#i think i should tag for the phobias as a possible warning

[alex-the-bringer-of-chaos]

Oh great, my mom just decided to open her mouth and spill the usual bullshit of her denial regarding my gender and sexuality. Ffs, the only reason why I don't call it transphobia/aphobia (and also biphobia even though I'm not bi) is cause I don't wanna despise her.

She's always trying to find whatever the fuck could be the imaginary cause of my confusion such as: the bipolar disorder (even though I've been stable for over a year now and my mental health is the best my psychiatrist and therapist ever seen), other people are manipulating me, content I watch, a trauma that either I or someone in the family went through (and it somehow passed down to me).

This time, along the usual questioning just to try and sway me out, she decided to go with the "what would changing your name and possibly having top surgery be good for you?", "what friends even sticked with you? do they really, or are they just pretending? your therapist, psychiatric, and friends don't really care about you! only your parents do and what you do affects us, you should think about that", "I see your not exercising, taking care of your food and psychical health as a whole, you should focus on that instead of your name! what is changing it gonna do?". Overall, we know better attitude sundue with the cherry on top of you are abnormal.

Yeah, you can say she's transphobic, aphobic, queerphobic as a whole. I BELIEVE YOU! But I can't accept it because how could I look at her in the face after that! I know I'm not taking care of my physical health, but mental and emotional are important, and while exercise and eating properly and sleep help, so does not hating yourself and trying to be someone your not. So shut the fuck up, you never noticed when I was doing bad, when I wasn't being myself while growing up you still loved me, but now that I trusted you with who I am you do this! I want to trow up every time you open your mouth, I want to be away from you, I tried to be vulnerable with you so many times and you always do this yet I'm in the wrong! And I can't even say all this because you will make yourself the victim. I know I depend on you, financially, but that doesn't mean you get to talk to me like you know me, you don't know shit, you never do, and it's not because your older that your wiser about everything you dumb fuck!

And the last fucking paragraph is why I can't think of her as all those phobics, how am I supposed to look at her and not spill all of this out? I can't leave yet, I don't have the money. And even if I did my sister still lives with them. And my dad, oh poor dad, he just stays in the middle and tries to be the only fucking person in the house that was never mentally ill, yet he does not call me by my chosen name and thinks I'm confused. I don't even know where he is with all this.

Also, my mom is real into pseudoscience. I don't know when it started, but I should've seen all this coming. I should have only told them after I changed my name, I should've known better than to think I could be vulnerable with them.

[simp4konig]

Okay okay I have to ask, what’s your fav head canons of Nikto then? I love hearing other people’s ideas and head canons of cod characters ^^ 💕

Ngl, i get inspired by other people's headcanons, and i make headcanons off THEIR headcanons 🥲👍… I'm unoriginal 😔💔

SOOOO, im “” Tagging”” (by that i mean putting // after the @ so the original creators dont get the notifcation for this LMAO=) blogs whose own works inspired me to create my own headcanons 🥰❤️

General Nikto Headcanons ❤️

Word Count: 1,584.

Tag List: ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @rustic-guitar-notes ♡ @best-soup ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @nightlyvoids ♡ @skeletalgoats ♡ @aethelwyneleigh27 ☆ @arrozyfrijoles23 ♡ @dobaddo ☆ @the-second-sage ☆ @wil-xyz ☆ @revnatheshadow ☆ @feelya

Allusions to NSFW beneath the cut! Readers are warned.

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Blunt and straight to the point. Sees no rhyme nor reason in beating around the bush and sugarcoating his words. As a result, he can be viewed as insensitive and lacking in empathy.

Impatient, and has a short fuse, so blows up often. Only you are able to be the calm after his storm, subduing him with soft reassurances and whispered words.

To say that he is possessive would be an understatement — he is extremely territorial.

After his torture, he is wary of the few things that he posesses and can actually call his own (you). His biggest phobia is losing you, and his irrational fear is someone stealing you away. Any prick unlucky enough to not catch on to you two dating will be lucky enough to survive the beating that he is given.

On that note, he is simultaneously self-assured, and insecure.

His mask is a part of him, and personal. It will take him months for him to shed said part of him.

Constantly fears that you will leave him once he reveals his face to you, so puts it off for as long as he possibly can. The day that he takes off his mask, only for you to be so casual about it and passing it off as your day-to-day, is the day that became cemented in his hard, stony heart.

Has conflicting views towards marriage. On the one hand, is an official document declaring your relationship really so necessary? Isn't an expensive wedding superfluous, and too sensational? To him, all of that is redundant — he's yours, and you're his…

…On the other hand, a glistening ring on your finger invokes a primal desire to make you more his than you are already. It would be a declaration of a love which even death wouldn't do part. Maybe he should pay more attention to the rings on display at the jewellery stores you pass by when shopping occasionally together.

An introverted man, who finds solace in solitude; excluding you, his partner, he has no companions, and rarely associates with anyone else. The voices in his head are bothersome enough, so why does he need additional voices bothering him? With that said, you would think that your presence would be a bother — especially with your mindless chatter when Nikto doesn't grunt at the idle small talk at times, wholly unresponsive for the majority of the time — but the moment you give any indication of leaving, he seizes your wrist, his cold, icy eyes silently pleading for you to stay. And you do. You always do.

Bringing me onto my next point: he is a good listener. Your ramblings are all that to you; ramblings. To Nikto, however, it's his chance to unpick all the information about you, down to the littlest of details. You wrongly assume that your words fall on deaf ears, but he listens, and he memorises every opinion you have, every statement you make, and even the small anecdotes that you share, which becoming engraved in his brain. He goes over every sentence religiously, as if it was the Bible.

He has an exceptionally good memory, tending to remember things that you had forgotten. Mention something that you craved in passing? He would surprise you with it the next time you bring it up. Alluded to someone who insulted you and ruined your day? Well, it would be no surprise that that person would never ruin your day ever again.

He is like a cat in the sense that he is an unwanted stray. However, when you came to want him, it dawned on you that he was no cat, but a panther. A predator — savage, vicious.

He would kill for you, no questions asked (He has already done it, but you don't know about that. After all, you hadn't asked him that question yet, only in jest. Truth be told, he has made so many death threats that you have become desensitised to them, dismissing them as nothing more than that: threats).

He would have died for you (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE @//charliemwrites’s DEPICTIONNOF NIKTO IN THIS SCENE??????? HAD ME ON MY KNEES 🛐💍🧎🏼‍♀️ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE VI NEED HIM SOVBAD); however, when you were hyperventilating as you sobbed and were close to reaching hysterics, that's when he realised that he should value his life more.

Incredibly stealthy. You've seen his execution animations… 🤒 Uses that stealth to sneak up on you whenever your guard is down to smack your ass. 🤭

Insomnia troubles him at night, the relief of sleep rarely coming to him; therefore, he tends to be nocturnal, buying groceries and going about the usual errands you would have otherwise done during the day. When you wake up, that empty fridge is magically stocked with your favourite food, your bear snoozing sometimes — most of the time he stares at you like a creep. 💀 /aff

When he does sleep, it tends to be during the day, and it's almost as if he is a bear entering hibernation

He sleeps like a plank — on his back, his arms by his sides, and his legs straight. You'll curl onto his side, your head on his chest, his legs between your core, and a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

Snores. REALLY loud. 😬 ONLY when you are in his arms 🙄 — when he sleeps alone, he is eerily silent.

Subsequently finding him laying in bed, still and silent, you were sobbing, thinking that he died in his sleep. Finally, after minutes of shaking him awake, he opened one eye, and grumbled groggily: “Дорогая, shut up. I am not dead. Not when I have you to live for. Now, come.”

Once he is asleep, good luck getting him to wake up again; unless you somehow manage to disentangle yourself from his arms — only then, when his myshka is missing, does he begrudgingly get up from bed, stand outside the bathroom door, and whisk you back to bed, willfully ignoring your complaints.

Proud of being your protector. Always has his hand[s] on you in some way or other, protectively keeping you by his side.

Has 20/20 vision, and perfect hearing.

Don't mistake his opening of pickle jars and water bottles for you as chivalry — he is taking advantage of it to show off his muscles for you. Doesn't want you to ask if you want to cup a squeeze of his bicep — when he sees you staring, he will forcibly take your hand and put it on his arm, positively smirking beneath that mask of his.

Has a staring problem and is unashamed of it. From his point of view, there is no problem in staring at you all day and every day.

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Eye contact with him is intense. Whenever you avert your gaze, he instantly grabs your chin to angle it so it's facing him. Eye contact during sex is a given.

Despite not wanting to be a father, he has an insatiable breeding kink (does not care whether you are a female, a male, an infertile female, or other — he is delusional in that sense).

Although he isn't against children per se — mainly indifferent to them, if I'm honest — wouldn't want to pass on the generational trauma onto his brood. He would prefer his bloodline ending with him.

His dirty talk is so filthy that you get wet from just his voice and innuendo. (Thank you @//xoxunhinged for your headcanon 😫💦)

His animalistic instincts are so prominent that you've become convinced that he purrs whenever you stroke that sensitive spot on his scalp, and growls in between grunts as he thrusts into you.

Is rough, leaving dark hickeys and bruises, but he would never, ever hurt you. He's rougher than most, but has sufficient self-restraint to be realise ahead of time if he is making you uncomfortable.

You are his deity, and he worships you — if he was to ever hurt you, he would enter a state of loathing. Since you were a merciful God, he would take the liberty of punishing himself — retribution suited to his crime.

One time you two were play wrestling and he almost dislocated your hip on accident. He didn't touch you again for at least two weeks, until he finally considered himself worthy of your touch.

Is dominant in bed, for two major reasons: because he prefers exerting the control which was forced upon him, relishing in having you submit to him; manhandling you to showcase his strength

A third reason is because if you were to ever top him, he'd cum embarrassingly quickly.

Probably gets off to being stronger than you. Deliberately puts you in positions which render you powerless, only able to take what he gives you.

Whenever you enter his room, he always sits in the darkness. Insists: “I do not need lights. Lights are wasted when I can see in the dark.”

Which is true... but it is also a pretence to hide the concerningly detailed shrine taking up an entire wall, dedicated to you. You'll come to find all of your lost trivial belongings when you mistakenly flick on the light switch.

His loyalty and devotion is unparalleled to any other's. He is utterly and unashamedly down bad for you, and he is willing to do anything and everything to keep it that way.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to do much, because you, too, love him. A lot.

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A/N I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIMI NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEEDH IM I NEED—

Yeaah i thought comparing him to a panther would be cool 🐈‍⬛

“Guard dog” and just anything to do with a “dog” is an overused trope to me at this point 😐. Dont get me wrong!!!! , it doesnt mean that i dont LIKE the trope!!!! , but my own interpretation of Nikto is a little different, abd i think it suits him better,, Esp bc panthers technically 🤓☝️ do *not* exist, which links to how the definition of his name in Russian is “Nobody” :)

An unconventional animal for a very unconventionally attractive man😽,,

Anyways, it is time for a cigarette 🚬🤏😪. I will return in approximately 56 business days (trust me guys 😋✌️).

[catgirl-catboy]

Characters in one of my fandoms have self-harm scars. I always trigger tagged them, because I believed that it would make sense to tag something that reminds people of self-harm.

Now however I saw a comic of someone with these kind of scars in real life saying that its hurtful when people trigger tag photos of them because of their scars, and that this says that people like them should not exist in public.

Should I stop tagging the scars?

This is just my personal opinion, I'm no expert on the topic. In fact, due to a large part of my blogging happening past midnight, I routinely forget to trigger tag major triggers. (sorry!)

That being said, I feel like that if you were a person that got triggered by self-harm scars and joined that fandom, that itself would be a form of self harm. As sad as it can be, not every fandom can be accessible to every fan by nature, and depending on how extensively the canon talks about self-harm this could be one of those cases. If you have a phobia of clowns, don't get into Batman I think.

That being said, I see the other side of the issue. I once encountered a user that trigger tagged my disability, which pissed me off and caused me to block them in a blind rage. They very easily could have had good motives for doing that, but I didn't really care. Sometimes its just easiest for two blogs to block one another because they are too different, and thats nobodies fault!

You mentioned the comic was specifically talking about photos, and I think thats relevant. As much as we don't think about it on the internet, behind every photo is a real person. Meanwhile a fictional character has no agency, and can't be upset by trigger tags. Of course, real people can be upset by comments made about fictional characters they related to, but thats on the real people to manage thier emotions.

I also feel like the distinction between a trigger warning and a content warning is a meaningful one here. I don't think I've heard anyone else say that (no hearing loss pun intended!) so this is my own two cents. But to me it feels like content warnings are more about the content itself, and trigger warnings are more about people's possible negative reaction to said content? If that makes any sense. A possible middle ground would be to tag cw self harm scars and not tw self harm scars.

In the end, its a really complex issue, and I don't think there is a simple answer. I personally wouldn't, but thats more from a place of "if I can't do it consistently, I'm creating a false sense of security by doing it most of the time"

[hp-fanfic-archive]

an introductory rec list (that nobody asked for) for some of my favorite (platonic and/or romantic) pairings: severitus [2/10]

First fic I read for the pairing: Of Potions and Phobias by tt22123 [1k,G] Severitus story with nightmares [i stumbled on this fic on accident and it was short and sweet (and a little bittersweet at the end).]

Fic that really sold me on the pairing: Leo Inter Serpentes (Series) by Aeternum [746k,E,6 works] (WIP) Just one conversation between two eleven year old boys goes slightly differently, and the world changes. Just how much will be different with Harry being sorted into Slytherin, and how much will stay the same? [i will never not recommend this series: it’s amazing, it’s well-written, it’s true to all the characters and relationships and it feels more canon than canon (of course, it’s also significantly more gay than canon but i said what i said).]

Absolute favorite fic(s) for the pairing: Nobody Cared by etherian [360k,G] Harry is 11 years old and looking forward to attending Hogwarts. Why, then, does he miss the Welcoming Feast? (warnings for: child abuse, bullying, depictions of violence) [this fic is really well done (but has a lot of angst and definitely mind the warnings above (although the author doesn’t include warnings on the fic)).] Family Means More Than Blood by WingsOfADream [422k,M] A prophecy made in 1975 drastically changes the life of the boy who should have been known as Harry Potter. [this is yet another fic with a really well-written and fascinating plot with excellent characterizations and plot lines. i definitely would recommend it to someone with a lot of time on their hands.]

Most recent fic I’ve read for the pairing: Blackberry Tart by starknjarvis [33k,G] One year after Severus Snape offered to become Harry's legal guardian, Sirius Black shows up at Hogwarts. [the fic is a part of a well-written and pragmatic series and this fic also includes the development of a remus & severus and a sirius & severus friendship so that harry can have a larger and supportive family and i’m living for it (i believe the exact tag that the author used was “coparenting with your childhood nemesis” and i am living for it).]

Favorite AU(s) I’ve read for the pairing: Alternate Sorting AU (Slytherin!Harry): Malfoy Flavor by Vorabiza [199k,E] Harry’s ready to banish the Golden Boy image and take charge of his life. Unfortunately for him, or fortunately, there are surprises in store for him. [Slytherin!Harry but it’s not an entire canon rewrite like most of the alternate sorting fics i love so much, so that’s fun. also drarry and just the right amount of painful but realistic angst. oh and it has a delightfully fluffy little sequel.]

Favorite Series for the pairing: Forgiveness & Redemption by waitingondaisies [130k,T,2 works] Severus Snape was discovered as a spy mere days before the start of the school year. Thankfully, Albus had been working on a vague contingency plan for this possibility. It had been inspired by the question, “What would it take for Severus Snape to see that he was wrong about Harry Potter?” The answer? Force Severus to go undercover as Alfonse “Eli” Hopkirk, a sixth year Gryffindor. (that’s technically the summary for the first fic but i think it serves well enough in lieu of a series summary, which the author did not provide. also warnings for child abuse.) [this series is such an interesting concept and it feels very realistic in how it played out and i’m honestly here for it.] You're a Parent, Severus by acmparker [210k,G,6 works] (WIP) When Lily got home from her first year at Hogwarts, she found a new distance between herself and Petunia. As a result Severus and Lily became even closer to each other over that summer. The next year Lily found a book in the Hogwarts Library that describe an ancient ritual for creating a blood bond that would make two unrelated people kin. She convinces Severus to undergo the ritual with her and they become brother and sister. This means that when Lily dies there is another whose blood relationship with her is recognized by the blood ward Dumbledore places on Harry. To Severus Snape's chagrin he finds himself the last line of defense between Harry and the forces of the Dark Lord. (again, no series summary but i think this works well enough.) [i love a good remus and severus friendship plus severitus so this series really works for me. and it’s a canon rewrite (love those).] Bruised Words by starknjarvis [49k,G,2 works] (WIP) After Harry blows up Aunt Marge, Dumbledore decides it's not safe for Harry to spend the rest of the summer at the Leaky Cauldron, and instead sends him to stay at Spinner’s End with Professor Snape. It's tense, awkward, and teeming with misunderstandings...but it might be the best thing that's happened to either of them. They're both been without a family for a very long time. (apparently all my favorite series aside from Leo Inter Serpentes, which i’ve already listed above, don’t have series descriptions, but the first work’s description seems to work well enough. also warnings for child abuse.) [this is the series that blackberry tart belongs to and may i just say: it’s excellent and well-written and pragmatic and i would recommend it.]

Longest fic I’ve read for the pairing: A Year Like None Other by aspeninthesunlight [789k,T] A letter from home? A letter from family? Well, Harry Potter knows he has neither, but all the same, it starts with a letter from Surrey. Whatever the Durleys have to say, it can't be anything good, so Harry's determined to ignore it. But then, his evil schoolmate rival spots the letter and his slimy excuse for a teacher intercepts it and forces him to read it. And that sends Harry down a path he'd never have walked on his own. It will be a year of big changes, a year of great pain, and a year of confronting worst fears. It will be a year of surprising discoveries, of finding true strength, of finding out that first impressions of a person's true colours do not always ring true. It will be a year of paradigm shifts. And from the most unexpected sources, Harry will have a chance to have that which he has never known: a home ... and a family. A sixth year fic, this story follows Order of the Phoenix and disregards any canon events that occur after Book 5. (warnings for: graphic depictions of violence, self-harm, severe medical trauma) [the fic has some really dark parts but the plot is so intricate and fascinating and the relationships and dynamics are excellently written and the characterizations are spot on and i would definitely recommend it to anyone with a lot of time on their hands.]

Fic(s) with some of my favorite tropes: Sickfic + Hurt/Comfort: When He Called Me Dad by MarauderChaos [31k,Not Rated] It was only however as the end of his second year did Severus collect enough evidence and enough of his own courage to step in. The boy looked as though the world was ending when Severus brought him to his private quarters to see Madam Bones, and for a moment Severus felt the world was ending when someone recommended him as guardian. But that was how it ended, with Harry Potter becoming the ward of the Potions Master. It was kept a secret from the press and the students of Hogwarts – even his own Godson didn’t know, mainly because Lucius was bound to hear of it if he did and Severus didn’t want to risk their lives. They had their ups and downs, screaming and shouting, hexes and slamming doors, crying and hugging, laughing and actually having fun. But there was one moment that Severus would always remember, with its own fair share of good and bad, was the time he called him Dad. [i’m a sucker for hurt/comfort and accidental revelation of feelings, which in this case is the strength of harry’s platonic feelings, and this fic has all that so… yeehaw.] Accidental Bonding (but make it platonic): Love is... (series) by atiaahmed [133k,G,4 works] (WIP) This series revolves around how Snape starts to care about Harry because of a charm put on him by Ron and Hermione. The first story "Love is a charm" explores how their relationship changes because of the charm and what happens when it expires at the end of the year The second story explores how their relationship develops after the events of "Love is a charm". In "Love is a haven" other paternal figures, namely Lupin and Black will threaten Severus position with Harry. [i kind of like the platonic severitus take on one of my favorite hp tropes tbh and i like the way that their relationship develops and the realistic trust issues and such.]

[50yearsofqueen]

Tagging - Promote your content & Warn your reader

A guide on how to tag on the Archive of our own

Tagging on ao3 is heavenly compared to other fanfiction websites. Therefore it is important to utilize this amazing search engine to its full potential. If you work the tagging system well, readers can find specific content that you have created. The two main reasons to tag are to:

1. promote your work to as many potential readers as possible.

2. warn your reader from seeing specific content.

Rating: not unlike how a movie gets an appropriate age/content rating, fanfiction can be rated based on what age range it is appropriate for:

Not Rated: This fic could contain anything and the author chose not to specify an appropriate rating. This is The Wild West of rating. Steer clear from this if you want to specify that your fic is for all ages or adults only.

General Audiences: The content is suitable for everyone, this means no dark or adult or heavy themes.

Teen and up audiences: The content may be inappropriate for audiences under 13. Steer clear from topics strictly appropriate for adults.

Mature: The content in this fic is strictly for adults, containing adult themes such as sex and violence.

Explicit: This content is strictly for adults containing very graphic content such as porn and gore and violence.

Archive Warnings: These specify the main triggering content readers can easily filter out with one button. This is a crucial step in tagging, please make sure you appropriately warn for these main triggers.

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings: the Wild West of warnings. This means that the fic can contain any and all of the warnings below. It does not specify or exclude or warn for anything.

Graphic Depictions Of Violence: this warns for graphic gore, blood, violence, murder etc.

Major Character Death: this warns for the death of any character who is not a background character.

No Archive Warnings Apply: there is no content to warn for.

Rape/Non-Con: this warns for any and all non-consensual sexual activity.

Underage: description or depiction of sexual activity by or with an underage character. This is not for kissing/dating, but sexual activity. Please specify also if the sexual activity is consensual by paying attention to the rape/non-con warning.

Additional Tags: this is the place where you as a writer can get creative in their tagging. This is where you can start promoting your work, this is how your reader will find your content. For the sake of ease, we have broken additional tags into categories. Additional Tags: Additional tags have several different layers. You will want to use more general tags so your readers can find you in the engine based on their mood/needs. Once that has been established you should branch out and add specific tags to appeal to your reader while they are scrolling.

General Genre: Figure out what common genre your fic is. Think about the broad search term your reader will be looking for depending on their mood. Examples: Romance/Love, Crack fic/Humor, Angst/Sad fic, Fluff, Smut, etc.

Themes: Think of broad themes common in fic that will help the reader search for their favourite themes. Examples: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Domestic Bliss, Alternative Universe - Modern Setting, Slow Build/Slow Burn, Plot What Plot/Porn without Plot, Omegaverse, Sick!fic, etc.

Potential Triggers: Think of what the potential triggers are in your story? A trigger is anything that could potentially be distressing to read. Triggering content should include anything that is traumatic, scary, violent, criminal, or illegal. It should include any illnesses and disorders. Any phobias and discriminatory behaviour (transphobia, homophobia, racism, sexism) should also be tagged. It is important to specify which trigger the reader can encounter, not just 'trauma' or 'blood', but specify what kind of trauma or violence.

Story Keywords + Tropes: This is to summarize your story in a few keywords, this will draw in a reader. Bed Sharing, Pregnancy, Hospitalization, Internalized Homophobia, First Kiss, Genderbend, Family Feels, True Love, Recreational Drug Use, First Meetings, Dorks in Love, Misunderstandings, Drunkness, Medieval AU (tag any specific AU you are writing in)

Character Specific: Your reader might want to know what happens to which character in your fic. The character might be taking on a role in a dynamic or doing something specific in your fic that your reader should know about. You can tag this to warn or to lure people in. Examples using Brian: sad!Brian, bottom!Brian, tattoo artist!Brian, sick!Brian, pregnant!Brian, Alpha!Brian etc.

Smut Tagging: Smut tags are different from other fics. It isn’t enough to tag a smut fic with ‘smut’ or BDSM. The way to attract readers is to be specific of what they can encounter in your fic. First and foremost be upfront about the main pairing. Then consider being specific about who takes on which role if relevant as top or bottom, dominant or submissive, etc. Then specify what sexual acts/activity will be part of the story. If relevant, confirm the status of the relationship, established, first meeting, friends to lovers, hookup, etc.

Don’t be afraid to get specific: John Deserves Better Friends, or, Everyone Gets A Hug, or, Freddie Is Shy, or, This Band Is A Family.

Further advice:

Here is a link to common additional tags: x in case you need tagging inspiration

If you don't know how to tag your fic, try to search for fics similar to your own. See how they tagged their fic and how hard it was for you to find it.

When tagging think: how would I search for a story like the one I just wrote? how can I easily reach readers interested in this content?

If a trigger warning contains a spoiler for the story, specify in the beginning notes that there is a potential trigger warning that spoils the story, and that the reader can see the warning in the endnote if they think they might need it. This way a reader can choose if they want to read without a spoiler, or if they want to check if the content won't trigger them.

Finally, don’t use too many tags. Keep it concise and to the point. Many readers get turned off my huge blocks of tags. The number of tags should reflect the length of the fic.

Happy writing everyone!💕💡

[kenmakittie]

Sakusa with a S/O that suffers from OCD

CW warning for mentions of OCD; nothing explicit, but it is mentioned and talked about in a little bit of depth, but overall theme is comforting :)

This is mostly brain rot that hit me last night after spending too long in the Sakusa tags but,, bare with me this is the best I could dribble out in an hour ok. Probably should have put more thought into this for my first hq fic thing but you know what. thats just me baby

Ok hear me out

 I myself personally do not have OCD, but I am currently studying it and have friends with it so I know a fair deal about how it works and how negatively it can affect your day to day life. (If any dear readers do suffer from OCD, know that you are always understood and appreciated on my tl ok I love u sm and you’re doing a fuckin great job)

 And like… boy, if you land Sakusa as a boyfriend ur one lucky mf

 I don’t know whether or not his phobia of germs runs deep enough for it to be comparable to that of OCD, but I think regardless of whether or not he has the same struggles as you, he’d understand 100% where your fears come from in that regard and he’ll try really hard to help you as best as he can.

 I mean, truth be told, he’ll feel pretty damn honoured that you’ve let him into your life like this, with this proximity - his own personal hygiene puts your mind at rest to a considerable degree, if that’s something you struggle with. After all, not all OCD cases are based on germs or dirt! Regardless of what shape or form your condition affects you, he’s so patient and mindful of every little thing that seems to bother you, he’ll make note - mentally and physically, if need be - and trust me when I say you can rely on this man to look after you in whatever way you may need.

 If you struggle with patterns and rituals, he’s got all the patience in the world for you. Always. You sit up in bed waiting for him to complete his own, after all; he has his last shower of the day right before he settles in for the night, and his shampoo smells sharply of tea tree, but you don’t mind; the strong scent helps settle the noise between your ears into a gentle fizz of white noise you’re happy to deal with. Christ, your man’s got a seven-step skin routine that he spends an hour on every night, and if you’re not sat cross-legged next to him doing it together then you’re in his lap, carefully pulling the edges of his sheet mask smooth and planting a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. You never question his own little routines, so why should he be bothered by yours, now matter how trivial they may seem, even to you?

Ever the keen observer, he picks up on the smaller things you do that you seem to be unaware of sometimes; the way you tap your index and middle finger in odd patterns against his chest when you’re drifting off to sleep. Or the way he catches you counting the windows downstairs and checking they’re locked, sometimes four or five times in total before he can convince you to come to bed with gentle fingers weaving through your own, leading you to your safe haven.

He’s honestly more than happy to set aside his own reservations to look after you - you yourself understand his own qualms and take every precaution to always be as clean as you possibly can be, and he’s more appreciative at the gesture than he can ever hope to express; he still struggles with showing his affection for you physically, despite being with you for an extended amount of time. He does his best though, as this always seems to distract and calm you at times - if he catches you staring at the wall at 3am, wringing your hands with wide eyes, he knows the best way to soothe you is a bit of skin to skin.

 He always starts slow, to avoid spooking you.

 Sakusa runs the back of his knuckles down your cheek, so soft you barely feel it at first; your head snaps to the side like a deer caught in headlights; Sakusa just gives you a small, gentle smile as his other hands finds yours under the quilt. His eyes are warm in the darkness, and his palm warmer.

 “Come on, love,” a small tug on your arm, and he lifts the quilt with his arm to invite you into the warmth he radiates. “Come to bed, now.”

 You never put up a fight, too mentally exhausted to ever deny him; the second your arms wrap around his waist and your face presses into his neck, you melt; a heavy, tremulous sigh works it way out of your throat, and you press closer as the smell of him permeates your senses, wearing away at your fatigue. If you weren’t so tired, you’d spend some time examining the constellations of his freckles scattered around his chest. But the scent of him - tea tree and a hint of lavender from his face serum - is like your personal laudanum. Combined with the natural warmth of his frame, it’s a devastating combination that never fails.

 He may be a bit stiff at first, but as soon as your outward breath hits his skin, he shivers into relaxing around you. You’re always so soft you meld to his physique perfectly; his nose buries in the crown of your hair, and he inhales carefully, revelling in the flowery scent of your shampoo.

Sakusa will never say it out loud, but being able to offer you comfort in such a simple form brings him a lot of joy - many of the things you struggle with neither of you can seem to control some days. There have been many times where the intrusive thoughts and compulsions are so strong you get stuck in a loop that has you in tears for a majority of the day, and something as simple as getting out of bed becomes a gargantuan task.

Thing is, he gets it. He may be a creature of habit with his ridiculously early morning runs, and eating practically the same thing every damn day, but say the word and he’ll hang about your room with you if you need him. 

Sakusa gets it, and he loves you. 

[rpbetter]

"writes dubcon therefore is a freak who should be bullied off the site" ho boy i'm fed up with people acting as if consenting adults writing [insert "problematic" fictional thing here] is the worst thing in the world. seen way too many people justifying harrassment of REAL PEOPLE by "they write thing that triggers me". ok, and? mute the tags or don't follow! "it triggers someone" is not a valid reason to ban a topic. piano music triggers me yet i don't go around demanding everyone stop playing the piano.

Anon, not only is everything you said absolutely valid, but also, thank you for demonstrating that triggers are incredibly varied and as such, we cannot predict everyone's triggers. Making the entire "point" of banning for possible triggers invalidated as hell.

We should be aware of things like the most commonly occurring phobias (things like arachnophobia and coulrophobia that are, additionally, easily triggered by imagery) and tag them. We should be aware of very obvious triggers, that are, again, easily set off by imagery, like blood, eye trauma, and depictions of domestic violence. And we should always read and be aware of our writing partners' stated triggers so that we can tag them appropriately or even decide that it isn't going to work because our muse, canon story, or interests are going to present an unfair situation in this partnership.

But triggers can be highly unusual, as well as activated differently (even at different times) for everyone. I'm not triggered by seeing hotel rooms in pictures or movies, I'm not triggered by writing scenes that take place in them, but I'm triggered to some degree by being in one. It's outrageous oversimplification to act like all triggers are the same, they all display the same way, they're all going to trigger someone on the same basis, everyone's going to react the same to their triggers. There is absolutely no way to prevent 100% of possible triggers for 100% of the population, 100% of the time.

Add to this that way too many people trivialize triggers by throwing around that term to justify the banning of something that makes them uncomfortable or that they take a personal, moral issue with. "I don't like this" and "I'm grossed out by this" and "this makes me feel uncomfortable" is not being triggered. It's just a good way to weaponize the better nature of other people so that they comply.

Most people legitimately do not want to trigger someone, especially if they have triggers and know what it's like. Just like no one wants to be accused of cruelty towards trauma survivors in general, or be designated a pedo, rape apologist, or fascist. They're all things to weaponize in order to isolate, shame, and control. And that's really fucking gross. These are serious, real things that have no business being trivialized to police content, win internet arguments, or garner popularity.

The potential for someone to be triggered isn't a reason to ban anything; we have tags, we have blacklist.

While I'll be the first to say that tumblr's blacklisting can be as shitty as everything else on the site, the primary issue with running into content you don't want to see comes down to two factors: no one tagging/tagging correctly and actively exposing yourself to that content. Going through people's properly done tags and blog warnings about their content in order to "call it out" is actively exposing yourself by choice. You actual walnuts.

Calling people on on their "problematic" content is bringing those topics to the attention of other people. That's the whole point of this gross behavior: look at the freak pedo abuse apologist I found, they write dubcon!! Don't look if you'll be triggered uwu

Buddy, pal, my guy...you just put that on blast for anyone to run across. Maybe their blacklist catches those words in your callout post, maybe it doesn't. Maybe they think you're a safe space because you promote yourself that way, so they click it anyway. Point is, you just willfully and irresponsibly exposed people because it's more important to you to demonize a rando on tumblr RPing something you take issue with. Good job!

Furthermore, dubcon itself is such a hilarious issue to take. Do they realize that isn't always sexual, or? Not? I'm thinking not. Funnily enough, one of the oldest posts I've been working on for this blog is about exactly this topic, the myriad situations that are dubious consent. That doesn't have to be sexual, and neither does it have to be intentionally predatory. You can come up with some amazing character development with a lot of muses in the RPC with dubcon because almost everyone's muse has some manner of trauma that might negate their perception of their own consent...and what do you do then? Is it removing more agency from that muse to shut them down, or is that always the better option? Can you separate your opinion as the mun from your muse's natural reactions? How does this impact the muses involved not just that moment but the next year?

Point is, dubcon isn't always some rapey situation. Even if it was, even if someone is writing it that way, it's literally not your business or your problem.

There's one mutual-in-law on my RP blog that really bothers me. They write things that I find fetishizing, incredibly rapey, all around shit that bothers me. I don't want to see it, some of the things they write makes my damn skin crawl. This person doesn't know it, we certainly don't speak and I don't think they like me very much, but I've repeatedly defended their right, specifically their right as a person with some long-term callouts on them, to write what they want to. I have them blocked and their urls blacklisted so I never have to see my mutual reblogging their threads. It's not a problem because I don't click "show anyway." Why would I, if it genuinely bothers me so much?

That's how you handle things that bother you; you use the tools available to not interact even by accident. Not by launching a morality crusade.

If any of us want to write what we enjoy, we have to allow others that same freedom. It's always a matter of time before this policing grows to include more and more topics, it's been used multiple times to get well-meaning people who don't fall into the general demographics to police queer, BIPOC, and other marginalized groups off of platforms. We've been fortunate in most of the RPC that it implodes on itself before it gets all the way there, but even so, you can see it.

It starts with things that produce a visceral reaction in the great majority of people, positions this with a repeatedly condemned idea presented as solid fact that fiction is reality, and you've got the start of something awful. Today it's something you don't like, maybe even something that triggers you, so you either support it or you quietly allow it to happen. Who needs to write that "freak shit" anyway, can't they just be gross privately? Six months from now, it's something "problematic" that you enjoy like violence that's canon-typical for your muse, or your OTP because they're gay and that's fetishizing, they're cis male and female but one or both is bi and that's bad representation, or they canonically have a rocky relationship so that's romanticizing toxic/abusive relationships.

If you can't care for any other reason, you really should care about how it is going to impact you sooner or later. In an environment like this, you can stay in your space, put warnings on your blog, and tag properly and you're still going to get a callout if the wrong person finds your blog. Just takes a single person with more time, energy, and skewed ideas of justice than they have reading comprehension or common sense.

Again, I cannot encourage people enough to give warnings, but it's difficult to ignore why those warnings are slipping; they're a way to be found, designated as a Problem, and called out. Look, it's another reason why callouts actually make things worse, not better! People put that shit in their rules so you can avoid content, they're being responsible and interested in promoting a safe RPC. Let them do it, damn.

You can't tag everything, and if you've never experienced what a giant series of repetitive tags is like on a screenreader you probably should before you tag seven paragraphs of possible issues. You can tag for visuals, you can tag for the obvious things, and you can tag for what's in the rules you agreed to when you followed/followed back. But you should also warn people that you write "dark topics" on the tin, and expand on that in your rules for specific things like graphic violence, toxic relationships, dubon, and addiction.

That's how responsible adults, not over-aged children, make better decisions about their mental health and general comfort. Not by appointing themselves the watchdogs of the damn RPC, here to protect you whether you want to be or not, find that incredibly insulting or not when you're in one of their categories of people who must be protected, by forcibly banning Problematic Everything. Problematic, of course, being entirely in the eye of the content police.

It's fiction. No one and nothing real was harmed. It's great that you are so invested in the fictional world and people that make you happy, but take a fucking big step back into reality. The real people you're harming with your bullshit had every right to peaceably exist. If what they're writing is triggering to you, stay. away. from. it.

Without any coincidence whatsoever, that's how you get from the base-point of Problematic Material to Problematic Mun. Yeah, it's just fiction, it's just RP, but I also took something out of context OOC or was upset by their tone on their own blog or couldn't exercise the minimal adult logic to remove myself from their presence OOC as well. So, now, you've got OOC behavior being added to the callout, if it wasn't already. Everyone is now ableist, transphobic, racist, and a misogynist because it lends that visceral reaction to the callout and ups the game from just being "y'all so gross you aged up a cartoon character to ship" to "this is REAL and it won't be tolerated! OP is actually a pedophile, they told a sexual joke in a discord server with a minor present and I have the receipts!"

What are the most storied callouts in the entire RPC? I'm absolutely certain the same names came to mind no matter what fandoms you're in, and one of them was "Matt." Another was probably "Ares/Snow". They're all successful and keep being brought up out of the closet anytime people are bored enough because their primary punch is the mun themselves being a predatory threat to the community. The mun is verified to be a bad person. Well, of course, that's got to be repeated, it worked. (Even if it did not, at all, work and only made it harder for people to avoid any of these muns.)

Are there people in the RPC who are legitimately a problem? Absolutely, yes. We're all supposed to be adults, however. Part of being an adult is having and acting upon one's agency. If someone is coercing you into things you are not comfortable with, shut it down. If you have difficulties being certain of those situations, run it by a trusted, honest friend or available, impartial source in the RPC for a second opinion. If you can't handle any manner of confrontation, there really are situations in which it's perfectly alright to block someone without any discussion. It's just the internet, you're in control of your space. Own it.

Minors are a whole other can of fucked up worms I'm not even getting into right now except to say that because a minor exists in a space they were told to stay out of does not mean we ban all topics inappropriate for their consumption.

tl;dr: banning shit doesn't work anyway, the whole idea is predicated upon some incredibly problematic takes IRL, and no, there's no justification for it outside of intense personal problems with one's own importance. That energy would be infinitely better spent volunteering one's time to help real people in crisis or after surviving one, or even oneself in developing some healthier approaches and thought patterns.

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Don’t Breathe | 4.5

»Genre: hitman!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of potential Stockholm syndrome, mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is pure fiction ok, kidnappers and stalkers DON’T love you.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was paid to get rid of everyone who witnessed the exchange between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month later, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt. 4.5 - pt. 5.0 - pt. 5.5 - pt.6.0

a/n: hello!~ thank you for reading and i hope u enjoy!! will most def edit later💖

taglist: @tangledsparkles @just-another-fangurl21 @impartoftoomanyfandoms​ @komorebi-unnie​ @tangledsparkles​ @yes-sol-not-soul (sorry :( tumblr won’t let me tag you) @sarzkh31 

The sun is setting like a dream, you can’t say you’ve ever seen it shine so beautiful. The sky looks like a peach painting that shyly fades into a heavenly deep-blue. It’s a perfect evening, the air smells of the flowers growing on the porch and it delights your senses. He’s chasing you barefooted across the grassy yard, like two children playing tag at the peak of spring. Out of breath, he finally catches you and you fall back into the checkered blanket, too tired to run off again. 

After seeing you enjoy the balcony so much, he introduced you to his lavish backyard. Aside from the large stone patio and pool attached to it, the yard expands at least an acre and it’s well-groomed. Early in the evening, you moved to spend some time on the patio, a pencil, and paper in hand. Taehyung had some work to do so you had a few hours to yourself, you used that time to think and write. After a few hours, you could no longer resist the urge to take a dip in the crystal clear oasis.

With a t-shirt and underwear, you eased into the cool water and breathed a sigh of relief. For what could have been an hour or two, you weren’t counting, you swam on your back, staring up at the clear sky, wondering if you’ll ever feel peace like this again. When your eyes shut, your thoughts seem to align, and for the first time since you’ve been here, you felt like you were where you were supposed to be. As much as you cherish your life alone, your independence, and innate desire to prove that you can make it on your own—it seems Taehyung is worth giving that up. 

That would have sounded crazy weeks ago, but it’s how you feel. That night that you confessed that you wanted to be with him, you meant it. You don’t know when it happened, maybe when you kissed him and he picked you up when you woke up to him fast asleep with a pillow in his arms. Or maybe it was when he suggested you help him bake since he knew you wrote so much about food in your articles, you’re not sure. But somehow, sometime after learning his name, you think you fell in love.

When you were with Jin, you had similar feelings to this. You knew you were in love when you had the urge to smile even when you were hurting just to make him smile. That feeling of unexplained self-sacrifice, something as small as a smile, you’d force it out if you knew it would help him. With Taehyung, it seems like he will do anything to make you smile sometimes, even when you know he’s keeping stressful things from you. Is that love? You think so.

You sigh, still feeling a bit wet from your swim a while ago but you’ve dried mostly. He fussed at you for not showering straight away but you said the sun would dry you well enough until your shower tonight. It’s dusk now, and your out in the grass, laying happily on the blanket with him. A few minutes ago you found out that he had pretty lights adorning the patio. He said he’s had them for a while but hadn’t turned them on until today. It casts a warm light out into the grass, you tell him he should turn it on more often.

”You should shower before you catch a cold,” He stresses for the second time. You find his worry endearing but negotiate five more minutes, and he caves. It’s been a while since you’ve been outside like this. He knows this, that’s why he’s laying shoulder to shoulder with you as you gaze up at the night sky. “Sorry I had so much work I had to do today, hope you weren’t too bored out here,”

”It’s fine, I was writing anyway...”

”You were writing?” He turns on his side, curiosity piqued. You nod, hands searching for the pencil and pad you had on the blanket.

”Mhm, I used to write poetry when I was in high school. I wasn’t very good and some of it is kind of cringe now that I look back at it, but I enjoyed it. I haven’t written in so long, I thought I’d give it a shot,” You grab the notepad and look up at it, eyes skimming over the gray hue from all the erasing. You catch him trying to peek over and you hold it to your test.  

“Don’t look, it’s not good,”

He pouts, hand moving to intertwine with yours with puppy-dog eyes.

“Come on, you’ve never shared your personal writings with me before,” He pouts, leaning closer to you in hopes that you might succumb to the allure of his gaze. “Pleeease?”

”Fine,” You sigh, “but you have to read it yourself,” You lift the notepad in surrender, handing it to him.

He sits up and the feeling of anxiousness comes to a halt when you realize one important fact; it’s Taehyung. Not a supervisor critiquing your rough draft or a teacher judging your ability to recite your understanding of the class’s latest assignment. It’s him.

I’ve been given a universe, all for me. My very own stars in your eyes, I can stare at you forever. The remnants of your every gaze births a galaxy and I draw up the constellations by the reminisce of the pattern of your touch on my skin. I, too, have given my universe to you. Though I’m innocent to the stars in my eyes, the constellations I paint on your skin, all for you. No event is there more beautiful than the moment our eyes meet, our nebulae collide. A merging occurs, giving life to new stars that are our own, creating a galaxy that holds a shape that can only be defined by fate. In that sweet moment, we create an intertwined constellation, a design filled with millions of our old and new stars, shining brighter than ever,

“In your universe, my universe...” He reads the last lines softly. Setting the pad down with an expression that you can’t quite read, he just looks at you and you start to feel nervous.

“I just,” You bite at your lip and look up at the night sky that’s beginning to show the stars, “I had this idea about space, it’s a little different but it took me hours to come up with...I’m rusty.” 

He props himself up and leans over you, gazes searching for yours with a tender close-lipped smile. He holds his hand to his heart, “That was so beautiful.”

You cringe, pushing his chest so he can roll back on his back. “Oh stop, now I wish I wouldn’t have shown you,” It’s hard to tell if he’s praising you or teasing, it seems like it’s one in the same sometimes.

“I’m being serious, I can feel the emotions you’re conveying in your words, I really get it…” He looks a bit surprised that you’d think he was teasing you about this, he leans back over you.

“You mean it?” You look into his eyes, wondering how anyone could be capable of making you feel so special like you’re the only person in the world. Without a word, he presses a firm kiss to your lips and you sigh, he means it.

He gets you to go inside and shower before it’s too dark outside, you both shower and the warmth calms you. Dressed in a matching pair of gray and green pajamas that he recently purchased, long-sleeves but breathable. For the first time, you two lay in bed and watch movies together. You had debated over watching either Whisper of The Heart or My Neighbor Totoro, you settled on My Neighbor Totoro.

You’re comfortably propped on your pillow and curled slightly on your side. Taehyung is laying on his side as well, one leg was thrown over you and one hand holding yours. He’s like a big teddy bear, soft and comforting in every way. He’s so warm, his fingers are so long and he engulfs your hand, his leg is pinning you down but you find it comforting.

He’s laying on the pillow beside yours, eyes lingering more on you than the movie, but he glances at it every so often. Ever since that moment on the blanket in the yard with you, your poem had been on his mind in the best way. The thought of you writing that with him in mind, it makes his heart flutter. 

“Baby, I can’t stop thinking about your poem,” He grabs your attention from the enthralling scene on the TV, “I know you think I’m messing with you but I’m not, it’s touching,” He admits with a little laugh, “what is it about?” 

“It was my expression of platonic love and physical love, the love I’ve experienced in my life, what I think is love, our love...” You shyly say that last part, gripping his hand a little tighter. 

He hums, thumb rubbing your knuckles gently. ”Our love? I knew it,” He smiles, a sweet smile on his face as he scoots closer to you if that was possible. “I had my suspicions that it was about us,” He cups your jaw, leaning over you.

“The part where it says, when our nebulae collide, giving life to new stars, creating a constellation that can only be defined by fate,” His mouth gapes a bit, tongue moving absentmindedly, the usual look when he’s thinking.

“That part, that part is my favorite I think,” He gently kisses your forehead and you let out a little laugh that makes him smile in adoration, “it sounds like us,”

“It’s about us, but it’s about you more than anything,” You mumble, moving your hand up to tussle his hair softly, “you’re a bit more poetic than I am, I think.”

The movie is nice white noise to his low breathing, the sound of his mouth meeting your skin. His lips graze under your ear and his hand goes to the underside of your other ear, messing with your senses. He abruptly moves, causing your hand to fall from his hair as he moves to make space for his thigh between your thighs. 

“When we lay together like this,” He smirks to himself, leaning his face just centimeters over yours, “enjoying each other's company and smiling, I feel so lucky,” He kisses down your jaw to your neck, praising you—you blush.

You’ve come to love this.

The barriers you once had have crumbled down a long time ago. Taehyung has shown you what love is, what it feels like. He keeps you safe, he wants to protect you at all costs and that means keeping you here.

“Wait,” You whine, the butterflies in your stomach were swarming happily, you push him away.  “l- let me see your face,” Taking the hand that was once in his, you lift his face to meet yours. “I love your face, you have the best face.” 

“Oh, you think so?” He let’s a little abashed laugh, “Thank you.” With a tender smile, he gives you a nice long look, nothing but adoration in those big round eyes. 

“It’s true,” You grin, still in awe that he doesn’t understand his own beauty. It’s sweet looking at you, seeing your dreamy eyes, those pouty lips, makes him want to eat you. But he settles for breaking the eye-contact and kissing you. Mouth wide open, giving way to his oral fixation. You’ve had very few relationships, but from what you can compare him to, Taehyung knocks the competition out of the water in terms of affection. How he manages to cloud your senses till you’re raw with love amazes you. The rush from it is something you’ve never experienced before.

You’re pushed and pulled, but there’s no hostile battle, no attempt to coax the other into a preferred position, everything sets naturally, as it should. It’s how it’s meant to be, everything fits just right, and he aches to stay this way. He pulls away from the kiss, leaving you breathless and a bit confused. You lean up to try to get him back, but he moves his head away, cooing when you let out a disappointed mewl. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?...”

“Oh no, sweetheart, you could never,” He thumbs at your cheek, “I just want to talk for a second.” 

“Oh,” You purse your lips in thought, “okay, about what?”

“I’ve never had a reason to be anything for anyone before, until you, isn’t that crazy? I’ve never been this close to anyone like I am to you. I look at you and it makes me realize how lucky I am. I get to see your beautiful face,” He pecks your cheek, causing our face to flush, “how your beautiful mind works,” He pushes your hair back, staring at you sparkling eyes, “your body that just fits me so well, like a glove,” He drags a hand down your clothed abdomen and to your hip, resting his hand there with a gentle press with his  fingers, “you’re perfect...”

“I’m not perfect,” You swallow, turning your head, which apparently meant to him that you wanted some more attention because he kisses at your skin again, “Tae,” You gasp, tears pricking at your eyes for a quarter of a second, you’re just excited, “don’t paint me out to have no flaws, the last person who did that was terribly disappointed,”

“You mean Jin,” He scoffs when you nod. This is not the ideal time to talk about your Ex, but leave it to you two to turn every conversation in a weird direction, “That doesn’t seem like reason enough to leave anyone,” His brows furrow deeply, obviously offended.

“It was a mutual disappointment, we wanted too much from each other. I wasn’t willing to give anymore, and he just didn’t see the point anymore, it was for the best but I don’t think it was easy for either of us.”

“Well,” He breathes against you, “I don’t know the guy but I know you, and that tells me one thing, it was his loss,” You squint, breath stalling when he leaves a particularly lazy kiss to your lips before pulling away with a smack, “he had to be out of his mind to want to leave you, to leave this...”

“Or to stay,” You clear your throat, “it could have gone both ways,”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me, I don’t want to leave you, I want you with me always,” He lets himself drop on his side behind you, hand on your side, voice just a whisper, “I gotta have you, I love you that much, I need you that much...”

“Tae,” You try to sit up but he moves to get behind you, spooning you like a pillow to his chest while taking your hand. You look back so you can see his face and he moves over you so you don’t have to stretch too much, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something...”

“What is it?” He nuzzles his face against yours almost like a cat would, he’s a complete softy, ugh, it’s so cute. “Ask me anything,”

“What’s the one thing you want out of life?... I mean, if you didn’t have your job or you had the chance to make one wish come true, what would it be, what do you really want?”

Grinning ear-to-ear, he boops your nose with his finger, “You.”

“I’m flattered, but besides me,” You gaze down at his hand, “I’m being serious, there has to be something out there that you want...”

“There is,” His eyes drift to your twiddling fingers, “Years ago I built up the courage to look for my birth mother, found out she lives in a different country, she’s married and has two little boys...My half brothers. I used to think about what it would be like to meet them, how they’d like me,” The thought of Taehyung having a relationship with them warms your heart, “it’s a scary thought, but I want to see them one day.”

“Aw, you have little brothers...That’s really sweet, I hope that happens for you one day, I really do...Is there anything else?”

“I’ve always wanted a family, it’s something I used to dream about a lot, but now I have you,” He props his head upon his hand, his other hand still in yours, “we’re like a tiny family, the two of us.”

“Yeah, we are, it’s nice,” When you and Taehyung have pillow-talks like this, he becomes so pure and honest, it makes your heart melt. Just thinking of what he’s gone through in his life, and who he’s become over the time you’ve been together, it might sound cliche but he’s a miracle.

“There’s another thing,” He rubs his thumb against your hand, “I want a baby one day in the future, maybe after I’m married, or just whenever the time is right.”

“Really? I could see that, I know you really love kids and babies.” 

“I’d love a kid of my own, maybe a few,” He can’t contain his little grin at the thought, “that would be so nice...” 

To be a dad. That’s definitely a wish Taehyung would have, and you hope with all your heart that he gets that one day. You just lean further back into his chest, breathing in tandem with him. 

“Love you,” You mutter, squeezing his hand tighter, praying that the walls that once kept you apart would never return. You’ve realized that there are some connections so strong, so meant to be, that no matter the circumstance, those two individuals will meet. 

*

A merging occurs, giving life to new stars that are our own, creating a galaxy that holds a shape that can only be defined by fate. In that sweet moment, we create an intertwined constellation, a design filled with millions of our old and new stars, shining brighter than ever, in our universe.

“How’s the investigation going? Jin told me you reached out the other day,”

The busy lawyer sets his freshly ordered coffee in his cup holder as he drives off to his highly-decorated firm.

“I did, the case is more complicated than I initially thought,” Yoongi poured the subpar coffee in the Styrofoam cup, it’s 6am and he’s trying not to be grumpy, “if I’m right about my suspicions, it’s a fucked-up situation.”

“What’re you thinking?”

Yoongi looks around, seeing that the only person around was the woman at the desk. “The girl, along with the other individuals at that conference, was targeted. I got the names of the parties at the conference, they’re politicians of course but the details of the meeting were never released. I have a theory,” 

He lowers his voice, looking around one more time before sipping his coffee, “I think someone at that conference had the other journalist killed. I went over each autopsy file and those people died from unusual things, but not unusual enough to suspect at first glance. Most of them died from too much of a medication that they were already taking, things like that. But this girl was abducted and I don’t know why,” 

Jungkook makes a thoughtful noise. “What’s different about her that not like the others?”

“She went missing a little over a month after the others were found dead. It looks like a mistake to me,” He paces, “I don’t know if I’m being too outlandish, but I have a feeling she’s alive, we just need to find her,” 

Jungkook responds with how he feels about it but Yoongi has to cut him short when Eunwoo walks into the station. 

“You’re here early, Min,” Eunwoo smiles, beckoning Yoongi to follow him to his office, “I have some good news and some bad news, which do you want first?” Eunwoo leads Yoongi into his office and sets his briefcase down so he can pull what he needs out.

“Surprise me.”

“No luck on finding any leads for you on the Hwan group,” He takes a seat, opening one of the Manila folders, “they’ve been under the radar for years, I hope you can find something on them.

“And the good news?”

“It took a lot to pin him, but we’re bringing in Senator Leu for questioning.”

“Good, I think they know something that they’ve been trying to keep under the rug.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

Yoongi gets up, hand tight on the flimsy cup, “If you could give me a call before the questioning so I can come by, I’d appreciate it. I’m going to do a little digging into this Hwan Group, see if I can get some info that’ll help,”

Yoongi leaves the building with a to-do list but little does he know, detective Na Jaemin, knocking on on Eunwoo’s door.

“Come in,”

“Hi,” Jaemin slips into the room, an unusual grin on his face, “how are you?”

“Um,” Eunwoo looks around, confused as to why he’s approaching him like this but he shrugs, “good, is everything okay, detective?”

“Everything's fine,” Lies, “I just had a question about that PI, Min Yoongi,”

“Shoot,” Eunwoo awaits his question.

“Why is he so adamant about keeping this case open? I mean, I’m a detective on the case and I think we should start searching for the body,” His tone sounds innocent but he’s trying to sneakily plant this idea in Eunwoo’s mind, “we could be wasting precious time, the family deserves closure and we’re just dragging it on.”

“Detective Na,” Eunwoo stops looking through the folder, “given the other related cases, we have reason to believe she might be alive. Not every abductee is killed, even if that tends to be the case.”

Jeamin swallows, trying to think of how to save himself, “I know, I’m not saying that we should be pessimistic but realistic, rather.”

“I get what you’re saying, but on what prescient you’re saying it, I don’t know. I, and many of the others in this case, have reviewed the evidence and compared it to the other cases, it doesn’t add up. After the questioning today, we’ll talk, until then, your efforts need to go towards finding her alive and well,” Eunwoo walks past Jaemin and the detective gets the memo to get out of the office.

“Absolutely, sir,” With a feigned grin, he watches Cha Eunwoo go off to do his job while he fights the urge to scream.

It’s way too close now. They’re so intent on finding you. The Hwan Group has never been found out, it hasn’t happened in the history of the group's existence. Minho’s not gonna like this.

⇢ 1 year ago ⇠

“Girl, your deadline is in three days, why don’t you head home? You have time to finish it tomorrow.”

Suzy looks over your shoulder, eyeing your computer and the thousand words you were trying to edit. You’ve been at the desk since 8 this morning, it’s almost 6 o’clock at night and it’s kicking your butt. The flow isn’t coming to you anymore, your mind is too  “This is terrible, I suck at this crime stuff...” You face plant on your desk, “Like, this is sad.”

“Boss thinks you’ll do a great job,” She leans against your desk, her keys jingling in her hands, “plus, Angela is on maternity leave, you were the easiest replacement.”

“I just, I’m not in a good mindset right now,” You shut your laptop, eyes lowering to our desk, “I’m having problems with my love life, it’s, uh, – not doing so well. I’m sorry, I think I just need to sleep it off,” You take your laptop and tuck it in your tote bag, eager to get away so you don’t cry in front of her, “or drink it off, whichever I get to first.”

“Y/n,” She places a hand on your shoulder, “do you want to talk about it?” That’s the one thing about Suzy, she’s more than a nice supervisor, she’s a friend. But you can’t imagine putting your relationship issues on her, she’s got a fiance to go home to, you don’t want to send your problem with her.

“No, no, I’m okay, you- You know how it is,” You feign a smile, hoping she’ll be convinced enough to let it go, “it’s just your usual boyfriend-girlfriend stuff,”

“Okay,” You mentally sigh in relief because she looks convinced, “well I’m here if you ever need to talk, see you tomorrow!”

The drive home was good, it helped clear your mind, it’s what you needed. When you walked into your empty apartment, you resented its vacancy. What you told Suzy was a half-truth, it’s more than boyfriend-girlfriend stuff, you’re dealing with the sudden absence of a boyfriend. For lack of a better term, you got dumped. But you saw it coming, you two weren’t seeing eye-to-eye, it would have been a disservice to you both if you kept dragging it on. Yesterday, you and Jin met at your favorite Italian restaurant and he said what he had to say.

“We can’t keep doing this,”

“I know.”

You remember moving your fork through your salad, trying not to look him in the eye.

“I still care about you, okay? We should still be friends,” He was letting you down easy, it needed to happen like this.

“Of- of course, I agree...” You looked up at him, forcing a small smile. That’s how that went. The waiter had pity on you and kept coming back to refill your salad when Jin left, he had an early shift at the clinic the next morning.

The pasta didn’t taste the same anymore and your salad became very sad to your taste-buds.

Now it’s just you and your trustworthy friends, Mr. Couch and Mrs. TV. An old movie flickers on the screen and you can’t follow it, maybe that’s just the wine talking.

* *

He told himself he wouldn’t do it, he swore he’d never do it. But he found himself on the internet searching her name, his mother's name. And after hours of looking, he found her. From what he could tell, she was still living, but her last name had changed. Not only that, but she had two little boys with her in a picture on one of her social media. She doesn’t live in the country anymore, she’s off in some foreign country, living a life quite contrary to the one she was living when she had him. To see her smile, to see her living a life without him, completely unaware of the man he is now – it hurts.

He shuts the laptop and stares at the TV in front of him, watching the old movie with blank eyes. On nights like this, he realizes how lonely he is. He lays on the couch, feeling as if he was cheated of an alternative life. He could have been the smiling boy in that photo, he would’ve been a good son, right? She could have smiled the same way if it were him next to her, with his half little brother.

At times like this, he finds himself wondering what his name would sound like on her tongue, she did name him after all. But his name is the only thing she left him with. Kim Taehyung.

This is bad, this is all bad. 

The PI made contact with one of their middlemen last night. It’s likely that the payment and agreement form was leaked. Minho was pissed, if he ever finds the guy he’ll kill him. As far as the case goes, the feds aren’t backing away from the case either, not at all. 

During his morning jog around the stately mansions neighboring his own, the thoughts that come to his mind are more than unpleasant. He’s never doubted Taehyung before, but he’s getting pushed into a corner here. The thought that Taehyung might not have gotten rid of you plagues his thoughts. However, Taehyung is the best, he’s never screwed up a job before. However, the only way he can get the truth is if he calls Taehyung. He has to tell him to release the whereabouts of the body so they can cover it up.

Taehyung glances at his phone from the shower, it’s Minho. His heart drops into the pit of his stomach. For a moment, he thinks about ignoring it, but that would only delay the inevitable. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stumbles out of the shower to grab the phone.

“Hello?” Taehyung answers calmly.

“Kim,” Minho chirps, “how are you?”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung furrows his brows in suspicion, “you?”

“To be honest with you,” He breathes and out, “not good. I don’t know if you know, but that case is blowing up. The damn PI is on to us and he’s egging the guy over the case on. The contract was leaked. They’re bringing people into questioning- This doesn’t look good for either of us,”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“It was your job, Taehyung – it has everything do with you.” 

“But what do you want me to do? I can’t stop the investigation, I did the job, what happens after I get my pay is no longer in my hands.” 

“Do you not remember what you did? She was the only target you took, you didn’t leave the body to make it look like an overdose or a typical homicide, you kidnapped her. I don’t care what you’ve done with her, that’s your business, but reveal the body, then we’ll arrange a cover-up and this will all be over,” 

“I can’t do that.” He replies simply.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Give it up, Kim! Is she at the bottom of a lake? Did you burn her to ashes? Bury her? Look, I’ve been patient, but if I don’t get the location of the body, your job is on the line, and the reputation of the organization,” 

Taehyung doesn’t say a word. 

“Is she dead, Taehyung?”

Continuous silence pangs over the phone. 

“If you wanted to start this whole rogue thing, you could’ve waited until your contract expires next year-”

“That’s not what it is.”

“Then what is it? Is she dead or alive? Answer the question. 

Taehyung looks up at the mirror, for the first time feeling like things are truly crumbling around him. “I did the job.”

“Okay, y ‘know what? Fine. I tried to do this the easy way, but you leave me no choice. Reveal the body in the next 24 hours, or I’m sending a team to make you reveal it. I’m sorry it has to come to this, Taehyung. There are more important things in life than some girl-”

Taehyung hangs up the phone, slamming it on the bathroom counter, nearly cracking the screen. Some girl – just the way you’re being referred to makes him upset, you’re not just some girl. Had you two met in a different life, in a different way, things would be so much easier. But this is how you two met, he took you and somehow, he was shown incredible mercy. You fell into his arms and he into yours, it was just love, simple as that. 

The patio is lined with Taehyung’s art and yours, the most recent ones. Some canvases are messy, art-pieces born of pure-play. Others are more deliberate, like the one you’re painting now. It’s a flower, the jasmine flower in the pot in front of you. It’s been a few hours and even though it doesn’t look that great, you’re trying.

The door creeks but you don’t hear it, you’re too focused and it makes him smile. Only when he wraps his arms around your waist do you acknowledge his presence. He rests his head on your shoulder, “That looks beautiful,” You smile, too caught up in what you’re doing to verbally respond.

"Hey, can we talk for a second?” He gently grabs your wrist to stop your continuous stroking.

“Sure,” You turn around, already anxious. Your eyes waver, hand dropping the paintbrush into the jar.

“We might have to leave for a little while," He steps away, hand massaging the back of his neck.  

“The investigation is getting bigger, the police aren’t messing around anymore, they're looking for you. My boss called me, he wants me to give you up because he suspects that you’re still alive. The man who hired me to have you killed got busted, he’s probably being questioned as we speak. If I don’t reveal you in the next 24 hours, they’re going for come for me...For you.”

“Oh...” 

That’s the only response that comes to mind.

“So-...So what does that mean for us?”

He takes a seat in one of the couches, elbows propped on his knees, head resting into his hands. He stays like that for at least 30 seconds before lifting his face to see your expression. 

“I’m sorry,” He drags his hands down his face, “I don’t know exactly, I’m just trying to figure it out but this PI, he’s not letting up. And Minho, he’s not going to sacrifice his business covering for me all because I fell in love.” 

You've been living in a pool of ignorant bliss. 

Your family is probably a mess worried about you, especially your mother, your poor mother. You may be in perfect health, but she doesn’t know that. When she watches the news, she hears stories of girls being kidnapped and murdered, unspeakable things done to them. Thank God that’s not your situation, but she doesn’t know that. 

Your job, you miss your job more than you realize. Writing day and night, learning new things, meeting new people, you actually miss it. But you’re torn. Taehyung is one of the best things that’s ever happened to you. If it’s possible, you’ve become so relaxed, so at peace with your life. Stress used to be a daily feeling for you, but you don’t feel it here, with him. He looks at you like an angel, like a celestial being sent to save his soul—you don’t deserve that. Throwing all caution to the wind, he spared your life. He kept you safe and hidden from those who wanted you dead. He may not believe it, but he’s a good person, he’s your angel.

“Taehyung,” You take a seat next to him, placing your hand on his thigh so he’ll look at you, “if I wanted to, would you let me leave?”

No, no, no. His heart sinks, eyes building with tears that he quickly wipes away. 

“If Minho wasn’t looking for you, and it didn’t put your life at risk...” He trails off.

”It would be hard, but if- If that’s what you wanted, I would...I would let you go.” His nose burns red and he quickly loses the ability to keep the tears from rolling.

“Shit, I- I’m sorry, I’m just- I’m not trying to be so emotional...I just, I put you in a bad situation, and I know you miss your old life,” He turns from you, hiding his face so he can wipe the stray tears, “I’m so sorry I took that away...”

You embrace him, bringing his head to rest on your chest, a few tears rolling down your cheeks when he laments into your shirt. Heaving, breathing hitched, it hurts your heart to see him like this, you feel his pain. 

Taehyung struggles with abandonment, loss. He’s shared his past, his childhood, if you can even call it that. The lack of paternal love, isolation and depression, it all shaped him in a way that he can’t shake. It’s apart of him, he didn’t think anyone would ever be able to deal with all of that so he’s pushed it down all this time. But then you came along, and you looked at him with kind eyes, like he wasn’t bad. And he tried to stop it, he tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t anymore, he was in love. He fell so deeply in love so fast, it was scary. He was obsessive at first, he had to be for the job. But even after the job, he kept wanting to know about you, he became enthralled with your existence, it was inevitable, it was fate.

“I want to go home,” He makes grabby hands to your waist as if you’d slip away if he didn’t. “Tae,” He responds with a small sob, “please, look at me.” 

Reluctantly, with a blushed nose and gritted teeth, he looks up at you. The once large man, the man who engulfs you in both size and presence has diminished to someone so small. 

“My home is wherever you are,” You smile, tears already streaming down your cheeks, “when I’m with you, I’m home...I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

“Y/n, you have to understand,” He sniffles, breathing deeply, thumb rubbing a tear from your supple cheek, “If you go with me, I don’t know if we’ll ever come back here, we’ll have to make a new life for ourselves, somewhere far from what we know. I’ve already taken so much from you...Are you sure this is what you want?”

“This is what I want, for us to be together. So it doesn’t matter where I am,” You cup his jaw with teary eyes, “as long as I’m with you.”

“I’m not talking until I have my attorney.”

The politician sits comfortably in the chair, hands crossed tightly, and posture perfect. After about fifteen minutes, his attorney comes in, pant-suit just as expensive as his suit and aura looking as if she had already gotten her client out of this.

“Lana Garza,” She shakes Eunwoo’s hand and takes a seat, “let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Alright,” Eunwoo sits at the table alongside another detective, “the conference you held a few months ago, what were you there talking about?”

“Urban housing development, social and civil issues in the community.” 

“And are you aware of the 5 journalists found dead just a week after the conference?”

“I heard it on the news, yes.”

“Mr. Leu,” Eunwoo stands up, walking across the one-way mirror that Min Yoongi and a few other detectives are behind, “has it ever occurred to you that the conference got little to no press coverage, that’s unusual for a man of your status.”

“My client has no control over the amount of media coverage he gets on an event, that’s a question you should ask the owner of the venue.” She interjects, causing Yoongi to furrow his brows at her defense, she’s gonna fight tooth and nail for that man, he can already tell. It doesn’t matter though, they have evidence against him. That’s the man that wanted you dead,

“Detective, if you don’t have any better questions for him, I think we’ll be leaving.”

“Okay, I’ll be a little more straight-forward. Did you have any involvement with the death of these five people and the disappearance of this woman,” He opens a folder and they see the picture.

Leu glances down at the photo. There’s a shift in his eyes.

“The woman, her name is Y/F/N, she’s a writer at The Autumn Times. For about a month, she was working on an article about you. On the day of publication, she went missing and the article was nowhere to be found.”

The lawyer glances at the photo. “Are you implying my client had something to do with the disappearance of this woman?”

“Did he?” He glances at Leu. “Did you?”

“Why on earth would I do something like that? If you think I’d even dream of doing something like that, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Suddenly, Yoongi barges in, walk right up to the man in question. “Cut the bullshit, we know you weren’t happy about the article, you didn’t want it to get out that you’re a damn fraud. For whatever sick reason, you thought having innocent people murdered would somehow keep you clean.” He takes out a thin folder, holding it up to his face. “This is the copy of the contract and payment to The Hwan Group with your signature on it.” 

Leu exchanges look with the attorney.

“Mr. Cha, can you give Mr. Leu and me a moment?”

Yoongi and Eunwoo leave the room, giving her time to probably compile some type of plead deal. 

“We have him right where we want him, couldn’t have done this without you,” Eunwoo stands with crossed arms

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m not sure who did the abduction, they keep those details encrypted. The jobs not done until we find her alive.” Yoongi bites his lip, muttering to himself, 

Please be alive...

“Tae, Stop! There won’t be any left if you keep eating it al!” 

It’s been a day since Taehyung got that call from Minho, you’re running out of time. But he’s been trying to keep your mind off of it, he made a cake and asked you to decorate it. 

You swat at his hand but he gets the strawberry and cream in his mouth anyway. There’s a large mixing bowl of whipped cream frosting for the strawberry cream cake. 

“Yes Ma’am, I’m sorry,” He laughs, fleeing the kitchen so you don’t get him with the spoon again, “it’s just so good.” You shake your head, trying to count the strawberries for the second time, hoping you have enough.

“Remember the friend I told you about, who couldn’t come that weekend,” He goes back to his computer on the kitchen island just a few feet away from you, “Yeosang,” You nod. 

“Well, he’s back in town and wants to come over.”

You swallow, wondering what that has to do with you, “Okay,” 

“I told him about you, he’s a trusted friend and he’d never do anything to hurt me. I think he could help us, wipe us off the grid and get us to a safe place. I invited him to talk about it today, he should be here soon.”

You give up on counting the strawberries and stare at him. “Why are you just now telling me this?”

“I didn’t want you to have anxiety about meeting him,” His tone softens because he knows you’re upset, “I know this entire situation is stressful.”

“Well, I feel even more stressed now!” You cross your arms, the change in your mood catching him off guard. “Why would you do that!? You know I haven’t been in contact with anyone besides you in months, how can I trust that he’s not gonna turn me in or- I don’t know, anything could happen.”

“Hey, I didn’t know it would bother you this much, I’m sorry,” He walks over to you, reaching for your arms but you make your way to the sink to wash your hands, “I wasn’t trying to upset you, you know that wasn’t my intention at all,” He tries to pull ou in to kiss your forehead but you slip away,

“You should have asked me anyway.” 

“Y/n, this is hard for both of us, I know you’re scared, I am too. But trust me, Yeosang is a good guy-”

“Forget it, invite over whoever you want, it’s your house,” Cutting his sentence short, you walk to the other side of the island, taking off your apron, “I’ll finish this later, go back to whatever you were doing.”

If a trail of fire could follow you on your way upstairs, the stairs would be set ablaze. The 48-hour count down if nearing the 24-hour mark, it’s getting closer and closer, he’s scared for you and himself. You left the cake half-finished so he calmly gathered the ingredients and put them in the fridge for when you might come back for it. When he hears the sound of the tub faucet he realizes you’re going to take a bubble bath, he forgets about seeing you for the next two hours.

He’s learned to let you have your time, you’re owed at least that. Even though you two are together now and you love each other dearly, he’s been feeling guilty. That’s why if you have a little outburst or mood swings from stress, he dismisses it without judgment—you’re just scared. 

*

Ding dong. Yeosang is finally here. From his lonely spot on the couch, he thinks about asking you to come down for a moment, but he decides against it, you’ll come down when you’re ready. With a small smile, he goes to the front door.

“Hyung!” Yeosang throws his arms around a smiling Taehyung. “Sorry I’m late, lost track of time at my folk's place,” Taehyung closes the door and when Yeosang enters the house further, he sees the bowl of fruit on the center table and helps himself.

“You’re good, I’m just glad you could make it,” Taehyung takes a seat on his previous spot on the couch and his friends sits in the recliner beside his, “you don’t know how much help this is for me.”

He smiles, popping a green grape in his mouth. “Anything for my brother, I always told you if you wanted to leave the group, I could help you, I’m surprised you’re deciding so soon,” He gives him a knowing look, “she must really be something, huh?” 

“Yeah...At first, I wanted to save her because I just- I couldn’t kill her, and over time she started to trust me,” He sighs, thinking of the bond you two have now and how much he treasures it, “we just fell in love.”

“I knew it!” He giggles, crossing one of his legs under him. “I knew you’d be the first to settle down, you’re such a softy,”

“I know,” Tae leans back, “she’s just- She’s everything to me, she means a lot to me.”

*

You’ve been soaking in the tub for about an hour now, your face is warm and your body is relaxed. The friend he invited is over and you can hear them talking, but you can’t really make out exactly what they’re saying. Some part of you wishes you didn’t react that way with him, you know he’s doing what’s best for you two. After a few minutes, you build up the courage to drain the bathwater and get dressed in a comfy pair of pajamas.

You can do this, go downstairs, he’s doing this for you two. Letting your hair fall on your shoulders, hands tucked in your sleeves to make sweater-paws. Opening the bathroom door, you peek out and you hear a movie on and a low conversation. She’s just a little shy—you hear Taehyung mumble, and you smile at the fact that he’s not trying to force you to come out. With a brave face, you make your way to the staircase and hold the stairwell all the way down.

“There’s a nice little house there, the farm culture is great, you’d like it-” Yeosang pauses right when you reach the last step on the staircase. With anxious eyes, you stand at the end of the stairway, that’s when Taehyung finally looks back to see why he stopped. 

“Hi there, you must be Y/n,” Yeosang beams a friendly smile.

Taehyung stands up, hand extended for you to take. Your silences pangs in the room and Taehyung speaks up, “This is Yeosang, the friend I told you about.”

“Hi...” You walk over and take Taehyung’s hand, feeling more secure now that you’re sitting next to him.

”Taehyung told me everything,” He sits on the edge of the recliner, “this must be scary for you, huh?”

You nod, “A little...” Tae gives your hand a comforting squeeze.

“You guys will be alright, there’s a new life waiting for you beyond the next 24 hours.”

“How can you be so sure?...”

”Don’t worry, it’s his job to get people to other countries, wipe them off the grid and give them different lives. You can trust him because I trust him,” You glance up at Taehyung, finding it hard to form a response, to truly believe what he’s saying. He plants a kiss on your forehead with a sight, “Everything will be okay, I promise.”

Yeosang went home that night and you laid on the couch with Taehyung, trying not to cry. Tonight will probably be the last night you spend on this comfy couch. Tonight will be the beginning of a new life and despite how in love you are, there’s no guarantee that this won’t go sideways. Tonight, the moon is full and bright, you can see it clearly through the patio window. The stars around it are also just as beautiful, and it makes you feel peace. The same moon and the same constellations shine for you, they’re always there, adding life to the deep-blue sky. When you look up and see the still beauty of the night and its moon and stars, you breathe in contentment. As long as the moon glows and the stars kiss the dark of night, it’ll be okay – you’ll be okay. 

[madeofcc]

Another Ghost Story- Horror Team CAS Challenge

Rules : Create the perfect survivor but think archetype (but not all white sims please and only human). The 6 survivors archetypes are : The Nerdy, The Sporty, The Pure Heart, The Lost Soul, The Fool and The Queen . No researchs needed, just think about what the word and create :)

Your entry must include the following :

 Age (Young Adult or Adult only) / Phobia or Trauma / Traits / A small description of your sims personnality.

Also, all survivors should have a phobia/trauma related background story that I will use during the story (ex: Maeve is scared of spiders, Laura is scared of the woman in black…)

You can create one or two related sims but please, only use Maxis Match CC (kijiko eyelashes are ok)  wearing an Everyday outfit ^^ (if Alpha cc, I might turn your sims into MM)

Game rules (for the story) are simple : Everyday I will post an episode. There will be 7 or 8 survivors depending on your creativity (I’m still waiting for contestants ^^) so everyday I will choose someone based on a random trait simulator. Based on the results it will give me, here’s what will happen :

1 - If your sim has one trait selected then he/she will be a potential victim.

2 - If it has 2 or more selected trait then he/she will be killed for sure.

That way, everyone can die or live and the random thing makes it so much funnier for you and for me as well ^^ Who will survive? We’ll see !

Special Readers Warnings : This is a horror and dark story so adult content, with bad words, murders and gore stuff, also some screen might be very spooky (Well, I ‘ll try my best to scare you a little :p).

This entire project is inspired by It and the Ju-On/ The Grudge Saga. This would have not been possible without the HUGE help of the super talented  @mauxais​ who created this amazing house of nightmares ! Thank you so so much for that, this house is exactly what I have been trying to create for days and days !

If you join this challenge tag me (@Madeofcc) and/ortag with  #horrorteamchallenge . I will reblog every entry, if I don’t reblog yours don’t hesitate to send me the link to the post!

Deadline to submit is April 15th !

[ravenclaw-reblogs]

I just saw something that reminded me I wanted to say this (this is in general, not a personal attack 😂)

can we please get more people giving trigger warnings on their content?

I dont have any serious triggers but I'd appreciate two trigger warnings in particular; angst and SPIDERS. if you're making something angsty, mark it as angst either as a tag to filter or at the beginning. if you're gonna have a pic of a massive tarantula somewhere in your content, please let me know beforehand so my skin isnt crawling for the next hour...

if I can get so affected by silly things like angst and spiders I cant imagine what it must be like to have actual triggers that arent warned against in the content you consume

some trigger warnings to normalise include...

swearing

angst (however mild)

common phobias

bigotry of any kind

any sort of violence

fighting (physical or otherwise)

trigger warnings aren't only for the obvious things like gore and smut, I think they should be normalised for milder things too

please add any more examples I forgot to list!

and can we maybe blow this up becuase I want as many creators as possible to see this

[qm-vox]

The Far Realms vs. Obyriths: Cosmic Horror in D&D

Shout-out, once again, to Afroakuma, from whom I learned most of the material I’m about to explain and with whom I’ve had many fascinating discussions about this topic.

It’s ya boi Vox, back at it to complain about RPG shit in an educational fashion again. Remember when I did a whole article about (evil) gods in D&D, arguing that they have more potential than to be used like supervillains? We’re gonna do that again, but this time with incorporating cosmic horror elements into your D&D campaign. Some of this advice may also be useful for games similar to D&D but for the sake of my own sanity I’m gonna confine myself to the one system or I’m gonna be here until my kids are in college.

This article will be broken down into three parts: an overview of cosmic horror’s origin and original thesis (in which we travel my favorite magical land, Full And Complete Context), a breakdown of the Far Realms in D&D (including older takes from late 2e & 3.5, how those changed in 4e, and their ambiguous state in 5e) & how you might use them for a cosmic horror campaign, and a breakdown of Obyriths in D&D and how you might use them in your campaign.

No discussion of cosmic horror is complete without some Content Warnings. Right up front: cosmic horror has its roots in extremely racist fiction, and I’m going to be talking about that straight-up. Also included in this article will be body horror, descriptions of mind control and mental corruption, supernaturally-induced madness, violence, and medical horror, among other things. This is a genre that hit the ‘fuck shit up’ button with its face on fuckin’ Zero Day and does that but again every time we successfully write something in it. Additionally, spoilers for some of Lovecraft’s work will be in here, with absolutely no tags and no warnings before they happen. You have been warned; do as thou wilt.

HP Does A Racism - Origins Of Cosmic Horror

Yeah, I’m about to be like that about it.

In the beginning there was Howard Phillips Lovecraft, an absolute garbage fire of a human being whose personal issues are such a knotted mess that I’m half-sure that the concept of the Ouroboros is just the echo of his bullshit reaching backwards through time. Like many authors of his time, Howie Love here was born into significant wealth, and while his education would be cut short (he had some manner of health problem in high school that ended his attempts at schooling) it was pretty high-quality, as it tends to be when you’re rich and white in the late 1800s. When he began writing his most famous body of work, Lovecraft had three attributes which would shape it: EXTREME racism, an incredible love for the works of Edgar Allen Poe, and every fucking phobia ever turned loose on God’s green Earth.

If you want to know more about that first point, try looking up what he named his cat; Lovecraft was so racist that even other racists thought he was too racist. Mother fucker was so racist that he wrote about the dangers of contaminating one’s bloodline with French-Canadians. His racism made it into all of his works in some way, shape, or form; many had themes of miscegenation, plenty included people of color only as deranged cultists of terrible powers, and as we’ll get into later in this segment the very racism that caused him to do these things also made him write the...let’s say ‘villains’ for lack of a better term, of his ongoing body of work as thinly-veiled stand-ins for white people.

No, really.

Lovecraft’s early work included a few short stories in the American Gothic style, the most famous of which is The Rats in the Walls. It’s a fairly classic story as far as those go, but Howie Love would soon abandon American Gothic for the genre he founded and defined: cosmic horror. Keep the racism and phobias in mind going forward, they’re about to become real important.

Howie Love Clowns On Himself - Themes And Thesis Of Cosmic Horror

While Dagon is generally accepted as the ‘first’ cosmic horror story, I prefer The Colour Out Of Space as the definitive example of the original thesis of cosmic horror at its most clean and clear (it’s also the work of Lovecraft’s that has aged the best; I highly suggest it if you haven’t read it yet!). In it, an alien presence - arguably but not necessarily an entity - crash-lands outside the fictional town of Arkham. Our narrator, a surveyor, coldly investigates the horrors that occur after and learns the sorry tale of a family destroyed by this alien presence as it blights their land, corrupts their bodies, and drives them to madness. The presence leaves, but not wholly; a fragment of itself remains behind, alongside the chilling possibility of a repeat performance.

The Colour Out Of Space, and indeed most of Howie Love’s work, was written at a time in the United States and the United Kingdom where human exceptionalism was the norm. Humans were not merely important, but special, chosen, exalted in nature and placed in a universe whose sole purpose was to be the stage for our domination. The Colour Out Of Space proposed a different idea: that we ain’t shit. Not only is humanity not exalted, but humanity is insignificant, existing at the mercy of fate, able to be casually annihilated at any time by forces we do not understand. It was a shocking proposal when it was published, and though the zeitgeist that gave it power has faded (most people realize we ain’t shit these days, can’t imagine how that fucking happened) it still resonates with many people.

The later works that defined the Cthulu Mythos would build on this theme, introducing powerful beings which claim dominion of Earth or of all reality. You’ve probably heard of most of them - Cthulu is the big one, of course, but there’s also Yog-Sothoth (The Dunwich Horror), Azazoth, Catboi Slim (Nyarthalotep), and many more, not all of which were written by Lovecraft himself. These beings are gods, or else so far above humanity that the difference is academic, and this brings us to the second defining theme of cosmic horror that Lovecraft would lay out, that of forbidden knowledge.

Protagonists in Howie Love’s stories have a tendency to lose their minds. Later authors would chalk this up to the idea that witnessing these gods or their works is so inherently horrifying that the mind simply snaps in their presence, or even that these gods are bound up in the concept of madness (this second one is a rather incompetent reading, not that I’m thinking of any PAIZO in particular that just ran with it in their RPG setting), but Howard’s own work doesn’t always bear that out. The protagonist of Call of Cthulu is not driven mad by that being - he is driven towards the brink by the realization that the Cult is still out there (and coming for his life), and that Cthulu will only rise again. Our viewpoint character in At The Mountains Of Madness realizes he has committed unspeakable atrocities on living beings much like himself by mistake, and that if further explorers come to disturb their slumber they will only repeat the same errors and lead to mankind’s annihilation. It’s not just that these ancient powers are terrifying or even that they are alien, but that to comprehend them is to understand that humans are so far beneath them that their attitude towards us cannot be thought of as ‘benevolent or ‘malevolent’, because we are beneath their notice, lesser in comparison than even a bacterium. In such a context, all humans do is consume resources better used by our superiors, and thus our existence is a profanity upon the divine. The only moral action, the stories argue, is self-annihilation; only ignorance permits us to justify our own existence to ourselves.

Sound familiar? Almost like this is the exact argument chucklefuck racists make about the existence of people of color, Jews, and anyone else they happen to not like? Yeah. This is the part where Lovecraft accidentally made himself the villain of his own work. Congratulations Howie, you played yourself. And since his audience was largely fellow white men also hard up on that whole racism thing, this idea of human profanity tapped a deep well of anxiety. I’m not about to argue that racism is over (it isn’t) and that’s why this vision of cosmic horror is less popular; indeed, it’s retained a pretty solid cult (heh) following, in part because the idea of such beings is inherently kinda terrifying. But I’d be remiss not to bring up the fact that this terror has its roots in racism, so...there you have it.

Other authors also built on the Cthulu Mythos, with Lovecraft’s enthusiastic blessing. These days their works tend to be mistakenly attributed to Howie Love himself, but that’s not actually his fault; they were published on their own, under their own authors’ names, and as far as we can tell Howard never tried to take the credit. These other authors had a tendency to substitute the indifferent divinity and corrupted humans of Lovecraft’s work with direct malice; their vision of these god-like beings was one in which they noticed humanity and did harm to it, creating a movement away from Howie Love’s original thesis (”human insignificance will lead to the unimportant and unmarked event of our destruction” & “seeking knowledge can only lead to self-annihilation”) during his life which only picked up momentum after his death. Indeed, most modern attempts at Lovecraftian horror mimic this overt malevolence, often without even lip service to the original thesis. It’s not necessarily an unworkable angle of horror, and it definitely has bones in with its origins; “God is real and He hates you personally” is a terrifying idea! But this movement away from the cold indifference of stories like The Colour Out Of Space definitely contributed to the current climate of...sloppy adaptations, let’s say.

Not that I’m thinking of any Paizo in particular.

So Should I Use Mythos Content Directly In My D&D Game Or What?

No, because I will cry and tell everyone that you punched my children and kidnapped my girlfriends.

More helpfully, probably not. The presence of other divinities, but especially evil divinities like Erythnul (Greyhawk) or Malar (Forgotten Realms) makes the thematics of cosmic horror pretty fucking weird. If you really wanted to, your best bet is to not use the published system of divinity at all (see the previously-linked article, up at the top of this one) and instead make Lovecraft’s gods the setting’s only gods. That means asking yourself some hard questions about clerics in your game world and possibly divine magic in general - that’s a separate article though - and even then you’re in for a rough row to hoe. D&D’s characters tend to be competent, dynamic, empowered - a far cry from the educated but otherwise fairly helpless protagonists on which cosmic horror tends to trade. Themes of futility in the face of incomprehensible beings don’t really make for good D&D most of the time, not when so much of the system (any edition, it doesn’t matter) is set up to create and reward cunning and heroic struggle. Classic cosmic horror, in the original proposed form, is not a good fit.

Thankfully, we have two solutions to give you what you crave in-house. Let’s start with the one that is somehow both the closer fit and the further fit.

You Have Fucked Up - The Far Realm Overview

Originally introduced in late AD&D 2e, the Far Realm as an idea hit its stride during 3.0/3.5 before getting a major rework as part of 4e’s cosmology, where it became the source of most/all aberrations. We’re gonna go ahead and pretend 4e didn’t happen, not because 4e is bad (and for the love of fuck please don’t start an edition war on my cosmic horror post) but because 4e’s cosmology just doesn’t really fit in with any of the rest. 1e <-> 3.5 is more or less coherent and you can beat 5e into line with a wrench and some harsh language, but 4e...well, anyway.

The Far Realms is outside reality. No, not in another dimension, we know what those are - those are the Planes. It’s outside reality; it is Somewhere Else. “It” is probably even the wrong term, since by definition any place (”place”) that isn’t the multiverse as D&D knows it is the Far Realm. To paraphrase Afroakuma, if the Great Wheel is a Lego brick, the Far Realm is a giant squid; if the Great Wheel is a bowl of Fruit Loops, the Far Realm is the theory that intelligences from Pluto rig the results of major sporting events. The contexts are not compatible. These two things do not go together in any way. Combining the two can only end in sorrow and woe.

So mortals try to combine the two all the time, because we’re dipshits like that.

Every now and again, some truly, monumentally stupid person - usually but not always someone inside reality - breaches the skin that contains reality inside itself, and lets in the essence of Outside. This is a phenomenally bad idea; the immediate result is corruption in both directions as the essence of each form of reality bleeds into the other. Both attempt to ‘scab’ the breach, translating the foreign substances and beings into something more like the reality they have moved to. If a breach happens, there is one of three outcomes. If you are very, very lucky, no being on the other side notices the breach, and you’ve ‘merely’ blighted and corrupted a vast stretch of land, tainting it with something sort of like, but not enough like, Chaos and Evil for millennia to come - maybe even forever. If you’re not lucky, a being on the other side notices the breach and acts to seal it, the ripple of which causes you to not have a nation or continent any more as said corruption absolutely consumes the lands in which you live. And if you are phenomenally unlucky, the being on the other side is just as stupid as you are, and it comes through. The last time that happened the original Gnomish pantheon got murdered. Their homeworld doesn’t exist any more.

There is no ‘good’ outcome. This is the repeated and absolute theme of the Far Realms; whatever your reasons for getting involved with them, whatever you wanted, whatever you were seeking, you don’t get it. Mortals fuck with the Far Realms because our inability to comprehend them leads us to think of them like things we can experience. The scabbed-over beings we meet that are from there (Psuedonatural creatures; see the Alienist prestige class in Tome & Blood and Complete Arcane, as well as the bigger version in the Epic Level Handbook) are Chaotic Evil because that is how reality translates them. They aren’t Chaos, they’re another reality, and their unwilling and unwitting corruption of all around them gets redefined as Chaotic Evil in order to reduce their damage to all of existence to a manageable fucking level. Were you seeking the Far Realms in order to harness power for great change? Get fucked, you can’t control what happens. Were you seeking magical power? Get fucked; the reason people go mad when exposed to the Far Realms isn’t just that the knowledge they gain makes no sense, it’s that the complete lack of context means all of the stuff you killed and stole and lied and cheated for is more or less completely goddamn useless. Trying to escape existence for some reason? One, death is faster, but two, hope you enjoy suffering the entire time you die - and that’s if the breach stays open long enough for you to be able to enjoy death as a concept before you get sealed away in a place where mortality doesn’t meaningfully exist.

You don’t get what you want. This was a bad idea. You fucked up.

5e, the most recent edition of D&D, mainly continues this trend. It has suggestions of the lazier interpretation of Lovecraft’s work tied to the Far Realms, which I heartily suggest you ignore, but some of the other ideas are phenomenal. The Great Old Ones Pact for Warlock has one in particular that I like quite a bit, which suggests that the Warlock-to-be created an unintended connection to a Far Realms intelligence and gained power against both of their wills and possibly without the intelligence in question even noticing. You don’t need to change a lot in 5e’s run to bring out the extant themes of the Far Realms - though admittedly this is greatly assisted by the fact that 5e barely has any Far Realms content to begin with, so there’s not a lot to edit. That also means there’s not a lot to use, so if you want to use Far Realms stuff in 5e you’re gonna have to get ready to spend a lot of time making your own. Which brings us to...

Who The Fuck Funded This Research?!? - Using The Far Realms In Your Game

Considering that all-important theme - “this was a bad idea” - the Far Realms are likely to be antagonistic in nature in your game, even if ‘antagonistic’ isn’t the right term. Published adventures have used Far Realms content as a sort of backdrop (Firestorm Peak comes to mind here) before, and you can easily make Far Realms creatures a more direct problem for your PCs by centering the campaign around a cult or research team attempting to cause a new breach. This could be a great time to engage with player-side themes such as the ethics of magic use, the cost of power, and the burden of responsibility for said power, assuming your group is down for it. Even if they’re not, horrifying monstrosities that by definition have no place in this universe are great to kick in the head(s).

What motivates people to cause a breach? Mainly stupidity, but the special kind of stupidity you only get when someone is highly educated and deeply intelligent. For awhile, in the real world, there was a burst of designers making D20 heartbreakers - successors to D&D 3.5 meant to fix its many catastrophic flaws. Each person thought they had it, the secret to make the system they both loved and hated finally function, and they were all wrong. Causing a breach into the Far Realms is like that. Every sign points to it being a bad idea. Reading the research and spells of the last people who tried it reveals that it’s a bad idea. All of the diaries and primary sources of those who did it and those who stopped them say it’s a bad idea, but that’s okay because I, Wizardhat von Dipshit, am not like those fools. I will be more careful, and the power to reshape the Planes will be mine!

The easiest way to make Far Realms creatures for use in your campaign is to start with an existing monster and fuck it up; rearrange its abilities (adding or emphasizing mental attacks and psychic damage, if you can), alter its physical form, and generally just make that shit wrong and fill its blood with spiders. If you want to get more alien from there or make something original, the best guideline I can offer for you is that aboleths were the result of Far Realms taint in the beginning of this reality (it’s telling that the closest thing reality could translate their progenitor into was a Greater Deity).

No one wants power for its own sake, of course, but what your antagonist actually wants is more or less irrelevant because the important bit is that they had every chance to know better and they’re about to make this bad decision on purpose anyway. This is how the Far Realms brings out cosmic horror themes in a heroic context; power that is beyond both mortal comprehension and control, which has no place in this reality and recoils from us as violently as we recoil from it. Like Lovecraft, whose stories revealed a deep cynicism about knowledge and science, your antagonists will be erudite individuals whose ruinous plans are only possible because of what they have learned and, in turn, chosen to ignore. If nothing is done, unstoppable catastrophe will be unleashed, and with it will come madness and desolation. If only some heroes were on hand, eh?

The disconnect the Far Realms has from classic cosmic horror is also the source of why they fit; they don’t belong here. In Lovecraft’s work, it’s humanity that doesn’t belong - we are a blight upon the rightful property of higher beings. The Far Realms are instead an intrusion, something from Elsewhere which doesn’t want to be here as much as we don’t want it here. That helps those classic cosmic horror themes work much better in this context, but maybe you’re looking for something else, something from here. Do the Planes have cosmic horror from within the shell of Reality?

Yes. Oh yes, they do.

Ancient Evil Survives - Obyrith Overview

In the beginning, there was war.

The primordial War of Law and Chaos is the greatest conflict to have ever rocked the Planes. It was so destructive, so all-encompassing, that it consumed entire Material Plane worlds, reshaped the nature of the Planes themselves, and is still happening, even now. It began in the early days of the Great Wheel and was prosecuted by Chaos, led by the self-styled Queen of Chaos, over a single question: should reality be real? Should effects follow causes, should gravity exist, should fire burn and light reveal, should things age and die, should...

The forces of Law said yes to these questions and fought to establish and maintain an order and logic to reality. Chaos fought for an unbound reality, one in which each individual would be completely free to express their own true essence as tangible changes in the existence around them. The War was never truly won or lost, but the imprisonment of Miska the Wolf-Spider broke the backs of the Chaotic coalition and brought the War to a stalemate of sorts, in a reality which, if not dominated by Law, is definitely Law-leaning. Mortals are familiar with the terrible demons used as footsoldiers by the Abyss, the Tanar’ri, who reign yet in that terrible place. But it was not the Tanar’ri in command of Chaos, and not the Tanar’ri who prosecuted that terrible War. Indeed, the beings we now recognize as demons rose up against their creators, the Obyriths, after the imprisonment of Miska. They overthrew the Obyriths in a great slaughter and replaced them as the dominant exemplars of Chaotic Evil.

The Obyriths are not dead. They plan, and they wait, and they wage war and slaughter upon their wayward slaves in the Abyss. Every last one of them burns to reignite the War and achieve their vision of unbound reality, free of the wretched Law and all too weak to survive without it.

Prisoners Of The Flesh - Obyrith Nature

So what are Obyriths? The easiest answer is that they’re demons - the first demons, in fact, which preceded the more famous Tanar’ri (when you think of demons in D&D chances are you’re thinking of a Tanar’ri), and while this answer is entirely correct it is not the whole story. Tanar’ri are famously Chaotic Evil; they revel in corruption and destruction and are driven to maliciously annihilate or taint all they come across. A demon army marching across the land will stop to personally kick every puppy between point A and point B and they will absolutely mutiny against you if you try to stop them from doing so. What is good and pure must be soiled; what exists must be made to not exist, its foundations shattered, its virtues turned against themselves, its values abandoned. Tanar’ri respect only raw might, and only as long as they think they can’t defeat it.

But Obyriths, their progenitors, are Evil Chaos.

Let’s have some examples. This little guy is a draudnu, a kind of Obyrith made from the bones of chaotic celestials which post-dates the ‘end’ of the War by a pretty significant amount of time. They’re on the weaker side for Obyriths.

(You’ll find this boi in Monster Manual V for 3.5 incidentally.)

Take a nice long look. Really take it in - because that’s not the draudnu. That’s the prison of flesh, the scab, that reality has forced on the draudnu, that the terrible Law has locked it within. The actual draudnu looks like it’s inside me God it’s inside me I can feel it growing and twisting it HURTS get it out, it’s seeping into my blood it’s inside me it’s INSIDE ME -

Let’s have another example. This is a sibriex, recently re-published in Mordenkeinan’s Tome of Foes for 5e with no mention of Obyriths, which is a damn shame. They were instrumental in defining the forms of the common breeds of Tanar’ri.

Fun, right? But again, that’s not a sibriex; the actual form of a sibriex is perfection. Absolute beauty and grace. I am nothing compared to this perfection. I am no one in the face of this perfection. My existence can only profane this perfection. I must serve the Perfect One. I must let it remake me and reshape me, I must appease it, I must make amends for the crime that is my trespass upon the reality made for the Perfect One.

Those two are ‘common’ Obyriths, examples of that race of demons which have peers who are much like themselves, but the Obyriths still have extant Demon Princes. The Queen of Chaos is still alive and nursing her ancient hate. Pale Night’s true form is so profane that reality cannot stand its existence; when she reveals it to you, the multiverse destroys your soul so that knowledge of her truth does not exist. Obox-Ob, murdered by the Queen of Chaos, yet exists as an Aspect of himself - and the Planes live in fear of the rise of the Prince of Vermin, whose truth is agony, rot, and corruption, such that even if you magically remove memory of it from your mind you continue to die from the soul outward.

And Dagon plots within the depths of his palace, sponsoring and advising Demogorgon - the Prince of Demons - and contemplating unimaginable lore of evil. The Demon Prince of Depths looks like this.

This is the form carved on blasphemous altars in the depths of the oceans, where sunlight has never reached. This is the form worshiped by mortals who delight in corruption, destruction, and fear, who dream of a sea where vision is a distant memory and predators hunt by the scent of blood. It is the form sought by those who lust for ancient lore, kept in places far from mortal sight and utilized by an evil older than many gods and mortal races, a form whose mere touch can taint a body of water, mutating & mutilating all within and unleashing their fury, their terror, their slaughter, for ages to come. And it is not Dagon. Dagon’s true form, imprisoned within that flesh, is I’m drowning in the cold dark, I can feel my bones breaking, my eyes are bursting, I’m blind and I’m drowning and I can’t die, my lungs are gone, the water is seeping into my blood I’m drowning and I just want to die make it stop I’m DROWNING.

It’s telling that witnessing Dagon’s true form, his Form of Madness, can give even creatures that breathe water, or which do not breathe at all, crippling hydrophobia.

The true forms of Obyriths are not flesh or matter; they are not, by nature, Material beings the way other Outsiders and mortal things are. Their true forms are that you, personally, are going mad. You, personally, are being assaulted, violated, and infected; you, personally, are being victimized, corrupted, consumed, and betrayed. Imagine if the act of pouring flesh-eating beetles into someone’s eyes had a personality, will, and desires - not the person doing it, the act itself - and that’s an Obyrith. They are evil because what they are is evil, much in the way Erythnul is evil. Unlike their creations, the Tanar’ri, Obyriths aren’t in it to kick every puppy that has ever existed. They want to throw off the yoke of the Law and release their unbound forms. They want an existence of darkness and isolation in which all beings are free to express their true essence to the limit of their might and their will.

They just wanna be themselves.

No matter who has to die.

The Foes Of All Reason - Using Obyriths In Your Campaign

Do you enjoy life’s little conveniences, such as cause-and-effect, linear time, predictable & observable physical laws, not having your body boil away beneath the agonizing will of some random asshole, and the capacity to recognize patterns in nature? Then Obyriths are your enemies. As demons, Obyriths can be summoned and are thus easy to use in the sort of ‘guest star’ role that Tanar’ri are often used in, even if it takes a moon-sized pair of brass balls to decide you can contain one. However, this use - while valid - is not a good way to bring out their cosmic horror themes, and since you decided to read an article about cosmic horror in D&D this far down I’m going to go ahead and assume you’d like to do that.

As one of the Planes’ most ancient and active evils - arguably the most ancient one that hasn’t died or otherwise fucked off - Obyriths are absolutely prime for campaigns that deal with ancient lore, primordial conflict, and unreality. If you like the idea of long-burn plots by masterminds with the patience of aeons, Obyriths are definitely for you. For an example of one such story, check out The Tale of the Whale, written by Afroakuma. The downside to using Obyriths in this way is that if you want to do so in canon settings, you need to be prepared to do some absolute fucking deep dives on the lore, which may require access to books or PDFs as far back as 1e & 2e. If you’re using your own setting this problem is lessened, though at that point you do have to manage to sell the ancient nature of such beings in a way that makes them feel suitably eldritch.

For more...let’s go ahead and say modern for lack of a better word, takes, keep in mind that Obyriths are not Tanar’ri. They do not scheme to overthrow the government of a nation; your pale, fleshly shadow of the Law is nothing to them. The plots of Obyriths upend the Laws which underpin reality itself. Could the great contract that details the alliance between the tribes of Men and Cats be found and perverted, turning each against the other in all reality? Could the insects of this realm be infected with the essence of Obox-Ob so that the Demon Prince of Vermin can feast on mortal souls and effect his own return to power? Could a bridge linking the Deep Ethereal to the Abyss be constructed, permitting the sibriexes and their master, the Prince of the Chrysalis, to shape new slaves from the very essence of raw Potential? Obyriths pervert what is and should be, not just because it suits their end goal of chaos unbound, but because corruption and violation is their very nature. It’s how they think, how they move, what they believe in, love, and value.

Obyriths have a lot to suggest for them when it comes to cosmic horror stories in D&D’s context. They bring out direct themes of madness, terrible truth, malign alien intelligence, and reality-unreality. You can comprehend their motives and even their nature, sort of, but their end goal is completely alien to mortal beings; the reality they want would be completely unrecognizable to the denizens of the current one. They are evil as mortals understand the concept, but not in a way that matches or even relates to their peers, which means they act in surprising and unpredictable ways.

All of this of course damages their ability to fulfill the classic cosmic horror thesis, but there’s something to be said about the idea that an alien intelligence, to be horrifying, needs something humans can attempt to relate to. It certainly makes writing for them easier.

If you’re using Obyriths in 3.5, you’re set to go; look for them in the various Monster Manuals, as well as Fiendish Codex. If you’re attempting to use them in Pathfinder, good decision but you’re gonna have some stat block converting to do. Trying to use them in 5e is gonna be the absolute bitch of a job, and I’m not sure where to even start on those suggestions except to note that the signature trait of Obyriths - the thing that makes them them, mechanically - is a Form of Madness ability, where they reveal their truth to their victims. Forms of Madness are mind-affecting abilities which hit all non-demons near the Obyrith, tainting them in some way. You can see some example ideas above, and the ones from 3.5 in the published books I just mentioned, but here’s hoping I can find an expert on 5th Edition’s mechanics kind enough to lend me a hand here.

I hope this article proved helpful to you! As with all of my work, questions and critique are welcome. Thanks for reading!

[mortesangriz]

This is my fic (Gen 2) for the HxHBB2019! I’m so glad I took part in this event, it was fun and I managed to meet a lot of people that are awesome. It was really well organized and it all ran super smoothly! Thanks to everyone that made the @hxhbb19 possible! I can’t wait for the next BB! You can also find the fic here.

Tags: Spirited Away AU, spirits and demons, Canon-typical violence, mentioned trans-phobia, angst 

Characters: Killua, Gon, Alluka, Leorio, Bisky, Hisoka, Kurapika 

Pairings: Gen 

Rating: T 

Length: 25k 

Summary:

 It's a warning as old as time, repeated over and over until the danger no longer exists in the words. Do not travel the forest at twilight, it is said, for in the gloom of purgatory between light and dark, day and night, life and death- anyone that strays too close is stolen away by spirits. 

Killua has heard the rumors and the warnings, though he doesn't believe in them, especially now the forest is the perfect place to hide. He'll stay hidden until sunrise, he tells himself, then he can go back home and complain about all of this to Alluka. The problem is that the world that awaits him once he leaves the trees behind is different than the one he knows, and as he stumbles into an empty town, a massive bathhouse where his house used to be, he's not sure how he'll manage to get to his sister again. 

Now, stuck in an entirely different world, with an odd spirit named Gon that won't leave him alone, and an old hag working him to the bone for a clue as to how to get home- Killua thinks that maybe there was some truth to those warnings, after all, and that maybe, next time, he should listen.

[seenashwrite]

Some Dean

Word Count: 4K Category: One-shot, On-The-Hunt, Humor, Creature Feature, Behind-the-scenes Canon-Compliant, Teamwork, Friendship… and, to hell with it: Fluff Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, Cas Warnings: None Anti-Warning: There’s no images or links to anything creeptastic below the cut, those of you with squicks/phobias need not worry, I’m not that big of an a-hole Author’s Note(s): *This is a re-post minus tags & links in an effort to get it to show in searches*; if you’ve no knowledge of the children’s story “Charlotte’s Web”, this may not be for you; more post-story Overall Summary: Sometimes good things come in small, albeit eight-legged, packages.

Dean had always liked spiders.

Well, “like” may’ve been overstating; Dean had always held an appreciation for spiders. They weren’t nasty like rats or sneaky like snakes, with spiders you knew where you stood: in his experience, anything supernatural aside, you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone. Plus, they were badass - spiders packed a lot of intimidation into a small package, could be killing machines when they wanted to be, and mostly he appreciated that they were efficient and effective when it came to dealing with the annoying bugs that occasionally popped up. He did live in a basement, after all; the world’s tiniest were not deterred by any amount of warding or weaponry.

So when he’d notice small, barely-there wisps of webs in far corners or between the bottom of a bookshelf and the wall, stretching from the carved wood to the sticky bricks, he’d leave the homemade traps be for a week or two if they were empty, and sure enough, they’d have captured some crawlers next time he made a run-through with the vacuum. It was an amicable relationship - Dean never saw the spiders, just their handiwork, and the webs seldom popped up in the same space twice. Plus, they seemed to know the kitchen was a no-fly… spider… zone, so all was well.

And then came Charlotte.

Charlotte - as Dean had eventually started calling the garden spider, much to Sam’s dismay - did not have any regard for the out-of-sight, you-don’t-get-the-boot arrangement, nor did she have any regard for giving Dean his space. The day they met, he’d sauntered into the garage, popped the Impala’s trunk, tossed in a bag and a shotgun, yelled at Sam to hurry up, then went to reach for the driver’s side handle, caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and froze. And he wasn’t the only one.

The web was thick at the edges and delicate in the middle, stretching from the side mirror to the handle, upon which Charlotte perched, her crafting put on hold. She wasn’t terribly small, but not remotely large; she would’ve easily fit on the pad of his thumb. And she was clearly of the brave - or stupid, perhaps - sort, because she didn’t immediately scurry off. She took in the sight of the giant creature before her - technically, there was eight of him, what with her four pairs of eyes and all - and she opted to see what would happen.

What happened was that Dean turned, grabbed a shop rag, and began cursing under his breath as he whipped the web into nothingness; by the time he stopped, Charlotte had skittered to places unknown.

Dean tossed the rag away, gave the handle a good eyeballing before he grabbed it, opening the door and saying in a low voice through grit teeth, “Not. The. Car.”

“What not the car?” asked Sam, bounding up the garage steps.

“Nothing,” Dean replied.

This nothing continued for six weeks.

Charlotte was a determined artist, it seemed, not to mention a fast one. She spun webs of all sizes and shapes, covering the license plate in quilt-panel squares, weaving long, ropy trails around and between the wipers, and at one point obscured the back window in a lacy pattern that Castiel noted looked like a fine guipure. She liked to travel, too, as more than once the brothers would exit a given roadside motel room to find Charlotte had been busy during the night, Sam’s personal favorite being when she’d decorated a hubcap in a complex Fibonacci design, though he’d never have let on to Dean.

On the initial occasions following such a discovery, if Dean happened to spot her, he would scold her with a sharp “NO!”, walk in her direction briskly, and she’d retreat, slipping into the trunk or under the hood, but it wasn’t long before she’d stay put, even edge closer, cutting the distance between them, eventually so bold as to crawl onto the roof of the Impala, watching as he dismantled her webs.

“Really?” he asked one morning after the latest wipe-down, bending slightly so they were eye-to-eyes.

She calmly extended one leg to the side, held it out til he got the hint, turning his head, following what he’d presumed was a point, and sure enough, he’d missed some cottony puffs that were still stuck on a tail light.

Looking back at her, he said - begrudgingly -  "Thanks.“

Dean had dealt with stranger things.

"One day I’m expecting to come out and see ‘terrific’ in a web,” Sam commented during a return trip from the latest hunt.

“What?” Dean asked.

“You know - the kid’s book. Charlotte’s Web. You read it to me when we were little. About the farm, and saving Wilbur the would-be bacon?”

“Charlotte’s anti-bacon?”

“No, I don’t think— it was— it— she was just pro-pig.”

It was after this conversation that Dean took to calling their frequent tag-a-long Charlotte. To be specific, it was after he’d brought a BLT with him into the garage while working on the car, and she’d happily investigated a bit of bacon that had escaped his plate. A point to the pro-bacon column, he thought.

Dean informed her that he was fine with her hanging around, he was even fine with her fancy webwork, but she needed to cool it when it came to the car, explaining with lots of gesturing to make sure the message got across, just in case. He’d looked it up. Spiders did not have ears.

He’d also looked up things on spider life spans, and arachnid health in general. Sam found him in the library one evening doing just that, frowning at his laptop screen as he scanned. Castiel was nearby, returning some books to their places on the shelves.

“What is he doing?” Sam asked in a hushed voice, and Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but Dean spoke, diverting their attention.

“Did Charlotte look pale to you earlier?”

Now Sam frowned. “Dean… what?”

“I mean, she’s light brown, but she looked a little yellow earlier,” Dean explained, scrolling further down a page, but then closing the window with a huff and turning in his seat to face Sam. “Can’t find anything.” A pause; a thought. “Hey, I should put out a devil’s trap drawing for her, maybe a new pattern’ll perk her up.”

Sam was, in a word, startled. “Do you think of her as a pet?”

“Why do you care?”

“Oh, I dunno - because a spider is stalking us, and you’ve named it, and you talk to it, and—-”

“What, you got a thing about spiders to go with your thing about clowns, even though your imaginary friend was a clown?” Another pause. “Come to think of it, that explains a lot.”

“Sully’s not a clown, and no, I do not have arachnophobia, what I do have is a worry that - if it is a female - it may lay a bunch of eggs, then we’ll have an infestation. Is that what you want? Bunch of spider babies in your Baby?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “She’s not gonna do that.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Did she pinky swear?”

“Would you like me to have a look at her?” asked Castiel, and the concern in his voice was less for Charlotte and more for Dean, and less in the sympathetic way and more in the tiptoeing around someone who’s slipped into psychosis way.

Sam crossed his arms. “Taking it outside hasn’t worked, neither has trying to leave it wherever we’ve been hunting - this is getting ridiculous, will you just kill it, already?!”

Dean stood, walked over to him, defiant. “We not been doing enough killing for you lately?”

“It’s just a spider, Dean!”

“I know that! Maybe I just don’t wanna be scraping moist spider guts off my boot.”

“Does this spider communicate with you?” Castiel asked, the concern still floating under his words.

He was ignored.

“It’s not your pet, it’s a tiny insect - you don’t even know if it could be poisonous!” Sam exclaimed.

“Not an insect, genius, and Charlotte would never bite us—-”

“What is wrong with you?!”

“Have either of you considered the possibility that this is no ordinary spider?” Castiel suggested.

“Gee, thanks, Cas - no, hadn’t noticed that this is weird,” Dean shot back with a look.

“So you get that this is weird?” Sam checked.

“Our life is weird, what’s some more? And at least this is fun weird, is that so bad?” Dean replied, and the touch of melancholy in his voice caused both Sam and Castiel to stay quiet for a few moments.

The silence was broken by the ring of Dean’s phone - a case awaited them.

And, of course, Charlotte.

Dean looked up from the map as Sam came back into their motel room, six pack in one hand, phone in the other, kicking the door shut as he spoke.

“Jane called. She says a container ship from the UK was bringing in illegal cargo, for some rich people who wanted exotic animals for canned hunts—”

“Douche move.”

“—and apparently when they went to unload, the crates were all busted up. The hold was covered with what was left of the bodies of the animals. All except for one. Three guesses.”

“Big bad bacon?”

“Yup. And she thinks we’re looking at… ah….” Sam trailed off and chuckled.

“Yeah?”

“A cryptid. It’s called The Beast of Dean, a.k.a. the Moose Pig.”

“Why do I think that somewhere, somehow, whatever’s left of Crowley just got a chub.”

They were in a rural area of Virginia, not too far from Portsmouth, and had been for a week, tracking what sounded like a rabid boar, but there was enough of a bump-in-the-night bend to the word on the street that they’d been confident it fell in their wheelhouse. Now that they had confirmation, after a night of research and weapon prep, they were ready to knock out the most recent mission and get back home. The Dean-Moose was large, and it was anything but subtle. The hunt should be an easy one, wouldn’t take long, nothing to it.

Well. One thing. One sort-of big thing. Even though it was also a small thing. Sam’s pro-pig storybook spider and their companion, they’d come to find, had more in common than just a name.

.

STOP

.

There, stretched across the Impala’s grill the next morning, was an undeniable message, and given Dean’s jaw-dropped state, it prompted Sam to speak on his behalf.

“Um, Charlotte? Listen, I don’t know if you… you seem nice, and… really smart, but… look, this thing isn’t like that pig in the book.”

“Because she’s read the book,” Dean said sarcastically, breaking out of his stupor and stomping over to the car, sharp eyes looking for the sassy spider; no joy. “Hey, guess what?” he said loudly. “I’m gonna drive so fast that by the time I do stop, your web’s gonna get shredded, how do you like that? I told you my car was OFF LIMITS!”

With one last glare at the web, Dean got into the car, and Sam followed suit. They put on the radio and chatted about anything but spiders and pigs for the better part of an hour as they bumped along the winding back roads. And after parking at the edge of the woods where the most recent sighting of the beastly hog had occurred, they opened the trunk to find another message, one that unfurled neatly, springing open as the lid of the weapons compartment lifted.

.

REALLY! STOP, STUPID.

.

Punctuation, and all.

“You know…” Dean began, but trailed off with a shake of his head, snatching up the shotgun and pocketing a handful of the shells with the special filling he and Sam had cooked up the night prior.

Sam removed the freshly-etched-with-symbols machete. Dean slammed the trunk shut. Charlotte did not emerge.

As they walked deeper and deeper into the woods, Sam spoke in a quiet voice.

“When we get back, I’m calling Cas. This is out of control, Dean. The spider’s obviously somebody - or something - dicking around with us. Maybe that’s been the plan, keeping us from killing this thing.”

Dean didn’t look at him, rather kept scanning their surroundings as he responded. “Maybe. She… it… came around before that ship got here. But, yeah. Maybe something’s up.”

Sam reflexively sighed in relief, and at that moment Dean stopped, extended his arm to stop Sam’s progress, as well.

“Shhh. Listen.”

The growl was only audible for a moment before the foliage began to stir.

The hunt, it turned out, did not last long. The defeated brothers wearily tossed their dented weapons into the backseat and practically fell into the front. Dean immediately turned off the radio - the chanting of Duran Duran’s “Wild Boys” had come screaming through the speakers.

“It does kinda sound like they’re saying 'wild boars’,” Sam noted.

“Shut up.”

After they’d returned to the motel and showered, cleaned up their scratches and cuts, swapped torn clothing for intact, Sam went back to researching, while Dean went out to the Impala, damp washcloths in hand, and opened the trunk. It was barely even six o'clock, and there was still enough sunlight that he could see every trace of the webbing was gone. But he wanted to check that his little - former - friend hadn’t done anything else.

She had.

Sitting in the driver’s set, Dean’s eye was drawn to the thin, nearly opaque message across the radio, anchored by the knobs and an ejected tape.

.

BAD JOB

.

Dean swiped it away without a word, uttering a small groan and clutching his bruised ribs as he climbed out. He took a few steps, but then pivoted. He opened the door again and leaned in, voice tense as he spoke.

“Tell you what, how’s about I bring you some toothpicks and you join in tomorrow, help us out, get in a few stabs? Be useful, show us how it’s done?”

Dean fell asleep wondering if he’d completely lost his mind.

.

THIS IS DUMB .

Sam ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes - he’d been out the door first, so the newest message, covering the entirety of the hood, immediately made him brace himself for what was coming next.

But, surprisingly, Dean kept his temper in check; he merely set down his bag, returned to the room for a towel, and briskly wiped down the hood.

“Ready?” he asked Sam, forcing a smile that was likely more unsettling than intended.

Sam kept quiet, answering with a thumbs-up.

Their Everything’s Fine! charade was short-lived.

As with the prior morning, Charlotte had chosen to reinforce her message, wrapping the steering wheel so thickly it was barely visible, and her stance on their mission came through loud and clear.

.

THIS IS ACTUALLY DUMB .

Sam thought the choice of having the final “dumb” in bold italic for emphasis was a nice touch. And he noted the copious amount of webbing wound around the gear shift with raised eyebrows. And he gulped when he spotted more strands of said webbing emerging from the ignition. He cut his eyes over to Dean and, upon seeing his expression, took a step back.

This time, Charlotte did not hide. She’d positioned herself on the dashboard, right near the puffed-up wheel, standing with what could be described as quite the petulant posture. And much like the day the spider and the hunter had met, Dean froze.

Charlotte held her ground.

Dean’s nostrils flared.

Charlotte crossed her front legs as if they were arms.

Dean’s jaw clenched.

Charlotte tapped a back leg, as if to say Well get on with it.

Dean was still unmoved, and so Sam said, “You know, when you freeze like that, it’s really not as intimidating as you might—-”

“CHARLOTTE!” Dean bellowed.

She turned and sashayed to the glove box, crawling inside without the first indication she felt in any danger whatsoever.

Thankfully, the motel was just shy of a mile from from a modest gas station-diner combo. Sam talked Dean into a breakfast - with extra bacon, a thumb of the nose to both the beast and its defender. After they easily convinced the owner to loan them his truck, explaining their car’s fuel gauge was apparently broken, buying a can of gas for show, they promised they’d have it returned to him by morning.

As they drove back to grab their gear, Dean asked, “You hear from Cas?”

Sam nodded. “Reception’s crap, though - I can only hear parts of his voicemail. He found something about Charlotte, at least, I think. But he didn’t sound upset, like she was dangerous.”

“Let’s just roast the pig and get the hell outta here.”

“I’m sorry she’s not… you know, fun-weird anymore,” Sam said.

Dean lowered his foot, gunning the engine. “Yeah, well. Story of my life,” he muttered.

The truck was returned way before morning, this encounter with their newest foe having gone as well as the first. Then they found that Charlotte had removed all the web from the Impala, though the door to the motel room held some snark:

.

NICE HEAD

.

Dean barely glanced at it - possibly a little hard to do with the near swollen-shut, a breath away from blackened eye - and didn’t even bother to clean it off. There was no message from Charlotte the next morning. Dean did bother to wonder if she was gone.

The sound of the tree cracking sent both of them diving behind a small knoll, gasping for breath, cringing as it crashed down just where they’d been not seconds earlier.

“I’m empty,” Dean said, returning his gun to his waistband. “You?”

“About ten minutes ago,” Sam answered.

The beast’s growls now turned into a piercing scream, a most furious howl, angry it couldn’t find them. They heard it turning up earth with its tusks, sending rocks flying, then ramming its head into yet another tree, the trunk buckling under the strain. Dean had managed to send a bullet into its snout, likely preventing it from sniffing them out, if the occasional gurgling snorts were any indication. Sam had earned himself a minor goring to his calf, but otherwise they were intact.

“Think you can run?” Dean asked, gesturing to the bandanna-wrapped wound.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think so. That the plan? Just make a run for it?”

“You got any better ideas?”

“On three?”

“One… two…. three!”

They dodged trees, though the beast didn’t bother, taking out the smaller ones along the way, picking up speed with every moment that passed, while the brothers were losing speed at the same time.

Dean noticed a large branch in their path up ahead and started to veer off from Sam, pointing to it and yelling, “Keep going! I’ll try to knock Porky out!”

“No!” Sam yelled back, grimacing each time his leg made contact with the ground. “It’ll kill—- HUUUURMMPPHH!”

Sam went down, Dean not far behind, something tripping both of them, causing them to fall with such force that whatever air they had left in their lungs got knocked out. Disoriented, they raised their heads only to immediately duck them, covering up with their arms, as the beast was still plowing ahead. Its hooves hit the ground in between them, tossing dirt everywhere, its speed too far gone for it to stop on a dime. They expected to soon hear it reversing course, so Sam opened his eyes, trying to spot a place to hide, Dean doing the same, trying to spot the branch.

Instead, the sound of the most meek squeal one could imagine reached their ears, prompting Dean and Sam to turn their gazes directly ahead.

They were at the bottom of a small incline, and they watched as the boar’s head rolled their way, their heads slowly turning as they observed it leisurely passing by. It came to a sudden stop against something near their feet. They shared a look, moving in sync onto their knees.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam said.

Dean looked up from inspecting the severed head to find Sam with his hand extended, pushing under something that Dean couldn’t make out, but a shift in position and a tilt of his head allowed him to see the bright moonlight glint off the surprisingly thick, iridescent rope running across Sam’s fingers.

Another look, another in sync movement as they stood, then tentatively walked forward til they reached the body. This time, Dean spotted it right away when he crouched, the finely-wound strands that were stretched between two trees, at just the perfect height to relieve a squatty hog monster of its head. He flicked it with a finger, as one would a string on a guitar, and it was just as taut.

“She clotheslined it,” Sam said, awestruck. “She tripped us so we wouldn’t… That could’ve clipped us at the knees. She… she…”

Dean looked up at Sam, and a slow smile spread across his face. "She’s awesome!”

Sam shifted his weight off of his bad leg, and grinned. “Think she’s any good with stitches?”

How Charlotte managed to spin their salvation in such little time, they’d never know, and they also had no idea how she beat them back to the car, but the evidence was there, across the driver’s side window. .

SOME PIG .

They laughed, Dean saying, “You ain’t lying.”

But before he could say anything else, Charlotte crawled out from under the handle. She scurried up her web, and as they watched, she whipped the “P” into a “D”; the “I” went “E” in a few short passes; the “G” was partially dismantled, then spun into an “A”; and in mere seconds, there appeared an “N”. .

SOME DEAN .

After a quick hop from its tip, a slide to the outside of one of the long connecting end pieces, and a drop of a new line of silk, their eyes followed her as she leapt, letting the momentum swing her clean up onto the roof. And then - Sam would swear to it, many times over the coming years - she curtsied.

“Thanks,” Dean said softly. “You, too.” With that, he opened the back door, gestured for her to climb inside.

Which, she did.

“Yes… yes… that’s very kind of you.”

Dean, Sam, and Castiel were standing outside the bunker, the former waiting patiently - and occasionally impatiently - as the latter had a conversation with Charlotte.

Castiel looked to them. “She says she likes my tie. The material meets her standards.”

Dean’s expression was completely flat, causing Sam to snicker.

“There any reason you didn’t tell us you could’ve been talking to her this whole time?” Dean demanded.

Castiel shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

It turned out that Castiel’s message had been to inform them that Charlotte was indeed a most special spider, more so than what they’d already divined. She was an emissary, an information-gatherer, a spy of sorts, though not a nefarious one. And because she herself was quite the accomplished hunter, she chose to spend time with other hunters whenever her journeys brought her to them.

And now, it was time for Charlotte to start her next journey.

Castiel was nodding his head as Charlotte, who was on his collar, near his ear, told him one last thing. “She’d like you to know that Sam was correct - she does need to prepare to lay her eggs, though she would not have done so in the car,” Castiel related.

Dean shot Sam a smug look.

“And she says she’ll name them Dean.”

Dean blinked. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

“How many we talking?”

A pause as Charlotte answered, and Castiel replied, “Anywhere from fifty to sixty.”

“That’s… a lot,” Dean said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Not really,” Sam commented.

Another look from Dean - actually, he cycled through several.

“Fine. So maybe I did some research, too,” Sam admitted.

“It’s time for her to go,” Castiel announced. “She says she’s enjoyed your company immensely. And she apologizes for the web you’ve yet to find. It seems she was in a cranky mood that evening.”

“That’s okay. Tell her it’s okay,” Dean said, walking closer. “Tell her that, um… it’s been great knowing her. Don’t be a stranger. All that.”

Castiel smiled. “She knows.” He raised his hand to his shoulder, and Charlotte climbed onto it. “I’m going to give her a boost,” he explained, and then to Charlotte he said, “Please do give Mr. Anansi the Winchester brothers’ warmest regards.”

They watched as Charlotte prepped a silk balloon, and after a gentle wave of Castiel’s hand, off she flew.  

“It would be… cheesy of me to comment it is angelic, their flight, wouldn’t it?” Castiel asked.

“Yes,” Dean and Sam answered in unison.

They began to walk back inside.

“What was that at the end? About Anansi?” asked Sam.

“Networking,” Castiel replied.

“I wouldn’t worry about us ever having to tangle with him,” Dean said. “I mean, not with Charlotte on our side. She’ll talk us up. She’s a talker.”

“Plus, there’ll be all the Deans,” Sam added.

“Yup. Exactly. We are cool with the spider kingdom,” said Dean, and with great confidence.

Dean was incorrect on this point, as he and Sam would later learn, during a case involving a young lady by the name of Muffet.

But that’s another story.

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

Author’s Note #2 - The Jane mentioned is a character from my story Supernatural: Revelation, which you can find linked on the master post -or- just go straight to AO3, same author name SeeNashWrite 😁

Author’s Note #3 -  This also included a prompt which had languished in drafts - albeit with the note “Anansi” from the get-go, thankyouverymuch! - which was from the cringeworthy submissions:

You can find all the #Nash300 Follower Celebration Master List of Madness stories (wherein I asked followers to send me prompts consisting of three words to make me cringe) via the Master Post.

Author’s Note #4: The beast of Dean mentioned is actually a thing, give it a google! And so is Anansi, check that out, too. If you don’t get the Muffet reference, well, I can’t help you with that. 😉

[rosesisupposes]

If your still doing the protective prompts: “They don’t deserve you.” Logan to Patton with logicality???

An actually short prompt response (for once) feat. Patton as my perfect nonbinary bby

Prompt Tag

word count: 847

pairing: Logicality

warnings: transphobia, nonbinary-phobia, bullying, f slur, hurt/comfort

reader tags: @residentanchor​ @royally-anxious​ @bewarethegrammarpolice​ @jemthebookworm​ @arandompasserby​  @sparkly-rainbow-salt​ @astral-eclipse​​ @thelowlysatsuma​ @adorably-angsty​

“What the fuck is that,” a jeer sounded through the hallway. Patton balls their fist in their skirt. They’d been feeling so confident this morning when they’d put it on - the blue complemented their lilac hair clips and they’d felt so pretty. But the whispered comments have been sounding in the background all morning and it was eroding their confidence, little by little. And now the whispers are louder, unable to ignore. They lift their head and tried to walk tall, but their hands are shaking.

It hadn’t been as bad before today. The slow introduction of pastels into their wardrobe, followed by blouses, those had gone relatively unnoticed. But today, they’ve worn a skirt. Buying it had been so exciting - feeling the smooth fabric, watching it twirl as they spun in front of the mirror, feeling a bubbly, giddy sensation as they looked at their reflection and saw Patton. And they’d been hopeful that the other students at school would react well, or even just accept it without comment.

Perhaps Logan was right, and they couldn’t always afford to see the best in people. Perhaps they should have prepared themself more for the likelihood of hurtful comments.

The jeers grow closer. “Look at Patsy over there. What is he even doing?”

The pronoun makes them wince, yet another pin stabbed into their ego and confidence.

“Where’d you steal that from, Claire’s?” another voice asks mockingly. “Are you trying to play dress-up or some shit?”

They keep walking, refusing to look back or even acknowledge the teasing. If they don’t react, maybe the bullies won’t think it’s worth. Maybe they won’t seem as much like a target. They realize that’s impossible as hands grab their shirt and spin them around.

“Stop ignoring me, you fucking cross-dresser! Who do you think you are?” David sneers, getting into Patton’s face. He’s big, at least half a foot taller than Patton and much broader, too.

“Please don’t touch me,” Patton responds softly, edging away.

“Like anyone would want to touch you, fag. What, is this the only way you could think of to get a boyfriend? Pretending to be a girl?”

“I asked you to step back,” Patton insists, but there’s no vigor to their voice. Their heart is hammering in their chest, all they want to do is run, but turning their back to David and the friends who stand with him will only make them more vulnerable. They can feel their eyes starting to brim with tears and look at the floor, not wanting their vulnerability to be any more obvious.

Suddenly, a new person moves into their field of vision, getting in between them and their tormentors.

Logan, who ‘s known for always keeping such a cool head, is standing in the way, face like a stormcloud. He looks like he’s about to smite David and company if they don’t go away right this second.

Patton escapes into an nearby empty classroom leans against the wall, fighting to suppress their tears, trying to cry quietly.

Logan follows him. He’s a little unsure of how to be most comforting, but sits against the wall too, as close as possible, to let Patton decide how much comfort they’d like.

Patton sniffles. “Why do they have to be so cruel, Lo? Is it really so wrong to be the way I am, to dress this way? They’ve always been friendly before, when I was closeted. Am I a freak?”

Logan turns, and Pat can see the crackling anger of before rising again in his eyes. “No, Patton. There is nothing wrong with you. You are exactly who you are meant to be. Those bigots are just too small-minded and cruel to realize that the same Patton who’s been the star of every bake sale is the one who they’re tearing down now.” His expression softens as he wraps an arm around Patton’s shoulders. “You’re the same Patton who’s had band-aids for their scraped knees on the playground, who’s been a shoulder to cry on, who’s been there with a joke and a distraction when things are past crying. You’re the best person I know, Pat. No matter your gender or your presentation. In fact, ever since you’ve come out to me and your friends, you have been all that and more, because I have never seen you so happy. And if David and his friends can’t see that- then they don’t deserve you.”

Patton leans into Logan’s arm, and hugs back. Logan holds them gently, but starts to get worried as he feels them shaking in his arms.

“Pat? Have I upset you? I’m sorry…”

“No, no,” Patton says, sitting up and wiping tears from their eyes. “It’s just… thank you. For being my friend. For reminding me that I’m valid, no matter what they say. I needed to hear that.”

“It’s the truth. I’ll always be here to remind you, whenever you need it, okay?”

Patton gives Logan a watery smile. “Thank you so much, Logan. I love you.”

Logan flushes, hugging his datemate close. “I love you, too.”

[incarnateirony]

Tell me again anti arguments aren’t seated in deeply entrenched homophobia.

So I just found a post.

Like the flaming type of douchebag it takes to make this kind of post, not only do they make it in a critical tag that will turn it up -- without a protective cut or warning -- in a main tag but they explicitly choose to stir the shit by planting it in the main ship tag.

But wait, there’s more!

This person is legitimately out here spontaneously arguing with canon about it because, oh no, Claire might be gay. But how could she possibly be gay? In her few adult episodes she didn’t spontaneously start humping girls. We like, saw her fighting stuff. Obviously that means she must be straight. Why would she happen to get a crush on THIS girl? It makes no sense!! Don’t lesbians have to like, want to scissor any woman that crosses their path? The math doesn’t add up, Carl!

But it gets better. They’ve been compulsively reblogging DreamHunter posts to shit in them, but have some key highlights on their logic.

Check out the anti arguments here.

DreamHunter can’t possibly be canon because if DreamHunter is canon that would make Destiel canon and we just can’t stand for that!!

Ironically they have a “Destiel” tag in their bio but the funniest shit is this leading in with, you know, cramming LGBT down people’s throats, with a whole three boldly confirmed characters in the show. Or, perhaps, either 1 (Charlie) or 5 (+Cas and Dean) by their polar logic. 

Funny how that works.

*looks back to Bobo’s book review circa 2003*

“But it never occurs to Goldstein that there is a deeper social problem at work if heterosexual liberals are craving outlets for sublimated homophobia …”

“Again, we have a righteous injunction to all heterosexuals to ’fess up to their homophobia and to get to work and fix it, divorced from any realistic awareness of how much time heterosexuals will ever be willing to devote to such a project;” -- Bobo Berens, Dissent Magazine, 2003.

Given, of course, Bobo modernly clarified that he by no means was intending to give a pass for that sort of behavior or narrative when he wrote it -- simply the awareness that there are those people, so immersed in it, that they are unable to be aware of much less atone for their bitterly phobic narratives. 

As above.

So yeah, folks. I echo back to my The Problem With Dreamhunter post, but ironically, find that we did, finally, find one oddball out that’s explicitly arguing with Jody’s First Love comment. They were just great gal pals, guys. No big. Don’t shove the gay down everyone’s throats, duh!

Above receipts minded, it’s totally unsurprising that, with my linked post considered and pointing out the authorial parallels of one ship to the other, that they decided to throw Destiel under the bus to argue too, while unwittingly elevating it. 

Huh.

Yeah, fam. Those stupid gay authors in the writing room gaying up our show and shoving it down everybody’s throats but it’s not canon cuz I said so. But I’m not a homophobe! I have a gay friend. I call him Sparkles.

Fucking gag me with a spoon.

Do you guys see the true issue here yet?

These people don’t even see how they’re being problematic.

Let’s argue devil’s advocate. “If DreamHunter is canon so is Destiel,” okay, that’s 5 main-ish queer characters. Will they accept Crowley as canon queer or is that “not canon” to them either? 6? (reaches, wiggles fingertips out of reach) NYYEEHHH!  So... close!

How many recognizeable (not one-off, side screen, lol oh look a bartender roles) have existed in this show? 50? You know, counting recurrings like Benny and Bela and whoever. (If we stretch it to include things like “Vince’s Band Mates” which is technically recurring, there’s about 176.) (this smaller, less updated wiki misses some early characters beyond Amara, doesn’t even have the S11-14 characters, and still says 91, but also doesn’t flood out like “Bart’s Assistant”)

Do people realize that the modern CW target demo of 18-34 varies from lower end identifying 52% queer and older end identifying 34% queer?

That means one in every 2 or 3 people in the target, modern, not primeval generation ping somewhere on the Kinsey scale. Having 1-in-15 (and that’s being generous -- do we get to include Crowley?) isn’t exactly shoving anything down anybody’s throats. It’s admitting we exist a little bit.

And again, spare me like “But there were those gay bartenders cupid shot” or “there was the hunter husband episode” that never got touched on again. Again, one off characters and/or the equivalent of greyface NPCs - if we have thousands of those, if you’re pulling on maybe like, 10, you should already realize you’re spraining something from the reach.

Chill. Nobody’s shoving anything down your throat. Queer people do exist. We exist a lot more than Straighties want to believe. But your heterosexuality isn’t being attacked just because maybe 1-in-15ish people might ping queer as actual faces on a show.

(*1-in-15ish comes from the 91 number. It becomes 1-in-23ish if we use the 176)

In other news, this is a clearly straight-identifying person (they pulled “I have gay friends” and not “But I’m gay too”), but let us never forget the above cited quotes from Berens are discussing what Goldstien politically addressed as “the attack queers,” a conservative-leaning demographic often coded to internally phobic narratives which -- while allowing them greater ability to communicate to the phobic edge of the straight audience and open that venue -- he realized he almost sounded like he was defending. 

He is aware, for example, of how to deal with this conservative audience, and how to use their method to gain “disproportionate presence in the media” above more liberal methods he personally agrees with the narrative of but to the resistant audience comes across as a “litany of scolding and sermonizing,” but at the same time doesn’t condone the actual narratives --

In fact the very ability to be aware of this lets us know that Berens, above many others, is wholly aware of internalized homophobia on top of politically sublimated homophobia from the hetero community and what measures make progress for them to “accept” things gradually, even if they’re not at all concessions we want to make, which he addressed as a “valuable service,” even if, again, he by no means agrees with the actual crude bullshit that comes out of their mouth. 

Both things can be true. People who think they’re being supportive can actually be problematic, but severely problematic people may actually be able to reached by middle ground problematic people in a gradually diminishing scale of problematic, rather than feeling preached at. 

And then there’s those, like our OP, who even if they get the gentlest, most easily accepted (WLW is more culturally saturated than MLM and thus welcome [we can breakout-discuss fetishization vs representation another time]), most “inoffensive” to the delicate (because if they HAD kissed, they’d be yelling that the gays were ruining things again by kissing [and of course, without the fetishization, however will the people who want to whap to it feel it was complete?]), simply have no intention of releasing their homophobia, falling back to his quote.

“Again, we have a righteous injunction to all heterosexuals to ’fess up to their homophobia and to get to work and fix it, divorced from any realistic awareness of how much time heterosexuals will ever be willing to devote to such a project;”

What we have is, beyond the reach of even attempted moderate media initiation via Sullivan and Paglia standard, the OP these screenshots are from, representing this quote. Right here.

Also: We can’t even remotely pretend like it’s just the oppressive straighties. You, me, all of us -- Berens included -- know sometimes this even spawns from within the LGBT community -- such as addressed by Goldstein involving Paglia and Sullivan.

Same shit different verse every time, though.

And

But hey, OP? If you ever read this, (and I definitely left you chance to with my reblog of one of your posts with a link to this) which I kind of doubt you’ll ever get this far even if you find it -- because somewhere between being called out on your blatant phobia and me putting my gay all over your feed -- 

Before you ever try to tell anyone what is or isn’t canon, most explicitly an author that already told us before the fated line that it’s what he wanted us to see (ironically by using his and Dabb as his co author’s previously penned moments for the other LGBT ship you tried to throw under the bus as direct mirrors), you might want to do a quick tap in and make sure that author didn’t psychically write an article 15 years prior pointing out how your opinion makes you a raging douchebag that has proven to be intentionally non negotiable.

Ja?

Ja.

Because you don’t realize it but you guys are literally all the same from literally something being diagnosed as problematic no matter how people try to reach out to you fifteen years ago. And that guy is in our author room. Penning both the Destiel elements you tried to bus, DreamHunter, and confirming his intentions.

[abri-chan]

On JJBA/JoJo Discourse

Just a summary of my thoughts so far. Last post on in for now, but if you have questions don’t hesitate to ask. (Warning: trigger, noncon, lgbt-phobia, aged-up)

1. The idea of a block list and intentions behind it, aren’t necessarily bad. I want to believe people are decent until proven otherwise. If you are concerned about triggering or disturbing content in your fandom, and want to do something about it, that’s a great attitude to have. We need people that are willing to stand up for those who are too afraid to speak or aren’t given a voice. What bothers me (and other users) is the way the idea was executed (more on 3). 

2. I do believe people sharing the list are acting like a hive-mind, BUT I also understand why you are doing it. If someone gave me proof of predators or dangerous people, I’d want to share it too, so others can be safe. But the way the list was compiled had no safety-checks, and the meaning of some “crimes” was redefined to include content that doesn’t belong in it. Did you actually go through 270+ (and the list is growing) blogs to verify the claims? If you checked a blog and found disturbing content, please do block. Sharing information on predatory content that you are sure about, is a good idea. On the other hand, sharing a list of over 270 blogs (and growing), that you won’t even check, is not. What if users ended up there due to mistakes, malice, misinterpretation of tags, or triggering content (that while some of you may dislike, it’s not a crime. Should we publicly shame all horror writers, because they write disturbing shit?)? Are you willing to take the burden of defamation and possible harassment these users will get? You are complicit now. Your followers trust your authority when you share/reblog something, You can’t escape responsibility. I do understand that wanting to protect others takes priority. But do use commonsense with what you share. Because sharing itself is a statement you make. (And yes, commonsense is something you learn.)

3. The execution of the idea was poor. That’s my main beef with the list. 

Let’s start with the administrative part. The list is owned by 8 people. This means they are immune to criticism, while everyone else gets shit. It is true that people could report to them (the block-list blog) about problematic users. But what makes you think they won’t be biased, since they control who goes in, and hide themselves? In fact, they declared genderbending as a crime (problematic maybe? but a crime?). And one of the 8 runs an Abbacchio/Bruno genderbend blog. They are not on the list. Isn’t it ironic? 

Once a user/blog is in, there’s no way out. No feedback, no appeal. Do mistakes and misunderstandings never happen? Today they did say that the way out of “jail” is to publicly apologize and delete harmful content. Again, if one was added by mistake, misunderstanding, or malice, what do you have to apologize for? So they can say they got you, and you must be guilty by admitting to it. There's no guarantee they will delete your blog name from the list. These 8 people think they have the right to judge an entire fandom. And that they themselves are beyond judgement. Nowhere in their blog (so far) do they admit to the possibility of making mistakes.

Here's a better way to deal with problematic content in the fandom: use a format (list, platform, forum, whatever) that gives everyone equal access and stakes. We could actually have a discussion that way, about what's problematic and needs to be tagged, and what is unforgiven.

Now for the content of the crimes themselves. There may be people advocating for fucked up stuff in that list, and in that case, you should stay away from them. No one is saying every blog is innocent. However, based on blogs I follow and the names of the crimes, a lot is just triggering content (LGBT-phobia, incest, noncon, aged-up characters, shipping teens together, etc). The debate about when and if fiction/art should include such topics is ongoing; and there are good arguments to be made on both sides. Context is very important. Is the work or piece of art advocating for it, or just exploring boundaries, or even speaking against it? Blanket-censoring everyone that produces triggering content won’t solve much. Also, just because something can be explored in fiction/art, doesn’t mean it’s okay IRL, and that the author condones it. 

A lot of the crimes were pejorative blanket-statements including and redefining a lot of content or tags. For example, noncon/rape included works with rough-sex or what can count as “rape fantasies”. You know how fucked up it is when people say that because someone has rape fantasies, they are okay with rape? Again, a lot of it is about exploring something risky in safe ways. Roleplaying “noncon” with someone you trust, with agreed boundaries, and consent involved (and withdrawn at anytime) is not the same as rape. Aged-up was added under “nsfw with minors”, and it’s not the same thing. Is grown-up Jotaro in part 4 a crime, since he’s aged-up from part 3? I do understand that a lot of these tags are controversial. Actual sexual harassment can be passed for noncon/dubcon roleplay. Or actual content advocating for nsfw with minors can pretend it’s just aged-up (the character still looks and acts like a child. Miss me with the 100 year-old lolis in anime and manga). 

A solution that works (to some extent) has been tagging, which a lot of people do. Granted, if a blog isn’t tagging their content well, reach out to them. But people themselves can block a blog that writes content they don’t like, or block tags they don’t want to see. What is the point of putting every controversial tag (and anyone who writes/draws about them) on a public shame list?

Whomever made the list may have had good intentions, but they do need to admit they fucked up in the execution step. Instead, their current attitude (as it is written on their blog) is there were no ways mistakes were made, and everyone in there is guilty (the audacity!). Also, let’s publicly shame everyone, since some of them may actually be bad people.