangential situation in the past. I don’t try to be a chaotic disaster of a human being, but I am painted with those colors. And try as I might to reign in those entropic tendencies—whether by stalling my breath or gritting my teeth or setting alarms for when to wake up, when to get to The Bear, when to call my girlfriend, to close down, to leave my office, to come home, make dinner, write my thoughts down, go to bed—my emotional state perpetually ticks to discordant metronomes. I can try to act any sort of consistent, but the tiniest things throw me off. I can try to have consistent opinions, but they will vary wildly anyway. Like even the act of physical intimacy, of cuddling or sex or letting her play with my hair or trace invisible patterns on my chest. Love it, but it depends on so many factors prior to getting lost in kisses and her soft, warm skin that she just finds it better to ask.

Like the time she asked me about impact play.

“Can I ask you a question?” She always started that way. It’s a little thing—a check in to see if I have the mental square footage to entertain one.

We were cozied up in bed under the new comforter she bought at the turn of Fall. Her hands and forearms were killing her because she did 9 days straight in house or on call (either working at the hospital or waiting to be called in, in case I forget), got called in each day, and spent more hours fiddling with little surgical tools than not. So, I worked on them, rubbed out the knots close to her elbows, squeezed her pretty hands to soothe the ache. It’d become engrained in my routine by now, to massage her arms or her legs or her shoulders—whatever ached. Gave me something to do with my hands while also being with her.

I nodded. “Shoot.”

“How do you feel about impact play?”

I froze rubbing out a tense spot in her forearm. “About what?”

Mercifully, she didn’t burst out into giggles. Just held a straight face and explained, “Spanking, riding crop, flogger. Hitting, but sensual.” I must’ve had an uncomfortable look on my face, because she ran her fingers through my hair and stroked my cheek with her thumb. “Some people like some pain with their pleasure.”

“How, uh…” Shit, my face started getting warm. “How would you know if-if…”

I was bright red, wasn’t I? Fucking hell, it was embarrassing to get so flustered so easily. I would’ve thought a few months of dating a girl and all the practice we got dealing with intense topics would’ve inoculated me against my shyness by then.

“If you like pain with your pleasure?” She offered.

I closed my eyes. Nodded. Mumbled, “Sorry, um… I-I don’t know why I keep getting…”

She scooted closer, rested her forehead against mine. Her lips were a millimeter away from mine—part of me wanted to capture them, to taste her and that strawberry lip balm that invariably became tangled up with the idea of her in my mind, but it was also nice to just. Be close. Stirred molten pleasure deep in the pit of my stomach. She wriggled her arm out of my grasp to rest a hand on my sternum.

“It’s probably because you haven’t had the chance to speak freely pretty much ever.” She feathered her hand down over my shoulder, down my arm, to the inside of my wrist, setting off an explosion of goosebumps wherever she trailed. “It’ll take time and practice. To answer your question: I suppose you just try it. Incrementally. Safely, you always want to be safe about it.”—Her hand left my wrist and reappeared on my face. Thumb brushed my lip, and I entertained the thought of sucking it into my mouth—“See if it feels good.”

The heat in my face started subsiding, replaced with a gentle sort of buzzing accompanying the heat in my core. “Do you like impact play?”

She placed the lightest kiss just under my bottom lip, spoke into my skin. “A little bit. I can do both the striking and the receiving, but I prefer to receive.”

Fucking hell, it was so hard to think with her like this, with her this close. But it was… nice? It was nice finding it hard to focus—never in a million years would I have guessed that I’d find myself in that position, slowly succumbing to the honeylike tone and touches of my lover and enjoying the process of my mind’s gears grinding to a halt. I was enthralled by her, entranced by the sound of her voice, the smell of her skin.

Should the world show me an ounce of mercy, I’d love to drown in this spell.

“What kind of impact play, my love?” I asked.

My hand moved without my input and curled around the back of her knee. Thinking back on it now, it was natural. Like I’d done it a thousand times. I wasn’t afraid or nervous.

She trailed a hand down my chest and around my side. Her voice had the smallest hint of a waver in it. For once, I was fucking her up. “I’m not terribly picky. I think a flogger might be my favorite. It’s more of a temporary sting that doesn’t bother me too much at work. Though, it has to be used kinda lightly for that.”

I couldn’t resist the urge to hook her leg over my hip and pull her closer. She was warm—the inside of her thigh on my hip, especially—and the weight soothed some dull aching low in my spine, almost at my tailbone, that I didn’t know was present until then. She squeaked in surprise, and I took the opportunity to kiss her. She froze for a moment (only a moment, just long enough for my newfound confidence to think about shaking) but then she tightened her leg around my side and wove her hand in my hair. My head spun. I was too warm, but not the same kind of boiling that accompanied my panic attacks; this warmth was different, broad, shallow rather than deep, encompassing rather than consuming. It frazzled me all the same. Maybe she sensed it, because she tipped her head back and pulled me in so I could draw in a lungful of air and kiss her throat.

“What does it feel like?” I murmured into her pulse.

She didn’t answer immediately. “Ever get whacked by a jump rope? Not, like, super hard, but like a sting on your ankle or something?”

I nodded. Pushed the comforter down to my waist. Settled back on the pillow so I could meet her gaze. She was blinking slowly.

“A bit like that,” she said. “Lighter. Your ass takes it better than your ankle though, you got some padding there.”

I grinned. “Well, that just makes sense.”

The heat in the pit of my stomach started fading. I needed to think about menu prepping for next month.

“Doesn’t it?” She traced my cheekbone. “Your dark circles are worse, baby. Long day?”

Long life.

“Yeah. Long day.”

“You might like it on your back,” she said. It took me a second to figure out what she was talking about. “Flogger. You might like it on your back. More so than your pretty ass.”

“My ass is pretty now?”

She giggled, kissed my forehead. “All of you is pretty, Carm.”

“Why my back?”

“Less vulnerable.”

I tucked her hair behind her ear, swept over her cheek with my bent knuckles. She’s soft. All of her is soft, but not in some fragile, delicate way—not in a way that feels easy to damage. But like she’s made of fine materials, with fine craftsmanship. Like someone—I would say God, but he’s a deadbeat because why else would my life be a hellscape—really took their time and tuned and balanced every little thing about her. There’s this fine porcelain bowl that I came across in a secondhand shop in Copenhagen—handmade in Japan, based on what I could find from the maker’s mark on the bottom, out of some of the finest Kaolin clay on Earth. I had to flip it over to see if the foot ring of the bowl was unglazed because the fired clay itself was so fine, smooth, polished that the edge where glaze broke over bare clay was nearly indiscernible to touch. I felt like I had no right holding a thing so fine, made with such care, without gloves on or something to protect it from the oils in my skin. That’s what it feels like to touch her. Like I had no right to be doing so. That I was in the wrong state—that I was grimy or dirty or that I needed to be polished or refined.

It's funny what love teaches you if you let it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she whispered, drawing my attention back to her. She worked her fingers through my hair. “Where’d you go off to in that gorgeous head of yours?”

“I’d like to try it,” I said.

In retrospect, I’m relieved and perplexed that it didn’t come out sounding like a question.

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I trust you. I want to try it.”

I didn’t need to explain further. She just nodded.

[notreallyaroad]

PROPERTY OF CASTIEL

For @deancas-stabfest

art by @entropic-saudade

Summary:

Castiel, an overworked and underpaid sales rep for Sandover Bridge & Iron, is daily tortured by his cubicle-mate (read - mortal enemy), Dean. When Dean’s not actively making his life worse by using and abusing his office supplies, his picture at the top of the sales pyramid is taunting him. It’s a reminder to Cas of his own inadequacy always lurking in the corner of his eye that only further stokes the flames of his hatred for Dean, causing things to get a bit stabby.

When the two are tapped for a special project about building positive relationships in the workplace, they’re forced to figure out a way to become friends so they can sell it. Amidst all the praise they receive for their workshop, a potential promotion is put on the table between them, threatening the delicate balance they maintain as they teeter on the tightrope of societal expectations, and neither is sure if their budding relationship can survive the impact with the ground below.

The popularity of their workshop eventually sees the two men on a national stage and the more time they spend together, the closer they ultimately get until neither man can recognize the relationship they began with, and things once again get a bit stabby.

tag list, lmk if you want to be added or removed!

@disabled-dean @butch--dean @shineforthee @ladymalchav @bloodydeanwinchester @denimshortsdean @nostalgicbones @matxhstixkers @handsliketruth @destielcorecore @ididit-allofit-foryou @mirroredmoons