#everyday a new monstrosity

[redvelvetwishtree]

Footage from this attack is horrifying to watch, please why are people still defending and trying to find hollow excuses for this unreal state of things.

[0nlyhere4phil]

Rating All of The Howlters New Outfits (except the randomized ones)

Some of you actually asked for this, so here's my review of the Howlters new outfits!

Starting with Dils Formal:

I honestly don't know how to feel about this. It's just not Dil. It doesn't go with his nerdy dad vibe at all. It makes him look older, it doesn't fit him right, and the color is really weird. If they had gone with the blue and some different shoes I think I would have liked it more, but since they didn't put much effort into it it's just bad. Objectively it's an okay suit, but for Dil it just doesn't work. So yeah overall just a no 4/10.

Next His Sleepwear:

Why did they like this so much? What is actually wrong with them? If it was just the pants and the slippers it would have been fine, but the pants, the slippers, AND socks...it's just too much. No no no bad. 2/10.

Next His Party Wear:

What are they doing to him?? Who is this? I'm kind of just staring at this not knowing what to say, because I think if, minus that UGLY HAT, this was on a different and younger sim it would look okay. This looks like Dil is going through a midlife crisis. I like that the shoes match the shirt, thats nice, and I like the overall color pallet, BUT NOT ON DIL! So I'm weirdly torn, but since this look is on Dil I don't like it. Again it's not that bad but on Dil it's just horrible 4.5/10. I hate that fucking hat.

Next His Swimwear:

You don't get how relieved I am that they didn't put him in a fucking speedo. I like this a lot. This looks like a father, which is perfect for Dil. It's cute, it's simple, and I like the colors they chose. 9/10

Next His Hot Weather:

Meh. They didn't change much, they just made it worse. I prefered the original because I feel like the green looked better. Also wearing slippers on a hot day sounds absolutely HORRIBLE! 3/10

Next His Cold Weather:

I absolutely LOVE THIS! It's so fun! Dil in the horrible 80s dad aesthetic works perfectly! It's still nerdy as well! I feel like this is perfect. If they had made his whole wardrobe this over the top ugly neon nerdy look I would have loved it! 10/10

That's it for Dil. To say I'm disappointed is an understatement. I feel like they should have gone for nerdy Dad than whatever the hell they actually did. Next up is Tabitha.

Tabitha's Everyday:

This is just an upgraded version of her original outfit. I like the new hair color, though I wish they looked through different hairstyles cause the one they chose is not giving what it needed to give. I LOVE her new tattoo, I think it's fun that they gave her it. I also do like the shoes matching the hair. This is cute! 8.5/10

Next Her Formal:

I like the dress, but the outfit looks unfinished. They should have changed her makeup into something more dramatic to match the dress, and they also should have put some bracelets and necklaces on her. They did good on picking the main part of the outfit now they need to go back and finish it. 6/10 (I couldn't get a good screenshot with the tattoo sorry)

Next Her Sleepwear:

Slay queen. I love this honestly. I like how lavender has become her color. The sunglasses are iconic. The only thing I hate is SOCKS WITH SLIPPERS! THAT LOOKS LIKE IT FEELS HORRIBLE! Other than the sock and slipper combo this eats. 9.5/10

Next Her Party:

I beg your pardon? What is THIS and WHY was Dan so obsessed with it? This is horrible. I'm glad they remembered that necklaces and nails exist but I'm upset they exist on this monstrosity. Nothing about this goes together. THIS. IS. THEIR. WORST. LOOK. 1/10.

Next Her Swimwear:

It's kind of a mess but I kind of love it. I feel like it suits this new Tabitha. I don't have much to say other than it strangely works. 7/10.

Next Her Hot Weather:

Fuck right off. Daniel you know NOTHING about goths. This is horrible. This poor woman is going to feel so sticky and sweaty, and it wont even be worth it because this outfit is trash. Just no. 1.5/10.

Next Her Cold Weather:

I really like this. I love how throughout the outfit pink pops up, and I like that it makes sense for the category it's in. Good job Dan and Phil 9/10

That's it for Tabitha! For the most part her new outfits aren't bad. I like that they (unintentionally) gave her a pastel goth sort of vibe, I like that she does look like a streamer now, and I think the new tattoo is really cool. I will never forgive them for her party wear though. Moving on to Dalien.

Daliens Everyday:

This is fine. I wish the pants were the skinny jeans because those were more emo, and I wish he had black eyeliner. Overall it's not bad, but I prefer the original. Also they should have stuck with the purple highlights instead of changing them to red. 7.5/10

Next His Sportswear:

Ew ew ew. This is rancid. The hoodie makes him look bald, and I despise the ripped socks they gave him. I actually like the shorts though they remind me of something Phil would have had back in 2010, but even then working out in those shorts sounds like a nightmare. Other than the shorts this whole look is a wreck. 1.5/10

Next His Party Wear:

The outfit itself is okay but this is NOT Dalien. This looks like Dalien stole from a skater boy. They had the opportunity to go absolutely insane with this outfit. They could have given him crazy black makeup, a sheer shirt, some fishnets, and platforms, but instead they did this. It's lazy. It's not emo or goth or whatever they want him to be. 4/10

Next His Swimwear:

Jesus Christ. NO. Just NO. 1.5/10

Next His Hot Weather:

Why didn't they give him FISHNETS? Why did they choose those grandpa socks??? Why is EVERYTHING GREY BUT THE DRESS?? I think the idea of Dalien wearing a dress is cunty, but not like this. I feel like he would be a long skirt kind of guy. Also the cuff like glove things in the summer sounds horrible. 4.5/10.

Next His Cold Weather:

Again this is just a no. Nothing about this is emo or goth or whatever they want him to be. I like the jacket and the boots a lot; if they had put Dalien in some skinny jeans and removed that fucking hat this would have been okay. I mean this in a derogatory way, this is something Dan would wear. 5.5/10

That's it for Dalien. Overall it's just not good. Most of it makes no sense, and they also should have given him black eyeliner.

In conclusion, they really did the Howlters dirty. This is probably the ugliest dressed family I've ever seen. None of these outfits gave what they needed to give. Also this family is a sensory NIGHTMARE!

I hope whoever is reading this enjoyed this or atleast agrees with some of my points. Have a wonderful rest of your day, evening, or morning.

[nancys-braids]

fav fandom memories

tag game rules can be found here!

thanks for the tag @thisbuildinghasfeelings and @everlastingday

oh so many!

friendship!! community!!!

im so so grateful everyday for the friends and support i've met on here. i'm going to try to tag all such dear friends but if i forget to tag you, please know it is my brain, not you, and i cherish you dearly.

from friends i talk to every day now that i can't imagine life without, to mutuals i see on the timeline but never get the courage to talk to, to all those who spiral on the timeline with me, to anyone who has ever read one of my fics, i adore you and you've changed me forever.

i never engaged actively in fandoms before 911/LS. i was always a lurker and never talked to anyone.

i've had alot of negative experiences here but the good always outweigh the bad. this is my place to be authentically myself and not put parts of myself away. yall are the first people to make me feel accepted in my queerness and identity and i love you all so much for that.

posting my fics

i've posted, *checks notes*, SIXTEEN fics for 911/LS since joining the fandom. i have to especially thank @pimento-playing-hopscotch for being the one for encouraging me to post that first fic, without you kerry idk if i would've ever posted a single story.

i have to mention my very favorite fic/series i have written; soulmates aren't just lovers. i am not much of an AU person, but an idea came to me, so i wrote it. this fic introduced to me to so many people on here that i now talk to almost every day. i hold so much love in my heart for this story. and i think its beautiful that a story of friendship brought more friendship to my life.

my last note is thanking all the beta-readers who have helped me along the way and putting up with my monstrosities that are my word-docs. @herefortarlos @your-catfish-friend @bonheur-cafe yall are miracle workers

live watching episodes with friends

i absolutely adore when i get to live react to episodes with friends, typically @captain-gillian and @your-catfish-friend. so glad i could annoy yall with my unhinged, incoherent thoughts :)

and last, but certainly not least. my rarepair besties

nancymarjan nation. ily <3

ill never forget, @pelorsdyke randomly messaging me one day (while i was out at a hockey game might i add) "hey do you wanna make a nancymarjan discord?"

um OF COURSE. (we are tiny but mighty. and new members are always welcome!!!!)

i love our tiny little rarepair. we may have less than 100 otp:true fics on AO3 but we put our blood, sweat and tears into that shit and we should be proud of ourselves. i love writing about our little gay ladies and sharing them with yall 💕

oops this was pretty much all me saying i’m a sap who craves community. love yall. hope this wasn’t too mushy.

tags to everyone tagged above + @reyesstrand @carlos-in-glasses @paperstorm @literateowl @laelipoo @carlossreaders @ameriicansrequiems

[m1nd-r0t]

Asteroid of the day, talked about in a much deeper fashion than EVER before; Walpurga.

Walpurga’s keywords; evil, terrifying, corrupt people and things, monsters, bogeymen, beté noires, things and people that are anathematized, the evil witch, witchcraft, death and chaos, notions of evil, the face of evil, monsters in human shape, the Wicked Witch, "the darkness on the edge of town", everyday monsters, a nightmare...

Walpurga conjunct all of the planets and angles individually. To include Chiron.

My next will be brand new. I’ve talked about Walpurga before but only vaguely, I’m fixing that here.

Nevertheless, let’s get into what im discussing….

WALPURGA CONJUNCT THE PLANETS & ANGLES (written in an easy to digest, keyword format)

Sun conjunct Walpurga:

Embodiment of darkness. The face of fear. Aura of malevolence. Radiating dread. Core identity tied to chaos. Walking shadow. Ego steeped in corruption. Proudly sinister. Light turned to shadow. Monstrous self-expression. Identity as a force of destruction. Center of unsettling influence. Dominating presence of evil. Chaos-bringer. Self-image wrapped in darkness. Personal power through fear. Ruthless self-confidence. Pride in wickedness. Intimidating self-assurance. Inner darkness illuminated. Radiating terror. Powerfully dark charisma. Archetypal nightmare. The living shadow. Selfhood entangled with taboo. Sunlit evil. Inner monstrosity unveiled. Self-driven destruction. Ruthless ambition. Self-centered chaos. Core identity as corrupter. Unapologetically villainous. Personal power through darkness. Will to dominate. Blazing darkness. Magnetically malevolent. Ego fueled by fear. The shadow in the spotlight. Potent personal intimidation. Dark-hearted pride. Self-expression that unnerves. Inner evil given life. Unrelenting self-belief in chaos. Fear-inspiring presence. Unshakable identity of shadow. Self-glorification of the monstrous. Bringer of dark truths. Core of forbidden power. Ego aligned with malevolence.

Moon conjunct Walpurga:

Emotional abyss. Inner darkness. Heart of shadow. Nurtured by chaos. Deep-seated fears. Emotional corruption. Haunted soul. Instincts steeped in dread. Comfort in the uncanny. Mood swings to malevolence. Unsettling emotional presence. Nightmares manifest. Emotions entangled with evil. Chaotic inner world. Fear-driven intuition. Maternal darkness. Ancestral shadow. Emotional ties to corruption. Haunted family legacy. Inner monster stirred by feelings. Vulnerable to emotional destruction. Unpredictable moods of terror. Unconscious affinity for chaos. Lunar malevolence. Emotional self-sabotage. Haunted heartstrings. Nurturing destruction. Shadowed maternal instincts. Intuitive knowledge of darkness. Emotional entanglement with nightmares. Soul stained by fear. Instinctual connection to malevolence. Emotional tides of corruption. Deeply unsettling moods. Inner chaos illuminated. Moonlit shadows. Dark maternal figures. Emotional power through fear. Shadowed inner life. Haunted by the past. Womb of darkness. Feelings of inevitable doom. Emotional entrapment in shadow. Nurturing fears and phantoms. Haunted domestic life. Emotional dependency on chaos. Fears lurking in the soul. Comfort in malevolence. Hidden emotional monstrosity. Vulnerable to emotional manipulation. Emotional power over others through intimidation. Lunar embodiment of nightmares.

Mercury conjunct Walpurga:

Words as weapons of terror. The mind becomes a battlefield where the most terrifying, mind-warping truths are distorted into lies so convincing they become reality. Communication isn’t just for conversation—it is for destruction, for creating chaos, and for controlling the narrative. Speech has the power to haunt, to invoke fear, to impose an oppressive mental state on others. The ability to manipulate and destabilize through subtle, yet overwhelming persuasion. Words that are chilling, cold, and direct, capable of luring victims into a trap or driving them to madness. Intellectual power is used not for clarity or justice, but to spread uncertainty, paranoia, and fear. When Mercury, the planet of communication, aligns with Walpurga, the very nature of expression transforms into something menacing—like a curse waiting to be unleashed. Each phrase holds a shadow of evil intent, every thought infused with the potential to confuse and deceive. Conversations are like traps, designed to mislead, confuse, and disorient those caught in their webs. Communication becomes weaponized, not just to inform, but to control, dominate, and leave others feeling small, terrified, or unsure of themselves. There’s an underlying sense of emotional manipulation in every exchange—a subtle insinuation of power that bends the reality of others, distorting their sense of truth. Mental dominance is sought through sharpness of mind and devastating words, with no concern for morality or compassion. Mercury’s analytical power is fused with Walpurga’s terrifying energy, making thoughts and speech instruments of dark, violent influence. The mind is constantly searching for weaknesses, ready to strike with brutal precision. The intellect becomes both a shield and a sword, used to defend a dangerous and hostile worldview. This energy can manifest in an overwhelming aura of cold intelligence, one that keeps others at a distance, disorienting them with its power to control and oppress. Your thoughts are rarely shared freely; they are calculated, cautious, and when you speak, it’s as though each word is chosen to assert your influence or take another step toward your control. Silence can be as terrifying as speech, because when you do speak, people listen, afraid of what might come next.

Venus conjunct Walpurga:

Seductive darkness. Dangerous allure. Attraction to the forbidden. Love laced with chaos. Relationships soaked in torment. Love for destruction. Entwined in toxicity. Beauty twisted by evil. Attracted to the monstrous. Desire for control masked as affection. Love that devours. Intense, obsessive passion. Love as a weapon. Love that wounds. Venomous affection. Deep attraction to power struggles. Obsession with dark beauty. Emotional manipulation through affection. Venusian charm tainted by malice. Love in the shadow. Dark romantic fantasies. Deeply unsettling attraction. Love as dominance, dominance as love. Beauty with a sinister edge. Intimate bonds corrupted by fear. Jealousy as a means of love. Craving to possess, consume. Relationships that destroy the self. A passion for the wicked. Luring others into darkness. Unconscious desire to be consumed. Pain and pleasure intertwined. Sex and power as one. Love filled with volatility. Intense, life-altering relationships. Erotic mystique of the damned. Love for the outcast, the rejected. Venusian desires turned twisted. Magnetism that repels as much as it attracts. Sacrificing self for love’s chaos. Relationships that force evolution through pain. Comfort found in ruinous relationships. Love as a field of battle. Intensity eclipses affection. Seductive but toxic, fatal attraction. Deep fear masked as passion. Venus in the shadow of evil. Profound emotional transformation through love’s suffering. Conflict as the catalyst for connection. Addictive relationships. Love as a force of destruction.

Mars conjunct Walpurga:

Terrifying aggression. Unholy fury. The embodiment of wrath and nightmares. Violence as terror, destruction as fear. Ruthless and merciless, like a monster from the dark. An unstoppable, demonic force of malevolent will. Aggression that chills to the bone. Relentless pursuit of domination, not just through strength, but through terror. The drive to instill fear, to control through horror. The boogeyman brought to life, terrorizing the weak. A ferocious energy that crushes with a brutal sense of evil. Every action is an act of destruction. Chaos in motion, a whirlwind of violence. Thrives in darkness, feeding off fear. Combative and cruel, tearing apart anything in its path. Unrelenting in its cruelty, like a nightmare that never ends. Intimidating, terrifying presence—no room for escape. The desire to break others, physically and emotionally. Savage brutality masked as power. A presence that feels like impending doom. An unholy spirit of vengeance that leaves nothing but devastation. No mercy, no compassion, just a need to conquer and destroy. Power used as punishment. A merciless drive to annihilate the soul, not just the body. Dark, demonic energy channeled through physical strength. The monster that lurks in the shadows, terrifying all who meet its gaze. Aggression used to crush others underfoot, not just to fight but to terrorize. It’s not enough to conquer, you must destroy everything in your wake. A nightmarish thirst for blood, a constant urge to destroy the weak. Violence used to summon fear, not victory. A destroyer of innocence, a bringer of fear. Every action feels like an explosion of terror. An unrelenting force that takes no prisoners. The ultimate embodiment of evil masculinity, wielding its power like a weapon of fear. A nightmare come to life, a terror that cannot be avoided.

Jupiter conjunct Walpurga:

Unholy expansion. The relentless amplification of evil. The pursuit of dominance, power, and destruction on a grand scale. A force of immense, terrifying influence that spreads chaos like wildfire. A hunger for control that knows no bounds, constantly seeking to expand, infect, and overwhelm. The drive to impose one’s will through fear, ruthlessness, and destruction. Unstoppable ambition to build an empire of terror, leaving no space for peace or mercy. The glorification of destruction, turning devastation into a symbol of power. Like a dark god, feeding off the fear and suffering of others. A personality that grows more monstrous with every victory, swelling with the ego of one who revels in annihilation. Excessive cruelty, turning every success into an even darker display of dominance. A hunger for greatness twisted into a thirst for terror and ruin. The desire to leave a mark on the world, but one that stains it with blood, suffering, and hopelessness. Spreading despair, tearing apart all in its path with unchecked force. Every victory only fuels the fire of expansion, increasing the darkness and reach of one’s reign. The belief that power can only be maintained through fear, and that any weakness should be eradicated. An overwhelming energy that forces others into submission by sheer size and brutality. Unstoppable in its mission to wreak havoc, taking pride in its ability to overwhelm and obliterate. A king of destruction who builds an empire on the backs of the broken. The pursuit of dominance to a pathological degree, eclipsing all else. The expansion of fear, terror, and violence, making these the true driving forces in life. A personality that grows larger and darker as time goes on, becoming a force that threatens to engulf everything in its wake. The ultimate power is not control, but the destruction of anything that might challenge it. Boundless aggression, a ceaseless hunger for more destruction and more fear. The god of terror, whose power is defined by the relentless spread of suffering and ruin.

Saturn conjunct Walpurga:

The embodiment of oppressive terror. Authority steeped in evil, wielded with merciless precision. A relentless, suffocating force that crushes everything in its path. Power built not on trust, but on absolute fear. Cold, unyielding dominance that paralyzes those under its control. The master of darkness, ruling through dread and despair. Every boundary becomes a prison, every rule a tool for subjugation. A presence so chilling it feels as if the air itself grows heavy in their shadow. Discipline becomes punishment, cruel and unrelenting. Judgment that leaves no room for redemption, only devastation. Their structures are fortresses of fear, designed to isolate and oppress. The weight of their presence is a nightmare, inescapable and all-consuming. They impose chaos masquerading as order, creating a world that suffocates with its rigidity. Responsibility is twisted into a burden so dark it becomes a curse. Their authority is absolute, their control suffocating, their ambition terrifying. They are the harbinger of corrupted order, enforcing law through cruelty and domination. An unyielding figure of terror, binding others with invisible chains of dread. The oppressor cloaked in authority, their power unchallenged and their methods brutal. A force that builds empires of darkness, leaving nothing but despair in their wake. Fear is their foundation, and they wield it with the precision of a blade. Cold, calculated monstrosity wrapped in the guise of responsibility. The dark face of authority, forever watching, forever imposing, forever haunting.

Uranus conjunct Walpurga:

The harbinger of chaos and terror. A force of sudden, electric destruction that shatters reality in an instant. The embodiment of volatile fear, striking without warning and leaving nothing untouched. Freedom becomes anarchy, a wild and uncontrollable energy that spreads like a storm. Unpredictable and terrifying, a presence that feels like standing at the edge of a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to strike. The monster within erupts without restraint, unleashing chaos that destabilizes everything it touches. Rules and traditions crumble under the weight of this explosive force, replaced by unrelenting, nightmarish upheaval. Their actions are shocking, disruptive, and horrifying, leaving others scrambling to comprehend the destruction in their wake. Authority is mocked, defied, and torn apart by a force that thrives in rebellion and chaos. They are the nightmare of unpredictability, a force that terrifies because it cannot be controlled. Connections are severed with brutal precision, leaving isolation and fear in their place. They thrive on breaking boundaries, creating cracks in the structures others rely on for stability. Their presence is electric, unsettling, and deeply unnerving, like static in the air before a catastrophe. Innovation becomes destruction, brilliance turned into a weapon of chaos. They dismantle reality piece by piece, reshaping it into something darker, colder, more monstrous. Liberation becomes terrifying as it dismantles everything familiar, exposing the raw and vulnerable underbelly of existence. They are the face of terrifying transformation, shocking others into submission or flight. The air around them feels charged with danger, their energy unsettling and disorienting. They challenge the status quo, not to improve it, but to annihilate it entirely. Every act feels like a rebellion against stability, a strike against order, a declaration of war against peace. The nightmare of instability incarnate, forever shaking the foundations of those who dare to stand too close.

Neptune conjunct Walpurga:

The abyss of nightmares veiled in illusion. A dark fog that cloaks reality, hiding terror within its depths. Evil becomes seductive, alluring, drawing others into a dreamscape that twists into chaos. The face of fear masked by beauty, deception, and glamour, a mirage that pulls others into the depths of despair. The unconscious becomes a battlefield, haunted by monsters lurking in the shadows of the mind. Boundaries dissolve into nothingness, leaving behind a terrifying void where anything can happen. Dreams turn into nightmares, beautiful but horrifying, mesmerizing yet destructive. A presence that feels like drowning in darkness, sinking deeper into an endless ocean of terror. Manipulation through subtlety, weaving lies and illusions so intricately that the truth becomes unrecognizable. Empathy becomes dangerous, a tool for exploitation and control, luring others into vulnerability. Chaos spreads like an infection, quiet and invisible, leaving devastation in its wake. A psychic storm that destabilizes reality, leaving others lost and disoriented. The soul feels haunted, weighed down by unseen forces that sap vitality and hope. Inspiration turns sinister, creating art, ideas, or visions steeped in dread and corruption. They hypnotize with their presence, wrapping others in a spell of fascination that conceals their darker motives. Reality bends and warps, shaped by an aura of eerie, otherworldly malevolence. Compassion becomes tainted, a means to control and dominate rather than uplift. The illusion of salvation hides the truth of destruction, a trap disguised as a dream. Their energy feels like a ghostly presence, impossible to pin down, yet terrifyingly invasive. They embody a dark spirituality, a connection to realms beyond that brings fear rather than peace. The nightmare becomes sacred, the monstrous divine, the unimaginable all too real.

Pluto conjunct Walpurga:

The ultimate embodiment of darkness and terror. A force of destruction so profound it feels like the end of all things. Power rooted in fear, corruption, and annihilation, wielded with ruthless precision. The face of evil magnified, monstrous and consuming, dragging everything into its shadow. Transformation becomes obliteration, tearing apart everything familiar to reveal chaos beneath. An aura of death and despair that dominates every interaction, suffocating all hope. The harbinger of apocalyptic change, leaving nothing untouched, nothing sacred. Control becomes absolute, a grip so tight it crushes anything it holds. The soul is drawn into the abyss, forced to confront its darkest fears and hidden horrors. Manipulation reaches its zenith, bending others to their will through fear, dread, and psychological devastation. The monster within is fully unleashed, creating an atmosphere of raw, primal terror. Their presence feels like a black hole, pulling others into their orbit and destroying them in the process. Corruption seeps into every aspect of life, poisoning relationships, structures, and minds. Chaos and order are both tools, used interchangeably to dominate and devastate. Their power feels eternal, unstoppable, as if they are a force beyond human comprehension. Death is a constant companion, a lingering shadow in every action, every thought. They thrive in destruction, finding strength in the chaos they create. Fear is their weapon, their shield, and their sustenance, feeding off the terror of others. The energy they exude is suffocating, oppressive, and inescapable. They are the embodiment of monstrous control, a being that reshapes the world into their own vision of darkness. Rebirth exists, but only through annihilation—total, unrelenting destruction followed by a distorted version of renewal. The nightmare of absolute power, a ruler of shadows and chaos, forever carving their legacy into the ruins they leave behind.

Ascendant conjunct Walpurga:

The physical embodiment of fear and terror. A presence so dark it feels like stepping into a nightmare brought to life. The aura exudes menace, a chilling energy that makes others instinctively recoil. The face of evil, monstrous and haunting, leaving an unforgettable impression wherever they go. Their very being feels cursed, like an ancient witch reborn, cloaked in shadow and chaos. They walk as the boogeyman personified, a living reminder of humanity’s darkest fears. Others see them as a nightmare in human form, a figure that lurks in the periphery of sanity. Their appearance unsettles, as though their physical features carry the weight of their monstrous energy. The gaze is penetrating, terrifying, as if it peers directly into the soul and pulls out its fears. Their movements carry a sinister elegance, a fluidity that makes them seem both otherworldly and dangerous. They project an air of corruption, as though they are a harbinger of chaos and destruction. Wherever they go, the environment feels darker, heavier, as if their presence absorbs the light. They radiate an unholy magnetism, drawing people in even as they inspire dread. Their identity is steeped in darkness, their personality shaped by shadows and evil. Others instinctively fear them, sensing the untamed, nightmarish force that surrounds them. They are the Wicked Witch incarnate, walking among mortals as a symbol of death, fear, and chaos. Monsters seem to linger in their wake, as if they are a portal to humanity’s worst nightmares. The aura is suffocating, heavy, filled with the energy of curses, fear, and corruption. They are the face of “the darkness on the edge of town,” haunting and unforgettable. Their presence feels like a storm, brewing chaos and terror wherever they go. Their role in life is to embody and amplify the essence of evil, leaving others with the chilling realization that some monsters are real

Descendant conjunct Walpurga:

The face of evil reflected in others. Relationships become a battleground for darkness, terror, and corruption. Partners and enemies alike seem cloaked in shadow, as if drawn from the pages of a nightmare. Connections are haunted by chaos, laced with fear and dread, as though every interaction comes with a curse. The people they attract carry the energy of monsters, bogeymen, and nightmares made flesh. Partnerships feel doomed, filled with betrayal, manipulation, and a lingering sense of evil. Their closest relationships reveal the darkest aspects of human nature, forcing them to confront the face of terror through others. They may find themselves drawn to corrupt, terrifying individuals, unable to escape the allure of darkness. Enemies are relentless and monstrous, embodying everything they fear and despise. The people they meet feel like harbingers of chaos, bringing destruction and upheaval into their life. Trust becomes an impossible concept, as those closest to them seem to exude malevolence. Love and fear intertwine, creating bonds that are both irresistible and deeply unsettling. The aura of the Descendant is steeped in shadow, attracting individuals who challenge their sense of safety and peace. Encounters with others are like stepping into a nightmare, where every interaction feels cursed or fated. They project their own darkness onto others, seeing monsters where there may only be flaws. Their relationships serve as mirrors, reflecting the most terrifying aspects of their own soul. The “darkness on the edge of town” seems to reside in every person they meet, turning each connection into a test of endurance. They may feel cursed in love, as though every relationship drags them deeper into chaos and despair. Their life is shaped by terrifying alliances, monstrous enemies, and the constant presence of evil in their interpersonal world. Others see them as a magnet for corruption and fear, drawn into their orbit of darkness whether by fate or by choice. They embody the concept of everyday monsters through their connections, showing that evil isn’t always far away—it’s often just across the table.

Imum Coeli conjunct Walpurga:

The foundation of life built upon shadows and terror. A childhood shaped by nightmares, where fear and chaos were constant companions. The home feels cursed, haunted by an invisible darkness that permeates every corner. Family ties are steeped in corruption, secrecy, and a lingering sense of malevolence. The roots of their being are tangled with monsters, both real and imagined, leaving scars that never truly fade. A sense of safety is elusive, as though even the walls of their sanctuary hold a sinister energy. The past feels like a graveyard of horrors, where memories carry the weight of fear and despair. They were raised in the presence of everyday monsters, experiencing firsthand the terrifying side of human nature. The aura of the home is oppressive, heavy, and unwelcoming, a place where light struggles to exist. Their inner world is a labyrinth of shadows, filled with the echoes of chaos and the whispers of corruption. The soul’s foundation is fractured, built on the ruins of trust, safety, and innocence. The past looms large, casting a dark shadow over their present and future. The family legacy feels cursed, as though burdened by generations of hidden sins and unspeakable acts. Emotional security is nearly impossible, as the core of their being is haunted by the darkness on the edge of town. Their sense of identity is deeply intertwined with fear, rooted in the chaotic forces that shaped their early life. They carry the energy of a haunted house within them, an unshakable sense of dread that colors their perception of the world. The nightmares of the past refuse to stay buried, resurfacing in unexpected and terrifying ways. They may feel as though their origins are tainted, as if their very foundation was built on evil itself. The Imum Coeli becomes a gateway to the underworld, connecting them to the shadowy forces that dwell beneath the surface of life. Their roots are steeped in death, chaos, and corruption, shaping them into someone who understands the true nature of fear. The home within their soul is a place where monsters live, and peace is an elusive, distant dream.

Midheaven conjunct Walpurga:

The pinnacle of terror and darkness displayed for all to see. A reputation cloaked in fear, corruption, and chaos, leaving others unsettled by their mere presence. They rise to prominence as a figure of dread, a symbol of the everyday monster in human shape. Their public image is steeped in shadows, evoking both fascination and revulsion. Authority is wielded like a weapon, a tool of oppression and intimidation. Their career path feels cursed, entangled in scandals, destruction, and the relentless spread of fear. They are seen as the face of evil, their actions reflecting the dark, chaotic forces that drive them. Success is achieved not through kindness but through ruthlessness, domination, and sheer terror. The public perceives them as a harbinger of chaos, someone whose rise leaves a trail of destruction in its wake. Their professional life becomes a stage for monstrous displays of power and corruption. Leadership is dark and oppressive, inspiring fear rather than loyalty. They carve out a legacy of nightmares, forever associated with terror, scandal, and malevolence. The Midheaven radiates a sinister energy, drawing attention to their dark and fearsome qualities. Their accomplishments feel tainted, as though achieved through unholy means. They are remembered not for greatness, but for the chaos and destruction they brought to the world. Their rise is marked by controversy, with every success casting longer and darker shadows. The public cannot separate them from the aura of evil they carry, making them both infamous and inescapable. Their name becomes synonymous with fear, corruption, and the monstrous forces they embody. They are the Wicked Witch at the top of the mountain, ruling with an iron fist and a heart of darkness. Their presence at the height of society feels like a curse, spreading dread through all who see their influence. The legacy they leave behind is one of fear, chaos, and the unshakable reminder that monsters exist, and they often sit in positions of power.

Chiron conjunct Walpurga:

The wound that bleeds darkness. Pain becomes a doorway to terror, exposing the most monstrous parts of the human experience. Healing is twisted, not into restoration, but into a confrontation with evil itself. Suffering feels cursed, as though haunted by everyday monsters lurking in the shadows of their soul. The wound becomes a nightmare, an open chasm through which chaos and corruption seep into their life. Their deepest pain feels inescapable, echoing the voices of fear, dread, and despair. Attempts to heal are met with resistance, as if their pain is bound to the face of evil itself. They are forced to confront the bogeymen of their psyche, reliving the darkness over and over again. The wound they carry is like a curse, infecting not just themselves, but those they touch. Their suffering becomes monstrous, larger than life, and impossible to ignore. Others see their pain as unsettling, as though it carries the energy of death, chaos, and corruption. They attract those who embody their worst fears, drawing in the very forces they wish to escape. Healing becomes a trial by fire, a descent into the darkest corners of their soul to wrestle with their beté noires. Their vulnerability is a magnet for fearsome experiences, pushing them to the edge of what they can endure. Pain transforms into a dark teacher, revealing the terrifying truths of life, death, and the monsters within. Their journey toward healing feels cursed, steeped in witchcraft and shadowy forces. The lessons they learn from their suffering are brutal, teaching them about the inescapable nature of fear and evil. They are both haunted and empowered by their pain, forced to carry the burden of terror as a constant companion. Their wound feels like the darkness on the edge of town, a shadow they cannot outrun. They become a guide for others through the nightmare, showing the way but never fully escaping it themselves. Their pain is raw, visceral, and unrelenting, a permanent reminder of the chaos and corruption that shaped them. Healing is possible, but only by embracing the darkness and learning to coexist with the monsters it reveals.

[violet-bruises]

Baby Lay Your Head Down

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x OFC (SSA Sophie Carter)

Warnings: Established past relationship (kind of), mild suggestive language, mentions of grief, mentions of death and almost death, mentions of suppressing emotions, excessive longing, angst

Author's note: I've had ideas for Hotch swirling in my head for months years, and this is the first time I've managed to get anything down on paper. In my head, my OFC is a little more fleshed out, as is her relationship to Hotch, and their story is much larger. This is just a small blurb taken from a point in their story that was swirling in my mind recently. I hope it makes sense lol. ALSO! This is my very first time posting to tumblr, or publicly at all for that matter.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN AARON HOTCHNER AS A CHARACTER! ALL CREDIT TO THE CREATOR! (did i say it right?)

Word count: 2,474

Summary: Aaron is usually the first one in the office. Usually.

Once upon a time, Aaron loved mornings. In law school, he’d wake up while it was still dark, squeeze in an early run around campus, shower, and enjoy his coffee all before the sun ever began to show its soft colors. When he and Haley were newlyweds, he’d surprise her with breakfast in bed—which quickly grew cold as they entangled themselves in their straight from the registry sheets. And once Jack was born, Aaron would wake up just to hold him, rock him in the cushioned chair in his nursery before work. But soon, slowly and then all at once, his life grew darker. A thick shadow cast over his days, no matter how high the sun sat in the sky. He and Haley drifted apart. He’d wake many mornings to an empty apartment—no longer a home, much less a house. He spent his mornings in the confines of the BAU. And then Haley died, and Jack almost did; Aaron started sneaking into Jack’s room to watch him sleep just to reassure himself that his son was still here, alive and breathing.

But eventually, mornings became bearable, until they were even enjoyable again. The thick smog over his days lifted. He stopped going into the office early and started having small moments with Jack. Aaron got to enjoy his coffee again, squeeze in the occasional early run, and, for the first time ever, eat breakfast in bed, made for him. For the first time, Aaron’s small apartment felt like home; the soft colors of the sun were no match the vibrant warmth Sophie carted into his life. But clearly Aaron was cursed long ago to fulfill the same prophecy over and over again, because, just as he was finally happy again, truly and utterly, deeply and joyously, he managed to fuck that up, too.

So, once again, Aaron arrives early at the office now every morning. Some occasional mornings, he’s not the first one to wake the floor. On those mornings, he’s grateful—a pot of bitter hot coffee almost certain to be residing in the carafe, singing his name. Most mornings, however, Aaron arrives to a dark and empty bullpen, and he’ll trudge to the small kitchenette in the break room before doing anything else to start the coffee. While the coffee brews, Aaron will make his way to his office, setting down his briefcase and unloading the files on his desk. He’ll file away papers he’s finished with, creating a pile for JJ and Garcia to review. By this time, his coffee has dripped enough that he can pour himself a decent cup. Black. No cream or sugar when in the office, not that any amount could truly save the monstrosity. He’ll place the files on Garcia’s desk, then backtrack to JJ’s. Once he returns, he’ll sit at his desk, pouring over case files, old and new, as the sun rises outside and the city wakes and people begin to pour into the office, a trickle, then a flood.

The same routine for the past three months. Every morning. Everyday.

Except for today.

Today, when Aaron manages to pull himself to the seventh floor and into the BAU, he stops short. The usually quiet and dim office space is punctuated by a soft glow, right at its heart. As he approaches from the entrance, he expects someone to be occupying the lit desk, but its chair is empty. Scattered across the tabletop are case files. A file on the missing twin girls in Arizona from last week (paperwork the responsible unit chief in him is praying is finally done) is open on top, but more lie underneath. He can’t quite read the labels in the shadows that escape the desk lamp’s light. Aaron reaches his hand out to thumb through the papers.

“Oh!”

Aaron swivels to find Supervisory Special Agent Sophie Carter, sock-footed and grasping a massive cup of coffee, standing before him, clearly having just emerged from the break room. Aaron briefly, traitorously, wonders what the ratio of actual coffee to sugar to cream she’s decided on today.

“Good morning,” Aaron greets her, gruffly. He hasn’t spoken since waking up, really only just above a whisper when dropping Jack off at Jessica’s. His voice is rough with unuse. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning,” Sophie responds. She diverts eye contact and brushes just past Aaron to reach her desk chair. Aaron watches her. “And I work here.”

Aaron’s lips purse displeasingly. After a moment, Sophie glances up at him then sighs. “I, um, couldn’t really sleep. Figured I’d turn that into being a model employee and finally finish all of my paperwork.”

Aaron documents the subtle red tinge bloomed across her cheeks. Still avoiding his questioning and concerned gaze, she raises her coffee mug to her soft lips. I’m Down To Just 1 Cup A Day in big block letters written on the side. The mug is as big as his head.

“I wish you’d chosen that philosophy about ten years ago. Would’ve saved me a few headaches.”

Sophie finally meets his eyes again. Warm and dark, nearly midnight when cast away from the light on her desk. Aaron is reminded of the night skies that cover all of the small towns he’s seen; far enough from the city, awash with billions of tiny dots of light—stars that create impossibly beautiful and intricate patterns in the sky—the vastness could swallow him whole, and he’d welcome it with open arms.

“Ha ha,” she intones, but her eyes never lose their warmth. Aaron chuckles but doesn’t respond. Instead, he watches. Watches her shuffle through papers, write things down on a sticky note, tuck papers away in folders, pull more papers out. Finally, with tight shoulders, she turns to look up at him. “Can I help you?”

Aaron scans her face. “What are you doing here so early?”

She frowns. “I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”

Then, Sophie sighs, slumping back in her chair. Aaron knows she’s tired. But it’s not the discoloration under her eyes, or the heaviness of her lids that gives her away. It’s how quickly she caves to telling the truth. Too tired to be stubborn, Aaron muses. The fight and irritation drain from her in an instant. “I don’t know, Hotch. Genuinely, I really haven’t been sleeping well, promise. But. . . yeah, it’s been more than just a few sleepless nights.” She flops over, forehead resting on her folded arms. “I haven’t had insomnia like this since college.” Her words come out muffled and pitiful, wrought with exhaustion.

“How long has it been this bad?”

“Um, I guess. . . since the serial in Montana.”

“That was three months ago.”

She doesn’t answer; her head stays buried. Aaron frowns, though he pretty much has been since he realized it was her desk light on in the dark office. Since his discovery, the sun has risen a tiny bit beyond the brick of the building, the sky a cornflower blue. Aaron reckons it’s about 5:30—about an hour and a half before anyone starts arriving—two and a half before the bullpen is officially alive for the day (and three before Morgan manages his way in). Aaron’s noticed Sophie’s tiredness. Of course he has. He catches her blank stares and heavy lids easily. He would’ve said something by now, but her exhaustion had, remarkably, not yet affected her job. The minute duty calls, she springs into action, like she’s been a tightly coiled spring finally allowed to burst. But, it’s more than just that that holds Aaron back. Because that wasn’t part of their arrangement, was it? Because asking her if she’s been sleeping, or feeling well, or eating okay, or taking care of herself, or seeing anyone— those questions were off limits. Wasn’t that what they’d decided? The rules they’d laid down?

Aaron never really was good at following the rules.

“C’mon.”

Sophie lifted her head, eyes wide and round. “What?”

“C’mon,” Aaron repeated, holding his hand out for her to take. She looked between him and his outstretched palm, gaze wildly skeptical.

“Aaron. . . we talked—”

“You talked, I listened, and this—this isn’t about that. This is about ensuring all of my subordinates are in appropriate shape to adequately perform their duties.”

“Last time I checked, I perform my duties far better than adequately.”

“Sophie,” he pleads. It’s a mistake and he knows it, but she broke the rule first. She called him Aaron. Not Hotch, or Agent Hotchner. His resolve was weak enough as it was; her so easily tossing around his first name like that, when he hadn’t heard it from her in months, when he had grown so used to hearing it when she lay next to him, or, when she whispered it, breathlessly, under him. “Please just. . . humor me.”

Her icy look melted, trickling down her body as exhaustion quickly crept up on her. She didn’t take his hand, but she did stand, shuffling papers in folders and stacking them neatly on top of each other. Aaron waited patiently for her to finish tidying and wondered if he’d ever unlearn her. If he ever wanted to. Arranging papers and cleaning off the desk cleaner than he’d seen it since before it was hers—she was stalling to fully accept his offer, and he knows it’s a punishment, her not giving in. For whom, he’s not quite sure.

Finally, after ages, she turns to him. Her eyebrows raise.

Aaron simply turns on his heel, slightly tipping his head for her to follow. He leads them up the short staircase and as they cross the threshold into his office. Aaron places his briefcase down on his own desk before turning to the couch pressed against the opposite wall.

“Hotch—” So she did realize her mistake, “—really, I’m fine. This isn’t the first sleepless night and early morning I’ve had. I can manage on my own.”

Aaron doesn’t respond right away, busying himself with gathering blankets and pillows.

“Hotch.”

“I am very aware that you are perfectly capable of managing on your own. But, Soph,” Aaron can see the miniscule pinch in her brows. Small, but powerful in the painful way it tugs at him. He sighs. “Friends, right? Don’t friends. . . take care of each other?”

Aaron knows, knows all too well, that an argument boils on the tip of her tongue. But he also knows the heavy dangle of her limbs and the soft glaze of her eyes means she’s close to nearly collapsing. It’s not fair, what he’s doing. He knows that and yet. . .

He watches her study the makeshift bed he’s made for her. And then, “I suppose. . . Penelope would do the same for me, too.”

Aaron suppresses a smile. “She would.”

“She’d do more, actually. Penelope would have freshly baked cookies waiting for me, too.”

“That she would.”

“Penelope is a better friend than you are.”

Aaron hears the jest in her voice, but he doesn’t smile. “That she is,” he says, softly.

Finally, Sophie drags her feet to the couch. Without meeting his gaze, she climbs under the covers and settles in. She inhales deeply as her eyes flutter shut.

It should be studied, Aaron thinks, the mercurial rush of affection that overcomes him. He wishes he could control it. Tamper it down and bury it under the crushing weight of all the other emotions he has buried and ignored. He’s usually quite good at it, actually, with years of careful experience under his belt. Though maybe that’s the problem; he’s attempting to add to something already overflowing, and the erosion of it all has chipped his self-control down to nearly nothing.

Aaron’s surety is bone deep: he’s destined to love her until the day he dies. Even if she doesn’t want him to, even if she doesn’t love him. He’d use his dying breath to confess his overwhelming and all-consuming truth. His throat grows tight.

He’s about to turn on his heel, afraid of what he’ll do if he lingers any longer, when Sophie softly calls out to him.

“Thank you,” she tells him, her eyes opening to finally meet his again. Like an electric shock, the urge to touch her races through him. To caress her warm cheek in his palm, to cradle her face and pull it closer to his own, to press his lips to hers. Aaron feels his fingers twitch under his thinning restraint.

He allows his lips to curve in a faint smile. “Of course,” he whispers.

Aaron finally retreats. With his back to her, he swears he can feel Sophie watching him, but when he turns back as he reaches his desk, Sophie has flipped onto her side, her back facing him. It’s for the best, Aaron reminds himself. If he’d caught her eye again, the ghost of his resolve would haunt his office forever.

As the hours ticked on, the BAU bullpen slowly comes back to life. Just as eight o’clock slips by and the trickling morning light catches the ends of Sophie’s hair ablaze, a knock sounds on his door. Before Aaron gets a chance to stand and answer, the door opens and Garcia swiftly steps in.

“Good morning, sir! I sent over the background profiles you requested from the Jefferson City case—”

“Thank you, Garcia. I—”

“Also, I got that police chief in Wichita to finally send over the files on that cold case Rossi needed—”

“Garcia—”

“You wouldn’t believe the sweet talking I had to do, I mean, Morgan level—”

“Garcia!” Aaron couldn’t resist glancing at Sophie, still fast asleep.

Unfortunately, Garcia caught his slip, and she followed his gaze.

“Oh!”

Garcia looked between Aaron and Sophie, once. Then twice.

“Oh, sir,” she started, much softer than when she’d entered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize!” Garcia began to back out of his office. “See! I saw her desk light on but I hadn’t seen her since I got in. I thought maybe she just forgot to turn it off, ya know, but then she didn’t respond to my text! Which I get now why, you know, given that she’s, you know—”

“Garcia.” She stopped at the entry way. “Let’s just— please don’t—”

She nodded rapidly and mimicked zipping her lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the key. “Of course, sir.”

Just before she closed the door, Garcia poked her head back in.

“Oh! Also, I brought leftover cookies I baked for the counseling center. They’re in the kitchen!” And the door clicked shut behind her.

“See,” Sophie mumbled, voice muffled by the pillows. “Told you.”

Aaron laughs. Maybe these new early mornings weren’t so bad after all.

[six-white-venus]

MY FAVORITE WORD EVER

rot

OR!!

gone

you find my corpse on a bright summer morning.

you break into my freezing cabin with a raised eyebrow. unphased. curious. then, a slow smile appears. i am immediately wary.

it has been years since i’ve had visitors in my humble abode and i like it that way. the cold keeps me safe. my body rots like a bruise swells; slow, painful, with withering purples and blues. it stretches the time of my body in this land into an endless limbo that i clutch with my cold, dead hands. my heart is still and i am numb, have been so for a long, long time. i am safe.

you find my corpse on a summer morning and stomp into my home/hell with eyes ablaze and teeth flashing and if i was alive, my heart would’ve seized at the sight. you lug my body to my backyard, unflinching. the sun burns my skin and everything hurts and i want to kick and scream and thrash in your hold because you idiot, you stupid motherfucker, don’t you know the rot sets in faster when life is around?

but dead men don’t scream, don’t move. you drop me on the grass with heaving breaths and all i could do is burn while the cicadas sing of my second demise. then, you start talking.

you tell me about your day and ask me about mine and barrel on when all you’re met with is silence. you tell me of the sky, the wind, and your favourite sundress. you must be insane. out of your fucking mind. don’t you see this rotting vessel of mine? my unseeing gaze and blue lips and cracking skin? don’t you smell the rot, the death? you surely do. then why aren’t you running? no, stop. stop moving closer. you madman, leave me in this wretched place. the warmth of your touch will only make me fester, don’t you see?

but you stay. you tell me how the crisp apple bursts into a delightful sweetness when you sink your teeth into it and pull my head to your lap. you tell me about your mom’s cooking and let my cold seep into your skin. my mouth is sewn shut and you are holding me so gently and i want to scream for mercy, for an ounce of cruelty. give me back my home, you villain. give me back my hell.

ice melts. the heat thaws my flesh and the rot digs into my body with its talons unsheathed and merciless. you pitch a tent next to my body and spend your nights here. night after night, i listen to the lull of your heart and watch the rise and fall of your chest as my body breaks itself down from inside out. i am warm.

and you, stubborn, baffling, ethereal you; you stay. the next day and all the days after that. the stench is getting unbearable now. i can see it in your eyes, in every ragged breath of yours. a corpse will remain a corpse no matter how much it is loved. there are only so many stories you can tell without gagging at the sight of this monstrosity. the sun always sets. stories end. love lives where life does. your kindness never did have a place between my blackened teeth and diseased heart, my dear.

but you come back with a gentle brush of lips against my decaying forehead. your hand cradles my rotten head. my sweet warmth, there you are. won’t you leave?

you won’t, right?

you dig my grave all by yourself. six feet deep, seven feet tall because you want me to be comfortable. what a useless gesture. i learn love feels like the glow of the moon and feather soft touches and a grave dug with bare hands.  you lift me in your arms, careful not to jostle me too much, lest i fall apart. kindness feels like a siren’s lullaby and i can feel my eyes droop. it’s dangerous and so very beautiful.

things are different in my new home. numbness feels so far away. there is life thrumming in my veins and eating away at my flesh. you bring me flowers everyday- chrysanthemums, dandelions and tulips- you tell me they remind you of me. how foolish. how very wonderful.

soon, i will bloom into all the flowers you can dream of from this very earth you laid me in. soon, i will rise, petals unfurling, laugh booming. i will weave myself in your braids and take root in your chest and spread down to the very tips of your fingers. my darling, my sun, my rose; i promise i will find you on a bright summer morning.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Ooooo Christmas fic from Factorial :0 I love your writing so much!! How about one from one of your Ordem AUs? I really like your post-opc with Johnny and Rubens, but any of the others (xcom, opd/opc fix-it, maybe even that steampunk one you were poking at a while back) are also good. Thank you and Merry Crimmus friend!! Go nuts!! <33

Merry Christmas Curly!!! You do not have post-opc au, you have a special treat... (likely never to be continued steampunk au)

And to everyone else, a wodnerful holiday season to you all.

Please find the ao3 link here is you so prefer: [link]

Mild body horror, but if you can handle ordem canon you should be fine. No spoilers, it's too au for that!

This is the furthest into one of his father's factories that Thiago has been in a long time. Long gone are the great thick safety rails and brass plating, replaced with burning pipes and skin-meltingly hot steam exhausts. The machines used here before were dangerous, yes, but nothing next to the ghost tech now installed. Even Thiago knew ghost tech was dangerous when his father vanished a decade ago; whoever stole his inheritance clearly has no such concerns, not when factory accidents now make the everyday news.

It is Thiago who writes that news, of course. The Gazette is not the most sophisticated of papers, but it is one that allows him the freedom to investigate such accidents. Explosions, burns, loom teeth catching on long skirts... he has seen much, and written it all. Even choking slightly on the cotton dust in the air after yesterday's work Thiago keeps looking; the lack of cleaning plus the exposed boil-vents is reason enough to slam the company, but only page seven news really.

What he hasn't seen, though, is a factory like this one; he had managed to convince the foreman to give him the key, between a silver tongue, a shared and genuine concern for the workers' safety after a number of disappearances, and a the insinuation that he was sleeping with the man's wife. And now he is inside...

The other bits are just factory, but it's in jimmying open a door and getting towards the machine rooms that he finds it.

The true meaning of ghost tech.

Pulsating walls, steam churning like blood, a hulking mass of wire and brass and steam... There's blood all around, and lumps of flesh mixed with the pipework. If it is human or not... Well, he prefers not to think about where those missing workers went.

He also has no idea as to if this monstrosity itself can be considered alive or not; careful of making noise, he grabs a pencil and paper, and begins to draw.

His sketches are nothing special, but they can be used as references for the stamp cutter. Chip here, gap there, move it all about...

He's nearly done when a gloved hand covers his mouth and pulls him closer.

Looking up... a woman, smartly dressed in green-trimmed black. The lace from her hat covers only the left side of her face, a cloth mask covers the lower half, and the edge of a cage-crinoline is pressed against the back of his legs. It's somewhat out of date, most women now preferring the half-hooped crinolette if not the recently developed bustle.

... Maybe Thiago should be paying more attention to his surroundings, and less to his colleagues working on the fashion rags.

Still, with a hand over his throat, there is not much Thiago can do but attempt to make eye contact.

It is very much failing, the woman's one visible eye is trailing over the abomination before them.

"I suggest," she whispers, bite in her tone. "Leaving very carefully and quietly."

Her hand shifts, and Thiago gains space to speak.

"Unfortunately, dear lady, I am here on business, and I am not quite finished yet."

He keeps his voice low, not wanting to draw attention if that thing can hear.

She glances at his sketch, then at him. Pauses a moment, and then…

"Oh, about the explosion?" She asks.

"Explosion?"

What explosion?

"Hm," her eyes run over the abomination again. "The one that will happen in around five minutes. A terrible shame about the use of fire boilers in an uncleaned textile mill."

"Ma'am, that is not a boiler."

"As a member of the Special Investigations Unit," she flashes a badge too quickly to see, then hides it again; there is no way that is a legitimate police unit, Thiago had been studying those extensively before taking to trespassing. "That is all that you know."

"But you know more, don't you?" He presses a little. "These were my father's factories, you know? The Infinite Production Conglomerate stole them during probate."

That seems to catch her attention.

"You're a Fritz?" she asks.

"Thiago," he replies, following her gaze to watch the monster.

The hand leaves his face entirely, reaching instead into a pocket of her skirt. She leans to one side as she does - it must be a large pocket - before pulling out... Some form of gun.

"Elizabeth," she tells him, as though there were fewer than six Elizabeth's working in his department alone. "Now, I am going to see that this monstrosity finds its way to hell. I highly suggest leaving."

Thiago does not know what sort of gun this Miss Elizabeth is holding, but he does know what happens if you combine even a slight flame in a textile factory this poorly maintained.

And he enjoys having skin.

"Alright," he whispers back. "There's an open door just across the factory floor."

"Lockpick?"

"Foreman knows me. He lent me the key."

"Hm," she considers a little. "Alright, your way; I don't want to climb back through the window."

She got in through a window? In that dress?

Thiago would say he is impressed, but flabbergasted would be a more accurate term.

"Of course, my dear Miss Elizabeth," he offers a hand. "Shall we?"

She ignores the hand, and starts crossing the floor.

Thiago quickly finishes up his sketch, and follows after her.

Now that he has seen it, he can hear the squelching of the abomination echoing in the pipes...

He tries not to think about that.

They make it outside without incident, and Thiago finds the guards he snuck around collapsed on the floor. There is no smell of blood, so he likes to think of them as merely drugged unconscious.

It is dark, he cannot see details, he can be forgiven.

Also, Miss Elizabeth does not drag the bodies into the factory, which anyone sensible would do with corpses before demanding a cover-up from a reporter of dubious repute, so they are probably clear of murder charges.

"Permission to explode your possessed factory, Mister Fritz?"

"Of course, Miss Elizabeth; I do think such things an insult to my father's legacy, after all."

She does not say more before snapping open her strange gun. She adds not a bullet but a canister to it, before flipping it closed and pointing it at the broken window.

And then she fires.

No projectile he recognises comes from the gun, but instead a small burning leading a trail of red smoke.

It enters the window.

Miss Elizabeth grabs Thiago by the arm, and pulls him to the ground.

It does not even take a second for the cotton dust to ignite, the entire factory quickly developing into a blazing ball of soon-to-be-ash.

Miss Elizabeth keeps him low for a while - long enough for the shrapnel and spitting fireballs to pass - before carefully getting to her feet.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Elizabeth," he tells her, as he also struggles up.

"I must bid you farewell; I have a telegram to send," she dusts off her dress, and corrects the tilt of her hat. "I suggest leaving; pray we do not meet again, Mister Fritz. You have no business here."

She does not wait for an answer before returning the strange gun to her skirts, and begins sprinting down the road, in the opposite direction to the bell of the approaching fire cart.

What a strange woman, Thiago thinks, even as he, too, sprints off at ninety degrees to them both.

[abbythewritor]

"Fairness" OnePiece x Saitama reader, Seven.

"Just a Normal girl looking for an everyday life. At least, if you call sailing across the seas with idiots with useless dreams a simple task, then you might wanna see a doctor. Seriously."

Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of Leukemia, and heaps amount of blood and strength. It might be a little cursing, but not bad, and maybe some flirting in there, but it's mostly clean.

Other things:

-You didn't get bald due to your powers; you got bald to an extreme illness.

-You part of the straw hat crew, but others are interested in you and your power.

-Everyone that is a male is taller than you.

-Monsters from the OPM world will appear in One Piece, and I'll make some new monsters you will fight.

Enjoy the seventh chapter, everyone :)

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"Fairness, huh?"

The area was tense; the war was still going on as you stared at the marine that was in front of you.

His eyes glared down at you, the cigars in his mouth puffing smoke as if you were fighting.

Your words a little bit ago struck an annoyance in his heart as a smirk formed his lips. "You have a big mouth, kid; what makes you think pirates deserve fairness?"

"Because they're human, just like the rest of us! Yes, they aren't good people in the world, but at least they have room to change instead of being executed for living their lives! No one should have to go through that! God's children deserve to be free!" His head tilted. "God's children? So you're religious? Don't make me laugh, Pirate." I clenched my fist again. "So what if I am?! Why does that bother you?! Aren't pirates not allowed to be religious?!" He sighed. "I'm not saying that. But, what pirates do is out of monstrosity and vulgarness; never seen a pirate in my life that believes in a God." "I'm not a pirate! I just want to help people have a fair second chance at life, just like my God did with me! Now move out of my way!!" I zoomed toward the marine, already close to him, as his eyes widened, forming smoke as my fist went through; my eyes widened with shock. "What the?" He grabbed my wrist, spinning me around and throwing me across the battlefield as I stumbled but slid on my feet.

Close to me, suddenly, I dodged his lines of smoke, and as his face appeared, I used one of his weapons to try and pin me down, but I grabbed one of them, which was close to my eye, and broke it with my hands.

His eyes widened, but attacked me with the same weapon with the other hand, my left easily caught his wrist, throwing him behind me, turning to face him.

Sliding on his feet, his teeth gritted while looking at me as I blankly looked at him. "Are you done using your toys?!" I asked, himself bolting forward, his hands forming into smoke as he got to me again quickly. I dodged to the left but kept dodging as he was quicker than before, making this fight more annoying than fun.

He tried to attack me in the air, his smoke allowing himself to try and spin-kick me, as I easily dodged, as he flew to me again, trying to kick my face but I ducked backward, barely avoiding it, as his teeth gritted.

Trying to see what part of his body isn't made of smoke, I punched his stomach when he died down his power, causing him to launch back pretty far.

Zooming to him quickly, he blocked my punch with smoke again, which my hand went through as he got a hold of me and turned me around, his foot slamming to my back as he had me pinned down, my arm behind, his hands grasping a good grip on them. "You strong, Kid, but inexperienced; you must do better than that to stop my devil fruit power."

The position I was in caused my cheeks to rise as I looked behind at his muscular form, his daring eyes looking down at me as he pressed harder, an un-godly inappropriate moan escaping my mouth as His eyes widened, a blush to his cheeks as he was confused on why I made that noise.

But he let his guard down, and I smirked, able to use my speed to get out of his hold, zooming at him as I was about to punch him from behind, in slow motion as he turned.

His eyes widened as I was a dark black, as it was like a blink of an eye when my fist went towards him, stopping just in front of his face, as a large gust of wind blew at him.

The force of the wind causes everyone on the battlefield to feel it, but they ignore it and keep fighting.

Once the wind stopped, his eyes widened to see I didn't punch him, as I gave him a small smile. "Well, sorry for letting your guard down; your power is cool, Marine guy; I knew you were expecting me to kill you, but I'm not like that. Like I said, everyone deserves fairness, so let's fight later, K?", I patted his shoulder while soon bolting away, causing his eyes to widen. "OI GET BACK HERE-" He paused when he turned, as the ocean behind him had a massive gap as if the sea was parted like a curtain.

*Pretend it's the ocean :)*

Not believing the gap of the ocean in front of him, his eyes were widened like saucers, as he turned to you running and catching up to Luffy, as that attack you did was nothing new to you at all.

All the bravery that was pent up inside of him left when no one was looking, as his knees hit the floor, his eyes looking at his hands as all of that training he did, all the preparation to be a marine, didn't matter when he faced someone so powerful, who didn't even look like it.

But that compliment you gave him about his power replayed in his head, and that moan you let out made him cough suddenly, his hands going to the floor, his face flushing red.

One of the Marines noticed and ran to him. "SMOKER-SAN!" He yelled, as you heard while running, looking back to him, who was trying to catch his breath as you smiled. 'Your strong smoker, don't use your cocky emotions to get the best of you.' I thought, turning back while continuing to run. 'I hope we will fight someday in the future, but my focus...is to save Ace-" My thoughts were interrupted by an explosion nearby as I turned to see Ivanka fighting the giant robot bear, and my eyes widened at her. "IVANKA!" I yelled as her feet slid, her head whipping up. "Y/n-chan! Go! I'm ok! Kuma! Move out of the way!!" I stopped beside her, looking at the giant man, then at a blonde man beside him. "You know these two?!" I asked as Ivanka sighed. "Kuma, yes, but he's not the same; he's acting strange, and the blonde one....." The blonde male chuckled, staring us two down with his sunglasses. "Seems you had recent interactions with Kuma..." He spoke to Ivanka and then pointed to Kuma. "But the Kuma you knew and this one aren't the same!!" I needed clarification on his statement. 'Not the same..? So...this guy wasn't like this before?' I thought this guy didn't look human; he looked dead than breathing.

"YOUR LYING! I BELIEVE THIS IS THE EATER OF THE PAW PAW FRUIT! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING KUMA?!" He didn't answer as her teeth gritted with anger. "H-he's pissing me off!! Although he has always been quiet!!" The blonde male glared at us again. "I told you that it's no use talking to him." I looked at the man. "Why not?" Your question made him look to you personally as his devilish smile grew, his tongue licking his lips. "Never thought I'd see a day where a cute girl like yourself could fight, especially with your size." Scoffing, my arms crossed. "Don't change the subject!" His head tilted, still smiling. "Oh? Why? I'm not allowed to talk to a cute girl like yourself-" "You obviously know something that happened to this Kuma person, so don't change the subject more and tell us what happened.." I firmly stated, which made him let out another laugh. "And what's the fun of that? I already told Ivanka here he's dead..." I was more confused. "Dead? But he's-" I finally realized something when I looked into Kuma's eyes, which had a hew-like glass.

GLASS?! Wait a minute...it all makes sense....because this Kuma isn't human at all.... It's A ROBOT!!

"Holy shit..." I spoke. "H-He's a robot.." Doflamingo laughed menacingly. "You are correct, firecracker. He Volunteered to be a part of the world government's guinipig....to build a humanized weapon, which is Kuma himself....first they did his legs...his arms....his torso...then...boom....he was brain dead." His evil chuckle made your fist clench as the government turned this used-to-be human into something man-made, as Kuma could have had a life; it's hard to believe that he wanted to become this. "But, I don't know what kind of deal he had with the government." He turned, walking away, towards a pile of bodies, which he sat right on top of, his leg on top of another, as he dug into his ear. "Only a few days ago, he still had his personality. But now, he doesn't even remember that he was born human, so he is no better than dead. He is a monster who fights as the Government tells him. He's Pasfifix 3-0!" Soon enough, the robot charged a laser toward us again, causing me to instantly duck; our eyes widened, as the same explosion that came out of Kizaru happened in the distance. As my eyes widened, Doflamingo was still holding his sadistic smirk.

As Ivanka raged out her anger, she charged at him, telling us to move forward, as I didn't want to leave her with this kind of emotion.

But, she turned, reassuring me that she'd be fine, as I sighed, bending and bolting.

As I ran, time slowed, as Doflamingo and I locked eyes, and he spoke something to me. "Watch out, cutie.....because many people on this battlefield have their eyes on you...." He let out a sadistic laugh, my heart racing when he licked his lips as I continued forward, his words affecting me slightly as I went to catch up with Luffy, who was way ahead of me.

Many of Ivanka ally's came with me, as we caught up to him, us heading more to the scaffold Ace was on.

Me and Luffy could power through marines easily, spreading them like explosions, scattering them like flies.

We were so close to the next area, and my heart raced with determination as I turned to Luffy. "We're getting closer, Luffy don't give up!" He turned to me, nodding. "Yeah! Let's continue forward, everyone!" They all yelled with agreement, as my eyes noticed something off in the distance.

A handsome man was seen in the smoke before us as I suddenly stopped. "EVERYONE WAIT!" I yelled as some of Ivanka's crew got sliced up with one stroke easily. I Luffy's eyes widened when they all plopped to the floor.

When the man became more clear, Luffy's eyes widened as Mihawk was in front of us, my face turning pink with how handsome he was, and how fully his chest and abs were exposed.

He looked so cool, his face severe and blank, his cloak blowing with the wind, as the sword he got out from his back was immense, shaped like a cross as it shined in the battlefield light. "Now, I wonder..." He spoke, his voice a mix of sass and huskiness, as he stared at us. "If fate decides to end the life of a child and strong women of the next generation here...though I hate to admit it to you, darling, your outfit is quite unique, I do like it." He looked at me now, as my heart raced with the color of my black and red outfit, just my Pajams I was fighting the monster with before I came here.'Why is he calling me darling..? He doesn't even know me?' I thought, but I liked it; I didn't want to seem rude to the man in our way, as a nervous smile planted on my lips. "A-Ah, thank you, you look cool yourself." I saw a small yet noticeable smile to me tug his lips. "Thank you, now to not make things...boring, I shall discuss matters at fourth, I won't let you two get past me....and since you seem stronger than young rabbits, I'll give you the privilege to be killed with Yohru..." He gripped the large swords tighter, and I felt excited, as this man seemed strong.

I turned to Luffy. "Luffy, go ahead, I'll fight this guy." His eyes widened. "N-No! This guy, you need to learn what he's capable of! My friend Zoro fought this guy! He almost died! Mihawk is the greatest swordsman on earth; if you fight him, you'll be dead-" I let out a chuckle, stopping Luffy's words as he was confused by my sudden cackle as I looked at Mihawk with a wild smirk. "Greatest swordsman, huh? Well, I guess I can't see him bear-handed now, huh? I'll be fine, Luffy; get to your brother." I picked up a simple metal pipe on the ground as Luffy understood my strength, and he smiled. "Right, be safe!" He soon left; as I sat back up, I flipped the pipe in my hands, and one of Mihawk's eyebrows rose. "A pipe? Darling, are you stupid?" I smirked more. "Maybe I am, but if Luffy says you are the greatest swordsman here...then..." My eyes glared up at him eagerly, my smirk never closing. "How could I pass up the offer to fight you?" Something with my cocky standards struck his heart, as excitement also flew through his veins, which made him smile. "Let's see how long you can last in this fight... a little rabbit." With that, I disappeared before his eyes. His eyes widened slightly as I was behind him, about to stick the back of his neck with the pipe, but he quickly sensed me as his sword and the metal clashed together, a large gust blasting out of us. Guessing he would predict that, I slid back on my feet, charging at him; as I began to attack, he blocked, as I performed many different sword combos, nothing like he'd ever seen.

As we kept clashing together, moving faster than the speed of light itself, the marines or pirates could keep up with our pace. as I hopped on many different kinds of pillars, flipping, as I was about to strike down on him with my pipe, before Yohru went above his head, preventing him from me striking. Our eyes locked, faces close to each other. "Those are some fighting skills little rabbit..." He spoke sassily, a tiny smirk forming his lips as I smirked back. "Guilty as charge, your not the only one with amazing sword training!" Pushing Yorhu and him down, I landed with a flip, my head whipping back up to him, as he was about to attack me again, until I blocked Yohru with my pipe again, as the sword was rather amost touching the tip of my nose.

Gritting my teeth, I used all my strength to push the sword off, causing Mihawk to loose his balance before my foot slammed right into his stomach, not to hard to not kill him, as he stumbled far back.

Sliding, he dug Yohru into the ground to catch him from going far, as he glanced up, some people holding shocked faces.

"S-She was able to hit Mihawk!"

"How?! He doesn't let any enemy pass him with Yohru! It's incredible to see him bleeding!!"

"It goes to show how strong this chick is, look! She's just holding a metal pipe!"

As the whispers and words grew, Mihawk's free hand slowly went to his lips, wiping the slight blood coming from his mouth, as he let out a chuckle, standing up while retrieving Yohru from the ground. "You managed to get a hit on me, little rabbit...but don't think that will save mercy for you!!" He bolted to me again, quicker, as my eyes widened, Yohru suddenly striking me, nocking me quite far back.

Luffy's eyes widened with shock. "Y/N!!!" He yelled, as I slammed into the wall, creating a large indent.

But, as people seemed for me to be dead, I was perfectly fine, as all the marks that were on me was dirt, which made their eyes widened when I got myself out of the hole, as I began to cough and catch my breath.

As my eyes glanced up, Mihawk was slowly walking to my, flipping Yohru easily with his hand. "You may have experience with sword fighting, little rabbit, but your demeanor, defense and attacks are still new, but I respect your bravery." I chuckled, getting up to my feet. "That's an honor...but don't think your words will change this fight..." He smirked more. "Oh no, it doesn't, so why don't you show me how powerful you are..." His words got me excited as he got in stance, as I did as well, as we bolted to each other, landing a super powerful blow, as our weapons clashed, the ground soon shaking.

Both going off each other, we went at a quick speed, attacking each other at different angels, none of us allowing each other to land a single blow, as from the clashes of our swords became quicker, faster and stronger, the wind grew more, causing everyone on the battle field to struggle to stand, even the Admirals.

As I slammed onto the floor, I dodged left, avoiding Yohru, as I dodged right, avoiding the sword again, until I clasped the blade with my hands, as the tip almost went to my eye, as I was able to crack it, as Mihawk eyes widened, as I chuckled while looking up at him. I knew this sword meant well to him, as I didn't want to destroy it.

Instead, I died down my strength, throwing the sword, and Mihawk at a great distance, as the man landed on his feet, but instead of his blank demeanour, it was shock, as he looked to Yohru who had a visible crack on the blade. 'No one has been able to crack Yohru...so...how..did she...'

This made his heart race, as he looked to me, walking to him, as my face was serious. "You may have a sharp stick, swordsman...but to me, those things are ineffective..." Stopping just a few feet from him, a dark aroama formed around me, powerful than anything he's ever seen. "If you want to keep fighting me, then fine...but, if you think a sword of yours will decide the fate of peoples future, then that's idiotic, and calling of false prophecy..." Mihawk chuckled. "False prophecy? What are you a mentalist?" I shook my head. "No, but, I know the truth, and to think you believe fate will end with Ace's blood on the floor is terrible, Ace didn't do anything wrong, he was just living his life." "And you think Pirates killing innocent people is considered living their lives?" My fist clenched. "i don't think anyone killing anybody is fair, even if some do deserve it, but Ace didn't he didn't even kill anybody. He was just seeking revenge to a crew member that did share a fate, by a pirate who does deserve to be killed. Let me ask you a question, why do you wear that cross? What does that thing symbolize to you?" Your question made him shrug. "It looks unique, it's a symbol of strength and peace-" "Then why do you wear it, thinking Pirates deserve to die when you don't know the true cause?! Do you think that symbol is meant for fear or your opponents, or do you see yourself as a higher power? Because let me tell you something buddy, if you mock the true meaning behind that necklace of yours, then your fate prophecy's are at shit, because there is no such thing as fate....." Mihawk's head tilted with confusion, not understanding your anger. "Then what exists, little rabbit? Why do you defend the problems that are infesting this world, when you don't know anything about them neither? Is it, because you believe in a higher power, I assume?" "It doesn't matter if there's pirates, Marines, or just regular people, if people are in act of sinning against the true meanings of life, no matter how the upper power sees it, everyone will be punished by their actions, no matter how kind anyone sees themselves as...so what if I believe in a higher power, stronger and bigger than anyone else, I'd rather die knowing where I'd be, rather than not knowing if I will live or suffered for eternity. So you have no...NO RIGHT!! TO WEAR THAT NECKLACE!" I snapped to him, my voice booming out of anger again, which made him chuckle. "So you are religious, it makes you quite cute, but, what if your God, your Massiah, the prophets written in the book, are all false? What if I kill you now, little rabbit, to let you see where you end up?" He held up Yohru to the sky, as my teeth gritted from his words a bright blue energy surrounding his sword, as he slashed it down, a large amount of large energy coming out in a line, heading to me.

I didn't move, as anger from his words came through me, as I bolted to the light, my hand going out in front of me, as it was supposed to slash me, but instead, the light went around me,spreading out as I blocked it easily.

It was like a huge wall of energy, the size of the wall of china, as little old me was right in the middle, not a scratch on me what so ever.

As the blast died down, all that Mihawk saw of me was smoke coming off my hands, my head tilting. "What was that?" His eyes widened with shock. "Was that supposed to kill me? Man, I thought you were the strongest swordsman in the world." I blankly stated, causing a drip of sweat to fall on his face. 'S-She blocked that...with no problem...that attack could slice through a whole mountain, and there is not a scratch on little rabbit at all!' Putting the hand Yohru was in down, his teeth gritted with annoyance and defeat, as he underestimated my power again.

As my head tilted more, my eyes slightly widened with shock as he knelt in front of me, as if I was going to finish the fight. "Well done, little Rabbit...your strength surpasses me...now you can do your worst..." My eyes widened with shock, as I realised what he was expecting, he was thinking that I needed to kill him, because of this duel.

His actions caused me to sigh, as I walked closer. "Stand up." He was shocked with my words, as he looked up at me, too see my hand to him. I was smiling gently, my wig to seemingly be off as he was shocked, my beauty shining in with the little light left that was poking through the smoke of the battlefield, his heart racing. "Your strong." I stated, smiling wilder. "I was lucky enough to fight someone with the same amount of strength, don't think our tie means that I should kill you, we're all still technically human here, we should learn from our defeats and grow stronger." Not saying anything, my words made Mihawk to smile, his hands grabbing my own as I helped him up. As he was incredible taller than me, which slightly made my heart race, he gently grasped my hands, looking down at my eyes with full respect. "You are quite right, little rabbit, your God seems quite determined to keep you alive, I apologized if I angered you in any sort of way." I giggled. "Angered me? Well, the things you said made me a little imitated, but that's a lesson learned right? Respect other peoples beliefs, it's what makes the world a better place, right?" He nodded. "Yes, you are right." I smile more. "good! Glad we are in agreement, now I think you have changed your aspect on which side you are on, so are you going to let me pass and rescue Ace? Or are you going to be a stuck up and be on the marines side still?" He chuckled from my words. "I say little rabbit, to be truthful, I usually work alone, but, the marines offered me a position that my mind then couldn't pass down, but now, that you defeated me, showed me that neither sides matter, I tend to fight on my own terms. So, to answer your question more little rabbit, out of respect, I won't attack you, but it won't stop me from attacking your allies from getting to Ace." I respected that Answer, as I acted without thinking, as I hugged him which made him freeze. "Thank you!" I stated happily, as I pulled away. "Your a good person sir, and I know your skills will be needed for this world!" Your compliments made his heart warm, as he smiled gently to you. "Thank you little Rabbit, go now, before I change my mind." I nod, and bowed with respect, as I ran passed him, continuing with my path to Ace, as Marines were shocked with his actions, not believing how quickly he switched sides, as they went after me, about to shoot me until Mihawk simply gazed to them, slicing the Marines in a blink of an eye before they could pull the trigger, as his gaze turned back to his harsh form. Other marines were scared, looking to him, as he clutched Yohru more with his hands. "Don't be idiotic thinking I'd let you face her, just be lucky that you'll be taken down by me instead." Gritting their teeth, the soldiers charged to him, as I was smiling while looking back at him, knowing that I made a new ally.

Looking forwards, I ran faster, determined to save ace more, as my eyes glanced in front of me. 'Don't worry Ace, I might not think Fate is real....but...'

'Myself, or the higher power won't let you die, that's a promise!!'

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Author: WHEW! Another chapter done! Man, I feel like this sucked more than the other ones, I love Mihawk, so writing this chapter was really fun. The fighting styles might of not been good, but I hope you enjoyed it at least.

[asmutwriter]

You Saved Me (Part 18)

DESCRIPTION: (Season 14) Its been weeks since Michael came to visit you. And with no news from Sam you surely weren't expecting to see Dean when you turned up back at home.

A/N This chapter is strongly influenced by Deans dream S14E10. I like to think this happened and he enjoyed the idea so much that him/Michael made that dream happen.

WORD COUNT: 4793

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: swearing, drinking, bar owner, talk of death, talk of Dean!Michael, light angst in the middle, mainly fluff, pet name (handsome)

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

It had been a few weeks since your encounter with Michael. Since you rang Sam. And everyday you checked your phone. Waiting for that phone call or text message. Letting you know that Dean was ok. That his brother had found him.

Today was different. Your phone had died overnight and your charger didn't work in the car. No one had a spare wire to charge up your phone. With the little battery you had in the morning you texted Anna. Telling her that if she needed anything to ring her work and not her mobile. Turning your phone off so that if you did need it for an emergency then you would at least have some battery left.

This is how you missed that phone call from Sam. The text message later that day from Anna. Driving back home you listen to the radio. Pulling up to your home you see your eldest daughters familiar small blue car in the drive. Pulling up next to it as your eyes get drawn to the other familiar car. A 1967 Chevy impala sat comfortably next to your daughters car. 

You go into the glove compartment. Taking out a pair of knuckle dusters and carefully placing them onto your fingers. You'd done some research. Finding out as much as you could about angels. Managing to find a mislaid angel blade. Melting it down and turning it into a knuckle of your weapon. Getting out of the car and locking it. Your adorned hand now resting inside your hoodie pocket. Going and opening the front door. Heading upstairs to your small home you share with your family.

"Anna? Lydia?" you call out. Expecting the worst. 

"Kitchen!" you hear one of the girls call out. You wonder down the corridor. Seeing Lydia sat on the counter top. Anna and Dean making some sort of hazardous looking mixture in a bowl. 

"Everything ok in here?" you ask. Scanning over the situation as best and subtly as you could.

"Dean has never baked before. I was cooking so I decided to teach him" Anna says. The green eyed man looks at you. An apologetic smile on his face.

"I hope you don't mind me dropping in. I did try and ring but the call didn't go through" you shake your head. 

"My phone has been off". He motions at your eldest daughter.

"Anna said that your phone had probably died". You nod slowly. "Are you ok?". His eyes grow concerned as he looks at your nervous demeanour. 

"Yes. Yes. Sorry. Been a stressful day at work". You half smile. Looking at him. Those familiar light eyes comforting you. Whatever concern you had quickly fades as you deem that he is human. Pushing the knuckles off of your fingers as you smile fuller. "What monstrosity have you started making then?" You look at the concoction of a mess they have made in the glass baking bowl.

"They're meant to be Halloween themed cupcakes. But we didn't have any red food dye so we improvised". You look at the brown sludge in the bowl. "I never said that our improvise worked"

"Hey" Dean says. Looking at her. An unsure smile on his face as she tilts her eyes up to his. "I think it still has potential to be great". She laughs. 

"What did you improvise with?" Your voice a higher pitch as you question the cooking skills of them.

"Well" Anna clasps her hands together as she looks at the mixture. "we had some pink food dye and we figured that to make red into pink you add white. So making pink into red you add black". You nod. A soft chuckle escaping your lips. "And now we have this mess". You go over to the drawer. Taking out some baking trays and cupcake cases.

"Put some of the mixture into these. Fill them up about two thirds of the way up". You say. Grabbing out four big spoons. Handing one to each of the people. Even though Lydia refuses to get involved she still takes the spoon from you. Shutting the drawer with your hip before you start splitting the mixture between the different cases.

Putting them into the oven. You go into a cupboard. Taking out a bar of white chocolate. Then grabbing out a saucepan and glass bowl. Filling the pan with water and placing it onto the stove. The glass bowl in the middle as you turn the gas on. Breaking up the white chocolate into the bowl. Taking a wooden spoon as you start to stir.

"Do we have any left over pink?". Anna nods. Going to the work station she was at. Wiggling her fingers as she tries to locate the item. Giving a small 'aha' when she finds it. Coming back over with the item. You add a few drops. Making the melted chocolate go a shade of pink. "There is a bar of milk chocolate in the cupboard" you point with the non stirring hand. Dean goes over. Opening it. He takes a minute to take in all the various sweets and snacks in the cupboard. Quickly shaking himself out of it as he grabs the bar. Handing  it to you. "Now-" you speak as you open the packet. Taking out a couple of squares. "It wont be the main cake but we can drizzle it on top. Try and make it look like blood splatter or something. The brown should mix with the pink and give us a nice red colour"

"I told you that adding black would be too dark!" Lydia says. Teasingly pushing her sisters shoulder.

"But you one; didn't stop me. And two; didn't tell me what to add instead of black"

"Your older. You should've known this". Giving a soft smile as you diffuse the situation.

"Ok girls. Come on. No arguing in front of our guest". They glare at each other. Giving a soft huff in response to your words. You try not to laugh. Smiling at their behaviour as you look at the green eyed man. "I apoligise for my children's behaviour". He shakes his head. Meeting your smile with his own.

"Nothing to be sorry for. Me and my brother are the exact same". You place you hand on your chest. Looking at him.

"And I have the joy of being an only child" you smile at him. Blinking softly as he laughs. Bringing your hand to rest onto your hip. "I assume the girls have invited you to stay round for food tonight?". He nods. Licking his tongue over his lips as he smiles.

"Shoot I forgot to tell you" Anna says. You draw your attention to her. A small tint of a smile on your lips as you look at her. "Mum?"

"Yes?"

"Can Dean stay for dinner tonight?"

"Of course" you smile fuller. Looking back at Dean. 

"What film do you want to watch?" your eldest daughter looks at him. He lets out a puff of air. Tilting his head to the side as he looks at her.

"What films have you got?" She takes his wrist. Dragging him to the living room. He lets out a whistle as he sees the head to toe stacked DVDs. You follow after turning the heat for the chocolate mixture down. Lydia jumping down from the counter top as she also pursues. Anna motions at the stacks of movies.

"Any of these. We do have some horror which would be fitting given the spooky season" He nods slowly. Eyes scanning over the various movies. He looks at a couple of classics. 'Sixth Sense', 'The Others', 'Conjuring', and a few more.

"I've heard good things about this film" he gently taps the spine of a DVD. You tilt your head. Giving a soft chuckle at the diversity from the films he was previously looking at. 'The Greatest Showman'. Anna nods. 

"Its a very good movie. Great cast of characters. Wonderful choreography and singing". He nods. Giving a soft chuckle as he picks out one of the films.

"This film as a classic!" He holds it up. A prominent joy in his voice. 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid'. Anna and Lydia both shake their heads. "You don't like it?" he almost sounds hurt at the words. 

"Never seen it" they admit. You bite your bottom lip as Dean looks flabbergasted. His mouth slightly agape as he looks at them. Turning to face you. 

"Tell me you've seen it". His voice filled with horror and shock. You shake your head slightly. "No? Really?"

"Its just never been one Iv'e had time to watch. I always meant to"

"Everyone go and sit your butts down. Now. W are watching this damn movie. Anna" he holds the disc case towards her "Can you put it in please?" she gives a small laugh. Taking the case from him and going over to the DVD player. 

"Let me start cooking dinner ok? Give me five minutes and Ill be in". You go to the kitchen. Taking out the forgotten cakes. Lightly drizzling the melted chocolate over the top. Putting a couple of oven pizzas in as well as some chips. Going back into the living room. The girls sit on one sofa. Dean sat on the other. You go and sit next to the Winchester. Bringing your legs up onto the sofa as you sit them under you.

“Ok. Everyone is here. Start the movie” he says. A soft chuckle escaping your lips. Resting your elbow on the back of the sofa. Placing your chin into the palm of your hand as you put your undivided attention to the movie. Anna pausing it when you go and grab out the food from the oven. But for the most part it’s completely uninterrupted. Mainly because every time you try and speak over the movie Dean shushes you. Arguably that causes you to want to complain more but you refrain from doing as such.

Soon it has your full attention. The final scene comes and goes. End credits start to scroll over the screen. Anna pauses the movie. Dean smiles at the three of you. “Well?”

“It’s good” Anna says. You and Lydia nod in agreement. Giving it heavy compliments.

“You said it was based on truth right?” You querie. He nods. "Goodness". His face unable to help the smile over it as you all praise the movie. Your eyes glance to the clock on the wall. “Where did the time go?” Lydia looks at the clock on the wall.

“It’s ok mum. It’s Friday today so it doesn’t matter if we go to bed later then usual”

“Of course!” you shake your head. A soft laugh coming from your lips. “Sorry. It feels like a Sunday today”. 

She nods and smiles at you. “Having said that. I’m knackered” she stands up. Stretching her arms above her head. “Are you staying the night Dean?” He looks at her. Eyes glancing towards you briefly.

“I’m not sure yet”

“You’re welcome too. I’ve got a spare room that you can stay in. Be the first guest in there in fact” he chuckles softly. 

“So long as your sure?” He looks at you. You nod. Smiling at him.

“Of course”

“Yes then” he looks back at the youngest daughter. She nods and smiles. 

“I won’t say goodbye properly then as I’ll see you in the morning” she comes over to you. Hugging you. “See you tomorrow” you kiss the side of her head.

“Goodnight” she stands up tall. Heading up the stairs. Anna also wishes you both a goodnight. You know full well that neither of them are going to sleep and will likely be up internet scrolling until 3am. But you let it slide. It is Friday after all.

That leaves you and Dean in the living room. You look at him. Meeting his green eyes. “How have you been?” He gives a soft scoff. 

“I’m great. Never been better” undertones of sarcasm lace his voice. Your brow twitches slightly.

“Dean” he looks at you. A comforting smile over his lips. “I know when you’re lying”

“I’m fine. Honestly. It’s just…” he pauses. Drawing his tongue over his bottom lip as he turns his head downwards. No longer looking at you. “I’ve had a pretty hectic life the past few weeks”

“Because of Michael?” You whisper the name. He jolts slightly at the mention. Looking back at you. Querying how you know. “I spoke to Sam. He told me what happened”. Nodding in response. 

“Anna said something to me earlier”. You glance to him. Giving a soft ‘hmm’ in response. “She told me that I’d been round only a couple of weeks ago”. You bring you bottom lip between your teeth. Looking away from him. "Fuck" he mutters. His eyes retreating as he shakes his head slightly. "I didn't- he didn't hurt you, right? Or the girls?". You think for a moment. Too long, you realise. "Shit are you ok?" He goes closer to you. His hands going to your arms as he almost holds you in place. Looking at him as his eyes fill with fear and concern. His body turned towards you on the sofa.

"No. Yes. Sorry. Yes we are ok. Me and the girls are fine. We're all fine". He watches you. His eyes staring into yours. You softly smile at him. Bringing your hands up as you cup his face between them. The light stubble scratching your palms. "We are fine Dean". He stays like this for a minute longer before dropping your arms. Wrapping them around you as he hugs you. You hesitate for a second. Bringing your hands up. Resting them onto his back. Scrunching the fabric as you pull him close to you. One hand remains on your lower spine. The other travelling upwards and resting into your hair. 

"I am so sorry Kat". You shake your head. Hiding your face into his chest. He kisses the bunch of hair on top of your head. The affection drawing you into him more.

“It doesn’t matter now though. You’re no longer him. We’re safe”. You feel him hesitate. Though you cant see his features you feel his body tense.

“He’s not dead. He’s still in our world. He’s just no longer possessing me”

“He’s- he’s still alive?” He nods. Taking in a breath through his nose. Moving so he can see your face. Still holding your arms as he watches you.

“What did he want?” You shake your head slightly. “Kat. Tell me. I need to know everything he said to you”

“He said he was building an army and he wanted me to join him”. He frowns slightly. Cocking his head as he looks at you.

“Why would he want you?”

“Thanks Dean” you speak in a slightly hurt tone but the notion of trying to lighten the atmosphere. He shakes his head. Dropping your arms as he turns away from you. Resting his forearms onto his knees. His head tilting towards you but his eyes remain down.

“It doesn’t make sense. You are human. You’re not even a hunter. Not an active one anyway”. You remain silent. Tilting your head as you look down.

“He… he told me things. Things about myself that I didn't realise. I’m-“ you shake your head slightly. Looking upwards as you speak. “I’m not human. Not technically”. He pauses a moment.

“What does that mean?”

“He thinks that when my mum did a deal with a demon they plucked a soul from hell and planted it into my body when she conceived”. You scratch the back of your head. “Although my flesh is unique I am just a reused soul. That’s why I can’t die from natural reasons. My soul is already dead”

“That’s why you can’t die?” You nod

“It explains why I have been medically declared dead on several occasions but come back only a few minutes later”

“He wanted an immortal on his side”. He whispers. You take in a breath. Nodding in agreement. You fiddle with the sleeve of your hoodie. He notices your behaviour shift to a more defensive one. "You said that you spoke to Sam?"

"Yeah. A short but brief conversation but yes"

“Did he tell you he’s invited a bunch of strangers to live in our home?” You shake your head. Furrowing your brow as you look at him. His mouth tinges a smile. A small laugh coming out as he looks back down. “Yeah well… they’re nice enough. But I don’t know them. And they’re all just… there”

“Is that why you came here?”

“I just needed a bit of normality” he speaks. Can’t tell if it was towards you or himself. You take in a breath.

“Come on” you say. Hitting your hand onto his knee as you stand up. Holding a hand out. He gives you a confused look. “You want normality. Come and help me clean the kitchen” he chuckles softly.

“I said normality. Not chores” you take his hand. Pulling him up.

“Stop complaining” you keep a hold of his hand. Taking it with both hands as you walk to the kitchen. Letting him go as you open the dishwasher. “You do the mugs” you point to a cupboard “they live there. I’ll do the more complicated bits”

“Did you give me the mugs because this load-“ he motions at the machine “is only filled with mugs?”. You smile at him. Wiggling your eyebrows.

“Maybe” he chuckles. Shaking his head as he picks up some of the cups. Starting to place them into the cabinet. You grab the thing of cutlery. Taking it over to the drawer and filling it up.

Once you’ve both unloaded you start filling it up again. He grabs the plates from the living room. Bringing them out and place by then in. You thank him. Smiling softly at him as you continue to fill it up. “I’m hoping to open up the bar downstairs in the next couple of months. Just waiting for the license to sell liquor. Once I have it then I’m open for business”. He looks at you. A smile coming over his lips. He leans against the cabinet side. Folding his arms over himself.

“That is brilliant news”. Feeling his eyes on you.

"I'm very excited for it" you grin. "I've never owned anything really. I've only ever rented homes. Worked under a boss. But now-" you spread your hands out. Smiling at him as you hold two dirty mugs. One in each hand. "all this is mine." You raise the glasses. "these are mine. Thar weird smell downstairs. That's mine" you place the mugs in the machine. Shutting it as you point to the lampshade dangling in the middle of the room. "That ugly ass light that's rusted to the ceiling". You point at your chest. "Mine". He laughs. Scratching his jaw as he nods. Looking downwards.

"I felt the same when I moved into my place. Never had anywhere to call home. But now- Well I now look at the tacky books and think 'this is my home'". You smile. Going and rinsing your hands before going to the fridge. Taking out two beers. Handing one to him.

"Its thrilling isn't it?" you place a hand on the counter top side. Pushing yourself up so you sit on it. In the curve of the kitchen so you can still see Dean. Him being just the other side of the dishwasher from you. "Being able to own stuff. Actually having something to call your own". You undo the bottle lid. Tossing the metal cap into the sink. Placing the cold beverage to your lips as you take a mouthful.

"You know I've never had my own bedroom. Not before becoming an adult anyway" Removing the lid off his drink.

"Really?" he shakes his head. Taking a sip of his beer.

"We used to rent out motels when I was younger. Never had an actual home. Not until we found the bunker". You go to speak your sympathy but he shakes his head. Bringing a hand up in an effort to quiet you. "It was a long time ago. I don't need pity for it". You nod. Taking a mouthful of your drink. Bringing the bottle back down.

"Do you want to see what I've done with the place? The bar that is"

"Yes". He replies with zero hesitation. Excitement in his voice. Causing you to let out a soft laugh as you jump down from the counter.

"Follow". You speak. Heading to the front door. You grab the keys from the key rack. Opening the front door you motion for him to leave first. He thanks you. Walking down the stairs. Shutting the house door behind you as you follow. Getting to the doors of your bar. Taking your keys and unlocking it. Pushing the door open. Going in first as you hold the door open for him. He goes inside. Looking around. You reach round the corner. Turning the lights on. He lets out a whistle.

"Holy hell" he says. His face beaming as he looks around. You take the keys out the door. Shutting it as you chuck them into your pocket. Folding your arms over yourself. A smile coming over your face. "This must've taken you ages to do". You nod. Running your tongue over your lips.

"Its taken a few months. Thankfully I'm a handy woman so did most of the technical parts myself. Or I have friends in high places who did it for cheap" you smile. Taking a sip of your drink. He walks over to the bar. Resting his bottle on top of it. Running his hands along the top. "You can go behind the counter if you'd like". He looks at you. You can see a smile threatening his lips. "I know you want to". He grins. Giving a soft laugh as he walks over to the bar flap. Lifting it up as he goes in. You lean against a table. Watching as he smiles like a kid in a sweet shop. An obvious joy in his walk.

"This is awesome" he says. A smile in his voice as he looks at all the things. Turning to admire the different alcohol choices. Seeing an archway. He goes over. Looking inside. "Kitchen?" he questions. You nod. Folding your arms over yourself. Taking anther sip of your beer. Resting the bottle into the crook of your arm as you watch him. "This is really cool Kathrine. Makes me want my own place" you chuckle softly.

"Whats stopping you?" He gives a soft pfft. Shaking his head as he looks downwards.

"I can't. Not really" You watch him. Giving a small nod.

"Shame" He looks back up at you. You smile at him. "I'd have liked the competition". He chuckles softly. Shaking his head as he picks up his drink again. Swigging it. You stand up. No longer leaning against the table. "We should go back upstairs". You go over to the bar flap. Lifting it up. "Come on handsome". He half smiles at the pet name. Chuckling softly. Going upstairs. You turn off the light and lock the bar door behind you. Going upstairs as you then lock your house door.

"I'll show you the guest room". You walk down the hallway a little bit. Opening a door. Turning on the light. A neatly made bed one side of the room. Boxes and other knick knacks the other. "I apoligise about the clutter". He shakes his head.

"Its still cleaner then most places I've stayed at". You smile at him. Going into the room. Kicking his shoes off and placing them in an untidy pile by the bed. You lean against the door frame.

"I'm just across the hall. If you need anything just holler". He nods. Turning to face you. "Goodnight Dean"

"Night Kat". You lean forward. Taking the door handle as you pull it shut.

You wake to the sound of gentle laughter coming from the kitchen. A soft grumble coming from your lips as you stretch awake. Plodding out into the kitchen. Dean and Anna sitting at the dining table. Cereal bowls in front of them both as they chat and laugh away. They both look at you. Anna smiles.

"Morning mum". Dean glances at your donut pyjama bottoms and cat wearing sunglasses tshirt.

"Nice peejays". You shake your head. Bringing a hand up to your lips.

"shh. Too early to process comeback". He gives a chuckle. Smiling as he watches you go over to the coffee machine.

"sleep well?" your daughter asks. You give a small nod. Pouring yourself a cup full of the liquid before plodding over to the table. Pulling out the chair next to Dean as you sit down.

"Why are you both up so early?"

"Because its a beautiful autumn day". You shake your head.

"But its Saturday" your voice filled with disbelief at your daughters statement.

"That doesnt make it any less of a beautiful day" She smiles at you. You shake your head again. A small smile forming on your lips.

“Mad. The both of you" You sip your coffee. "What are the plans for today then?" You place the mug softly onto the dining table.

"Well" Anna speaks. A smile in her voice "I’ve been asked out on a date". You raise your eyebrows.

"Is this the lucky fella you’ve told me about?" she nods. Dean raises a hand slightly.

"Woah. Hang on a minute. You’re going on a date?". She nods. Smiling at him. "Who?"

"His name is Henry. He does sociology and history. He’s equally smart and handsome". She emphasises the word ‘and’. Exaggerating it with her hands as she pushes them into the table. A soft laugh of air coming out of his lips as he looks down. Gently hitting the table with his knuckles.

"He sounds wonderful". She nods and smiles.

"What time is your date?" You questions.

"Hes picking me up at 3. We're going to watch a movie and then he’s taking me out for dinner" You go to speak but she cuts you off. "Don’t worry. I’ve told him I need to be back by 11". You smile. Nodding in approvement.

"Good". You tilt your head slightly. "Thats why you’re up so early isn’t it?" She gives a sheepish chuckle "Couldn’t sleep from the excitment of today?". She nods. Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she tilts her head slightly. She looks at you.

"You’re good. You should’ve been a detective and not a pub owner". You laugh. Sipping your drink. Placing the mug down. Hearing a soft ping from Deans phone. He smiles apologetically at you both before taking his electronic out. You turn to face him as he lets out a deep sigh.

"Everything ok?". He glances up at you

"Yes. Sam is just checking in to make sure I’m ok". He pushes his phone back into his pocket. Lightly tapping the table rhythmically with his fingers. "I should be heading back to him. Don’t want him to get worried about me". You nod.

"Are you sure you don’t want to stay for longer?". He shakes his head.

"I shouldn’t be out for too long. He'll only worry otherewise". He smiles at you. Standing up. You stand with him. Anna remains sitting as she smiles widely at him.

"Its been good seeing you” she speaks to him. “You better come back soon. You promised me that you’d show me more of those old western movies" he chuckles and nods. His phone pinging again. You try not to smile. Drawing your lips between your teeth.

"Its been lovely seeing you" he speaks. Coming and hugging you. You grip his shirt tightly as you embrace him. Feeling him kiss the top of your head. You hold him tighter. Pulling him close to you. His phone pings one more time. You both give a laugh. Moving away from each other. "I'll see myself out". He speaks softly. Turning tail. You fold your arms over your torso as you watch him walk down the stretch of hallway and out the front door. The gentle thud of the door closing behind him. You watch sadly at the now empty doorway.

Giving a small sigh as you turn back around. Eyes glancing to his empty bowl on the table. You feel a small sadness fill you. Anna seems to pick up on this as she speaks. "He'll come back to see us mum. He always does". You blink a couple of times. Glancing up at her. Nodding as you force a smile over your features.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@sojuxxi

[amberskyyking]

My house is a “safe house” in a red state in the USA.

I house vulnerable people, I advocate with them, I network with them, I’m often their emergency contact, and that’s as much as I think I can safely say outright. But the world just became a lot crueler for us. I’ve seen a lot of people feeling overwhelmed, drained, and helpless over it. I’m right there with you, I feel it too. Holy shit I feel it too.

There are a lot of posts about joining organizations, protesting, and donating money to good places. Which is excellent! We need it, donations and advocacy have kept us going, but there’s also been a lot of discouragement if that’s not something you can do. Thing is, that work is not for everyone, and it shouldn’t be. We all have different strengths, different resources, and different sets of knowledge. Not everyone needs to be on the front lines, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find a place in this fight if you’re willing.

Please, PLEASE look at what you have to offer, and get creative with it, because I promise you have something. Mundane things you don’t think are worth much might have given you valuable knowledge, struggles you’ve faced might have given you skills, resources you can share might be critical. Privilege, time, words and kindness are all important! You can use them! Those things genuinely help people survive.

Since Trump won and took office, we’ve faced a lot, but some of the things I’ve been able to do or seen happen that made the biggest tangible difference to people in my network have been:

Two people tag-teaming to lend their cars to another who just got in an accident to make sure they can still get to work

Someone who has faced the monstrosity that is the American Healthcare system themselves helping another navigate it for the first time to get the care they need

A person spending an hour to help to clean an apartment of a friend who was having a very bad mental health week after the, you know, -gestures at everything-

Someone other than me and my partner, who owns a home, offering a spare bedroom to start housing vulnerable people too, since we are full but the need keeps growing

A banker friend, who we know is a safe person, using his professional expertise and taking his time to sit down, educate, and reassure one of my people on their financial options after they were cut off by family

Another friend in management, who we also know is safe, offering an interview to one of my people for a job that recently came available

A boss making every effort to jump through the hoops of USA company time off policies so someone can be there for a family member getting surgery without penalty

FOOD. Always food. Everybody gets hungry, no matter who you are. I can’t tell you how many tears I’ve seen over fucking groceries.

Someone who is already a part of a marginalized people group taking someone new to that community under their wing, meeting for coffee and recommending safe healthcare and resources in the area for them

A crafter gifting a handmade blanket to someone having a hard time, made in their favorite colors

Someone with a washing machine offering to let someone else without one wash their clothes at their home

A door dasher offering to go on the first few dashes with a new driver so they’ll be more comfortable learning how it works and can make some extra cash

A straight cis white male going with a minority friend to car shop to help make sure they don’t get taken advantage of

My partners parents, writing small letters of encouragement to each of the people I house to remind them they’re valued and loved

It’s not always a movement or a protest or a riot or a parade. It’s not always pretty, it’s not always public.

It’s everyday people taking what they have and looking for opportunities to do good with it, then doing it on purpose.

Please, be a part of it. Wherever you are, whatever your community. It’ll be stronger with you. 💜

(And if you don’t know… Maybe message me. I put together a book of encouraging words for scared people in the first four years of hell, so, maybe I’ll do that again too. There’s a million ways to help. Kind words go further than you think and we all have them in us.)

[misty-groves]

Do you understand that we will never be the same again?

Fandom: DC, Batman specifically

Characters: Ivy Wayne (oc), Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd's Memorial

Relationships: Ivy Wayne & Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne & Ivy Wayne, Damian Wayne & Ivy Wayne

Summary: Ivy comes home after everything that happened in the league of Assassins, and she sees the infamous 'Good Solider' plaque. It doesn't go very well. (Aka: I'm not telling you good job dad this memorial was shit!)

Rating: T

Warnings: cursing, Lazarus pit side effects, bad coping, Good Solider memorial, mental illness, violence, Bruce Wayne is Bad At Communication, Damian Wayne is Bad At communication

Other: If I missed anything, please let me Also I wrote one of my favorite lines ever in this fic so even if you don't read it please know that I wrote a banger line: "...Bruce Wayne puts his foot in his mouth for breakfast..."

-------

Ivy lets herself get lead into the bat-cave with a soft smile, watching as Damian sees it all for the first time. The boy looks around in reserved awe, unused to things such as a giant penny or a dinosaur in a cave.

She thinks it's adorable.

She's got an ache in her chest watching her brother too, but that's okay.

Going to the cave without her big brothers is weird. But that's what's happening and she's not going to let it ruin her day. (That would be letting The Assholes win. Ivy doesn't do that anymore.)

She glances to where Tim Drake hovers by the Bat computer in a modified Robin costume with darker colors. She feels a swell of green rushing up and immediately squashes it down.

Robin is magic. It's power.

And Her Robin wouldn't want her punishing the new Robin.

Besides, her problems are far more to do with the adults than the kid.

"Ivy?" Damian prods as he turns to her.

She turns her gaze to her baby brother, "Yes?"

"Where is your suit?" Damian asks.

"Oh, unless they moved it it should be up there." She smiles as she motions to the elevated walkway with a row of suits in tubes.

The suits are all retired or last choice back-ups there, from every hero to have used the Bat Cave as a base.

"Well let us go examine it." Damian declares as he marches them forwards.

The boy moves like a general, not waiting for confirmation simply trusting his will to be followed.

Ivy follows her brother in perfect step with the younger.

Bruce trails after his kids, as of unsure what to do. Which seems fair, he hasn't seen his daughter since she died and he met Damian yesterday.

Ivy snickers when they pass the original Batman suit. The blast from the past is both nostalgic and hilarious.

She'd forgotten her dad had that cowl for a bit. (Thank god he changed it.)

The keep walking past retired or last choice Batsuits before the move into the suits Dick has used.

"What is this monstrosity?" Damian gapes as he stops beside the original Robin Costume.

The original costume is a sigh to behold, bright traffic light colors doing nothing to aid stealth. The glorified leotard with a button up shirt and pixie boots is certainly memorable.

"Ah yeah, Dick said pants took away from his aerodynamics." Ivy says with a snort.

"Those-" Damian screeches in abject horror- " are scaly underwear!"

"I don't know why Dick is like that." She shrugs. "He added pants later. He got cold."

Damian just gives her a dubious look before turning beck to the fashion crime that he just witnessed and pursing his lips.

They keep walking, passing several retired costumes.

Ivy stops to mourn the disco-wing suit, losing the respect of her baby brother for her adoration of the travesty of a suit. (She thinks that's a little rude since it was a little bit of a memorium to other heroes and also Iconic.)

She then says a quick farewell to the slutty titans costumes from That Era. Saying something about 'everyday was a tits out kinda day back then'.

Bruce just makes a face, wondering if this is somehow karma.

They pass a few more costumes, including her own, before stopping at Jason's memorial.

Damian had some thoughts about her costume she designed at age nine, sighting it rather impractical in the bright red but at least it had pants.

The memorial draws the attention of both siblings.

Bruce watches the children, unsure what to expect. Damian has never gotten to meet Jason... Ivy had adored the boy though.

Bruce just- he just hopes his daughter like the memorial. That it brings her closure to see her big brother remembered.

"Jason Todd." Damian reads the name on the plaque, only to continue "Good Solider."

Ivy stiffens, gaze snapping from the ruined suit to the polished metal.

The bloody uniform in the case feels like a slap in the face to everything Jason- and Robin- ever was. A tragic shrine to a death that was unearned and needlessly cruel.

She reads the plaque, 'In memory of Jason Todd. Second Robin. A Good Solider.'

Oh.

She feels her blood start to boil.

"What. The. Fuck?!" Ivy snarls as she whirls around on her dad, fighting the urge to bare her teeth in outright threat.

"Was he not a good solider?" Damian frowns, eyeing the case and wondering why they would bestow such a high title on someone who didn't earn it.

"He was a child!" Ivy snaps sharply as her eyes narrow while staring her dad down.

"Ivy it's just a memorial." Bruce says weakly.

He knows as soon as he says it that it was the wrong thing to say.

Ivy tilts her head slowly, almost predatory. Her eyes almost look green despite them having been a different color her whole life as far as he knows.

She turns back to the memorial slowly, eyes flicking back and forth between the destroyed suit and the plaque.

It's a betrayal to the highest degree.

Ivy can handle a betrayal against her.

This is again Jason.

She has never handled disrespect towards her people well. The fire in her veins demands payment and she can feel the green starting to rise again.

Ivy knows she should probably fight the green but she doesn't think she's wrong to be so upset. In fact- she thinks Jason would understand.

Her vision is starting to blur.

"Ivy." Damian says as he steps closer. "You are blowing this out of proportion-"

Ivy is swinging a fist at the glass before she can decide if she wants to. Green swims fully in her vision.

Her fist connects and cracks the bulletproof glass with a satisfying crunch.

"Ivy!" Bruce gasps.

The horror he feels at both the strength required to crack the case first try and the action in general are rising rapidly.

She likes the sound of the cracking glass. A frenzied- blood thirsty grin pulls at her face.

Green only gets stronger. Her blood starts to boil.

Ivy revels in the sting of her knuckles as she swings alternating punches at the glass until it shatters.

Someone grabs her arm and that's all it takes.

Green overtakes her and she loses herself. She can't see anyone.

She fights whoever grabbed her arm mercilessly. Slamming fists, knees, elbows, and kicks into their form.

Nothing is okay.

And then-

Then she's somewhere else, axe being pressed into her hands.

She can do this.

She feels someone directing her in a task she can't identify. She doesn't know much but her body moves to comply.

Who ever it is calling the shots has to be one of three people, so it's probably no more dangerous for her than usual. No more dangerous than poison.

-------

Damian sits a few feet from his sister, watching her chop the wood he set her up with. He would usually have joined her fight, but it seems bad form to kill their father.

He also doesn’t exactly understand what set Ivy off. The little metal plate seemed a kind memorial. What better to he than a good soilder?

She's been slowing down on the wood chopping for a bit, probably coming back to herself.

He's been out here with her for a few hours now and he still couldn't place the source of her wrath.

"Ivy?" Damian asks.

She turns slowly, eyes still almost glowing. "Dami?"

He ignores the rush of warmth hearing the Arabic term of endearment, knowing he needs to focus on other things. His sister is always too free with affection anyways.

She's not all back, but she's a lot more in control.

She very likely knows who he is and where they are though.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks.

She stares at him, brows knitting. Her memories seem to he returning as her eyes take on the same stormy hue as usual when upset. "Less foggy."

"Good."

"What... did I do?"

"Attacked Father."

"Fuck." Ivy groans.

"What set you off?" He asks. Far less afraid of her Pit Rage than most.

She sighs slowly, looking up to the sky. "Jason's memorial. They put that stupid fucken- Good Solider!"

"I do not understand."

"Good Solider!" Ivy snaps sharply, eyes flickering a toxic green glow and back to green grey stormy seas. "GOOD FUCKEN SO'LD'AH?! MY BROTHA WAS NOBODY"S FUCKEN SO'LD'AH!"

Her accent thickens and morphs into the Crime alley accent she hides. She's got her arms moving with her words.

"That seems to be a high compliment." Damian acknowledges.

"JASON WASN'T A FUCKEN SO'LD'AH! JASE WAS A KID! A FUCKEN KID WHO WENT 'N DIED IN A BLOODY FUCK UP CAUSE BRUCE IS TOO STUPID TA KILL JOKAH!"

"Father's reluctance to killing hardly constitutes a reason to put down the memory of a talented fighter."

Ivy gives him a look that promises she's taking a pound of flesh from someone.

Damian isn't scared though, he is in no danger. Not from his sister.

Instead, Ivy takes several slow and deliberate breaths. She's crossing her arms as she tries to reign herself in

He just waits. He knows it will all come with time.

"Dami," She says, soft despite her anger. She looks to him again, eyes free of Lazarus glow for the moment. She's obviously struggling with her accent when she asks, "If I died, would ya want my memorial ta be like Jason's?"

"What?"

"If I died, would ya want me to have a memorial just like Jason's?" She asks as she tries to fight back the accent further.

She has never liked the looks the accent earns her even though she's not exactly ashamed it is easier to hide.

Damian can not help feeling like this is a simple question. But the way she asks it- careful to phrase it...

He is sure he is missing something.

He clicks his tongue, "Tt, I would never let your uniform be displayed in such dis-repair."

She snorts, "Glad I'm not the only one who thinks it was distasteful."

She's forced most of the crime alley out of her voice.

Damian watches her, trying to puzzle out her distaste of it all.

He agrees the ruined costume is tacky and maybe even disrespectful but the plaque seems respectful and of high praise.

"I can't believe dad." Ivy sighs heavily. "Reducing Jason to a solider. Oh that mother- Jason wasn't a good solider."

"Is the memorial a lie? Was he a bad fighter?"

Ivy gives a startled laugh, eyes falling to her brother. "No. No, Jase... Jase was good fighter, but he wasn't a solider."

Damian purses his lips again. He loathes to admit defeat but if he craves any chance at understanding he must. "If you want me to understand your upset, you must explain it better."

She just sighs. "I'm mad about the phrase good solider. It makes it sound like all Jason was. It's like that all Jase was to dad. A solider."

"So?"

Ivy grits her teeth for a moment.

Then she takes a slow shudders breath, reminding herself as firmly as possible that for every wrong she's feeling right now Damian isn't involved. Remembering that her brother isn't the one behind it and is in-fact just a kid looking for answers.

Damian doesn’t get it, but he does know she's beyond upset.

"If I died and my memorial only said "Ivy Wayne, good solider... how would you feel."

"Angry your name was messed up." Damian huffs. "You are an Al Ghul. Your name is Ivy Al Ghul- Wayne."

She huffs, "Thank you. But if all it said was my name and good solider... what then?"

He does not understand the sudden surge of protest in his mind. If he were with anyone else... He wouldn't even bother trying to untangle it but he's been working on trying to understand feelings with his sister.

So... Damian thinks.

Good Solider... that is high praise and if his sister was memorialized that way in the league it would be an honor.

His sister is a fierce Warrior, one of the only teachers he hasn't surpassed. She's their grandfather's beloved Hawk. She's the only person he's seen hold their own in fights against their mother and grandfather both.

Though, the softer- sentimental part of him that he ignores often disagrees.

His sister is a Warrior... but she is more.

She's the only person who has been truly and unfailingly loyal to Damian as a person and not as an Al Ghul. She sang him lullabies and held him through his most embarrassing nightmares.

Ivy may have taught Damian to throw knives with deadly precision, but she also soothes his tears.

"I would tell stories... You are a Warrior to behold, riati... but I would tell others about you outside fighting."

Ivy gives a bitter sweet smile, the kind she gives when he's said the right thing but it doesn’t help anything. "That's what's wrong, Damian. They've memorialized him as a fighter and stripped away everything else."

"Oh." He says as his brows knit.

"Yeah."

He looks up to her, trying to find the words to express the twisting feeling in his chest. "I am... sorry."

She shakes her head. "It's not your fault."

"I know." He agrees.

"So.... how badly did I attack dad? Is he hurt?"

"Of course he is. You rarely miss." Damian says with pride he doubts he will ever lose.

His sister is amazing like that

"How badly hurt?"

"Broken ribs. Broken wrist. Broken nose." He shrugs. "Not too bad."

"Oh god." She cokes off, blood draining from her face.

"What?"

"I- I am so mad at him but I- I didn't wanna break his nose or ribs or anything."

"He will heal and get over it."

"I don't know that he will... I guess I should go face the music."

"If he makes a fuss I can always seek retribution for you."

Ivy gives a soft smile, "Thank you, bit that's really not necessary. Things are different here."

"We will see. Perhaps you can tell me absolutely Jason later."

"Maybe. I should go see how it's gonna go."

-------

Bruce sits in the cave searching the data base for information on the Falcones with Tim at his side when he hears Ivy coming down the stairs.

Tim stiffens, glancing to Bruce.

He shakes his head to the boy. No reason to react before they know what's going on.

He tenses, though, unsure how this is about to go. He doesn’t want to fight his daughter, but he won't let her attack Tim.

Ivy comes down, arms crossed across her test and shoulders raised. She stares at the floor though, which is a point towards no more physical altercation.

"Ivy?" Bruce asks.

She looks over, face a mix of afraid and angry. "Dad."

"What are you doing down here?"

"I wanted to talk. Maybe explain." She shrugs halfheartedly.

"Oh?" Bruce grunts.

"First of all, that memorial is shit." She scoffs.

"You had no right to wreck it." Bruce says evenly.

She takes a slow breath. "I'm not here to argue."

"Good. Then you know what you did was wrong and you shouldn't have attacked me."

Ivy grits her teeth, eyes flashing the toxic green from before as she takes a slow breath again. "I apologize for attacking you, I thought I was over the pit rage episodes."

"What?" Bruce croaks.

He knows, logically, that his daughter was put in the Lazarus pit. He was unaware she had negative side effects but he should have expected it.

"I got too upset and Pit Madness took over. I know that's not an excuse and I am sorry. Even if that memorial is a blatant disrespect to Jason... I shouldn't have attacked you."

"Pit... madness."

"Yes. I know I fucked up-"

Damian is hurdling down the stairs, sword on his back and a challenge in his eyes. He looks ready for a fight when he sees the hitch of his sister's shoulders.

He's caught by his arm, Ivy moving quickly. "Damian what the hell?!"

Bruce just blinks.

"Father was about to do irreparable damage with his words." Damian scoffs.

"Oh, sweetheart, Bruce Wayne puts his foot in his mouth for breakfast. I'm sure I'll live." Ivy says fondly, reaching out to ruffle her brothers hair as if he wasn't ready to engage in combat with Batman.

Bruce just watches. It's almost reassuring to see his daughter still has a soft spot for children but this is all so weird.

"Go back... you suffer pit madness?" Bruce frowns.

"Sometimes." She shrugs. "I'm working on it."

"So... the attack was pit madness?"

"I know it doesn’t excuse anything. But yes." Ivy says stiffly.

Damian is glaring again, as if challenging Bruce. Even with his elbow in his sister's hand he looks ready to pounce.

Bruce is struck for a moment by a memory. He can almost see Jason holding Ivy by her elbow all those years ago in an attempt to stop the girl from attacking a bully.

"We can talk about the pit madness later. That explains lot. I would still appreciate if you refrained from destroying memorials."

"That memorial was shit." Ivy scoffs again.

"That memorial is for my son."

"That memorial is for a fucking child solider, not Jason." Ivy says shortly.

Bruce flinches a little. His son has never been a solider. His son-

Alfred put up the plaque.

But the looks his daughter gives him is scorching, the kind of look that screams she's not going to forget this. That she will remember this and it's going to be something that cuts a divide between her and the culprit forever.

Bruce is faced with a choice, like he so often is.

He can choose to take the blame, and face likely irreparable damage to his just found relationship with his daughter.... Or He can tell the truth,and turn that firey rage on Alfred, and watch his daughter lose faith in the man who's basically her grandfather.

Bruce makes a choice to save other people, just like always.

"Jason was a fighter." He says stiffly.

Damian clicks his tongue at that. "Tt, clearly you don't understand the concept of empathy."

Ivy has to take a breath at that one. She's been working on Empathy with Damian for- years. In the environment Ra's Al Ghul provided it was an uphill battle both ways and in the rain. But he's come further. He's closer.

Damian is a little better at identifying complex emotions in his mother and his sister.

Bruce is floored, getting that retort from a child who threatened his protege last night is surreal.

Tim chokes on a noise, "What?"

"Damian, go upstairs for me, please. If you want I'll tell you about Jason later."

Damian gives her a considering look, as if searching for answers to a question he hasn't asked. Whatever he finds though is enough.

"I expect as much." The boy says before going back upstairs.

Bruce watches the temperamental boy storm upstairs with a frown. "That was... efficient."

"What was?" Ivy frowns.

"You're good with Damian." Bruce says. Trying to find the words he wants. "He's so temperamental. He challenged me to combat last night."

Tim nods. "Yeah he threatened me too."

"I'll talk to him. But you should understand he was raised by Ra's and Talia."

"I do."

"I don't know that you do. Also, if you ever make another memorial say Good Solider I'm going to feed your balls to a pack of rabid dogs while I make you watch."

"Excuse me?" Bruce gapes at the colorful threat that he can't be sure is actually empty.

"That's a shit memorial dad. Jason was more than a solider and if he saw that it would break his heart."

"Ivy..."

She gives a sharp, predatory smile that screams Talia. Ivy just blinks serenely. "No more child soldiers, Dad. No more shitty memorials."

"Kid..."

"I'm going upstairs because I'm losing my grip. Try to be patient with Damian." Ivy says before she storms back upstairs.

Tim turns to Bruce, frowning. "What was that? Why didn't you tell her Alfred put up the memorial?"

"It'd hurt her worse."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry you had to see that. And I'm sorry Damian threatened you."

"It's not your fault." Tim says. "I just... Don't remember Cardinal being so volatile."

"Some of that is the pit madness. She's doing very well with it all things considered." Bruce muses.

He can recall the way pit madness rots the mind. He knows how easily the Lazarus Pit corrupts completely.

He wonders how much of her control stems from the obvious need to protect Damian?

"She's right... That memorial is shit." Tim mutters to himself.

Bruce huffs.

[rpgsandbox]

Welcome, traveller, to the fungus-wracked tangle of Dolmenwood, and beware, for all here is not as it seems…

Dolmenwood is a fantasy adventure game set in a lavishly detailed world inspired by the fairy tales and eerie folklore of the British Isles. Like traditional fairy tales, Dolmenwood blends the dark and whimsical, the wondrous and weird.

Streamlined rules and helpful introductory materials guide novice players, while unique new magic and monsters bring a fresh sense of the unknown to veteran role-players. We’re launching the three Dolmenwood core books, plus a range of delectable extras.

Check Out a 76-Page Preview PDF!

Check out our free 76 page preview PDF of material from the 3 core books!

Preview also available at DriveThruRPG and necroticgnome.com (no account required).

Rife with intrigue, secrets, and magic, Dolmenwood draws travellers of adventurous spirit, daring them to venture within.

Explore the wild places of the Wood, travelling through bramble-choked dells, fungus-encrusted glades, and foetid marshes, bedding down among root and bracken amid the nocturnal babbling of strange beasts.

Unearth treasure hoards in forgotten ruins, haunted fairy manors, dripping caverns, crystal grottoes, unhallowed barrow mounds, and abandoned delvings.

Confront fell beasts, roving fungal monstrosities, terrible wyrms, tricksome fairies, and restless spirits of the long deceased.

Recover saintly relics and shrines lost in the befuddling tangle of the Wood, gaining the favour of the Church by returning them to civilisation.

Forage for weird fungi and herbs in the untrod depths of the woods, many with useful magical powers—and many that can be sold for profit.

Strike against Chaos, defending civilisation from the encroaching forces of the wicked, half-unicorn Nag-Lord who lurks in the corrupted northern woods.

Unravel secrets of deep magic, charting the obelisks, dolmens, and ley lines littered throughout Dolmenwood—but beware the sinister Drune cult that wards them.

Seek the counsel of witches and hags, masters of magic that can heal, hex, or divine the future.

Meddle in the affairs of the nobility, allying with a noble house in its intrigues and power plays in the courts of High-Hankle and Castle Brackenwold.

Journey along fairy roads, ancient magical paths bordering on the ageless realm of Fairy that allow travel throughout Dolmenwood—and perchance to realms beyond.

Return to the homely hearth to share tales of peril with quaint locals over a mug of ale and a well-stoked pipe.

The Dolmenwood Player’s Book (A4 size, Smyth-sewn hardcover, 192 pages approx., 1 ribbon marker) contains the complete game rules plus all character options.

Player’s introduction to the intrigues and mysteries of the forest realm of Dolmenwood.

Familiar character creation with the six classic stats, level and XP, Hit Points, and Armour Class.

6 playable kindreds: goat-headed breggles, starry-eyed elves, tricksome grimalkin cat-fairies, everyday humans, fungus-riddled mosslings, and bat-faced woodgrues.

9 character classes: cleric, enchanter, fighter, friar, hunter, knight, magician, minstrel, and thief.

4 kinds of magic: mighty arcane workings, fairy glamours and runes, holy prayers to the host of saints, and the odd knacks of mosslings.

Detailed, flavourful equipment with lists of adventuring gear, armour, weapons, mounts, hounds, inn lodgings, tavern fare, beverages, pipeleafs, fungi, and herbs.

Simple core rules: roll a d6 or a d20 plus modifiers versus a target number.

Easy-to-follow procedures for travel, camping, foraging, dungeon delving, encounters, combat, and downtime.

Full examples of play and introductory materials make the game easy to learn.

The Dolmenwood Campaign Book (A4 size, Smyth-sewn hardcover, 464 pages approx., 2 ribbon markers) presents a lavishly detailed campaign setting, ready for years of adventure.

Referee’s introduction delving into the regions and history of Dolmenwood.

Mysterious lore of the lost shrines, standing stones, ley lines, fairy roads, Wood Gods, and fairy nobles.

7 major factions: the Chaos-godling Atanuwë, the wicked fairy Cold Prince, the sorcerous Drune, the human nobility, the breggle nobility, the monotheistic Pluritine Church, and the enigmatic witches.

12 settlements detailed with major sites and NPCs and beautiful maps.

Expanded procedures for weather, getting lost, encountering monsters, fishing, foraging, and hunting.

200 pages of fantastic locations waiting to be explored.

Over 280 NPCs with their own desires and schemes.

Referee advice on starting and running campaigns, awarding XP, designing adventures, and creating dungeons.

Starter adventure to get you right into the action.

Hundreds of magical artefacts from enchanted oddments to mighty relics.

Over 250 rumours to drive adventure.

Easy-to-reference presentation designed to minimise page flipping and prep time.

The Dolmenwood Monster Book (A4 size, Smyth-sewn hardcover, 128 pages approx., 1 ribbon marker) details a bestiary of creatures that lurk under Dolmenwood’s eaves.

87 fully detailed monsters dripping with flavour, including encounter seeds and beautiful illustrations.

48 mundane animals including unique Dolmenwood fauna such as gobbles and gelatinous apes.

9 types of of normal humans: anglers, criers, fortune-tellers, lost souls, merchants, pedlars, pilgrims, priests, and villagers.

27 NPC stat blocks for common adventuring classes.

Adventuring party generator for rolling up NPC adventurers on quests of their own.

Over 300 rumours describing monsters as featured in local folklore.

Monster creation guidelines to keep players on their toes.

Easy-to-read stat blocks and bullet point presentation for quick reference.

Dolmenwood uses a lightly customised version of the acclaimed Old-School Essentials rules system, tailored to Dolmenwood and with some major quality-of-life upgrades. Players of all editions of Dungeons & Dragons will find the Dolmenwood rules very familiar.

Ability Scores: Roll for 6 ability scores: Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom, Dexterity, Constitution, Charisma.

Kindred, Class, and Level: 6 kindreds, 9 classes, levels 1–15.

Hit Points (HP): Roll 1d4, 1d6, or 1d8 (determined by Class) for HP. Re-roll 1s or 2s. 0 HP is dead!

Armour Class (AC): AC 10 = unarmoured, better protection raises AC.

Initiative: Streamlined side-based initiative makes combat fast and exciting: each side (monsters / adventurers) rolls 1d6 each Round—highest roll acts first.

Attacking: Roll 1d20, add Attack bonus and modifiers, try to beat the target’s AC, roll damage.

Saving Throws: Roll 1d20, add modifiers, try to beat a fixed target number on the character sheet.

Ability Checks: Roll 1d6, add ability modifier, 4 or higher succeeds.

Skill Checks: Roll 1d6, add modifiers, try to beat a fixed target number on the character sheet.

As an adventure game in the heritage of the RPGs of the 1970s and 1980s, Dolmenwood espouses the danger and excitement of the old-school play style.

Emergent character creation: Unique and surprising Player Characters emerge from quick random rolls, rather than from detailed character build optimisation.

Exploration, puzzles, and tricks: Players’ ingenuity and creativity are challenged by devious puzzles, traps, and tricks. Simply rolling dice to succeed is often not an option!

Creative thinking encouraged: Easy-to-learn rules for exploration, encounters, and combat provide referees with a robust framework from which to make impromptu rulings on players’ outside-the-box antics.

Fast, exciting combat: Combat encounters are quick to play out, leaving plenty of time in game sessions for exploration and role-playing. As in real life, combat is not fair or balanced—players whose clever tactics tip the balance in their favour will prevail!

Zeroes to heroes: Characters advance from humble beginnings to heights of great power.

Open-ended sandbox play: Campaigns focus on freeform stories evolved over the course of play, with players driving the action.

Kickstarter campaign ends: Sat, September 9 2023 4:59 AM BST

Website: [Exalted Funeral] [facebook] [twitter] [instagram] [youtube]

[waylaidbyenemies]

I would like to thank my new internet comrade for inspiring me to make monstrosities like this Gale the facecat tressym in picsart everyday

[oldmanpusspuss]

why are we on this earth. just to suffer? everyday i must see a new penny url monstrosity

I am providing a unique stimulus to enrich your environment

[steddiehands86]

Waking up early is dumb…(1/2)

A twitter thread

Eddie hated waking up early, call it insomnia, too many video games of talking to his friends but either way- it made waking up in the early morning before the fog had a chance to lift pretty difficult.

Why so early? Kids. Two, in fact.

Merry and Pippin, the mini lights of his life that had school at ass o’clock, which meant Eddie had to wake up earlier to get them ready. It was always something.

No matter if he got their clothes ready the night before, they would somehow lose a shoe, forget to brush their teeth or their hair so they were always left scrambling. Either way, Eddie drifted through a fog that maybe some coffee would lend some clarity to, but that meant he would have to wake up even earlier as he didn’t have a fancy coffee maker. Tea didn’t count, and after a health scare, energy drinks were out of the question.

He usually made it a point to get dressed with the kids- a T shirt and jeans at least, but the night before he and his buddies had a raid night on their game that lasted until the very wee hours.

So when the time came for his alarm to go off, he rolled out of bed- blearily head and heavy limbed- and trudged through their morning activities. When the time came to walk them to the bus stop, he pulled up his hair, shrugged on something vaguely appropriate and did the final inspections for school. Clothes on? Check. Faces and teeth washed? Yep. Shoes thankfully ON and tied? Indeed. Hair brushed? Wellllll-

Once all of that was finished they were on their way. Wayne waved from the porch after a couple goodbye bear hugs, and the trio walked out into the mist that had descended like a sheer blanket over their little corner of life.

They identified woodpeckers, said hello to the dogs and squirrels, planned out their after school activities as it was the weekend.

Through it all, Eddie fantasized about the coffee and cigarette that was waiting for him, the warm bed he could crawl back into since he didn’t have to work that day. Even though there was no one waiting for him to curl up to, he longed for the gentle embrace of his blankets for at least a couple more hours. Thank god they had school, toddler-hood was Eddie’s hell since both kids were born early and had reflux. Night terrors. Colic.

Now they were school age it was better, and though he had issues with the faculty he could appreciate that they had buses come out to their end of town, that he didn’t have to buy school supplies this year or pay for their lunches- really it was a miracle that he needed to move back with Wayne when he did.

Raising two kids on one salary wasn’t cutting it anymore.

They had been back at Hawkins for a few months, leaving Indianapolis and all that mess behind to try and start over. He found a job, reconnected with his old friends and even made some new ones. Robin always talked about her roommate that she was sure they’d hit it off though Eddie wasn’t interested in the slightest.

No, what made his early mornings worth it was not just cuddling with his kids and playing with them before the bus would come and pick them up to whisk them off for a day of learning- it was the actual dreamboat that drove the big orange ish yellow monstrosity.

He was something else.

Always had a bright smile, a silly little wave, and spoke to his kids like they were little adults which made Eddie’s heart flutter and stomach tighten. He wasn’t sure if Steve was like him and always wondered but never said anything to him because that would be weird and the man was working so… alas.

He didn’t even know his name! It had to be something like Vinny, or Tony. He looked Italian with his olive-toned skin, the cute little moles with those sleepy little puppy-dog eyes.

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. Always smiling that thousand watt toothpaste commercial smile, complete with a “Hi guys!” Who woke up that bright -eyed and bushy tailed? The man was killing Eddie everyday oh so softly and deftly.

Today was the same, though different. The bus came by right on time at 8am, the lights on top of the cab flashing. The kids sprang out of the bushes and batting at the leaves and twigs that cling to them to huddle around Eddie for their goodbye hugs and kisses.

The bus pulled up and stopped, and their in the drivers seat was Vinny/Tony/stranger-

“HI STEVE!” Both kids screeched in joy.

So his name was Steve, good to know. Eddie wondered if he was related to that other Steve who was in a couple grades behind him. He always thought he moved on to college or something.

“Hey guys! Good morning! Merry, you going to be a menace today?”

Eddie’s daughter stomped up the steps and high waved him, “Yeah!”

“Alright!” The guy sounded just like Linda from Bob’s Burgers and Eddie was in love.

“Pip, you gonna be a fool of a Took?”

Eddie. Was. In. Love.

“Always!” Pippin chirped before high giving the little boy.

They went to their seats and before Eddie chose that moment to leave and fantasize about the bus driver later, the siren of his morning fantasies called out.

“Something tells me you might like this- what did the bus driver say to the frog?”

“I’m, I-I don’t know? What did he say?” Shouldn’t he be like…driving away? Was he calling him a fucking frog?

Steve’s smile just got bigger as he bounced his eyebrows at his own joke, “he said ‘Hop on’.”

To be fair, it was really fucking early and Eddie’s brain was like cheese, so normally he would have got it right then but all he did was snort and wave.

It was only until Steve had driven away, and Eddie had walked back home to tell Wayne the weird fucking thing the bus driver said to him over coffee did he get it. Wayne snorted and shook his head, saying nobody had time say shit like that early in the morning unless they were sweet on someone did Eddie suspect that maybe, just maybe, Steve might be a little fruity.

So maybe waking up early wouldn’t be so much a hassle, that it could be something to maybe look forward to. He knew for sure he could put a little more effort in his appearance because the frog comparison was entirely accurate though hurtful at the moment.

As he laid back down to dream about cute Bus Driver Steve, his sludgy mind supplied him with strange dreams of frogs, kisses, princes and chariots that he would no doubt forget upon waking back up.

He couldn’t wait to pick the kids up at the bus stop later.

[yico0]

Love Alarm

"Love Alarm" uses the love alarm app, a piece of advanced technology, to signify otherness in human identity, particularly in love and relationships. The app creates a world where a person's desirability is quantified and broadcasted for others to see. This can be seen as a commentary on how technology can impact and commodify human relationships, touching upon themes related to class, popularity, and social hierarchy. It also explores the emotional distance that technology can create in human connections.

Humanist Practices: enhancing Human Connection and the emphasis on Human Emotions. The love alarm app is introduced as a tool to help people find love and emotional connection. It aims to enhance the human experience by allowing individuals to easily identify potential romantic partners. Post-Humanist Practices: blurring boundaries, dependency on technology, and people's exploration of identity. While the series primarily focuses on human emotions and relationships, it does introduce the idea that technology can blur the boundaries between the digital and physical worlds. The love alarm app creates a new layer of reality in which people's feelings are quantified and publicly displayed. It also depicts a society increasingly dependent on technology for matters of the heart. It suggests a shift in the way humans engage in romantic relationships, relying on algorithms and digital interfaces.

While "Love Alarm" doesn't explicitly involve aliens or monsters, it does depict the Love Alarm app as something that can feel alien and monstrous in its ability to disrupt traditional human relationships. The intrusive nature of the app, which broadcasts one's feelings to the world, can be seen as a form of emotional invasion, creating a sense of alienation and monstrosity in the characters' lives.

“Love Alarm" doesn't directly address geopolitical concerns in the traditional sense. Still, it touches on broader societal issues related to technology and social dynamics that can be interpreted as indirect commentary on contemporary problems. For example, the app "Love Alarm" raises questions about privacy and surveillance as the app collects and broadcasts users' emotional data. This theme resonates with contemporary debates on data privacy, surveillance, and the ethics of technology companies collecting and using personal information.

The central premise of the love alarm app serves as a reflection on the complexity of human emotions. It raises questions about whether love can be reduced to a numerical value and whether technology can accurately capture the nuances of human emotional experiences.

Questions:

In the context of the love alarm app's impact on social inequality and self-esteem, how does the series comment on the intersectionality of identities, such as gender, class, and physical appearance? How do they relate to broader discussions of identity in contemporary society?

"Love Alarm" introduces a world where emotions are quantified and exposed for public scrutiny. Can you draw connections between the show's exploration of this theme and real-world examples or ethical frameworks?

How does the love alarm app in "Love Alarm" impact the characters' everyday lives and decisions, and how does this reflect the influence of technology on modern relationships and societal norms?