#its supposed to be eldritch horror and dark fantasy but

[highlordofkrypton]

Imagine spending your time and energy policing what, how and who people can write 😂 COuld never be me.

INSTEAD, consider taking your readers on a wild magic carpet ride that even after 13 chapters, no one really knows what's happening, including myself (the author) but it's a PUZZLE!! a MYSTERY!!

[late-to-the-party-81]

Beautiful Chaos

AN: So this was supposed to be a drabble, based on a gif that Alice the menace sent me, but I had a thot and it spiralled into this modern fantasy AU! I hope you enjoy.

Beta’d by the menace herself, @flordeamatista

Dividers by @firefly-graphicsgraphics

Moodboard by me, but the wonderful edit of Andy by @jen-with-a-pen, who was brilliant at realising my vision.

Masterlist

Relationship: Eldritch Andy Barber x Fae Plus-sized reader

Word Count: 5k

CW: Soft Dark Andy Barber, very mild horror aspects, kidnapping, consensual smut (inc mild blood play, tentacles, triple penetration in one hole, rough sex, dacryphilia, blacking out during sex) mild angst.

As soon as you’d walked into this town, your Fae senses had told you that staying was a bad idea, that an Eldritch creature had already made its home here. It would be dangerous to stay, even for a few days; if you could sense them, they could sense you, but you were never one for being sensible. Your heart was too big for that. If an Eldritch was here, it would be using its influence for chaos and evil. You almost felt beholden to make a difference, to exert some of your own influence to balance it all out.

 So you stayed. 

You really shouldn't have done, but you did.

It didn’t take long for you and the creature to find each other. It was an inevitability, your aura’s calling to the other, like opposing magnetic poles. You were intrigued by them, wondering what form they would take, and how they would carry out their machinations. 

The Eldritch had appeared shortly after the dawn of man, born of their fears, their nightmares. The things that stalked them in the shadows and through the dream worlds. Full of arrogance they called themselves the Elder Gods, although to be fair, they were some of the first beings to be worshipped as such.

 But the Fae were older. Much older. 

They were well established as a race when apes had started to walk upright and clothe themselves. The Fae had watched in wonderment as this new species took its first steps towards full sentience, and with that, the building of a cooperative society.

However, as such a primitive species, they were wary of anything that looked different, and worried that, like the creatures of the dark they had willed into being, the Fae would try to hurt them. It was then that your people had developed the skill of glamour, to hide your true selves and to appear as a mortal. They had realised that this new race was susceptible to suggestion, and that the Eldritch were using this fact to sow chaos. It was therefore decided that the Fae would work to redress the balance. Using their glamour they could get close to the humans and ‘nudge’ them back towards kindness.

The nightmare creatures adjusted their tack though, observing the Fae and learning how to glamour themselves, which allowed them to wreak further havoc, being able to influence the mortals without driving them mad. At least until they revealed themselves once they had got what they wanted.

So you cloaked yourself, suppressing your natural golden glow and hiding your wings to appear as a normal primary school teacher; all honeysuckle smiles and encouraging words. Someone that others would gravitate to, listen to, give respect to. Who could get involved without comment in almost every social event in this small town’s calendar. You could exert your influence to encourage kindness in lots of different people, from the students you taught, all the way up to the elderly general store-keeper, who would be called ‘curmudgeonly’ at best. 

You met your counterpart on your third night, as you took yourself to the only bar in town. You’d gone pretty early - it wouldn't be the done thing for the new teacher to be seen cavorting with the town’s miscreants, or even just the town gentlemen. You didn’t want to alienate anyone, but you needed to familiarise yourself with everywhere your skills may be of use.

As soon as you walked in, you were aware of them. You could feel their murky green aura, and hear the otherworldly screams of the insane that swirled around them. Your head turned and there they were, looking back at you. Sitting right at the bar, front and centre, for all to see, but of course, the mortals around you could only see the glamour. 

You had to admit, you were impressed. The creature was male (as much as the Eldritch actually had genders) and the form he had taken was, well, extremely attractive. Tall, broad, but fit and lean. Brown hair, thick and tamed, covered his head, with a matching, and equally as thick beard, framing his jaw. Eyes the blue-green of the ocean, inviting you to dive into their depths. You felt your wings beat as your heart rate increased, and were glad they were hidden from the eyes of those around you.

The creature smiled and gestured to the empty bar stool beside him, an invitation from one professional to another. You sat, carefully, smoothing the light skirt of your dress over your generous thighs, grateful that it reached almost to your knees. You had pantyhose on underneath, and even that thin layer felt like extra protection from the brazen gaze of the creature.

He held out his hand, his palm as broad as the rest of him, his fingers long and tapered. You hesitated for a moment. You’d never been this close to an Eldritch before, and although you knew you wouldn’t burst into flames just from touching him, you still had a sense of trepidation. When you finally did place your hand in his, you felt how soft his skin was. Whatever he did here, in his guise, it wasn’t manual.

“Welcome, little Fae. And what brings you to this backwards, podunk town?”

“My nature, I suppose. My calling.” You gave a small, delicate shrug. “The same thing that brought you here, I reckon, even if our natures are opposite to each other…?” You let the end of your sentence hang so he could tell you how he wanted to be addressed.

“Call me Andy. That’s what I go by here. I’m the town lawyer.”

You couldn’t hold back your snort of laughter.

“A lawyer, really? I suppose, if you are wanting to spread chaos and evil, you couldn’t really pick a better cover.”

“And you picked a school teacher.”

You inclined your head in acknowledgement.

“Touché.”

You turned to the bar and ordered a drink, although just a club soda, as you knew you ought to keep a clear head. You had a brief conversation with the barman as he filled your glass and you handed over some cash, telling him to keep the change, and you knew that Andy was watching the interaction with interest. 

When your server moved to the other end of the bar to deal with another patron, Andy leaned in closer, and suddenly his cordial demeanor disappeared.

“Now, Fae, as lovely as this has been… as lovely”, his eyes roved over you, obvious and unabashed, “as you are, I am telling you now, to leave. Leave this town. Find yourself another cosy little place. This town is mine. It’s not for the likes of you with your golden glow and your kindness.”

His tone was menacing, obviously trying to frighten you away. However, you were stubborn, it was what had made you stay in the first place, and you didn’t frighten easily.

“No.” 

You looked him dead in the eye, and could see the swirling green mists of his true self within them.

“Excuse me?” 

He looked shocked, as though he wasn’t used to anyone, mortal or otherwise, questioning him.

“I don’t want to. I like it here. Feel like I could really make a difference.”

He scowled and grabbed his beer bottle, tossing back the last of it, before standing up. Then, without warning he gripped your chin, squishing your mouth and cheeks. You struggled to stay still. You didn’t want to create a scene - it could backfire on you big time.

“I don’t really give a shit what you want. Get out of my town, Fae. It would be better for both of us if you did.”

He let you go with a shove and you watched him stalk out as you circled your jaw to lessen the ache, before taking a gulp of your drink, letting the cool liquid sooth you.

After such an introduction, any of your brethren would tell you to heed the warning, go somewhere where it would be easier to work your magic, without someone from the otherside actively working in the opposite direction.

 But where would be the challenge in that?

You started small. Small was always easy and tended to have the longest lasting impacts. 

A kind word here, a small, inconsequential favour there. If only humans understood how just being nice, being respectful to their fellows could change the world for good. It also seemed to help that you and Andy had different target demographics. 

It wasn’t difficult to spot his involvement when it was revealed that the town sheriff, a man who had held the position for years, was discovered to be not only corrupt, but also a pervert, stalking and grooming the young townswomen who’d known him for years. And when he’d been led in cuffs from the station to the car of the state troopers, he’d broken, screaming incoherently about the nightmares that would come to take everyone.  As the only lawyer available Andy accompanied him, returning a few days later, shaking his head and talking about how sad it was that a man like the sheriff had obviously lost his mind.

You tried your best to avoid him, but there were obviously occasions when you bumped into each other. The tension when you did was palpable , and you knew it wasn’t just your own. From the way his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, you knew he felt it too. You tried to convince yourself that it was natural to feel on edge when you were in close proximity to your opposite, but, deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just his glamour either. It was obviously helpful to him that his exterior was extremely easy on the eye, but where you were concerned, that wasn’t the whole picture. 

No, you could also see his mysterious, swirling aura, and when you were close enough you swore you could feel the touch of his chaos stroking over your skin, raising goosebumps and sending a shiver through you. It shouldn’t have been as intoxicating as it was; you shouldn’t like the feel of it, but you did. Maybe it was because you’d been shielded from danger most of your life? Like a child who is told not to touch something hot or sharp, but reaches out for it anyway; the curiosity is too much to ignore. 

And it was therefore your downfall.

The end of summer arrived and in celebration the town had organised a big community cook-out. All the men had dragged their grills out to the field on the edge of town, bordered on one side by the river and on another by the woods. All large community events happened there; the 4th of July picnic and fireworks, the mid-summer fun fair, the kids Easter egg hunt, and there was a buzz in the air as you approached, carrying a pair of apple pies to add to the dessert table. You hadn’t made them yourself - mortals consuming fae food was never a good idea - but you had gone to the best bakery in town, and it was the thought that counted, right?

Once you had deposited them with ladies from the church, who had designated themselves the keepers of dessert, you flitted from group to group.  You helped some of the moms organise games for the younger kids, then talked to a few of your co-workers about the upcoming start of the school year, before taking a turn to help dish out the fixings; you hadn’t made them so it was okay. However, most of all you were both keeping away from, and keeping an eye on Andy. A few times your gazes had locked and once he’d even raised his beer bottle to you in silent salute. Or was it a challenge? You couldn’t be sure. 

You wondered if he would try something here; Unleash his chaotic influence on the crowd? 

You hoped not. 

Eventually, though, Andy and his machinations were pushed to the back of your mind, as you laughed and joked and played with your neighbours. You couldn’t help but use your own influence, a kind word here, a suggestion to assist someone else there. You could feel the golden waves of love and joy spreading throughout the crowd, and you felt buoyed by it.

However, as the sun started to set, it happened. It was only a small disruption, a little bit of malicious chaos, but you realised later it was only meant to have one major effect. To disorientate you and separate you from everyone else. You had to admit that Andy picked his targets well. 

Sudden shouting and banging, accompanied by bright lights had you turning. A group of young males, highschoolers caught between boyhood and manhood, had somehow gotten hold of some fireworks and decided to let them off. The gunpowder driven projectiles flew in all directions, and everyone ran for cover, women screaming and children crying. You ducked down, running to the tree line at the edge of the woods,  and hid behind a sturdy trunk, catching your breath. That, however, was when Andy revealed his plan.

A large hand came across your mouth, stifling any noise you might make, whilst his opposite arm wrapped around your soft waist and he hauled you up, using his otherworldly strength to drag you deeper into the woods. You kicked your heels against his shins, but he seemed impervious to it. You shouldn’t have been surprised.

You weren’t sure how long Andy carried you through the forest. It was probably for only a few minutes, but it felt like a life-time, as you struggled ineffectually against his hold. Even your wings couldn’t help you, pinned as they were between your back and his firm chest. 

Eventually though, he came to a halt and thrust you away, dragging a hand down his face and over his beard as he watched you fall to the ground, amongst the brush and leaf litter. You could barely see, the remaining sunlight almost entirely blocked out by the canopy of the trees, so you dropped your glamour. Your skin began to glow with a golden light and your wings became visible, shining with a spectrum of colours.

For a moment, Andy seemed to be taken aback, as he took in your true form, but he collected himself quickly, his features schooling themselves into a dark scowl.

“I told you to leave.”

You picked yourself up from the ground, brushing clods of soil and other detritus off your dress, and pulled yourself up to your full height. It wasn’t very impressive against Andy’s towering stature, but it was all you could do.

“And I said I didn’t want to.”

He moved suddenly and swiftly, closing in on you and making you step back until the trunk of a nearby tree halted your progress. He followed you as you retreated, caging you in as he pressed his palms against the bark either side of your head. His features were lit up by your glow, and the green swirls of chaos were visible once again in his eyes.

“It would have been better for both of us if you had listened. We shouldn’t be in this close proximity to each other.”

You scoffed.

“Says the man who dragged me into the forest, and now has me pinned up against a tree. If you don’t want to be close to me, let me go.”

His eyes narrowed and you saw a flash of some emotion you couldn’t place. His right hand dropped and he brushed his knuckles down your cheek, a gesture far more gentle and tender than you would’ve expected from him. Unexpected shivers ran down your spine and your eyes went wide.

“You misunderstand, little Fae. I said we shouldn’t, not that I didn’t want to be.”

In that moment you placed the emotion he’d shown. 

Lust. 

Pure and simple.

You only had time to gasp in a breath before he cupped your face with his right hand and captured your lips in a punishing kiss. Now, you weren’t innocent; you’d had a few dalliances with other Fae over the centuries, and even the odd mortal here and there, but from the moment he touched you, you knew that he would be a lover unlike any other, be that for good or ill. 

You immediately felt as though he was devouring you, burning you up in his chaotic fire. 

Before you even realised it, you were clinging to him, returning his kiss with the same ardour. His other hand came down, gripping your waist and holding you in place, as he pressed the full length of his body against you. An involuntary whine spilt from your lips as he dragged his own from you, but he continued to trail kisses down your jaw and neck.

“You are driving me insane, Fae. Do you know how ridiculous that is? I haven’t been able to fulfil my true nature since your arrival. All my attempts have been feeble and washed out. My mind has been full of you. Wanting to claim you, even in your glamoured state.”

His nose rubbed up the column of your throat, inhaling your scent deeply.

“But now! Now I have seen your true form, I can never let you go. You are mine, little fairy. Mine to feast upon. Your corruption will be my greatest achievement.”

You should be scared by his speech, horrified at the prospect, but you were too far gone. Your wings started to beat, raising your body up so your faces were level, so you could wrap your legs around his narrow waist. His fingers dug into your flesh, and despite his own glamour still being in place you could feel his talons pricking your skin. A strange feeling flowed over your thighs and tightened around your middle, and you knew it was his tentacles, hidden but still binding you to him.

“Andy!” His name tripped from your tongue like a prayer.

You dragged his face back to yours, wanting nothing more than to drown in your combined passion, consequences be damned. Then your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, pulling the fabric apart and rubbing your hands over the soft chest hair of his mortal disguise. Your hips bucked as he nipped at your bottom lip, his sharp Eldritch teeth cutting you slightly. His tongue lapped over the small wound, tasting you, and he moaned. The sound made your head spin, the thought that he was as intoxicated with you as you were with him pushing the last vestiges of reason from your mind.

Although you couldn’t see it, you felt one of his tentacles moving higher up your thigh, closer and closer to your panties, now wet with your arousal. The tip of it brushed across the sodden fabric, rubbing over your clit and you whined. The movement repeated, the barest twitch of the supple appendage, and sparks flew across your vision. Your own sharp claws dug into his flesh, an untamed part of you coming to the fore. You let go of him and struggled with the buttons down the front of your dress, eventually just tearing at them.The fabric was too restricting, getting in the way of the feel of his flesh against your own.

As your skin was bared to him, Andy’s lips travelled across the swell of your breasts, sucking your flesh and raising marks, before sucking at your nipples through the lacy fabric of your bra. The ache between your thighs was almost painful, your arousal reaching new heights. 

You were desperate for more. Anything more. 

Then more came, in the feeling of your panties being ripped away, the flimsy cotton no match for Andy’s tentacles. They coiled higher and tighter around your thighs and you cried out as you felt them sliding between your folds. Your head fell back against the tree with a thud.

“Andy! By the light!”

“Yes, my darling Fae. Feel me.”

Through hooded lids you could see his skin taken on a green tinge as his glamour started to slip. His teeth looked sharper, and his muscles even more defined, but your observation of him came to a halt as one of his tentacles started to push its way inside your aching pussy.  You let out an animalistic cry as he filled and stretched you. Your fingers curled, your talons breaking Andy’s skin causing 8 tiny spots of green blood to well to the surface.

Andy sighed in satisfaction, pumping into you while his hands roamed your body, igniting fires over your skin.

“More. I need more,”

He chuckled, his lips curving against you skin.

“A greedy little thing, aren’t you. But you want more? I can give you more….” A second tentacle joined the first, pulsing inside you, and stretching you even further. There were more brushes over your engorged clit and you felt yourself on the precipice of something hereto unknown.

“No, no, no. I need you.”

“But you have me, Fae. You currently have more of me than any other creature has in centuries.” 

His tentacles squirmed inside you and you shifted, clenching down on them and letting out another pathetic needy noise. You still needed more. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and there was an incessant buzzing inside your skull.

“I… I…” 

Words floated away. Only the burning need remained. A singular tear broke free from your lashes and rolled down your cheek, only to be caught up by Andy’s tongue, long and forked.

“Oh, you are so delicious. And don’t worry. I know what you need. I can give it to you.”

When and how he’d released his pants, you were unsure, but your brain didn’t care about the logistics. Maybe they were part of his glamour, as he didn’t really have legs, and therefore never existed at all? But despite how full you felt in your core, it was nothing as Andy began to push his cock inside of you, his tentacles holding your weeping pussing open for him without leaving it.

More tears of pleasure flowed down your face, each and every one lapped up by your otherworldly lover, your hips bucking as you accommodated all he had to give you inside of your body.

“Andy! Fuck!

You felt pinned like a butterfly, your own wings beating just as ineffectually, as he bottomed out inside you. Then, as his other tentacles gripped your waist he began to thrust up into you.

“There you go, fairy. Take it. Take it all.”

All you could do was hold on, your claws shredding the fabric of his shirt and scratching up his shoulders, as he bounced you on his cock and tentacles. Your plump thighs were locked around his waist, and your lips were pressed to his, a messy kiss of tongues and two pairs of sharp teeth. 

Andy’s glamour was slipping even more; you could see the green appendages around your waist, and his skin had almost entirely lost its mortal hue. You should be scared. Why weren’t you scared? Why did you find him terrifyingly beautiful?

“I want to see you.” You mumbled your entreaty against his lips as you nipped at each other.

“‘S not a good idea, Fae. It could drive you mad.”

“You already make me crazy. Please.”

You rocked your hips and gave yourself over to the feeling of fullness, the caress of your clit and breasts, all the sensations he was wreaking on your body criss-crossing and overlapping until all you could do was feel. You knew your orgasm was approaching, the darts of pleasure shooting through you gaining in intensity. Your glow increased, brightening the woods around you.

“Please, please please.” You whispered against his mouth, kissing up the stray droplets of blood. 

His. Yours. You could no longer tell. You were one being.

You felt it then. A shift in Andy’s aura. The last vestiges of his glamour falling away and you forced your eyes open and drew your head back to look at him in his true form.

Your already dizzy mind spun more, your eyes trying to make sense of the visage before you. Saliva and blood dripped from his fangs as he smiled, terrifyingly wide. His eyes were dark green voids, leading you down. Down into the abyss.

“Ssseee me asss I am, Fae.”

You screamed as you came, light bursting forth from you, before the world went blessedly dark.

It was fully night when you woke up some hours later. You blinked your eyes open, taking in the shafts of moonlight that made their way through the tree branches above you. Your hands curled in the grass beneath you and you pushed yourself up into a sitting position. A flash of discomfort arced through your core and you winced. You increased your glow to see that your dress hung in tatters around your body, your bared flesh covered in cuts and marks. You were also alone.

What had you done?

You, a fae, had lain with an Eldritch, a creature of nightmare and madness. It went against the natural order of things, and could never happen again.

You bit your lip to stifle your gasps as you rose to your feet, and you couldn’t even be bothered to put your glamour back on as you carefully limped home.

Home.

Not anymore. You couldn’t stay. You couldn’t be in this town and around Andy and keep your distance.

A bubble of sardonic laughter escaped your throat.

Andy had won. He’d convinced you, finally, to leave.

12 months later

You hummed as you bustled around the kitchen of your new home, sorting out the best places for all the items.  

You’d tried to put the past behind you, move on, but over the last year you hadn’t been able to settle. Some force was keeping you moving, driving you to move to different places.Staying still would be the worst thing. You knew it, down to your bones. This place would do though, at least for a few months until the itch to move on got too much to ignore.

You’d seen a few of your own kind over the last year, but the looks they’d given you let you know that they knew what you’d done and that they didn’t approve. It was a lonely, nomadic life for you now.

A bark of laughter sounded from the other room, pulling you out of your doldrums and you grinned as you went to find your new roommate. At least you had her to keep you company. You knew she would go where you went.

Growing up you’d heard of sprites, mischievous spirits that seemed to straddle both chaos and kindness. Almost fae, but not quite. They’d always been talked about in hushed whispers though, and you’d never met one until six months ago. You’d recognised her for what she was immediately. A shock of green hair, tiny, vestigial wings that were more a barometer for her emotions than anything else, and a propensity to get into trouble at the drop of a hat and then disarm you with a smile.

And when you’d seen her, you understood the whispers, and why those like her were so rare.

“Mama!”

Two chubby arms raised up and reached for you. 

Fae gestation was far quicker than mortals, and infant development just as rapid, so your daughter had the look of a two year old human about her, despite only being half a year old. She was too young to hold her own glamour, so you’d had to dye her hair dark brown to cover her natural green, and luckily her tiny wings were easily hidden with a coat. Hopefully by the time next spring rolled around she would have enough control to hide them herself. The only major issue at the moment was her propensity to get into trouble, and the way she subconsciously influenced those around her. 

And how when she smiled she revealed two rows of sharp pointed teeth. You had to admit, she was the main reason you kept moving.

You scooped your daughter up into your arms with a laugh.

“Hey, Butterfly! How’re you doing?”

She leant forward and blew a raspberry into your neck, making you both giggle.

As hard as it had been to accept you were pregnant and then ostracised from Fae society, you were comforted by the fact that you weren’t the only one to have fallen. The existence of sprites proved it. Others had coupled with Eldritch before you; you weren’t some kind of freak.

“Mama! Door!”

Your little menace pointed towards the oak wood and you looked between it and her, confused for a moment until a knock sounded. Trepidation lanced through you before you brushed it away. Surely it was only one of your new neighbours welcoming you with small town pleasantries. With your baby on your hip you walked open and pulled open the door.

Your smile you had ready on your face froze. You froze.

“Dada!” 

Your daughter leant forward from your grip, arms reaching and Andy plucked her from your grasp.

“Hey, Sprite. Good to meet you.” He dropped a kiss onto her dimpled cheek and she giggled, before he turned his attention to you.

“And hello to you, Fae. I think we have some things to discuss.”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @talia-rumlow

[msfcatlover]

I am never not thinking about my personal AUs. Which will probably never see the light of day, unless you ask me about them or I boil over into a handful of concept/rant posts to huck into the void like so many frisbees.

Please, ask me about my AUs.

Current AU brainworms (almost all batfam):

The Reverse!Robins AU, featuring Duke as the eldest, Nightwing!Damian, Oracle!Tim, Steph as the Red Hood figure, Jason getting the Red Robin arc, and Dick as Batman!Cass’s sidekick.

The Magnus Archives universe fusion, where almost the entire family are Avatars. Focuses more on the fun slice-of-life silliness of being a bunch of eldritch fear-eating monsters than the Horrors(TM), but also body horror & nightmare fuel are fun.

Low-fantasy Urban Fantasy AU. Supernatural entities are exceptionally rare, and that is why almost nobody in the family is one. Gotham itself is semi-sentient, the Wayne bloodline has a Fisher King style cursed-bond to the city, Dick is highly magic-sensitive, Jason comes back as a Revenant, Tim is a changeling.

Monster Batkids AU, aka “Every monster can’t be your son.” Dick is a living doll, Jason’s a gargoyle grotesque, Tim is a ghost echo, Steph is a dullahan (zombie edition), Cass is a homunculus. Bruce, Alfred, & Babs are still exceptionally talented humans. Damian’s a genetically-tweaked clone, which means he’s kinda straddling the line between the two groups.

Changeling!Jason. Catherine Todd had a little boy with eyes that sparkled like sapphires. Bruce Wayne took in a homeless boy with eyes like soft grey river-stones. They have the same Name, but they are not the same child.

De-aged RH. Jason made it all the way back to Gotham, but never kicked off his big comeback plan. Dick Grayson opens his door to find a very irritable 13yr old version of his dead little brother telling Dick that he’s been cursed & doesn’t remember anything.

De-aged Robins. Dick, Tim, Steph, & Cass went to bust a villain operation a few days ago before going completely dark. Jason kicks the door down, clears out the place, and finds four very fighty 10yr olds in need of rescue.

“If Worst Comes to Worst,” aka the time-travel AU. Robin lived long enough to see the entire family fall. Robin lived long enough to see the world, for all intents & purposes, end. Robin held the line for as long as possible, and when that line reached its end, Robin faced it on their own terms. Robin woke up again on the day Jason Todd was supposed to meet Bruce Wayne, and swore to fix everything that went wrong. The problem? There are 5 different Robins, from 5 very different apocalypses, with 5 very different sets of trauma responses, and 5 very different plans to save the world.

“Perchance to Dream (2, Batbros Boogaloo),” aka “Hey, what if that one episode, but Jason’s the one in the machine & Dick gets halfway stuck in there too while trying to rescue him, basically ending up an intangible, invisible specter in Jason’s dream?”

Talon!Jason. Shiela Haywood did not sell her son out to the Joker. The Court wasn’t happy to find themselves with the wrong Robin, but they made do. Five years later…

Talon!Dick. In which I say, “Hey, you know what there’s not enough of? Fics where Talon!Dick meets Street-kid!Jason, and they both go, ‘Oh, this loser definitely won’t survive on his own! Guess I have to adopt him now.’”

Platonic!ABO. Which is to say, a setting with the usual social & biological rules expected of A/B/O stories, but without any sex or romance. Because I have discovered that the found family hits extra hard, the sick fics are basically therapeutic for me, and I wanted to play with the family dynamics I kept seeing in other Platonic!ABO Batfam fics.

NTT coping. Please, ask me about all the brotherly bonding Dick & Jason could’ve had back in the 80s. I have many thoughts.

_______________________________________________________________

The Magnus Archives:

Archivist!Tim. Yes, seriously. Sick of this only showing up in crackfics, give Tim the respect (trauma) he deserves (desperately doesn’t)! (please, I have like 4 seasons outlined, please)

De-aged Archivist. Late s3, Jon gets turned back to his childhood self in both body & mind. It seems like it’ll likely wear off on its own, but in the meantime there is a child in the archives and nobody really knows what to do about that.

______________________________________________________________ Slay the Princess:

Slay the Monster. Death isn’t change, Death is stillness & stagnation. The construct is not frozen, it’s alive & ever-shifting. There’s a monster in the basement, and on a path in the woods there is a princess. She’s here to slay him.

Original Routes: The Dancer & The Dream (art)

[mllemaenad]

56853 To answer the tags, when the pantheon of fears got defined and named, and start to feel less something eldritch and unknowable and more like a malevolent set of classifications.

I'd actually place the shift from horror to fantasy much earlier than that. I'd place it at about the point when the peril begins to be directed at the core characters, rather than at assorted one-off characters.

And that's partly because of the kind of horror it initially purports to be. It's an anthology series. These various people may be the sole survivors of some terrible, nightmare event, or they may be doomed themselves and just not quite realise it yet. They all do what you're supposed to do when you get in over your head like that: they go and report it to the experts. And that does not help.

In most cases, the stories are set years or even decades prior, so rendering assistance is very much a moot point. But beyond that, the role of the narrator (who does not yet feel like a protagonist) is to sigh, somehow audibly roll his eyes, and chalk the whole thing up to hallucinations and an epic hangover. The listener can be pretty sure that, within the context of the narrative, this "really happened" because that's the type of story they signed up for. But within the story, it goes unacknowledged. Part of what makes it unsettling is that there are things that lurk in the dark, and they could come for anyone – and nobody will do anything about it.

But then. I mean then. New office security protocol: in addition to ensuring that your workstation is locked when you leave it, and preventing members of the public from following you into secure areas, please keep a fire extinguisher handy as impromptu bug spray to deal with the evil insect infestation. Also, we've accepted that sleeping in the office because your home is under siege by malevolent entities is just a thing that's going to happen now.

From that point on:

The reality of the situation is broadly acknowledged by the core cast of characters, and as time goes on they establish that a significant number of other people in the world are quite clear on the monsters are real problem.

The individual stories are reframed as less horrors that might happen to you, and no one would know and more solid research into dealing with problems the characters are having right now.

The audience focus is directed more towards "Will the core cast survive?" And the answer is usually yes. Obviously they can and do kill characters, but a main character is not disposable in the way that an incidental one is, so the feel shifts to "How will they survive this?" rather than the sure knowledge that they won't.

The character focus shifts to understanding the situation and dealing with it, in a way that begins to smell of quest long before anybody has to trudge across most of a country on foot.

I'm not saying they deal with it well. It's amazing how often "If we blow it up, that'll be fine, right?" is the plan du jour. Actually, it's like - oh, that thing from The Good Place ...

That. It remains horror themed up to the end, of course: no one ever meets an Ent and has a really lovely afternoon singing and drinking in a forest glade. But stories where (however reluctant) heroes band together to deal with foes of tremendous power are quite different from stories where someone faces a thing alone in the dark and can do little if anything about it.

I don't really mean it as a criticism. As I say, I quite enjoyed it. It reminded me of The Sandman in some ways: in how a myriad of little stories built up into a big one, and in how part of it considered how much an anthropomorphic representation of a concept even could change its nature.

I just think the nature of storytelling is interesting. When the focus shifted to the core characters, it was about something they were dealing with; a known (if awful) part of their world. And that is not frightening in the same way as that but what if of a standalone horror.

[kryptsune]

World Building Wednesday! ~Felldritch

🌼I got a request to do a WBW for Felldritch and since there have been updates to the overall world and lore I wanted to make sure this was all in a nice little package! If you have questions and want to learn more let me know the ask box is always open!  So let's get started! Oh and here is a link to the fic! FELLDRITCH

Felldritch

Classification: HorrorFELL

Cult  Alternate “Nicknames”:

Red: Saw Boss: Corvus

Gaster: Sephtis

Asriel: Saber Toriel: Ameria

Asgore: Kirnon

Undyne: Ryx Alphys: Vesh Muffet: Carmilla Grillby: Noire MTT: Faust

Doggo: Croix

Riverperson: Bastet (Tet)

Main Plot Synop: Felldritch takes place after a pacifist run by Frisk. The story briefly goes as follows. Frisk ends up in the Underworld (Underground) and befriends the monsters and wants to set them free. It is basically a way watered down version of WTU in essence. Once reaching the end of her journey the monsters refuse to let her be that final soul. They would rather wait and figure out something else but with her Determination she promises to return to them and set them free. At this point in time she is around 18-19. Asriel sacrifices himself to that end to see her leave through the barrier only for the humans to capture the poor girl after she leaves. They conclude that she is not mentally stable due to her insistence that monsters are real and throw her into an asylum/sanitarium to be “treated”. Nearly 5+ years later and she manages to escape finding herself once again in the Underworld only it is far different from what she remembers. At this point, she is questioning whether anything is real or not. After being “treated” for so long she doesn’t quite know which reality is the true one. As Red (aka Saw) points out:

The Brothers: 

Red: The younger brother of the two. His attachment to Frisk stems into more of a relationship though he blames himself for loosing her all those years ago. This psychological state causes him to throw himself into the problem that is befalling their world. At first nothing seems to combat this intrusive forest and horrifying beasts but he learns to utilize his magic in a different way. Prior to this he is what one would think of a a Red type but after meeting Frisk he promises to not only change his heart but also the hearts of others. Instead of destructive magical ability he follows in his brothers footsteps and takes up healing practice. 

In the world he is known as the merchant, the one that tends to give out healing items in exchange for coin but the bulk of his business relies on talismans or charms to ward off the evil plaguing their home. As far as they all know these magically infused charms are powerful and have incredible protective capabilities. He runs a wagon that travels around the entire Underworld.

In the current timeline he more sympathetic and empathetic. The concept of Kill or be Killed is no longer a factor. This is mainly about survival and for the most part the other monsters are aware that working together is their best option though their heightened paranoia (validly founded btw) makes it difficult sometimes. His personality is lighthearted on the surface, making jokes, and being a good guy. In a way he reminds me of Jester who tries not to dwell on what is going on but is fully aware of the situation. Red wears a blindfold in public to keep up appearances but he has no vision or eye light problems.

Boss: After Frisk’s departure from the Underworld, Boss, takes her words to heart. Unlike the majority of Fell Pap characterization he is very soft. When he feels his brother no longer needs his guidance he begins to feel purposeless until he learns that like his brother he has the magical ability for healing. As Red is the charm merchant of the two, Boss is the apothecary. His design harkens to plague doctors back in the 17th century. He grows all his own herbs and spices but he is particularly fond of tea. He also wears a blindfold just like Red but unlike Red he does in fact have damage to his left eye socket where the teal color of his eye lights no longer inhabits. 

The two combined help their fellow monsters as much as they can but in a world of uncertainty how are you supposed to know who to trust? 

Frisk’s Mental Demons: The psychological toll on Frisk is great as she has been told constantly that she made up her time in the Underworld in order to shut herself away into a fantasy world. A world where she had a family… where she is loved and wanted. This happens frequently as the “Doctors” continuously try to refute her experiences or sensations medically.  Every time she goes to sleep in the Underworld she ends up back at the Asylum tied down kicking and screaming. 

She only wakes up again when she is sedated. Rinse and repeat. The question is… is it real? Or rather which is real. The doctors go on to state that her dark state of mind twisted her original concept behind her “family” making them this eldritch styled horror. He also goes onto explain that the reason she is so drawn and close to Red is that it is her “flirting with death”. That she is accepting that outcome because if she continues to resist treatment she will die and the moment she trusts him in her “fantasy” that will be the end. These kinds of situations happen a lot.

There are also instances when the lines between real and fiction are blurred as Frisk's behavior consists apparently of defensive aggression, auditory, visual, and olfactory hallucination, acute paranoia, anxiety, and PTSD. One such example of this is her apparent psychiatrist, Dr. Cyrus Reycroft, who happens to have an uncanny resemblance to her skeletal friend if he was human. 

The Beasts: Felldritch plays off Eldritch horror aka the fear of the unknown. As Frisk reunites with Red she is subjected to a rather concerning conversation in which he explains the situation they are in. He mentions having crossed into an upside down broken and colorless world which drew both himself and his older brother into. It is implied that the two stepped into a dimensional space that was able to then afflict those within their own dimension. Over time the inhabitants begin to go missing and great otherworldly hellish beasts begin appearing. The inhabitants come to the conclusion that these creatures can not afflict you with their corruption if you can not see, hear, or speak in their presence. This mindset has some rather gruesome implications as inhabitants become irrationally desperate mutilating themselves to adhere to the new "See no evil, Speak no evil, Hear no evil”.

The Occult World: The cult as I keep referring to it as is a group of powerful monsters. After the deposition of the King the other monsters begin to become influenced by outside sources. They begin to believe that any fallen humans are the angels of death and because of this they will kill humans on sight, of course, they want to live in denial of their horrible deeds because monster souls are supposed to be made up of love and kindness. Unlike the cult that wishes to break the barrier, the rest want to stay hidden from the beasts above believing that the humans are to blame for all that has happened.

The senses play a huge roll in this idea as the beasts are rumored to be able to use souls like puppets, as in spys, if they are corrupted. It essentially becomes like a hive mind with the main entity being able to see, hear, and speak through those it comes in contact with. It’s no secret that Red is in fact infected by this entity in some form as this is a quote from the fic:

A set of antlers snagged the velvety cape as he worked the metalwork to release its hold on the material around his throat.

Bony fingers tugged on the bunched up fabric and pulled it back, revealing a charcoal grey sweater underneath. It was soft to the touch but just hidden beneath the wool she caught a glimpse of off white colored bone. There were bits and pieces that had been chipped off, knicks, and cuts. Even before they had met Red had some scars especially around his collarbone but that was not what caused her to gasp. His hood remained over his head as if using it to shield his expression from her view, “See?” He flinched when her fingers traced some of the scars.

She didn’t want to appear like she was fearful of what she was witnessing but her fingers quivered, pulling them back toward herself. A soft whimper of a voice left her, “R...Red…” There intertwined with the magically composed vertebrae of his spine were branches. The same deep blackish red wood that plagued this entire forest. It wove itself through the bone engulfing portions of his ribs, twisting it into chilling patterns. If it was allowed to continue its infestation it would crack his ribcage open in a bloodless gaping fissure. She could just make out that gentle white and crimson glow shrouded by the wood. Was that his soul? There was no other explanation.

It looked like the branches were trying to worm their way toward that glowing heart, pierce it, and absorb it into its oily black, almost pulsating bark. That was only one singular aspect of horror that she was now subjected to. Her eyes followed the trail that crept through the bone following the knots and twists that crept up and underneath where his skull attached to his spine.

The grip that he kept on her hand only tightened while the other shifted to pull the hood off his skull. Her eyes widened, reddish-brown irises wavering within a sea of white. A hand rose to land on her mouth, now agape in a silent gasp. She could see the same strange bark that comprised his antlers exited straight out of his skull. There were fractures that radiated from above the temporal portion of his cranium in concentric circles. The same kind of patterning one would see from blunt force trauma. Only this had pushed out the bone externally rather than internally. His sockets no longer contained those ever dulling carmine eye lights as her own eyes traced the hairline cracks along his head. She could not imagine the kind of pain a transformation like that would have caused him. There were places where the bone had tried to heal and suture itself back together, forming around the bark.

Angel of Salvation (a.k.a. The Eldritch Horror)- What the cult has been working toward is summoning their “savior” with the help of the human souls they are bound to. It gives them extra abilities and power. Each within the ranks is bound to a human soul. Their leader ??? wants to use this power to summon an “angel.” It turns out that is actually an unholy amalgamated eldritch beast/god out for blood instead. Humanity will perish and the monsters will take control of the surface once more. That is the reality. (The cult including Red is told otherwise).

[pumpkincentaur]

WIP INTRODUCTION: Unholy Holy Things

To become a student at St. Yekaterin's Imperial Institute of Education, one requires at least one of the following: a distinguished bloodline belonging to an Imperial noble house or a foreign royal family, or Godsblood. Humanity murdered the Gods and stole their power centuries ago, and now, the scions of noble and royal families (and a few lucky commoners) across the world bear Godsblood--a sign of the holy power long since stolen from divine beings. The Imperial Institute is a reputable academy for those who bear powerful Godsblood and the children of the Empire's most powerful noble families and allied foreign royal houses. However, this year, the students are a particularly unique bunch, and many of them are not just here to learn. Cormac, the fox prince. Nergüi, the rebel's daughter. Iphne, the Princess Imperial. Julius, heir to the Imperial Throne. Alexei, the scorned son. Malvina, the empty vessel. All of them are here for a reason. All of them have goals of their own, some of them directly opposing each other. And all of them have a great deal of ambition, perhaps too much ambition for their own good.

Even though the Gods were slaughtered a long time ago, it is a difficult thing, to kill something divine. And, unbeknownst to all but a few, humanity couldn't quite kill all the Gods. One still remains, seething in a world beyond this one, and Her power lies in wait to be tapped into by someone with enough ambition to go where all others fear to tread.

If you would do anything to achieve your own ends... if you were locked within the high walls of the Imperial Institute... to do such a thing would not seem so farfetched at all, would it?

WIP INFORMATION

Genre: dark fantasy/horror

Type: book one of two in a duology, probably

Expected Word Count: 100k-120k (this is gonna be a beefy one)

WIP Page: here (also linked in the title above)

WIP Tag: #unholy holy things for general content, #uht excerpts for actual excerpts

This is a brand new WIP by yours truly! If you’d like to be added to the taglist for Unholy Holy Things, please let me know, either by responding to this post or sending me an ask.

More info under the cut.

So, you know that “new WIP” I keep talking about and all those dudes I keep tagging posts about? This is that WIP, and the above six characters are those dudes. Unholy Holy Things completely hijacked my brain after I’d already given up on Nano, and though I didn’t win Nano on account of starting way too late, the wheels are still rolling on this project! So, I suppose it’s my primary project now. Sorry, Stringshatter. I’m just more in the mood for this one at the moment.

Unholy Holy Things is still in the early stages of development on account of how quick it’s come to be, but it features multiple LGBTQ+ protagonists, a whole heck of a lot of grey morality (and a bunch of protagonists who are definitely NOT heroes), the vaguely eldritch horror that comes with humanity murdering and cannibalizing the gods, and some vaguely dark academia but not quite vibes.

Fair warning, this project WILL contain some very dark themes and imagery. The main characters are not good people. The core lore also involves humanity quite literally killing its gods and drinking their blood, and there’s no real way to get around that. Any and all excerpts containing triggering content will have the appropriate trigger warnings attached, and any potential smutty passages will be shared with the appropriate precautions to keep things age-appropriate, if they’re shared at all.

TL:DR, this project is going to be a bit darker than my usual fare. Unholy Holy Things is a story about terrible people doing terrible stuff. Proceed with caution henceforth.

[ethelindawrites]

October 21

Fictober, Prompt 21 - "What did I say?"

Original fiction, dark fantasy/horror. A follow-up to this piece (Day 9).

Warnings: murder (off-screen), blood sacrifice, eldritch horrors, violent death.

--

I walked carefully through the ruins of the basilica, lifting my robes with one hand to keep them from the dirt and soot and rubble strewn across the floor. Fire raged elsewhere in the building, and the roof was long burnt away or caved in. Smoke obscured the overhead view, but I knew the night was overcast beyond the conflagration.

The flames had swept quickly through this part of the building, mostly stone as it was, so it was a bit more intact.

The Pact-Makers did not understand the concept of mercy.

I did not much understand it myself, anymore, time having shown me too much of its results.

Sound ahead alerted me, and I quickened my step as much as possible. If I had found the one I sought at last, so much the better.

I had.

“The Voice” as his followers had worshipfully styled him for so long, was on his knees, scrabbling in the soot behind what was left of his throne, a crumbling wood and scorched metal seat. As I approached, quiet, he pulled out a large pack and nearly tore it open, desperate to look inside.

Whatever he saw relieved him, for he fastened it closed again, and then rose, pulling it on.

I thought he would bolt when he saw me, and a brief twitch of his middle-aged but charismatic features told me he wanted to. He fought the urge, however, and turned to face me, stepping out from behind the burnt throne.

“Have your demons had enough, sorceress?” he taunted. “Are you reduced to fighting your own battles now?”

“They are neither demons, nor mine,” I corrected, coming to a stop a few arm-lengths away, allowing my robes to fall and making sure I had a certain grip on my staff. “They are Pact-Makers, the Ones From Outside.” So naming them, I lifted my staff and tapped it upon the ground with intent. They would find this man no matter where he ran, but I wanted this finished now, and was happy to help guide them to their goal. “That you still know none of this, so many years later, marks you for the evil man you are.”

A roil of emotions crossed his face briefly, but then he calmed, baring his teeth at me in what could not quite be called a smile. “I have been careful not to involve myself in your heretic ways, sorceress. That does not make me evil.”

“It does, when you have ‘avoided’ the proper path by stealing that which rightfully belongs to others,” I said, keeping my own expression placid as around us, the air began to twist and writhe in an uneven pattern. “What did I say? What message did I send through your men those years ago? Did they not convey my words?”

“They did,” he allowed, flippant, “but of course we could not take heed of—”

He trailed off, at last noticing the twists of space that surrounded him. They widened, color and light shifting in ways that human eyes could not easily accommodate.

“What- What is that?” he asked, and for the first time sounded as frightened as he should be.

“As I told you,” I said, bowing my head respectfully as the first of the Pact-Makers came through, and receiving its version of a nod in return, “the only forbidden practice is to use another’s blood instead of your own. I told you that there were no circumventions of this law. I told you that there was always a price – the price of your own blood. And you,” I closed my eyes briefly to let an old echo of rage pass, “you did not take heed. You did not wonder if there was a reason. You did not suppose that you would have to pay the price.”

More and more Pact-Makers entered now, and I kept my gaze fixed firmly on their target. It was wiser to avert one’s gaze, with so many of them gathered together. To try to behold a crowd of them was to risk an unsound mind.

His eyes darted wildly between me and the Pact-Makers, the beginnings of a break already clear in his face. When he opened his mouth, sound emerged, but it was no longer intelligible.

“This one law of practice is absolute because the Pact-Makers do not allow an uneven bargain. When we make a Pact with them, it is to trade blood for power, and the only blood we can promise is our own. When we are robbed of the power that we contracted for, then the bargain is unfulfilled, and they will not allow that.”

His mind was not quite gone even if his words were lost, and he turned terrified eyes to me that begged for mercy as the Pact-Makers closed in.

I stared back, merciless. Today, I would see justice done.

“It may take them a longer time to find the perpetrator when you do not actually spill another’s blood and claim it as your own, but they can always trace a thief. When you murdered that young man for blood power? Then you became easy to find.”

He had kept that action hidden from all but a chosen, trusted few of his followers, of course, but for those of us connected to the Outside, the effects of such things reverberated and were known.

There was no more to say, then, and just as well. They were upon him, and a gurgling scream was the last sound he made. He did not have enough blood to pay all of his debts, of course, but they would extract every drop they could in recompense, and take what little could then be scavenged from his flesh and spirit.

I stood in respectful silence.

When the Pact-Makers had taken what was owed so that they could balance their Pacts as much as possible, they passed back to the Outside, some acknowledging me as they went. I gave my own respects in return.

Then, alone as I had been when I arrived, I turned for home.

I would make sure that the truth of what happened here was known. It would not stop everyone, and not forever, but for a time, we might all be a little safer in our work.

[strangeandforlornbooks]

LGBT Book Recs

F/F version

Historical

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters: victorian thief pretending to be a maid and a lady fall in love and keep betraying each other and being sad. lots of plot twists/insane asylums/creepy old houses/gothic vibes. the book that inspired the handmaiden movie. happy ending after a lot of angst!

Sci-Fi

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero: scooby-doo meets eldritch horror. the grown-up survivors (and one ghost) of a kid-detective team realize they never REALLY solved their last case. very creative and entertaining writing style. happy ending!

The Scorpion Rules by Erin Bow: in the distant future, the world is controlled by an AI who ensures peace by taking world leaders’ children hostage. If war breaks out, they die. not as cheesy as it sounds. very exciting, I read it in two days, lots of tricky moral decisions and tension. kind of ambiguous ending because it’s a series but love saves the day! :)

The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers: honestly not my favorite but I know some people really love it. a very laid back space opera about a misfit spaceship crew and a new clerk with a secret. I honestly cannot remember the ending but I think it was happy-ish?

Wilder Girls by Rory Power: good but WACK. very gothic. isolated girls’ school on an island is slowly being taken over by this weird disease/rot/alien thing. there’s moral ambiguity galore! evil government! strong female friendships! ambiguous ending.

Contemporary

Love Letters to the Dead by Ava Dellaira: f/f couple is a side plot but its cute. protagonist is a troubled young girl entering high school, falling in love, growing up. very sad but has a happy ending.

Jane Unlimited by Kristin Cashore: calling this contemporary is a huge stretch because each section of the book is written in a different genre and has a different ending. sounds confusing but it really works-my favorites were gothic horror and fantasy but they all weave into each other in really cool ways. very sweet and entertaining style. bi protagonist. some endings are happy and some are not but you’re kind of signing up for that.

This Is Where It Ends by Marieke Nijkamp: weird, pretty dark novel I borrowed from a friend about a school shooter. very tense and depressing but beautifully written. ambiguous/unhappy ending.

Fantasy

Elegy and Swansong by Vale Aida: EXCELLENT series (also has m/m romance). the lesbians are extremely machiavellian and morally questionable but frankly also very hot. very exciting w/ lots of twists and warring fantasy nations. if you’ve ever read Dorothy Dunnett’s work it’s like that but w/ strong female characters. happy ending for the second one!

The Tiger’s Daughter by K Arsenault Rivera: reading this right now, so idk about the ending but I think it’s the first in a series. princesses who fight demons are in love! gorgeous prose w/o a lot of action. strong song of achilles vibes if you’ve read that.

Honorable Mentions

Sadie by Courtney Summers: has like one lesbian kiss but I really liked it generally! very tense story about a girl chasing her sister’s murderer w/ an accompanying podcast investigating her disappearance months later. very dark and unhappy ending.

Rock and Riot by Chelsey Furedi: actually a webcomic! very cute and free online. has m/m romance also. happy ending.

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern: I think there is a lesbian couple mentioned at one point? I read it a very long time ago. warring victorian magicians- pretty good. kind of like Kate dicamillo. ambiguous ending I think?

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf: I was supposed to read this for school and I did not, but its a classic and one of the first novels to address women’s sexuality so openly. very tricky to read because it’s all stream of consciousness but most people agree the protagonist is bi.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

spn 15.14

now this is the late-season spn content i’m craving: an absurdly cheerful and superficial veneer over dark and abyssal horror. and it’s not horror in the universe-is-ending sort of way (tho that’s happening too, but eh, whatever, the characters aren’t too cut-up over it) but in the insidious way the show both indulges in and explicitly acknowledges the toxicity of its main relationships. it’s just a very fitting tone for the show to take, given reality’s kinda been similar for the last several years: increasingly aware that it’s irredeemably fucked up, but (mostly) carrying on all the same. 

spoilers ahead.

1. i can’t believe this is one of the first episodes i see after the eldritch-bunker fic i wrote. spn has never been about that kind of horror, but it was cool to see a little more of the bunker’s secrets revealed (tho wasn’t there a lockdown-type situation in s12? i think? the reset button could’ve come in real handy then.)

1.25. it’s still remarkable to me, though, that despite living out of the bunker for nearly seven years, samndean are... strangely incurious about how it works. i would’ve thought at least sam would want to explore and figure things out, though maybe gaining knowledge for knowledge’s sake has dropped very low on his list of priorities in the last several years, and he’s busy trying to conserve what little physical/mental energy he has. ‘research’ has always meant either trying to deal with the aftermath of an apocalyptic disaster or trying frantically to prevent another one, and i don’t suppose ‘looking at more supernatural shit’ is something sam would associate with pleasure or positivity now.

1.5. which is why it’s kind of a stroke of genius to have mrs butters represent the spirit of the bunker: samndean’s complacency as long as she took care of their needs without seeming to want anything of her own is very reminiscent of how they treat their alleged home. 

2. cuthbert sinclair cameo! man, i miss s8....

3. it’s kind of darkly hilarious how many times mary’s death was brought up in an episode where mrs butters fulfilled a fantasy-mother’s role. she is the idealised mother-figure: always kind, nurturing, giving and giving and never taking--in sharp contrast to their actual mother, who turned out to be a far more complicated person than the ones her sons had idealised. (if anything mary’s second death has sort of resurrected her as a martyr figure in dean’s eyes: something on which to hang his righteous fury.) it was bizarre, yet entirely fitting, that both samndean went along with it after 2.5 seconds of vague misgivings. hell, dean was prepared to let mrs butters capturing and threatening to kill jack go if it meant that she could keep taking care of them!

3.5. of course mrs butters then turned out to be dangerous and twisted--but not because of any inherent nature but because she had been tortured and brainwashed into fulfilling a role ‘in the family’ by men whom she still pined after at the end of the episode. like. OH MY GOD.

if things couldn’t get more explicit, the episode had sam be the only one to acknowledge and empathise with mrs butters, yet accept her tragic and twisted devotion to the MOL as benign and even adorable at the end of episode anyway. why wouldn’t he? his own edges have been at first chiseled away, then inelegantly lopped off, to fit the Winchester Ideal--something that he’s learned not to get angry about, then to be grateful for. this episode even juxtaposes mrs butters talking about pain ‘being a wonderful teacher’ while torturing sam with dean going ‘pain is just weakness leaving your body’ to jack: these are lessons about needing to be in pain in the service of a higher, correct goal.

this is why late-season spn is both exciting and drives me up the fucking wall.

3.8. dean’s disappointment when he said ‘of course you had to pull a ratched’ gave me chills. there is not one iota of effort from him to acknowledge the atrocity that has been committed on mrs butters, one that he was more than happy to exploit. sam is a bit better, but only just. 

4. i haven’t even been watching the last few seasons regularly and i feel like this debate over jack being a ‘monster’ has been rehashed way too many times already. what would be more interesting to acknowledge is the way samndean treat him like a weapon rather than the kid they keep professing he is. even in that confrontation with mrs butters, while sam at least talked about jack being a kid who’s gone through too much already, dean could only come up with ‘he’s going to save the world’. mrs butters even leaves with a ‘you save the world’ to jack rather than anything more intimate/personal. what a terrible burden to leave on this kid! what a terrible way to re-enact the tragedies that shaped samndean into the twisted, fucked-up men that they are on this being that’s only ever existed to win their approval!

i really feel like sam had an opportunity to at least try and make things right at the end of the episode, when jack confesses his self-doubt to him. but he blew it: all he could say was, ‘you’re the only one who can do it’. sam, bless him, continues to fail to stand up for jack, which means, for all his good intentions and love, he continues to fail jack.

5. i’ve noticed that lately when i write these reviews, i write ‘samndean’ a lot--it’s because they often act as one entity, existing with seemingly no conflict between them. on one level, it’s boring and--no no. on the same level, it’s downright fucking chilling. dean makes the decisions, and sam makes a weak, token protest, but goes along with a shake of his head and a soft smile. he doesn’t get angry anymore. he hasn’t stood up for himself in a good long while. 

can they fight again, maybe? brotherly conflict doesn’t have to lead to a straight line to fratricide, but it would be nice to be reminded, before the end, that sam and dean have distinct personalities.

6. it’s just really hard to square the winchesters’ discomfort and then visceral opposition to the way the british men of letters operated with their casual acceptance of the exploitative, unethical and elitist legacy that the american men of letters left them. it’s hard to take any of their numerous. numerous conversations about how monsters are people too over the last decade and a half seriously when they’re happily taking advantage of a ‘monster radar’ to go and lop the heads of monsters who haven’t even done anything to deserve being hunted (that poor vampire kid was pouring a blood bag into his giant soda cup! he didn’t deserve to die like that!). the romanticisation of supernatural being about roadtripping across small-town america while hunting supernatural monsters is laughable when its heroes spend all their time holed up in a gigantic luxury bunker built centuries ago by a bunch of rich, secretive assholes. it’s baffling to be told that sam and dean can barely take care of themselves when they’ve spent all their lives taking care of themselves (with a bit of ‘oh boys will be boys’ casual sexism thrown in).

why would you undermine your legacy like this, show? is this how sam and dean are going to end? 

[cricketnationrise]

March 2021 Reading Roundup

jan 2021 | feb 2021

quarantine reads

below the cut there be book thoughts

Come Tumbling Down by Seanan McGuire: book 5 in the wayward children series. characters from earlier books make a reappearance i am once again begging you to read them in order

Juice Like Wounds by Seanan McGuire: tor.com short story set between books 4 and 5 of the wayward children series

#Spring Love, #Pichal Pairi by Usman Malik: tor.com short story

The Ruin of a Rake by Cat Sebastian: book 3 of the Turners sereis, romance, sex on the page, can be read out of order

A Little Light Mischief by Cat Sebastian: novella in the turners series, set after book 3, helps to have read the others, but isn’t that important, single lesbian raising her child in secret while working for a wealthy family, falls in love with the daughter

Lords and Ladies by Terry Pratchett: book 14 in the discworld series, part of the witches strand of books, but technically you could read these in any order. i think it helps to start with the first book of the witches strand but thats just me, technically picks up after events of wyrd sisters and immediately after the plot of witches abroad

The Island by Ben Bender: book 1 of the comic “Beorn: The Littlest Viking Saga,” got it from kickstarter, art reminds me of calvin and hobbs, but basically this small viking child sails off to seek his fortune and finds an island

Theatre of Cruelty by Terry Pratchett: short story set in the discworld series between 14 and 15, part of the City Watch strand, free to read here

A History of Reading by Alberto Manguel: nonfiction, series of essays about books and reading and how trends around reading and writing evolved, kinda dry at times, but ultimately pretty interesting

Follow Me to Ground by Sue Rainsford: woof okay. so. its a novella, and its very dark, theres a father and his daughter living on the edge of town and most of the townspeople are scared of them because they don’t age and seem to be magic. hard to tell what time period this is supposed to be, but there are fairly modern cars. trigger warning for blood, sexual situations, eldritch stuff, buried alive, violence, mind control? sort of; im sure somewhere else has a better list of triggers, please do your research before reading especially if youre a sensitive reader.

Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein: ww2 novel told from 2 perspectives, a lot of it is epistolary, follows a pilot and a spy, time jumps, warnings for nazis/the holocaust and all that goes along with those, major character death

Magic Kingdom by ExtendedPlay: volume 2 of the webcomic Stuffed, also found here on webtoons

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh: novella, mlm relationship, the forest as a character, wood nymphs, malevolent ghosts/fae/creatures, new historian moves to town and proceeds to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong and mess up local hermits life (all of that is a major oversimplification but it amuses me sooooo), book 1 in a duology

Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward: novel following 3 narrators, a mother, her son, and the ghost of a young teenager that knew the son’s grandfather when they were both in jail, i would call this magical realism; warnings for racism, violence, murder, prison system, drug addiction, harm to children, acab, character death

Masquerade Season by ‘Pemi Aguda: tor.com short story, a young boy gains 3 spirits?? who follow him around and his mom starts trying to take advantage

A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik: book 1 in the scholomance series, dark fantasy, the characters are all magic teenagers with different specialties and trapped in a school in the void that appears to be trying to kill them, fast-paced, lots of snark, has that trope of oh i have no friends everyone hates me (except that they do have people who want to be their friend if they just looked up once in a while), felt a lot like hunger games in places; warnings for murder, death, violence, blood, teenagers, dark magical creatures trying to digest you slowly over decades (and other horrible things), very buffy vibes of “oh my town is a hellmouth”

The Stone Sky by N. K. Jemisin: book 3 in the broken earth trilogy. holy cow this series is amazing please read them in order, awesome worldbuilding, she definitely desrved the 3 hugos she won for each of these books; warnings for violence, major character death, body horror, mind control, the planet as a malevolent character bent on wiping out humanity, harm to children/teenagers, murder

Across the Grass Green Fields by Seanan McGuire: book 6 in the wayward children series, this one i think you only need to have read the first one before this, novella, portal fantasy, the world the protagonist enters is populated entirely by talking creatures except for a single human “hero” that stumbles into their midst once a generation or so, as always with seanan mcguire, all is not as it seems; warnings for harm to children, kidnapping, violence

[specialmindz]

“dad?”

CLATTER!

CRASH!

“UGH! DAMNIT!”

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY PAPYRUS!”

CA-THUMP!

The scientist continued to fumble about the lab, searching for the appropriate parts to fix the generator.

“Ki-et down Daddy, you wake up Boo Boo!”

“Oh no, don’t mind me…I’m just happy to be here…” The little spirit monster shifted a bit in Sans’ grasp, having been mistaken for a pillow in the dark.

“You aren’t SUPPOSED to be here! NO ONE is to visit the lab at this hour!” replied Gaster, still searching for a flashlight. He didn’t approve of his littlest scavenging at the Dump, but every once in a while, Papyrus would bring home something he could use and the flashlight was one of them.

Figures he couldn’t find it now of all times.

What on earth could have happened? The magic crystals still have power in them and the generator itself is in perfect repair! This blackout makes no sense!

He wasn’t used to something being broken without Papyrus having some sort of hand in it.

“Just in case however, did you touch the generator Papyrus?”

The baby bones nodded vigorously, “Yep! We’s out of ghost food, so I decided to make snacks for Boo Boo, but we was out of the veggie oil.”

“Veggie oil?”

A few moments went by before the elder skeleton jumped suddenly in alarm and rushed out of the workshop, running downstairs into the True Lab’s living quarters, apparently heading for their kitchen.

“hey uh bro? you didn’t use the oil from the generator-”

“YOU DUMB LITTLE SHIT!”

“Oh nooo…”

Hiding his face in Sans’ shirt, Napstablook shook in terror, unused to the family’s quarrels. Though the scientist’s anger was nostalgic and reminded him of one of his cousins, it had been awhile since he’d heard any yelling and he had heard from Papyrus that Gaster wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. The fact that this was probably the spirit’s fault, made things even worse as he had been hoping to make a good impression on the family.

So much for that.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault…”

“naw, forget about it. you’re a guest, right? guests are supposed to get snacks. pap just made a mistake is all.”

“Heh heh heh…”

“hm? what’s so funny?”

“I like your accent.”

Papyrus looked up, grinning. “Me too, Snas from Boston, so he say stuff like 'fuhgeddaboudit' and ‘I’s hittin’ da’ bricks’ and ‘here’s lookin’ at you kid!”

“i don’t spell it like that! and what does that last one even mean?”

SHHHEERRAA!

Before the infant could answer, the elevator door opened and Gaster came rushing out. He didn’t stop to say anything to the children, he merely grabbed a vial of…something…and ran back in, keeping the door open with his wingdings.

Not that this was a good idea mind you, as he soon realized all too late that he wasn’t alone, just as the elevator closed and began its second descent.  

“I do hope you’s not planning on ruining mah new firepace stink Daddy,” said the baby, still wearing his smile from before.

“Huh? What the hell? How’d you get in here?!”

“I cuwalled.”

“Well when we get to the living quarters, you can CRAWL your miniature ass to your room! Do you know how difficult it is to put out an oil fire?”

“How this ellyvator work without da’ tricity? You learn Snas’ witchcraft?”

“Of course not. I’ve a second generator hidden downstairs…just in case you break the first one. Unfortunately, it doesn’t reach-”

“THERE A CWOSER BABY MASSAGER?!”

“Wh-what? ‘Baby Massager?’ Are you laying on the generator?”

“Yep! Is fun. I likes it better than the washy machine cause’ it always on. It feel nice on mah bones and it make me go UHUHUHUHUH…then I falls off.”

Gaster shook his head.

“What? What I do?”

“Though vibrations are good for bones and newborns alike, the generator is NOT the best tool to use because of the oil within it. THIS generator especially. This one, connected to the lab, is custom designed to keep running indefinitely…not something a normal generator should ever do. I haven’t a choice however, if I want to keep Mt. Ebott from erupting. The oil I use comes from a reservoir that’s FAR too close to the surface of Hotland. It needs to be depleted less there be an explosion, but no matter how much is used, there seems to be no end to it.”

“That sound like a solution to da’ power problem we gots dough. Why you not use it?” asked Papyrus curiously. He didn’t know much about oil, he assumed it was discovered and researched sometime after he was born. He hadn’t heard anyone else mention it before either…unless it had something to do with cooking. The stuff he had poured out of generator upstairs was a liquid, but liquids were supposed to put OUT fires, weren’t they? “The yellow made the oven a firepace. It cook mah food too good and now no one gets noms. It do other bad stuffs?”

“Yes it does…and that wasn’t vegetable oil Papyrus, it simply had the same color. That was generator oil and a result of refinement on my part. Unrefined oil, or Crude Oil, is a thick, black, eldritch sludge that kills all it touches. It’s made from the deceased bodies of creatures no one in recorded history has ever seen alive and has lied in wait within the earth’s crust for literally millions of years. That being said, it is unfortunately naturally occurring, and everyone aware of its existence is infatuated with it BECAUSE it’s such a huge power source. That’s why I’ve kept it a secret from the public and use it in my experiments as little as possible. It may grant us advanced technology almost immediately, but the things created with it also kill, albeit slowly, meaning you don’t have to come into contact with oil itself in order to become a victim. It’s not evil, but it will take some time before we can figure out a way to use it safely…and keep others from using it poorly.”

Gaster shuddered upon imagining the horror and chaos that would no doubt ensue if ever the monsters were to find out about his discovery. One small mistake is all it would take for Mt Ebott to erupt and annihilate everyone. Even the fire elementals would be destroyed, either drowned in lava or pushed into the barrier and rendered to dust.

“Papyrus, you must promise me that you will keep this a secret. I know it isn’t in your nature to do such a thing, but your life is at stake, along with everyone else’s. That includes Sans, you hear me? I don’t want him knowing about this reservoir less he be tempted to experiment with-PAPYRUS GET OFF THE GENERATOR! WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?!”

“UHUHUHUHUHUH!”

SHHHEERRAA!

“dad?”

CLACK!

The baby bones fell to the floor and crawled over to Sans.

“Hey Snas! SNAS!”

“hm?”

“DADDY FOUND OIL!”

“You son of a bitch.”

“cool. don’t play with it.”

“Why?”

“it’s like tar. it’ll make you smell bad and ruin your jammies.”

“Kay’.”

Papyrus used his wingdings to lay, once again, atop the generator.

“Sans, I must ask you to keep this oil reservoir a secret. Despite how desperate the power situation is, oil is not the answer for a civilization living within a volcano.”

“yeah i know about oil dad, i’m not dumb. i read more than space books ya’ know…”

“UHUHUHUHUHUHUH!”

“I’m well aware you know what oil is, I’m just SAYING-”

“NYEAH!”

CLACK!        

Gaster knocked Papyrus off the generator.

“I’m just saying, the temptation is there and it targets both the money-poisoned AND the lazy. There may come a time during an experiment where you feel oil will solve a particular problem, I assure you, it will cause more than it solves. We aren’t the only intelligent beings in the Underground, if you use oil to create something, it’s quite possible an individual will discover the usage through reverse engineering and in turn, wonder where exactly the oil CAME from.”

“NYEHHHHAAAHH!! SUCK-ASS DADDY! SEE THAT BOO BOO? DAT’S THAT BABY ABUSE I’S TALKIN’ BOUT’!”

“I-I didn’t s-see anything…also, what’s ‘oil?”

“ehh, don’t worry about it,” said Sans, thinking quickly. “you don’t eat our food right?”

“Oh, cooking oil…I remember that. It’s made from seeds…”

“Yep! I’s gonna make you something delicious, but I’s out of the cooking oil and baby oil be for baby food, so-”

“Baby oil is for skin,” said Gaster, rubbing his temples.

“Nyeh?”

“Baby oil. It’s for skin. It’s called baby oil because it supposedly makes your skin feel soft like an infant’s.”

What exactly is Sans DOING while I’m busy working? He’s not telling him this stuff as a joke, is he...?

“Nuh-uh Daddy, daz baby lotion! You confused. BABY OIL be for cooking, like baby powder and-”

“Baby powder is also for skin. It is not a type of baking powder NOR is it a baking soda of any sort. You have no business in the kitchen Papyrus.”

“What Baby’s Breath then?”

“Not parsley.”

“Baby spice?”

“That’s a person.”

“Baby fat?”

“Well it’s lard, but-”

“why don’t you just stick with baby potatoes and baby carrots bro?”

“Why don’t you just stay out of the kitchen period? The oven is not a toy and I believe I’ve told you as such already.”

“NO!” cried the baby bones indignantly. “I’s a genius baby and I deserves the best of edgy-cations! LOOK! Look what dis baby has right here!” Papyrus pulled a page, seemingly torn from an old magazine, out of his onesie and presented it to his family. It showed a young human in overalls, a toddler by the looks of it, pretending to cook on a toy kitchen set, plastic spatula in hand.

“aww, duude!”

That human’s so cute! Is that really a baby one? I wanna pet it soo bad! It’d probably bite the shit out of me though…

“hey, napstablook! c’mere and look at this human!”

Shyly, Napstablook floated over to the group and peered over Sans’ shoulder.

“Heh…”

“cute right?”

“It’s got a spatula…it thinks it’s cooking…”

“They not cooking, they’s modeling. They saying ‘look what I has and you doesn’t! Don’t you wish you had a nice baby-kitchen like me?’ They’s mocking!”

“nobody’s mocking you pappy.”

“THEY’S LAUGHING AT ME!”

“i guarantee this baby doesn’t know you exist.”

“Your brother’s right. What’s happening here is you’ve created a personal fantasy out of boredom and forgotten it was a fantasy. Something you need to learn not to do while you’re daydreaming-”

“All I needs to do is show dis baby that I’S the superior bae! Imma be the best cook ever and I’ll use the big people oven to do it! I don’t need their stink rainbow kitchen!”

“…Or perhaps you merely want an excuse to use the oven even though I JUST said no.”  

I asked him to stay out of the Parent magazines to begin with…

Papyrus had an annoying habit of using those particular publications to come up with ideas for “brother-time” with Sans. A time where he would (sometimes quite literally) pick Sans up out of bed and have him do an arts and crafts activity with him, usually involving copious amounts of glue and chemicals Gaster wasn’t sure how he even got ahold of.

Not that the messes were the most obnoxious thing about it, THOSE he could handle. He was used to his smallest making messes.

No, no It was the MIMICRY that the scientist couldn’t stand. Those magazines were to inform parents of why their babies behaved the way they did, but Papyrus would use them as guidelines on “how to be a better baby.”

 “Give me the markers Papyrus!”

“NO! These are MY paint-sticks! I keeps the markers cause’ I saw them first.”

“That’s not how that works, where did you even get that ide-no. Do not. Do not pull out that magazine again, god-DAMNIT Papyrus!”

“It say right here, ‘baes between two and four beweave that da’ person who gets an object first is the rightful owner, even if someone else gets hold of it later’ This be what babies do and I’s a baby, so these markers are mine now.”

“Give me that FUCKING magazine.”

“Is my ucking maggy-zeen.”

“Papyrus…”

“I sawed it first. Is the law.”

Gaster reached for the hated literature, causing the infant to quickly shove it back into his onesie. He then clacked his teeth together twice, a signal that meant any further attempts to get closer would result in a bite.

Because that’s what babies did.

They bit people.

“SANS, WHERE ARE YOU?! COME GET YOUR BROTHER!

“You’re not using the oven Papyrus.”

“*Sigh* Fine, I gots a solution for dis.” Crawling out of the kitchen, Papyrus headed into the Nursery and towards his toybox. He didn’t have to rummage long, as he was a very organized baby, and soon he found what he was looking for; an only slightly grimy multicolored maraca. He didn’t know why such a gem had been thrown away, but it made the most wonderful sound…

“What is that?” asked Gaster upon seeing his two-year-old reenter the room. The baby held the maraca by the handle with both hands and shook it.

CHACA-CHACA!

“…”

“Is a big-person rattle! I finded it at the Dump and is the bestest treasure ever! I’s gonna save it for when I does something really bad, but I needs that oven, so we trade. I gets to use the oven and you can pay wit mah rattle!”  

“I don’t-”

“Pay not keep.”

“…I don’t need a rattle Papyrus.”

CHACA-CHACA!

CHACA-CHACA!

“Heh heh, your brother swings it like a sledgehammer…”

“well yeah, he’s small.”

CHACA-CHACA!

CHACA-CHACA!

“Stop that.”

“Be mesmerized.”

“I’m not interested Papyrus.”

“HOW YOU NOT INTERESTED IN DIS BIG PERSON RATTLE?” yelled Papyrus, completely baffled. “YOUR BRAIN BROKE!”

“not everyone likes rattles pappy.”

“Your brain broke…or maybe you’s planning to steal mah treasure while I’s napping so you doesn’t have to give up da’ oven!”

“No.”

“I bet you are! You’s gonna wait till I’s asweep in my widdle cwib and then you gonna take my toy and blame it on Snas!”

“No.”

“I bets you’s lying about the oil too! Baby oil be a cooking ingredient for babies, but you don’t likes it when I’s better at things than you, so you try to get baby to use fake cwap like ‘sugar’ and ‘spice.” The infant glared at the wall, remembering the disappointment he felt when he tried to get free sugar from Undyne. He had heard girls were made from sugar and spice, but what he managed to collect (along with a few new cracks in his skull) were scales.

Not delicious.

“You know full well I’m not lying…or you would if you were paying attention-”

“YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT AT DA’ DUMP AND YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT WITH THE OVEN! HOW I SUPPOSED TO GET NUTRIENTS?”

“Just drink your formula, it has everything you need.”

“NO! I needs solids…like these fintstone yummies.” Papyrus pulled out a bottle labeled Flintstone Vitamins. “They looks like rocks, but they shaped like peoples!”

“hmm…” curiously, Sans popped one into his mouth and began to chew. “this one tastes like an orange.”

“Nyeh hee hee hee! Silly Snas, orange be a color, not a food!”

Silly Sans.

“Hmph, It’s a condensed version of Vitamin C most likely. Vitamin C is essential to the formation of collagen, so it should increase one’s bone density, but I doubt you’ll get much out of them.”

“it says vitamin d on it.”

“What? Vitamin D? Give me that bottle!”

“NYEH!”

Gaster snatched up the bottle in one quick motion and studied the label. If Sans hadn’t misread anything, then this was an extraordinary find indeed. Very few foods in nature contained Vitamin D and nature was what everyone depended on in the Underground. The people’s only source of it was found in fish and within the eggs of birds who had accidently flown into Mt. Ebott. Because they were so rare and important as a food source, the security around the areas in which they were bred was even tighter than at the castle. It was rationed carefully and NO ONE got special privileges that allowed more than their fair share due to overpopulation. That meant Gaster couldn’t add as much Vitamin D into Papyrus’s baby formula as he would like.

Eventually something’s going to go wrong and we’ll end up eating nothing but magic supplements.

Magic food wasn’t particularly healthy, not for Horror Fonts anyway. If there was any problem that breed of skeleton had, it was finding the right balance of magic AND basic nutrients. The magic kept their ectoplasm as strong as human muscle so their bones would stay together, but they needed the same vitamins as humans in order to keep those bones from cracking and splintering in the first place. Normal Fonts like he and Sans weren’t fighters, so it wasn’t as important for their bones to be sturdy, but Papyrus was a hunter, which meant tough fights awaited the baby bones when he got older.

He needs more than magic, and we’ve a limited supply as is. Perhaps though, with these, I can find a supplement for the vitamin itself and a way to reproduce it effectively.

“I trade the rock-peoples for da’ oven.”

“N-”    

“And some more baby oil. I’s out of greedy-ants.”

“No. No more using the oven and no more ‘baby ingredients.’ You’re going to destroy this lab along with our kitchen!”

“I dis-gree.”

“bro-”

“You know what I needs? What every baby needs? Ah-structions. I needs a cookie-book. Fetch me a cookie-book, THEN I will succeeds in life.”

Gaster was about to say something, but quickly decided against it. An idea began to form in his mind as he reread the ingredients on the vitamin bottle.

Perhaps this request is a blessing in disguise...

“Papyrus, if I found you a cookbook would you follow the instructions to the letter?” “Course I would!” said the baby bones confidently. “What’s da’ point of ah-structions if I doesn’t follow them? I follow the ah-structions and make good food that Snas will eat.” Papyrus smiled at Napstablook. “You too Boo Boo! I make yummies for eryone!”

The scientist put the bottle in his coat. “Alright then, I will provide for you, a cookbook.”

“YAAAASS!”

“uhh dad, that sounds like a terrible idea,” said Sans, eyeing the ruined oven. “papyrus tends to-”

“Shu up Snas. I happily agwee to yo’ terms, beloved father figure!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Baby will reward your rare act of rationality.”

“Please don’t.”

“I assist! I learned in one of the maggyzines that if you rewards good be-have-ior, peoples will repeat it. This time I find you REAL booger sugar, not baby powder.”

“papyrus-”

“Actually, that would be great. My experiment with the ‘cocaine’ you originally gave me was a complete disaster. Had it worked, I could have created something to reduce hunger in the Underground’s citizens months ago, but you ruined that for everyone. This time I’d like to succeed.”

“ohhh, so that’s what it was for.”

“Of course child, why else would I purchase it? Drugs are for science and science alone!”

“Um…” Napstablook looked behind him nervously.

Should I tell someone about this?

“Remember Papyrus, if you can’t follow a recipe, then you can’t cook that recipe, otherwise it will come out wrong.”

“Kay’.”

Gaster handed a cookbook to his youngest who took it with both hands excitedly and began to flip through it.

“Waz ‘pepper?”

“It’s a type of spice. We don’t have it.”

“What’s ‘vinny-ger?”

“It doesn’t matter, we don’t have that either.”

“i think that’s in urine pa-”

“Really Sans?”

“Ewww, I not using that! Waz ‘rice?”

“It’s a type of grain, we don’t have it in the Underground.”

The baby bones glared at the scientist who was now busy flipping through the pages of his clipboard; the situation beginning to dawn on him.

“We gots onion?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“We gots yeast?”

“*pfft!* i think that’s an infection pappy, are you sure you’re reading that right?”

“I want to see your books Sans.”

“We gots gween beans?”

“Nope, it’s too cold up where they’d need to fall into Mt. Ebott. They need a temperature of at least 50 degrees Fahrenheit to grow.”

“Does we has ANYTHING?”

“If you can’t find a recipe with ingredients we have, perhaps you should search for another cookbook?”

“NYEH!”

Papyrus threw the book.

“…Scu you stink Daddy.”

SHEERRAHH!

Reentering the elevator, Gaster headed up to the main floor. Hopefully he had some refined oil in reserve at the workshop…

“…”

“mm…this may not be a good time bro, but about that cocaine thing. earlier, you called it ‘booger sugar.”

“…”

“you don’t…actually think it’s sugar do you? you didn’t put any in our food?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…pap?”

“Oh noooo…”

Sorry for the wait, I’m renovating my house to move if you recall.

[drcreatureflix]

More Family Content: Setting Up A Grimdark Campaign

Grimdark is a setting style thats focus on dystopian fantasy violence and the ammoral, think less ‘Starving Games 9: the diverging maze runner, girl is special but in love with two guys’ nonsense and more the Warhammer. I myself, (being someone who never grew out his angsty side) is an absolute whore for this kinda stuff. The main appeal for this setting is no matter who you are, you are a villain. But thats good. Cause everyone is  a villain in a grimdark campagin and being the villain is cool sometimes. So I thought I would give you my process of setting up a Grimdark D&D Campaign if anyone wants to try it.

Inspiration

Well before we commence on actually scarring our players we need ideas. And to quote Picasso, “good artists borrow, great artists steal”. So lets look at some recommendations for you to read or look up or play to steal-I mean take ‘inspiration’ from.

The Warhammer Franchise: If you looked up Grimdark in the dictionary you would find a image of the Warhammer universes with the words ‘For The Emperor’ covered in heretic blood. The Warhammer Franchise has two Grimdark settings, the ‘40k universe’ and the ‘Age of Sigmar universe’, both good examples. The 40k universe being a high gothic sci-fi universe as the zealous and xenophobic imperium of mankind and their space marines who fight gods of chaos and egyptian alien terminators... and Orks (Yes actual orks) who paint things red to make them ‘go fasta’. Age of Sigmar is the more fantasy side with Giant bat zombies and Rat hulks and whatever the Hell-pit Abomination is supposed to be. Both good starting points, if you would rather read then trying to play the games and get drowned in lore, for the Age of Sigmar angle try ‘Scourge of Fate’, ‘Court of the Blind King’ and ‘Rulers of the Dead’ for my recommendations, though Age of Sigmar has book series for each faction in the game so choose an aesthetic you would like. For 40k, could not recommend anything outside the Horus Heresy series, yes its over 50 books but pick the first one ‘Horus Rising’ and that should help. Warhammer actually even has ‘Warhammer horror’ series set in the universes as well if you want to go a spoopy angle.

The Starcraft Franchise: Moving alittle over and returning to the realm of science fiction there is the Starcraft franchise. The starcraft games really pull from the previous mention Warhammer for its concepts and designs and pulls it off well. Plus I really enjoy the world building almost as much as the warhammer stuff (Okay last time I will mention Warhammer). So go onto youtube and look  the games up or go buy and play them. However there are some books aswell if you would rather just read up on the lore like ‘Flashpoint’ and ‘Queen of Blades’. Obviously this is if you want to go for a more sci-fi or steam punk styled game but its D&D, do want you want (And if you want to do a sci-fi, look up the Dark Matter suppliment). But overal a good idea of how to do Grimdark.

The Song of Ice and Fire Books: Now put your pitchforks and torches down, I know season 8 of Game of Thrones was the equivlent of a hooker; that being you expect a huge payoff but you get robbed the satisfaction, being left with nothing but disappointment and a strange itch in your groin afterwards that reminds you of what you hoped for. But we are talking the books not the tv series (Though you can include it I suppose). Many of us know this franchise for its sheer bleak outlook of alliances and the concept of loyalty and the roulette of life that may just kill someone important at any point. Obviously a more medival approach for Grimdark but a good one and I would recommend it to anyone (When he finally finishes writing THE DAMN FINAL BOOKS). Obviously the whole book series is the reading recommadtion so find them cheap somewhere and delve in headfirst.

Other more Eldritch recommendations: Cosmic horror and grimdark go together like a fat kid and diabetes so I thought I would throw some quick recommendations for if you want to explore this angle aswell:

The Yellow King-Robert Chambers: A collection of short stories revolving around cults and maddness... yes please.

Bloodbourne-fromsoftware:  Phenomenal game, explores both classic gothic and cosmic horror, I have drawn from this game for inspiration A LOT more than I am comfortable saying. If you can’t get through the game, maybe try the Offical Artwork book as it can gve images that you can use a inspiration for scene dressing in game.

The HP Lovecraft bibliography and the Cthullu Mythos: Seperating the man from his work, the penned work of HP Lovecraft is still some of the best written cosmic horror from the arguable father of cosmic horror... once you get over the racial stuff.

The Dark tower book series and IT- Stephen King: A more light hearted apporach to Cosmic Horror but still good horror to pull inspiration from. Main issue, if you wish to read up on Stephen King, set some time aside  

The Darkest Dungeon-Red Hook Studios: Not gonna lie, I love this game probably too much (I will probably blame it for my obesity if I wasn’t aware thats it’s my fault I am a fat f*ck) I think it shows exactly how bad it probably would be a adventurer (I actually base my own stress rules on this game-more on that in another post) so is a good representation on what a grimdark fanatsy world would be like on these characters.

Session 0

Alright now that you have successfully ripped off every grimdark franchise-I mean collected recommendations for inspiration, let’s move onto what to discuss in your Session 0.

1. What are your players okay with?

This one is painfully obvious but a session 0 is like when you lose your virignity; you don’t set some bounderies or go into it somewhat prepared, you are gonna face a sticky situation afterwards and probably get your head kicked in by someones dad for corrupting their kid (Just me?...).On the topic at hand, its good to know what your players are okay with and can inform your story direction. For instance, I had a player who want to play a reform brothel worker but i would not allow it due to the circumstances of another player.  Normally the questions I ask beforehand is is the following

Are you okay with detail viseral descriptions of violence?

Are you okay with scenes of torture/depravity?

Are you okay with depictions of slavery or prostitution?

Are you okay with themes like suicide or mental/phyiscal abuse?

Are you okay with sacrifical death or occult themes?

Are you okay with swearing?

Following this you should adjust according to suit your players, you want them to enjoy being evil, not weeping at the evil around them. So before you do anything, set your bounderies.

2. What is their motivation?

Another obvious one but also important one. To help establish characters in the world they live in, you must discuss their motives. Why are they on a quest? What are their intentions with the reward after? And so on and so on. Then once you have that and have discuss you can help the players fit the world alittle more. A thing I have told my players is to think of a motive for a character and turn it into an obession; this is due to the theme of obession is thorough throughout many grimdark settings as it’s easy to make a character’s good intentions twisted when they become so obessed with and wrapped up in it.

Of course you’ll get players that while wanting to play grimdark still want to be the token good upstanding hero because reasons (These would be the people that go to a pick and mix shop just gets white mice the bland pricks). But it is okay, you can work with it and truthfully I like the dynamic of the bright eyed advenutrer and friends that slowly gets tainted by the reality of the world they live in (If you want some inspiration on this I recommend the show Madoka Magica).

3. Understanding

Okay this is a more serious point. Alot of players I have played grimdark have kinda took some of the darker elements for granted as well they haven’t experience things like that. Which in turn can hurt players that have experience in those matters. So I always ask my players (And I am asking you too future grimdark DMs) to look into these themes, research and understand why they are not right and why we should not really have them in real life. If you are playing something like this just so you can be a slave trader without consequence then may I ask you to leave the table.

Playing to be a villain is good, playing to be an asshole is bad.

And that should help, I would in0clude some the additonal rules I use aswell like Stress and Bleeding but I will save them for another post after I am finished rewriting them for the third time and this post is already so goddamn long. If you also have recommendations for new DMs when it comes to running Grimdark, by all means share them. Thank you for reading.

[dungeonecologist]

WILD ARMS 2 - Telepath Tower

This is a really neat set piece.  It’s basically just a radio tower, but we’re told that it functions on a mineral called Empathite, which transmits thoughts and feelings via vibrations that resonate via the crystal.  The terrorist group we’ll spend all of disc 1 fighting hijacks this tower in order to transmit a declaration of war to the entire planet.  In the ensuing cinematic we even get to see glimpses of all the towns we haven’t been to yet as the message is projected onto every reflective surface within range: crystals, mirrors, windows, and even water.  It’s just a really cool fantasy magitek kind of detail, as well as a really potent means of making such a dramatic statement when the intended audience can’t turn their receiver off or tune out.  It’s not strictly speaking the first time we’ve seen some of these villains as they’ve been looming in the background of a few other missions so far, but as a formal introduction it just leaves a really solid “first” impression.

Anyhow, in the dungeon we run into another set of 3 new monsters: The Critter, the Dakleit, and the RatMonkey.

Critters are mischievous looking little metal balls on metal ribbon springs, evoking a kind of clockwork vibe.  The term is derived from Creature, which in an archaic biblical minded sense referred to animals as created by god, but now refers generally to animals.  But in the original terminology it described a thing created, which sans the creation of life implies something inanimate.  Here they fit quite nicely with the inner workings of the intricate tower mechanism.

The Dakleit is a very awkward romanization of (da-ku-ra-i-to) which I assume was meant to read as either DarkLight, or possibly as Darklyte, as a portmanteau of Dark and Acolyte.  I suggest the term acolyte because the Dakleit’s cast a number of different spells, as well as a few that elude to the secondary level of spells that get unlocked much later.  Curiously when we do get around to unlocking to those secondary spells, they are supposedly a new invention of a reclusive sorcerer, so how they came into the repertoire of the enemies here is a mystery.

Visually they appear vaguely inspired by the Cenobites of Clive Barker’s Hellraiser, (although oddly the Cenobites that most closely resemble it (Bound) are from movies that came out after Wild Arms 2) with the long black leather frock and bald head.  It’s not been apparent just yet, but the Wild Arms 2 monster line up does take frequent inspiration from the western horror film scene.

Speaking of which, we also have the Ratmonkey!  Taken from the Sumatran Rat-monkeys in Peter Jackson’s 1992 cult classic horror film, BrainDead/Dead Alive, which carried the film’s central Rage Plague into England.  The Rat-monkey is native to Skull Island, referencing the origin of King Kong; it is also a reference to the Sherlock Holmes story The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire, in which a “Giant rat of Sumatra” is mentioned but not elaborated upon.  Amusingly when Jackson later got the chance to direct the 2005 remake of King Kong, he included a reference to the Rat-monkey, tying his older film officially into the broader continuity of King Kong.

I have no idea what the Ratmonkeys are doing in this magic radio tower though...

and finally we have Vagesta, written ヴァジェスタ(va-je-su-ta) which would actually indicate that it’s supposed to be Vajesta, or possibly Vajester.  It doesn’t appear to be a direct reference to anything name-wise, but there are some suggestions to be taken from its general appearance.  The rainbow orbs are likely just attempts to create some impression of refracted light, referencing its relation to the Empathite crystal central to this dungeon.  But the tentacle head and humanoid body are reminiscent of Nyarlathotep, of Lovecraftian lore.

Nyarlathotep is described by Lovecraft himself as being a tall and thin man, but still in distinctly human guise.  His other forms are alluded to as madness inducing, but not seen in Lovecraft’s own original work.  In general lore Nyarlathotep functions uniquely among old gods as he is waking, present, and very much active on Earth.  He functions as a messenger of the gods, not dissimilar to Mercury/Hermes in Greco-Roman mythos, which might be the relation here with the Telepath Tower as a communication device. 

But with all these European horror film references in this dungeon, I also can’t help but think of the monster in the 1981 French-German horror film, Posession.

So we’re back at a dungeon where I can theorize a little on some of these creative choices and their relation to the dungeon as a whole.  I like to think that the Critters are actually just byproducts of the tower’s mechanism, working parts brought to life by the resonant energy of the crystals at work; thoughts, feelings and raw life energy from countless communications seeped into the machinery itself.

If we read the Dakleit as Cenobite inspired, it places them as beings driven by feeling and inflicting pain, which aligns neatly with the theme of empathy present in the dungeon’s core conceit.  The Cenobites are also summon via a kind of mechanism, most iconic among them, the Lament Configuration, which very likely served as a basis for the Millennium Puzzle aesthetic.

Similarly Nyarlathotep is among Lovecraftian gods one less preoccupied with death than with madness, preferring inflicting feelings and experiences over ending lives.  Move over, Lovecraft also describes,

Nyarlathotep was a kind of itinerant showman or lecturer who held forth in public halls and aroused widespread fear and discussion with his exhibitions. These exhibitions consisted of two parts—first, a horrible—possibly prophetic—cinema reel; and later some extraordinary experiments with scientific and electrical apparatus.

A characterization that has lead many to believe the character was in some way based on the scientific exhibitions of Lovecraft’s contemporary, Nikola Tesla.  But this affinity for mysterious or wondrous devices appropriately ties to the Telepath Tower, of which Vagesta is the apparent sentry of.  It makes for a fairly cohesive theme of machinery and feeling.

If I had to really go out on a limb to hazard a guess, there is the short story The Rats in the Walls, in which the narrator describes the familiar maddening sound of rats leading him down to secret catacombs of his ancient family home thus,

It was the eldritch scurrying of those fiend-born rats, always questing for new horrors, and determined to lead me on even unto those grinning caverns of earth’s centre where Nyarlathotep, the mad faceless god, howls blindly to the piping of two amorphous idiot flute-players. 

So, in some elaborate game of association the Ratmonkeys might be argued in the tower as an allusion to Vagesta’s Lovecraftian inspirations, but given that Vagesta isn’t even named such that Lovecraft can be directly referenced (only inferred from the visual elements) I find that a hell of a stretch.

Speaking of madness, I've gotten way further down the rabbit hole with this theory than I bargained for. In general this game is actually proving way meatier than I was expecting. I'd say I'll try to keep these a little briefer and more readable moving forward... but I totally won't...

[kfdirector]

What to Learn From Every RPG Campaign I’ve GMed* or Played In

(All campaigns that lasted more than three sessions that I’ve ever played in, in chronological order; marked by a * were me as GM.  All others were me as player.)

Denver Arcana (0*)  (d20 Modern, Urban Arcana, Extensive Supplements and Homebrew, Kitchen Sink Urban Fantasy)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Self-insert PCs are perfectly doable, but don’t include other real-life people as NPCs.  Especially if any PC IRL has a thing for any of the NPCs.  Double-especially if the GM kinda does too.

Clyde Lake (d20 Modern, pure, contemporary horror)

LESSON FOR THE GM:  Before launching a horror game, have a pretty good idea what the source of the horror actually is.

Plaguelands (D&D 3.5e, classic fantasy with Oriental Adventures influences)

LESSON FOR THE GM: If you get a guy who ALWAYS TAKES THE BAIT, knowingly and gladly, great!  Just…have a plan for when he takes the bait.  A plan that lets the campaign keep going, maybe?

LESSON FOR THE PLAYER: When using illusions to persuade people, consider the audience.  Maybe consider very carefully whether your choice of illusion, while persuasive to your target, might also cause a wave of panic and mass suicide.

 d20 Tropico* (d20 Modern, pure, action-adventure)

LESSON FOR THE GM: A little more research is needed for setting a campaign in a war-torn Caribbean island nation than just…playing Tropico.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYER: If you play an INT 5 bruiser and the campaign is not 100% combat, you’re going to be locked out of a lot of playing.

 Thaumapunk*  (d20 Modern, Extensive supplements and homebrew, kitchen sink sci-fi/magitech)

LESSON FOR MY PLAYERS: I am not afraid to TPK your asses.

LESSON FOR THE GM: A bad ending goes down so much smoother with a hastily-written sequel hook in the epilogue that makes the players think that at least everything they did didn’t amount to a complete waste of time.

 Apocalypse Arcana* (D&D 3,5e, mostly official supplements, post-apocalyptic North America fantasy)

LESSON FOR THE GM: It’s okay to fudge things if you misestimate an encounter.  But consider being more subtle than having all the henchdemons announce that it’s time for their union-mandated lunch break and quit the field, leaving only their boss to fight the party.

LESSON FOR EVERYONE: If someone accidentally plays a furry when they’re vehemently not a furry, never, ever, let them live it down.  (Real actual furries get a pass in my book; y’all do you.)

 Denver Arcana (I, II, III) (d20 Modern, Urban Arcana, few supplements, kitchen sink urban fantasy)

LESSON FOR THE PLAYER: Characters really are fun when they’re actually characters, not just self-inserts or piles of stats for launching fireballs!  Make sure the campaign is going to last before commissioning artwork of them, though. Or else you’ll wonder if you’ve got your money’s worth.

LESSON FOR THE GM: If you continually reboot a campaign at low levels because you don’t know how to cope with your PCs once they reach high levels – don’t be surprised if they start finding level-independent ways to fuck with your shit.

 Thaumapunk X* (d20 Modern, extensive supplements, a bit less homebrew, better-thought-out kitchen sink sci-fi/magitech)

LESSON FOR THE PLAYER: If the GM interrupts your convoluted attempts at planning with an alien invasion, that means he disapproved of something.  Possibly that you were taking two hours to plan something unimportant.

LESSON FOR THE GM: It’s okay if the players know who the final boss is in advance (because he’s the guy who TPKed them last time), but they’ll understand if his stats aren’t identical to what they were centuries before.  They’ll accept the change if it means you don’t feel compelled to spring the final boss on them 75% of the way through the apparent story because you realized that it wouldn’t be a challenge for their over-optimized builds if things ran their course.

 Strangeworld (D&D 3.5e, mostly official supplements, weird primal-feeling fantasy that turned out to have huge space-fantasy elements just out of view for most of the game)

LESSON FOR THE GM: What would be awesome in twenty or thirty sessions will be a soul-sucking mess if it takes eighty.

 Diaspora* (D&D 3.5e, mostly official supplements, rapidly escalating to fight mythological-class threats and thwart a multi-pantheon plot to unmake the world, which somehow entailed overthrowing a powerful dwarven nation to build a giant-ass steampunk cannon to launch yourself to the moon so you could fight the Chariot of All Evil before it could bring its terrible power too close to the world’s many doomsday cults)

LESSON FOR THE GM: If there’s a chance that one player will realize that he doesn’t like the epilogue that he’s on track for, give him a heads up in advance.  So you’re not re-writing the ending at very moment that the ending is happening.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYER: If you gaining demigod status as your retirement plan depends on the cooperation of the rest of the party, clear everything with them 100% first.  Explain any possible hang-ups to the satisfaction of the Paladin  before the moment of truth.

 Braveworld (D&D 3.5e, mostly official supplements, standard medieval western fantasy)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Players say they just want a normal campaign as a breather after a crazy one, but they lie.  Boredom sets in fast, and that deprives you of the critical enthusiasm needed to overcome repeated scheduling problems or player conflicts.

 Magnum Opus* (d20 Modern, massive supplements, a crossover involving every previous campaign on this list and others that never got off the drawing board, starting with the PCs on their first day of high school and culminating in them saving literally every universe)

LESSON FOR THE GM: You get to push a system to its maximum extent until it pretty much burns out everyone’s desire to play it because there’s nothing else to accomplish, once.  Make it worth it!

OTHER LESSON FOR THE GM: If you set plot-critical rolls with a difficulty so high that they’re mathematically unachievable without extra measures, remember to hint at those other measures to the player in question.  He might not be firing on all cylinders tonight and if he gets literally every party member killed (even if temporarily) because as far as he could tell you wanted him to roll a 22 on a 20-sided dice, you’re getting the blame for that.

OTHER, OTHER LESSON FOR THE GM: No player ever needs a ring of three wishes.  Not even with a single wish left on it.  If there’s any charges left on that sucker it will fuck up your epilogue right good.

 Omoikane (D&D 3.5e, very Oriental-Adventures-themed, lots of demigod-tier enemies running around)

LESSON FOR THE GM: If a player seems to fundamentally misunderstand how a rule works, and seems to have built his character around that misunderstanding, correct him early.  At a critical moment when he’s trying to save the entire party based on a heroic effort he thinks the rules let him do is a bit too late.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: If the way you play a character is so effective that future GMs ban the entire class for the rest of time, you’ve mostly cheated yourself out of something cool.

 The Low Road (D&D 3.5e, standard medieval western fantasy but the PCs are evil and in pursuit of cosmic power; culminating in one character [uh, mine] becoming the replacement source of all evil in the world after his original plan fell through due to his god not existing)

LESSON FOR THE GM: “An Evil campaign” means different things to different players.  You’re not going to get a consistent vision of how to proceed with an evil scheme if your only criteria is “make an evil PC”.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: Evil cultist PCs planning to betray their parties at the last moment to further their eldritch-horror-patron’s plans should probably first verify that their patron exists.

 Swoboda (Early Pathfinder, campaign was supposed to be based on a fantasy version of WW2, with the PCs Fantasy!Polish volunteers in the Fantasy!Spanish Civil War with the meta-game expectation that we’d later be leading the resistance against the Fantasy!Nazi invasion of Fantasy!Poland).

LESSON FOR THE GM: Maybe don’t make the second session of the game a mission to commit atrocities against civilians, even if you are going for a “horrors of war” theme.

LESSON FOR THE GM: And maybe have a plan to continue the game if the PCs refuse orders.

 Sullapolis Survivor* (GURPS, zombie-horror but with extradimensional monsters rather than actual zombies, in a contemporary fictional city)

LESSON FOR MY PLAYERS:  No, seriously, I will TPK you if you fuck around in the finale.

LESSON FOR THE GM: Keep your conspiratorial horror a little more straightforward.  Too many elements just leaves the players unfocused and uninterested.

 The Dark Lords Errand (D&D 3.5e, classic medieval fantasy)

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: I’m not the only GM in the group willing to TPK us if we’re idiots.

LESSON FOR THE GM: It can be hard to communicate to players the difference between a situation where a heroic stand is demanded and where subterfuge and feigned acquiescence is called for.  But it’s worth making the extra effort if you liked the campaign.

 Orc Quest (D&D 3.5e, orcish tribes crusading against the law and the light)

SEE RECAP HERE.  

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: If you can’t be useful, be entertaining.

LESSON FOR THE GM: If one of the players has cheesed the rules so effectively as to tame the Tarrasque at level 8, and you let this happen, it’s barely your campaign any more – you’re just as much along for the ride as everyone not playing a Tarrasque-tamer.

 Saviors of Camden (GURPS; low-point value, basically playing the Boondock Saints)

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: Don’t build characters who have to be persuaded into the basic concept of the campaign.

LESSON FOR THE GM: If you planned a “kill ‘em all” epilogue, be prepared for the possibility of one PC cheating death.  Surround the skyscraper with cops?  Someone might critically succeed on a parasailing roll…

 Living in Darkness (D&D 3.5e, mixed supplements, classic fantasy that seemed to take place in the centuries-later aftermath of The Low Road)

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: If your GM’s style is best described as “Homestuck narrator”, you’re gonna have a bad time.

LESSON FOR THE GM: “How to keep an enemy mage in custody” should be a solved problem on most worlds.  Tell your players the accepted protocol.  Don’t make them invent it on their own and then have NPCs criticize them for unnecessary abuse after the fact.

LESSON FOR THE GM: You’re running a tabletop campaign, not narrating a satirical text adventure game.  Or if you are, you need to advertise that shit first.

 Valos IV (d20 Modern, Future, and then GURPS, involuntary pioneers sent by a tyrannical Earth government to an alien planet)

LESSON FOR THE GM: It’s a rare campaign that can survive a change in game systems.

 Adlera* (D&D 3.5e, Fantasy!Roman Republican PCs help Fantasy!Caesar invade Fantasy!India by killing any of the thousands of local demigods that get in the way of the Fantasy!Roman Legions, only to clash with an invading Fantasy!China, deal with backstabbing intrigue from home, and deal with the ancient techno-magical-biological prison for ten billion souls in a way that kept them from either reincarnating into an evil god or a horde of angry demons)

LESSON FOR THE GM: If when some PCs excel at what they do it’s regarded as heroic, and when others excel it’s regarded as a war crime, that leads to resentment.  Just be aware of that.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: Read the lore. If it says something only really weird could justify X in this setting, and you make X an explicit part of your character, don’t be surprised if you get dragged into some really weird shit.  Like having Fantasy!Samuel L. Jackson be your reincarnated boss, throughout all eternity, and locking you out of the epilogue that all the other players get because get back to work, bitch!

 Twenty Twenty Five* (GURPS, post-apocalypse based on an alternate history, like if Fallout was based on the late-80s/early-90s instead of the 50s, and also all the PCs were alive before the fall and woke up from a coma after the fall)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Do not allow any player to take Secret: Largely Responsible for the Apocalypse.  The campaign then becomes About That Player, no matter who else was in the party or what else you had going.

 The Sands of Mars (d20 Modern, Future, space opera with no psi or magic set on a Mars that has been cut off from Earth centuries after a robot rebellion or something)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Don’t pitch a sandbox game if you aren’t running a sandbox game. If there’s a main plot players are expected to participate in, don’t be coy about it in the pitch.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: If your character hates lying and you as a player don’t grok the concept of lying by omission, maybe don’t be the only one to take ranks in Bluff.

 Embracing Defeat (I, II)* (GURPS, martial arts/kinda-dieselpunk world where the PCs are the scions of nobility in a crushed and occupied country, trying to restore the honor of their defeated nation)

LESSON FOR THE GM: If someone keeps pitching character concepts that seem to really not quite fit the campaign, that means they probably don’t get what the campaign is going to be and you should explain it better so the character they eventually make doesn’t turn out completely useless.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: Maybe don’t pick a fight with an entire regiment of retired combat veterans at once if only one of you knows which end of a sword goes in the other guy.

LESSON FOR THE GM: A promising concept can be revived with new players if you write things properly.  But you still need a new plan for the story after nearly-TPKing the first set of characters and their associated stories.

 The Wheel (D&D 3.5e, a sequel to The Dark Lord’s Errand, the Low Road, Living in Darkness – every ten sessions or so the campaign world would change dramatically as one world ended and another was born, the heroes reincarnated into new but similar forms in a mecha setting, a post-apoc setting, a dark low fantasy, etc.)

LESSON FOR THE GM: You may have been planning this one for eight years, but that’s no excuse to drag the game itself on for three years.  PACING! No story worth telling requires 82 four-hour-average sessions.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: Clearly communicate to the GM your expectations for the game.  For instance, tell him politely, but firmly, which plot twists will result in you making a road trip across America to hang him with the strings of his own dice bag.  When threats are credible, this improves the game for everyone.

 The Firm* (GURPS, high-action, players are stylized GTA-type mafia guys taking over a fictional contemporary American city)

LESSON FOR THE GM: You make a game that calls for dick player characters, they’re going to do dick things.  You give them a high point value, they’re going to be good at doing dick things.  Be psychologically prepared for that.

 Valdeer no Senshi (GURPS, Magical Girls in a frankly awesome alt-history city that goes miles to justify the San-Fransokyo blend of West Coast and Japanese culture)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Less time writing Japanese characters that don’t display on most people’s US-layout IRC clients, more time writing awesome set piece battles and hilarious anime-inspired scenes.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: A group of mostly twenty-something dudes is either going to barely bother to roleplay a teenage girl or way too good at it.  Gaming is more productive when it’s the former; memories are made when it’s the latter.  There is no such thing as a happy medium.

 The Great Heathen Army* (Pathfinder; Fantasy!Vikings invade Fantasy!England, each PC having their own noble house and army, carving out their respective kingdoms as they conquer the land and fight both the natives and each other)

LESSON FOR THE GM: There is a maximum number of spreadsheets you can use to run a game after which there is no way it will be fun. Try to work out that number ahead of time.

LESSON FOR THE GM: If you have a hard time imagining what would cause an actual tabletop session to be needed to advance the game, you have not actually designed a D&D-style campaign but a play-by-post strategy with cobbled-together-rules.  And if those rules kind of suck, wow you have wasted a lot of time.

 Harbingers of Justice (Pathfinder with all kinds of homebrew, modern superheroes in a contemporary fictional setting)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Don’t run a superhero campaign if you actually hate superheroes.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: Don’t build an Elvis-themed superhero if you have no interest and little knowledge of Elvis

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: The most effective way for a level 3 rogue to do damage in a battle on a city street is a Disable Device check to hotwire the nearest car and drive it into an enemy.

 Knights of the Stag* (GURPS, Infinite Worlds world-hopping beginning with the wizard attendees at a magical college in England in the days of Richard the Lionheart)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Don’t base a campaign on cool alternate-history ideas if you’re the only one in your group who reads or cares about history.  You’ll burn out long before you can get to the finish if you don’t have the positive feedback from people who get the references.

LESSON FOR THE GM: GURPS makes the better system when you need to learn new languages, know hundreds of utility spells, and solve problems in crazy creative ways.  D&D makes the better system when you want to throw dragons at the party.  Both are pretty doable when the opposition is Evil Time Nazis, though.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYER: Do the assigned reading. Don’t be the idiot claiming to be an English noble in 11th Century England who speaks only…English.

 Resistance* (d20 Modern; entirely fictional setting; no science fiction or magic; ROTC students try to organize a resistance after a surprise coup and invasion of their country, Red Dawn style)

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: If it’s an explicitly modern-military themed game, and absolutely every single enemy is going to have at least an assault rifle…this probably isn’t the game to run your expert boxer who specializes in doing unarmed nonlethal damage, especially given d20 Modern’s heavy nerfs to nonlethal damage.

 Angels of Ashtabula (GURPS, sequel to Saviors of Camden, only set in the Rust Belt)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Don’t let someone take Anonymous as an 18-pt contact.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: Don’t take Anonymous as an 18-pt contact.

  The New World (D&D 5e, standard medieval western fantasy kingdoms colonize fantasy!North America)

LESSON FOR THE GM: If the (white colonialist) sponsors are all assholes, and the indigenous peoples are all sympathetic, it should be expected that eventually the PCs are going to stop wanting to work for the colonialists.

LESSON FOR THE OTHER PLAYERS: If you didn’t want me negotiating with the lich, leading to efforts of mutual translation and me telling the lich how to take advantage of our own laws and the Paladin’s code of honor to get treated as a sovereign nation rather than a monster, maybe y’all should have just attacked instead of waiting for it to make the first move and then it waiting for us to make the first move and an awkward silence ensuing that I decided to insert myself into as the SOCIAL JUSTICE ROGUE.

  Journey to Svalbard (GURPS; post-apocalypse; survivors from Edmonton, Canada, make their way across the ruins of Canada and then the Atlantic to the Svalbard Doomsday Seed Vault to restart agriculture, ongoing)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Eight players is probably more than comfortably fit into an RPG group at once.  It’s definitely more than fit comfortably into the bush plane at once.

LESSON FOR THE GM: If the only NPCs who get physical descriptions are the ones who turn out to be the key to saving the world, it’s kind of hard to keep the mystery going.

LESSON FOR THE PLAYERS: If the GM keeps dropping hints, someone should probably take notes, yeah?

 Journey from Everfree* (GURPS Dungeon Fantasy; class of modern high school students thrust into fantasy setting)

LESSON FOR THE GM: You should probably take some notes yourself, asshole.

 Heroes of Applewood Heights* (Genesys, Superheroes, contemporary, ongoing)

LESSON FOR THE GM: Whatever it is, I haven’t learned it yet.

[artificialqueens]

Tendrils of Hope (Pharon) - Medusa

AN: Sup. Love all of these Pharon fics I’ve been reading but I wanted one where Phi Phi was a bit less baby-ified- not that I have anything against that, I just hadn’t seen much of it. Hope this achieves that lol, even despite its, er, unusual premise. I wanna say this is ‘dark’ but it’s not, it’s just kinda fantasy realism, or Sharon living her fantasy, anyway. I’ve tried to find all the mistakes and correct them but sorry in advance for anything I’ve missed. Hope you enjoy.

“Oh, Phi. Looks like you really fucked up this time.”

Phi Phi opened her eyes, on her guard immediately. She pulled herself up from the ground- or what she’d thought was the ground, before she looked down and saw an endless black void.

In fact, she was surrounded by nothing but an empty dark… and…

“Sharon?”

Sharon stood in front of her, drop dead gorgeous as she always was. Even more so now. Her outfit was simple and glamorous, a matte black gown which split into tendrils that seemed to melt into the void, and her breasts looked much more realistic than Phi Phi remembered Sharon using. In fact, little things about Sharon were off like that. Her luscious blonde hair even looked real, and her white eyes didn’t even look like contacts. And the black horns that protruded from the crown of Sharon’s head, well. They didn’t look like Sharon bought them from Party City.

Sharon was smirking. “Like what you see?”

Phi Phi swallowed. “Something’s not right,” she said, trying to inject some semblance of dignity into her voice. It just made Sharon look even more condescending.

“Really? What gave it away? Was it the lack of white powder on your nose or the lack of a ring on your finger? No? Did you forget those so quickly?”

Phi Phi blanched, first checking her naked fingers and then her upper lip. Of course, this was so surreal that there was only one conclusion.

“This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.”

Sharon laughed her familiar spooky laugh- but that didn’t mean anything. Phi Phi knew Sharon well, it wouldn’t be hard for her brain to construct Sharon’s mannerisms in what appeared to be some weirdly sombre coke trip.

“As loathe as I am to take things seriously, that’s exactly what I’m gonna need you to do. My fellow eldritch horrors won’t be as generous to you as I’m about to be.”

Phi Phi burst out laughing in spite of herself. “Eldritch horrors? Sharon, don’t fucking kid yourself. You look like you stepped right out of one of those haute couture lookbooks you used to make fun of.”

The air went cold around her. Panic crawled up Phi Phi’s spine like cold spindly fingers when her throat constricted.

Sharon’s smile was sinister.

“I know I’m sickening,” Sharon said softly. “But it takes a lot of work to look this PG. You really don’t want to know what I look like under all this humanity. In short… do not test me.”

The pressure on her airway dissipated, and Phi Phi gasped out heavy breaths, clutching her chest. Her cheeks were aflame- partly because something had just stopped her breathing, but partly because… well, she was pretty sure that something had been Sharon, and the thought of Sharon, er, choking her was not entirely new.

It was practically a nightmarish version of Phi Phi’s tour fantasies. And even though this trip was disturbingly real feeling, most trips were.

Sharon sighed delicately, expression turning business-like. “I didn’t want to have to do this to someone I know, but-”

“Don’t like, choke me or anything, but can you prove it?”

Sharon blinked at her. “Prove it?” she repeated incredulously.

There was the fire Phi Phi used so often to protect herself. Phi Phi pulled it around her like a blanket. “Yeah,” she said, voice dripping with disdain. “Where I’m standing, you’re just a drug-induced hallucination. I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re a really sexy one and all- love the dress- but you’re in fucking Pittsburgh and I’m in New York. Don’t try to convince me you’re suddenly here.”

A sly smile grew on Sharon’s face again. “Fine. Believe it’s a hallucination. Treat everything I’m about to say as a dream. See if I care.”

Phi Phi rolled her eyes at the melodrama. “What the fuck are you-”

“You’ve practically just killed yourself, Phi Phi. Bad reaction to the drugs. Or rather, bad drugs. Shitty dealer. So I’ve brought you to my little reaper’s waiting room- or waiting gloom-” Sharon paused to laugh at her own joke. “Ah, to offer you a deal in return for your life, else that’s the end of the road for you. Of course, you won’t mind agreeing to anything I ask because you don’t think this is real.”

Sharon slunk forward, sultry and beautiful- how Phi Phi could ever believe she was supposed to be some kind of eldritch horror was beyond her- and reached out a long-nailed hand towards her face.

“Look at you,” Sharon breathed. “You’re not even a little disconcerted. Is this a normal thing for you? Do you think of me often, Phi? Do you want me?”

Phi Phi’s breathing got a little heavy again, this time because Sharon pressed herself right up against her, breasts pushing sensually against Phi Phi’s, hand slipping around to the small of Phi Phi’s back keeping her steady as Sharon’s leg parted her own.

Sharon lowered her head to whisper in Phi Phi’s ear, the sensation of her breath on Phi Phi’s face sending shivers straight down.

“In return for you, I just want you. That’s not so hard is it? I want your ring gone from your finger permanently. I want it replaced with mine. And I want the powder gone from your nose permanently- just because I can get high without killing myself doesn’t mean I trust you to.” Sharon laughed again.

There was a reason Phi Phi should be objecting to this. But Sharon’s breasts were warm and pushing against her, and her hand was lowering to cup Phi Phi’s ass, and her leg was just so close to where Phi Phi wanted it…

Phi Phi couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t remain stoic anymore in the face of this, quite literally. Faster than she could blink, she was grasping Sharon’s face and crushing their lips together.

It was Sharon who moaned first, but Phi Phi wasn’t far behind, licking her way in and matching Sharon’s passion. And Sharon was- God, she was passionate. It was everything she expected, and some things she didn’t. It was biting and soothing, it was a possessive grip on Phi Phi’s body, it was surging and grinding. It was a hundred shadowy tendrils wrapping and fusing the two together. It was something flighty settling to rest in Phi Phi’s heart.

It was the voice screaming ‘no, you’re forgetting something’ in the back of Phi Phi’s head being silenced.

It was Sharon, and only Sharon.

She broke the kiss and seemed to ground herself by clutching Phi Phi. “Do you even know,” she started shakily, and Phi Phi shifted her hold on Sharon to be more supportive. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to kiss me like that? I can’t believe it took this to get here…”

“I mean I… I don’t entirely believe this isn’t all a hallucination anyway. But with you, I can’t help… fuck. I want you so bad. I always have.”

Sharon breathed in, seemingly centring herself, and when she pulled back all traces of vulnerability were gone. She looked Phi Phi in the eyes. “Is that a 'yes Sharon, I agree to your terms?’”

Phi Phi nodded enthusiastically. “God, yes.”

Sharon laughed, a dark, deeply amused laugh to a joke Phi Phi wanted to be included in. “Oh honey,” She said. “I am your God now.”

And then Phi Phi was falling.

She yelled as she hit the bottom, and then cut off abruptly. Her eyes snapped open.

She had landed on a couch. Her couch. She scrambled up and looked around- no, nothing looked out of place. Which was weird, because she and her friends had been taking an uncountable amount of drugs last night to celebrate the happy end of another of Phi Phi’s tours. And yet, daylight streamed through her curtains, and Phi Phi was intact, and-

She caught sight of her fingers.

Her ring finger, to be exact. Her ring was gone. But there was another one in its place, a black one that wrapped around her finger in black tendrils. Black, slightly moving tendrils. Like they were… like they were breathing?

Dread began to pool in Phi Phi’s stomach.

She scrambled around for her phone and checked the contacts first. She reached ’M’, and-

The tendrils constricted, and Phi Phi screamed. And then, nothing. She glanced at her phone again. What was she doing again? She shook her head. She was on her contacts page. She exited out of it and began to put her phone away, but a notification gave her pause.

It was a text from Sharon: see you soon, you sexy fuck up. xxx

-

In Pittsburgh, Sharon stretched as she came out of meditation. She looked at the tentacle-like ring that had manifested on her finger. She sent a text. And then, she laughed like she had never laughed before.

[peanutdracolich]

Peanut Dracolich Watches Horror: The Final Reckoning

So over the course of this month I’ve watched a lot of horror. 15 days ago I ranked those I’d watched then, and now I’ve watched a fair bit more. Now some aren’t making it onto the list, and some have had their ordering changed, but I will discuss that later.

Again I am judging these as Horror Movies. If the movie’s value is not as horror primarily it suffers. I really enjoyed Alien Covenant and either it or Dracula Has Risen was my most enjoyed movie of the month, but Alien Covenant is good because it is sci-fi and horror in a 55/45 mix I’d say, and Dracula Has Risen is more about Christopher Lee vampire than horror, I mean yeah vampires are a type of horror but it’s not the same. When I want a horror movie I want... well actually it’s a large genre and I want different things from it at different times. Sometimes I want a Horror Film, a film to cause a visceral fear reaction. Sometimes I want a slasher, which is a type of horror film but with a specific narrative (I rarely want slashers). Sometimes I want a Horror Story and while horror films in theory have horror stories I mean something different with it, something that’s actually more about creep and tone, more about the gothic fantasy elements, or the eldritch terror, and less about the visceral reaction. Sometimes I want a monster movie, or a vampire flick. So I tried to balance it based upon the things I want in a horror movie. And so... the list is below the cut, but before it is those that weren’t included.

Non-included Entries: Chronos (I intend to talk about it), Young Frankenstein, and Captain Kronos all are not included on the list because of them only Chronos really fits Horror Movie and even then only sort of kind of. They were all good movies, but to judge them for horror movie would be misleading. Chronos was more dark supernatural tragedy with elements of horror (in fact the supernatural elements were horror and not fantasy) but still the enjoyment is as a tragedy more than anything I’d think of with Horror. Young Frankenstein is a fairly famous horror parody, a better film than many on the list, but impossible to properly judge as horror. Captain Kronos is the same way, one of the most fun films I watched this month, but although it has vampires it was a heroic adventure film.

Also absent from the list are Alien, The Horror of Dracula, and Evil Dead because they’re all rewatches and Alien/ED not particularly close ones (I’m watching Evil Dead while typing). It would go Evil Dead, Alien, and then the list if I included those anyway as they’re my 1 and 2 of Horror (Dracula would get tied with Has Risen beating it out slightly).

1)     Ju-On the Grudge (02)

2)     The Descent (05)

3)     The Vampyr (32)

4)     Dracula Has Risen from His Grave (68)

5)     Mouth of Madness (93)

6)     Prince of Darkness (87)

7)     The Whisperer in the Darkness (12)

8)     Call of Cthulhu (05)

9)     Dr Terror’s House of Horrors (65)

10)   Alien Covenant (17)

11)   The Omen (76)

12)   The Vampire Lovers (70)

13)   IT (90)

14)   The Mummy - Hammer Horror (59)

15)   The Mummy - Universal (32)

16)   The Oblong Box

17)   The Exorcist (73)

18)   Poltergeist (82)

19)   The Kiss of the Vampire

20)   Friday the 13th Part 2 (81)

21)   Frankenstein (31)

22)   The 7 Golden Vampires (74)

23)   The Return of the Living Dead (85)

24)   Child’s Play  (88)

25)   Saw (04)

26)   Alien 3 (92)

27)   Uzumaki (00)

So like last time some thoughts:

Ju-On: A legitimately good film, even though I have no desire or intent to rewatch it. It is a good horror film, though. While something does bother me about it which kept me from wanting to see more of the universe, it still manages to do what a horror film is supposed to do best of the ones I watched this month.

The Descent: This film moved up! Because I refigured how much emphasis ‘egads this film is actual art’ should be given. Also watching Evil Dead scenes with them driving and then their cabin remind me even more of Evil Dead scenes (the near crash, the stuff coming in through the window, the approach to the cabin). Evil Dead did a better building creep/horror with them, but The Descent was repurposing them and did that well, while taking advantage of the subconscious connections. Well done film.

The Vampyre: While I may have liked this film better than Ju-On or The Descent that’s for the artistry and probably in part because I was dehydrated. Still it’s a good film and it does have its spell. It doesn’t have the terror that really spells horror film for me, but it has the spell of nightmare like a true horror story.

Dracula Has Risen from His Grave: And here we have the best of the vampire films of the year (including Chronos) and possibly the best film of the year for pure enjoyment (though Captain Kronos and Alien Covenant might rival or beat it). But wait didn’t The Vampyre get higher. Yes, because it is better horror, but I don’t want vampire stories primarily for horror and this gave me what I wanted from a vampire story. It’s a good film and quite enjoyable.

Mouth of Madness: This meta-Lovecraftian film was while not my personal favorite of the John Cameron apocalypse films I watched, the better story and probably the better film, the other merely hit my buttons better. The concept alone makes it so much fun, and I do almost want to rewatch it now... except I know it will be better to do so in several years where I still vaguely remember the twists but don’t remember the film.

Prince of Darkness: As you can see I do still include ‘I personally really liked this one’ rather highly. It actually does the early horror set up better than most of the rest, it’s just that the cheese is too high and not stylistic but earnest enough to feel detrimental because the film is good enough that the joy is not in the cheese.

The Whisperer in the Darkness: A fun film, a good film. This film’s cheese is stylistic and adds to it plain out. It does a good job of the Cold War Alien Film take on the story, and in general is just a good film that I enjoyed.

Call of Cthulhu: This film was hard to place. It’s artistic. It feels it. If it didn’t have some ‘this stylistic suck went to far compared to what it was imitating’ it’d probably be higher because it very much has the spell, but in the end it’s not as fun as Whisperer, not got the spell of The Vampyre, and ends up feeling like it belongs here.

Dr Terror’s House of Horrors: Nothing new to say really.

Alien Covenant: I really liked it, but as sci-fi first and horror 2nd. I mean it was fully functional horror despite that, but it was not how I enjoyed it.

The Omen: This is still my B- film of the year. This and above are good films, below it are lukewarm or something else more than horror. It’s also where ‘listening to Evil Dead while not looking at the screen’ gets ‘better horror’ (note Evil Dead’s visuals are creepy and good horror that enriches it).

The Vampire Lovers: This might should switch with IT, in fact they’ve switched already once. It was not like IT ever considered for the B- film role because it’s close enough to erotica to be hard to place, but it definitely was pretty good and better at being a horror story than part 2 of IT and more enjoyable than IT for its length. So it squeezes past.

IT: If I was judging just part 1 this would be the B- film. Judging both parts, Part 2 is definitely lukewarm. Overall it’s a C+. Good enough, but 3 hours and Evil Dead is scarier just by listening to it.

The Mummy (Hammer): Probably better than Part 2 of IT, worse than Part 1 and closer to the latter in quality. It’s a functional monster movie, but nothing to really write home about. Alright if you want a monster movie, but  I won’t be rewatching it any time soon.

The Mummy (Universal): And here we get to the Frankenstein issue where I’m scared I’m inflating it for the sake of ‘historical place’. Still Boris Karloff was interesting, the story left less of a hollow feeling in my mouth and it was almost good and all the films below here are at best almost good. I think it deserves this place.

The Oblong Box: Is another hard placement. While Vincent Price and second tier relatively non-villain Christopher Lee were fun the film was not great. It might swing up to beat The Mummy (both versions) but I was too tired of the type of horror at the time to really say. On the same note it might swing down to below Poltergeist. It is however in the Lukewarm area.

The Exorcist: Is not my type of movie. I mean I can see its influence; girls crabwalking down stairs, demons talking about your mother being lewd in Hell. It has some very memorable bits... It’s just not a scary movie, not that enjoyable movie, and with the exception of a few very memorable bits sort of forgettable. It was too long, and too slow in that I sort of started getting bored of it faster than I did the Universal Studio’s Mummy which I could understand my nephew leaving after 20-30 minutes because it was sort of boring. Where The Mummy picked up afterwards, The Exorcist waits another hour to pick up. That said the drama to someone who is watching for a drama has its value and art and I have to respect it. I’m probably rating it higher than I would otherwise due to sacred cow status, but at the same time it has some very good elements it just mixes them with stuff that leaves it lukewarm. The music does it too. Never got to me and... Well Evil Dead just went quiet and it got me spooked. The Exorcist goes quiet and I don’t notice because quiet felt like the default. The sound was bad is what I’m saying. Still it does have those classic moments that are better horror if you just watch them alone than some of the films lower down.

Poltergeist: This film was lukewarm. I probably enjoyed it better than the Exorcist, but I’m guessing the last 40 minutes of the Exorcist is a better movie than Poltergeist.

The Kiss of the Vampire: It’s really hard to place this. I was sick of Hammer Horror by the time (though watched the Mummy the next day). It was definitely worse than the Oblong Box, though, and the Mummy, and I enjoyed Poltergeist more and Poltergeist was more horror. So yeah I’m going here. It’s above the ‘must find alternative enjoyment’ line but it’s probably the worst of those that are.

Friday the 13th Part 2: This marks the line of ‘I don’t actually enjoy this as horror if I enjoy it at all. The film was so bad it was good. I will probably watch 3 or 4 at some point (whichever the internet tells me is good).

Frankenstein: More and more I thought where I put it before was really just Sacred Cow. It fails to hit any of my horror buttons, it fails to be a good Frankenstein story. It’s worth watching for its historical place and because it has one or two good scenes, plus is short increasing the relative impact of those. But still I have to work to find some other means of enjoyment from the film.

7 Golden Vampires: This film is not good. It is enjoyable. But it is not good. Still I enjoy Peter Cushing and the bad horror bad kung fu was nice even if there are better films later that mix bad horror with good kung fu and comedy (Mr. Vampire) or good ghost story with good kung fu (Chinese Ghost Story) which are legit pretty good films (watch those over this one, though).

The Return of the Living Dead: First and foremost I didn’t watch it too closely. It’s horror comedy, but it is horror comedy and not just comedy about horror. The comedy, though, was less funny than Friday part 2 and the horror wasn’t that scary. I’d rather watch Peter Cushing fight kung fu vampires (which have trouble with limping old men). Candidate for so bad it’s good I guess.

Child’s Play: Nothing has changed here. If The Omen is my B- this is my D-. It passes... barely and it’s not getting real credit. Still I can see so bad it’s good vibes... still would watch Fright Night instead.

Saw: Nothing has changed. Still contemplate whether this should be below Alien 3. This is still in the ‘I sort of regret watching this.’

Alien 3: This film is worth watching if you like the franchise and want to see it all. This film does not stand on its own, though. Too long. Too confused. Not good enough. Still in fairness it might be up to Ft13-2 level, but I can’t judge it fairly so I’m going with here because trying to judge it from ‘not in love with the Alien franchise’ (I sort of love the franchise) I don’t think I could see a reason to watch it.

Uzumaki: I want the time I spent watching this film back.

Random Observations:

Best and worse films are Japanese horror and the only Japanese horror on the list (I intended to watch more J-horror but).

4 Out of 6 Cosmic Horror films were in a row (5-8).

Only 4 vampire movies got on the list despite watching 7.